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kiesbrainjuice · 4 months ago

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— ITS VOLLEYBALL OR ME ! tobio kageyama

➥ syn : too obsessed with volleyball make you nearly loose your wife!

➥ wc : 3.5k

➥ tw : angst to fluff, heated argument, reader cry a lot, comfort

As I sat alone in our quiet apartment, I couldn't help but reflect on the life I shared with my husband, Tobio Kageyama. We'd been married for three years now, and while I loved him deeply, his obsession with volleyball was starting to take its toll on our relationship.

Tobio had always been passionate about the sport, even back in high school when we first met. I found his dedication admirable then, and it was one of the things that drew me to him. But now, as a professional player, his commitment had reached new heights – often at the expense of our time together.

Our days followed a predictable pattern. Tobio would wake up at dawn, go for a run, then head to practice. He'd return home late in the evening, exhausted but still buzzing with energy as he analyzed his performance or watched recordings of matches. Even during meals, his mind was on the court, discussing strategies or areas he wanted to improve.

At first, I tried to involve myself in his world. I attended his matches, learned the intricacies of the game, and even attempted to play a bit myself. But as time went on, I found myself feeling more and more like a spectator in my own marriage.

The loneliness crept in slowly. Weekends that should have been ours were filled with extra training sessions or team-building exercises. Holidays were planned around his tournament schedule. Even on the rare occasions when we did have time together, Tobio's thoughts were often elsewhere, replaying moments from recent games or strategizing for upcoming ones.

I'd tried talking to him about it, of course. Tobio would always apologize, promise to do better, to make more time for us. And for a while, things would improve. But inevitably, the siren call of the volleyball court would draw him back, leaving me alone once again.

Tonight was supposed to be different. We had plans – actual plans – for a date night. Dinner at the new restaurant downtown, followed by a walk in the park. It wasn't much, but I had been looking forward to it all week. A chance to reconnect, to remember why we fell in love in the first place.

But as the hours ticked by and Tobio didn't show up, I felt the familiar ache of disappointment settling in my chest. I knew, without having to call or text, exactly where he was. The gym. Always the gym.

As I sat there, dressed up with nowhere to go, I couldn't help but wonder: was this what the rest of my life would look like? Always coming second to a sport? Always waiting for a man who was more committed to his team than to his wife?

The anger began to build, a slow simmer that gradually rose to a boil. I'd had enough. It was time to go home and have a serious conversation with my husband – whenever he decided to show up.

I stormed into our apartment, tears streaming down my face. The silence that greeted me only fueled my anger and hurt. I slammed the door behind me, not caring about the noise.

With shaking hands, I unzipped my dress - the one I'd carefully chosen for our date - and let it fall to the floor. I didn't bother hanging it up, instead leaving it in a crumpled heap as I made my way to the bathroom.

The hot water of the shower mingled with my tears. I stood there, letting it wash over me, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside. Disappointment, frustration, loneliness - they all swirled together, threatening to overwhelm me.

After what felt like hours, I finally stepped out, wrapping myself in a towel. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for another night alone.

But as I walked into the kitchen, I froze. There was Tobio, still in his practice clothes, sweat glistening on his forehead. He was rummaging through the fridge, completely oblivious to the turmoil he'd caused.

"Oh, you're home," he said, glancing up at me with a casual smile. "Practice ran late. Did you eat yet?"

I stared at him, my jaw clenched. The familiar rage bubbled up inside me, but this time, I pushed it down. Instead, I felt a cold detachment settling over me.

"No," I replied, my voice flat. "I haven't eaten."

Tobio raised an eyebrow at my tone but didn't seem to pick up on the tension. "Great, I'm starving. Want to order in?"

I shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "Whatever you want."

He paused, finally seeming to notice something was off. "Are you okay?"

I didn't answer, simply turning away to head to the bedroom. "I'm tired. Order what you like."

As I walked away, I could feel his confused gaze on my back. But for once, I didn't care about explaining or smoothing things over. Let him wonder. Let him figure it out for himself.

I closed the bedroom door behind me, leaving Tobio alone in the kitchen. The wall of silence between us felt impenetrable, and for the first time, I wasn't sure I wanted to break it down.

I slipped into my pajamas mechanically, my movements slow and deliberate. The soft fabric offered little comfort as I climbed into bed, pulling the sheets up to my chin and turning to face the wall. I could hear Tobio moving around in the kitchen, the familiar sounds of his evening routine doing nothing to soothe the ache in my chest.

Minutes later, I heard his footsteps approaching the bedroom. The door creaked open, and I felt the bed dip as he settled in beside me. His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me close. His breath was warm against my neck as he nuzzled into me.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice soft. "Is everything okay? You seem upset."

For a moment, I said nothing, my body rigid in his embrace. Then, something inside me snapped. I took a deep, shuddering breath and spoke, my voice eerily calm despite the storm raging within.

"No, Tobio. Everything is not okay." I didn't turn to face him, keeping my gaze fixed on the wall. "Do you know where I was tonight?"

I felt him tense behind me. "What do you mean?"

"I was at Ristorante Bella. Sitting at a table for two, all alone." My voice remained steady, but each word was laced with hurt. "I waited for you for two hours, Tobio. Two hours of watching other couples enjoy their meals, of pitying glances from the waitstaff, of making excuses for why my husband wasn't there."

I paused, letting the words sink in. "We had plans tonight. Plans we made a week ago. But once again, volleyball took priority."

Tobio's arm loosened around me. "I... I forgot. Practice ran late, and I-"

"You didn't even text," I interrupted, finally rolling over to face him. In the dim light, I could see the shock and guilt etched across his features. "You didn't call. You just... forgot about me. About us."

I watched as realization dawned on his face. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, reaching out to touch my cheek. "I didn't mean to-"

I pulled away from his touch. "That's the problem, Tobio. You never mean to. But it keeps happening. Over and over again." I sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted. "I can't keep doing this. I can't keep coming second to volleyball."

Tobio sat up, running a hand through his hair. "What are you saying?"

I met his gaze, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm saying that something needs to change. Because right now, I feel like I'm losing you... and I'm not sure how much longer I can hold on."

The silence that fell between us was heavy with unspoken words and uncertain futures. As I turned away from him once more, I wondered if this would be the wake-up call we needed, or if it was the beginning of the end.

I couldn't stand lying there anymore, the tension thick in the air. I abruptly sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, standing up.

"Where are you going?" Tobio asked, his voice tinged with confusion and worry.

"I can't do this here," I said, walking out of the bedroom. I heard him scramble to follow me.

In the living room, I whirled to face him. "Do you have any idea how it feels, Tobio? To constantly be an afterthought in your own marriage?"

His face contorted with guilt. "You're not an afterthought. I just got caught up in practice-"

"It's always practice!" I interrupted, my voice rising. "Or a game, or watching tapes, or team bonding. When was the last time we had a real conversation that didn't revolve around volleyball?"

Tobio ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his posture. "Volleyball is my career. You knew that when you married me."

"I married a man, not a sport!" I shot back. "I love that you're passionate about volleyball, Tobio. I really do. But sometimes it's just... it's too much."

My voice cracked on the last word, and suddenly the tears I'd been holding back spilled over. "Do you know how many nights I spend alone in this apartment? How many dinners I eat by myself? How many times I've had to make excuses to our friends about why you couldn't make it to their events?"

Tobio took a step towards me, his hand outstretched, but I backed away. "I'm trying to support your dreams, but I feel like I'm disappearing. Like I'm fading away, and you don't even notice."

My next words came out as a choked whisper, "Do you even still love me, Tobio? Or am I just... convenient? Someone to come home to when volleyball is done with you for the day?"

Tobio's eyes widened in shock. "Of course I love you! How can you even ask that?"

"Because I don't feel it!" I cried, the dam finally breaking. "I don't feel loved when you forget our plans. I don't feel loved when you'd rather stay late at practice than spend time with me. I don't feel loved when I'm always, always second to volleyball."

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling very small. "I'm tired, Tobio. I'm so tired of competing with a sport for my husband's attention. And I don't know how much longer I can do this."

The silence that followed was deafening. We stood there, meters apart but feeling like miles, as the weight of my words hung in the air between us.

Tobio's face contorted, a mix of hurt and anger flashing in his eyes. "You think I don't care about you? Everything I do, all the practice, all the games - it's for us! For our future!"

"Our future?" I scoffed, my voice rising. "What future, Tobio? The one where I'm always alone, always waiting for you to remember I exist?"

He took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "That's not fair! You knew how important volleyball was to me when we got married. You can't just decide now that it's too much!"

"I'm not asking you to quit!" I shouted back, my frustration boiling over. "I'm asking you to remember that you have a wife, that you have a life outside of that gym!"

Tobio ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. "You don't understand. This is my dream, my passion-"

"And what about my dreams?" I interjected, my voice cracking. "What about my passion for having a real marriage, a real partnership?"

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "What do you want from me? To give up everything I've worked for?"

"I want you to care!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face. "I want you to show up when we have plans! I want you to text me when you're going to be late! Is that really too much to ask?"

Tobio's jaw clenched. "You're being selfish. You knew what you were getting into-"

"Selfish?" I repeated, incredulous. "Selfish is forgetting your wife exists the moment you step onto that court. Selfish is making me feel like I don't matter in my own marriage!"

We stood there, chests heaving, glaring at each other. The silence was deafening, filled with all the hurt and resentment that had been building for months.

"Maybe..." Tobio started, his voice low and dangerous. "Maybe you just don't understand what it takes to be the best. Maybe you never will."

His words hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled back, feeling as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. "Maybe I don't," I whispered, my anger suddenly deflating into a bone-deep weariness. "And maybe that's the problem."

I turned away, unable to look at him anymore. "I can't do this right now. I need... I need some space."

Without waiting for a response, I grabbed my keys and headed for the door, leaving Tobio standing alone in the middle of our living room.

Days had passed since our explosive argument. I'd retreated to our second apartment, a small place we kept for when either of us needed space. The solitude had given me time to think, to process my emotions, and to consider our future.

I was in the kitchen, absently stirring a pot of pasta, when the doorbell rang. Wiping my hands on a dish towel, I made my way to the door, wondering who it could be.

As I opened it, my breath caught in my throat. There stood Tobio, looking more disheveled than I'd ever seen him. His eyes were red and puffy, clear evidence that he'd been crying. In his hands, he clutched a bouquet of my favorite flowers.

Before I could ask why he wasn't at practice, Tobio spoke, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."

Those two words, filled with such raw emotion, made my heart clench. I stepped back wordlessly, allowing him to enter.

Tobio shuffled in, his usual confident posture replaced by a slump of defeat. He placed the flowers on the nearby table and turned to face me, his eyes filled with guilt and remorse.

"I've been an idiot," he began, his voice shaky. "These past few days... they've been hell. I couldn't focus on practice, couldn't sleep. All I could think about was how much I've hurt you."

I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms protectively over my chest. "Tobio..."

He held up a hand, asking me to let him continue. "You were right. About everything. I've been so caught up in volleyball that I forgot what's truly important. You. Us."

Tobio took a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "I love you. More than volleyball, more than anything. And I'm sorry it took me so long to realize how much I've been neglecting you."

Tears welled up in my eyes as he continued. "I've talked to my coach. I'm cutting back on extra practices. I'm going to be home more, be present more. I want to be the husband you deserve."

He reached out, gently taking my hands in his. "I can't promise I'll be perfect. But I can promise that from now on, you'll always come first. No more forgotten dates, no more nights alone. I want to make this work. I need to make this work."

The sincerity in his voice, the pain in his eyes - it was all too much. I felt my resolve crumbling as tears spilled down my cheeks.

"Oh, Tobio," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest. I could feel his heart racing, matching the rapid beat of my own.

"I love you," he murmured into my hair. "Please, give me another chance. Let me show you how much you mean to me."

I pulled back slightly, looking up into his face. The Tobio I saw there wasn't the volleyball-obsessed athlete, but the man I fell in love with - vulnerable, caring, and completely devoted.

"Okay," I said softly, a small smile tugging at my lips. "We'll try again. Together."

Tobio's face lit up with relief and joy. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine. "Together," he agreed.

As we stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, I felt hope blooming in my chest. We had a long way to go, but this was a start. A new beginning for us both.

Tobio held me close, his strong arms enveloping me in a comforting embrace. I could feel his chest rise and fall with each deep breath, as if he was trying to memorize this moment.

"I've missed you so much," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His hands gently stroked my back, soothing away the tension I'd been carrying for days.

I burrowed deeper into his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. "I missed you too," I whispered back, my fingers clutching at his shirt.

We stood like that for a long while, just holding each other, reconnecting without words. Eventually, the timer in the kitchen beeped, reminding me of the dinner I'd been preparing.

"I should check on the pasta," I said, reluctantly starting to pull away.

But Tobio's arms tightened around me. "Let me help," he said, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "I want to do this together."

Hand in hand, we walked to the kitchen. As I stirred the pasta, Tobio stood behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. It was as if he couldn't bear to lose physical contact with me, even for a moment.

We moved around the small kitchen, working in tandem to finish preparing the meal. Tobio insisted on helping with every task, from chopping vegetables for the salad to setting the table. All the while, he kept finding excuses to touch me - a gentle hand on my lower back as he reached for plates, fingers brushing mine as he passed me utensils, a quick kiss on my cheek as I plated the food.

As we sat down to eat, Tobio pulled his chair closer to mine, our knees touching under the table. He reached out, taking my hand in his, his thumb gently caressing my knuckles.

"Thank you," he said softly, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that took my breath away.

"For what?" I asked, squeezing his hand.

"For giving me another chance. For being patient with me. For loving me, even when I didn't deserve it." His voice was low, filled with sincerity.

I felt tears prick at my eyes again, but this time they were tears of happiness. "We're in this together, remember?" I reminded him with a small smile.

Tobio nodded, bringing my hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to my palm. "Together," he agreed.

Throughout dinner, Tobio kept finding ways to maintain physical contact - his foot hooked around my ankle, his hand resting on my knee, our shoulders brushing as we ate. It was as if he was trying to make up for all the lost time, all the moments of disconnection.

After we finished eating, Tobio insisted on doing the dishes, pulling me along with him to the sink. We washed and dried in comfortable silence, stealing glances and soft smiles.

As we finished up, Tobio pulled me into another embrace, nuzzling his face into my neck. "Can we just stay like this for a while?" he murmured against my skin.

I nodded, wrapping my arms around him tightly. "As long as you want," I whispered back.

We stood there in the kitchen, holding each other close, the gentle ticking of the clock the only sound in the apartment.

tag : @haechansbbg

#haikyu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x you #hq fluff #hq x reader #hq kageyama #hq tobio #kageyama tobio x reader #haikyuu tobio #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama x reader #kegayama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama #haikyuu kageyama #kageyama fluff

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punkshort · 2 months ago

Text

Can You Remember Who You Were?

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: When you struggle to stop obsessing about the handsome stranger you met at a coffee shop who ghosted you after one date, fate eventually forces you back together.

Warnings: language, possessive behavior, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, oral sex (f!receiving), omegaverse dynamics, alcohol consumption, minor physical altercation

WC: 9.1K

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: For @burntheedges's Roll a Trope challenge I got reincarnation. I also mixed in some a/b/o stuff because I've always wanted to give it a try. Go easy on me, I'm nervous about this one - hope you enjoy. And thank you to @txtattoostark for holding my hand.

When you first met, it was happenstance. An awkward run-in at your favorite coffee shop where he thought your coffee was his until he read your name written on the cup aloud and had the grace to look bashful when he handed it over. A moment later, his own order was ready and you caught the name Dave scrawled on the side. He smiled and raised his cup to you before taking a sip and wishing you a good day before disappearing out onto the busy street.

It was a simple interaction. Nothing terribly special. But you couldn't stop thinking about him the rest of the day.

Dave, Dave, Dave.

Dave, with the soft, gentle brown eyes. Dave, with the chiseled, clean shaven jaw and strong, angular nose. Dave, with the broad shoulders that strained underneath his blue button-down shirt. Dave, with the bare ring finger that still had a visible, yet faded, tan line.

Something about him stuck with you. You felt drawn to him. Connected, somehow, yet you didn't even know him.

After the weekend passed, you managed to clear him from your mind, if only because you stayed as busy as possible. You cleaned your apartment top to bottom. You went to a concert for a band you didn't even like with your friends. You even called your parents and suffered through another phone call where you heard about your brother and sister's lives, how their respective children were, how your brother got a promotion and your sister was thinking of having a third baby. The unspoken question hung heavy in the air, your parents already knowing the answer and predicting your negative reaction by now, so it remained unsaid. But it still stung to be compared to your siblings in that way. Your parents had a skewed notion that maybe it would encourage you to try a little harder if they kept pointing out your brother's success and your sister's natural instinct for motherhood, but it only made you draw into yourself tighter.

Once it was Monday again, you dragged yourself to work. You were so tired from your overly busy weekend that you didn't even think about Dave when you entered the coffee shop. You stood in line, zoning out and in desperate need of caffeine when the door swung open and shut behind you and the sound of dress shoes tapping on the hardwood floors neared.

"Promise not to steal your coffee again."

You swiveled around, eyes wide and heart rattling in your chest when you fixed your gaze on none other than Dave. And much to your dismay, he looked even better than you remembered.

"Oh," you squeaked, subconsciously fixing your hair and glancing around to buy yourself a moment to recover. "Hi again. Two days in a row, what are the odds?" you chuckled dryly, hoping you didn't sound as stupid as you felt. Dave shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled down at you.

"Could've been four but I guess you don't come here on the weekends."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you struggled to respond. Dave took that to mean he caused you offense and quickly rectified it, not wanting to sound like a stalker.

"I'm just kidding."

You laughed and rubbed the scar on the back of your neck, your head spinning. Was he just kidding? Did he come here over the weekend? And if he did, was he hoping to run into you?

"I work around the corner," you explained, telling him the company you worked for. Your mother would have scolded you for telling a stranger where you worked, especially one who might have just admitted to coming to the coffee shop in the hopes of running into you, but you knew it was safe. You didn't know how you knew, you just knew.

Dave nodded and was about to speak when the barista ushered you forward so you could place your order. Before you had a chance to pull out your wallet, Dave leaned over you to tell the barista you were together and added his order before handing over his card.

You couldn't stop the shudder that went down your spine when you heard him speak so close to you, the vibrations of his voice sending a current of electricity through you. At this distance, you could practically smell him, too, and it wasn't just his cologne. It was something else that you couldn't identify but had you weak in the knees.

To be polite, you turned to deny his offer, but he spoke first. And when he did, telling you not to argue and he was happy to do it, his voice deepened and the timber alone caused your body to weaken and your eyes cast down obediently.

"Do you work around here, too?" you asked once you got your coffees and you thanked him for the third time.

"No, I don't."

He walked towards the door and held it open for you, a fourth thank you slipping from your lips. You got the feeling he liked hearing you so thankful and sweet. He smiled every time you said it.

"What brings you out this way, then? Do you live nearby? I don't think I've seen you here before."

Dave walked you to the corner where a shiny, black BMW sat parked.

"Let's just say there's something about the atmosphere I like at this place."

Your face flushed and you took a sip from your coffee, burning your tongue in the process, while you tried to think of something to say. Then you heard the bells from a nearby church and you were stricken with panic.

"Oh, shit! It's already eight?" you asked, yanking your phone out to check the time. You were already late and you still had a ten minute walk ahead of you.

"Come on, get in," Dave said, holding open the passenger side door. "I'll drop you off. You said it's just down the street?"

You contemplated his offer for about three seconds before nodding and jumping into his car. In only took him about two minutes to drop you off in front of your building but you couldn't stop thanking him the entire way, something that continued to delight him.

The rest of the week followed the same pattern. You showed up at your usual time and mysteriously, Dave would appear within a few minutes. He would insist on buying your coffee and on nice days, he would walk you to work. If it was rainy or windy, he would drive you.

By Friday he finally asked for your number and by Saturday you were getting ready for your first date.

Shannon was your age but she always seemed to be so much wiser and grounded. She had a very different view on life, but she was sweet and fun and you got along the moment you met. While you were used to going out to bars on a Friday night, Shannon preferred to stay in and read about horoscopes, take stock of her essential oils, do some light yoga, or scour eBay for rare crystals. You thought she was a hippie, she preferred spiritually inclined.

Regardless of your differences, she still was a wonderful person and was always there for you. Whether you were going through a bad breakup or upset about something your mom said, she would always be there to listen, rub your back, and kindly suggest a way to unblock your chakra.

You had a handful of other friends who would gladly come over and drink wine while you tried on outfits and help with your makeup, but that wasn't what you needed. You had something else entirely on your mind and you couldn't think of anyone else who might be able to help besides Shannon.

"I've been having dreams."

Shannon raised an eyebrow so far up, it got lost under her curly blonde bangs and thick rimmed glasses.

"What sort of dreams?"

You sighed and sat down on the edge of your bed, your dress partially zipped. "About Dave. And me. And it's just... strange."

Shannon shifted a bit on your mattress, her clunky jade bracelets knocking together in the process. "Go on."

"It feels like a reoccurring dream, but it's not exactly the same. The feeling is the same, though."

"I see," she said thoughtfully. "And what are you doing in these dreams?"

Your face warmed up and you stared at the floor when you said, "Well, we're having sex. But it's not just sex. It's different. Like," you waved your hands in the air as you struggled to come up with an explanation. "I know this will sound crazy, but it feels like in my dreams, we have more of a connection. Like, a purpose or something? And in my dreams it feels so much more intense compared to other guys I've slept with."

"How so?"

You had to give her credit. Shannon was too kind to ever tease you.

"Intense like... if we don't fuck, I'll go certifiably insane."

"Oh," she said, nodding her head, completely unphased. "Interesting. It kind of sounds like something I've read about once before. Have you ever heard of -"

Your doorbell buzzed and you leapt off the bed. "Oh, my god! Zip me up! He's here!"

When you flung your front door open, Dave spun around with a smile, one which widened when his eyes drifted appreciatively up and down your frame.

"Hey," you said breathlessly, feeling that magnetic pull low in your belly again just at the mere sight of him.

"You look beautiful," he told you, and just as he was about to lean in and kiss your cheek, he spotted Shannon emerge from your bedroom behind you with a little wave.

"Oh, this is my friend, she was helping me get ready," you said, turning to introduce them while you grabbed a leather jacket and your purse.

"Have a great time, I'll lock up when I leave."

You both thanked her before heading outside towards Dave's car. His arm naturally found its place protectively around your waist and you practically glowed from his touch.

Dave picked a restaurant that you'd never heard of and when you walked inside, you quickly figured out why. It was easily the fanciest place you had ever eaten and if it wasn't for his reassuring touch or warm smile, you would have felt out of place. But once you sat down, the rest of the room melted away and it was just the two of you in your own little world. The entire time you both were leaning across the table, bodies pulling closer and closer on their own accord as you absorbed every little detail about each other. You learned Dave used to be in the military and now works as an operative in the CIA, something that should have intimidated you but it just made him more attractive. He was a protector, he knew how to handle himself and he was smart, qualities which turned you on and had you yearning for more.

When he admitted to being recently divorced, the hairs on your arm stood up and jealousy bloomed hot in your chest. The sudden idea of him with another partner unlocked something inside you that screamed mine, mine, mine.

By all accounts, your first date was perfect. There was never any lack of topics for conversation, you always felt perfectly at ease and safe, and it went by way too fast even though you were the last table to leave the restaurant.

But when he dropped you off and walked you to your door, something changed from that point forward. He kissed you, gently and sweetly at first, but when your lips brushed together for the very first time it set something on fire inside you that you couldn't ignore. You had no idea how it happened, but the next thing you knew he was pinning you up against your door, your wrists captured in each of his massive hands and held next to your head while his tongue licked aggressively into your mouth.

Then you released a little whimper, a little cry against his mouth and it nearly brought him to his knees. The needy sound reverberated through his entire being and had him forgetting who he was, where he was, what planet he was on because that little sound had his body and mind responding in a way he couldn't explain.

And it frightened him.

He pulled away and put some distance between you, palm dragging over his wet mouth, eyes hungrily devouring your wrecked state. Still leaning against the door, you panted heavily and stared at him through heavy lidded eyes.

He scratched at something invisible behind his ear and took a deep, steadying breath.

"I should go."

You frowned, still trying to catch your breath. "W-what? Was it something -"

Dave quickly shook his head and stepped further away.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," he promised, then turned on his heel, practically running back to his car while you stood there, completely dumbfounded.

As it turned out, you did not hear from him the following day. Nor did you see him at your coffee spot the entire fucking week. By Tuesday, after sending a few pathetic texts that went unanswered, you forced yourself to accept reality.

Dave ghosted you and you would never see him again.

It was just one date. You only knew him for a week but it felt like so much more and you couldn't help but be torn up about it.

On Tuesday night, you called Shannon to tell her. You did your best not to cry but she could hear it in your voice.

"It felt like such a strong connection, you know?" you said sadly, plucking at a loose thread on your sweater.

"Well, what do you think happened?"

You shrugged and tossed yourself backwards onto your bed. "I don't know. The date went great, he dropped me off at the front door, we were kissing and things were getting heated and then all of the sudden, just -" you snapped your fingers. "He had to leave. Said he would talk to me the next day and I never heard from him again."

You heard her hum on the other end and clink a spoon in her mug. "Suppose my silly theory was wrong, then."

"What theory?"

"The dreams you were having and the feelings you were describing sounded like something I've read in one of my books, I wondered if it were real."

One of her books. You rolled your eyes, knowing she had a very strange collection of reference material spanning from meditation and Hinduism to books about Karma and the Kama Sutra.

Even so, you humored her and let her continue.

"Do you believe in past lives?" she asked. You hid your scoff behind your hand and cleared your throat.

"Uh, can't say that I do."

"That's okay, I know it's a bit out there, but it sounds very much like you might have a connection with this man that supersedes this earthly plane. And what I mean is, you may be destined to be together."

"Like, soulmates?" you asked dubiously.

"Mmm, not exactly. What I'm thinking is a little more physical. I have a book that talks about reincarnation and the ability to imprint on another person to the degree where the link follows you throughout all your lives. If it's at all possible, you will always find each other. Although it's usually pretty rare..."

"What do you mean, if it's possible?"

Shannon flipped through some pages of a book, humming under her breath before she said, "Well, if one of you comes back as a bear and the other a human, odds are it won't be a happy reunion."

You couldn't help it, you had to laugh. Shannon wasn't offended. She knew you didn't mean any disrespect and her beliefs were a little more difficult for others to understand.

"Okay, thank you. I needed a reality check," you said with a smile. "I hear what you're saying: we just met and there's zero reason for me to be acting this way."

"No, that's not at all what I mean," Shannon replied. "I haven't actually known anyone personally who went through something like this, but I've read about this phenomenon online."

"Alright, this is getting a little too weird, even for me," you said, sitting up in bed.

"Just Google it!" Shannon told you before you finished your call. "Read what others have said and see if you can relate."

You promised her you would give it a try the next day but you never got around to it. Instead, you went back to moping and staring at your ignored texts to Dave for the rest of the week.

By the time Friday came, you were ready to blow off some steam, refusing to spend another night wasting away over some man who just happened to be an insanely good kisser and whose scent you couldn't erase from your memory.

You agreed to go out with a small group of girls after work. The alcohol buzzing in your veins and the loud music in the bar helped you forget about Dave, but when other men approached you to dance, you just couldn't do it. You politely turned them down and stayed with your co-workers, Dave's rejection still leaving its mark on you. You listened to them complain about a team lead they couldn't stand who got a promotion she didn't deserve and then, as they began to drink a little more, discussed the finer qualities of the cute guy in the mail room.

In retrospect, leaving by yourself when you became too tired wasn't the best choice. You had a longer walk back to your bus stop than usual and it was eerily quiet out, but you wrapped your arms around yourself and kept your head down. And it almost worked, too, until you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Need a ride, pretty girl?"

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and you kept pushing forward after tossing a no, thanks over your shoulder.

"Don't need to be rude," the voice replied, now much closer. You glanced around nervously and didn't see another soul on the street. Only parked cars.

You moved faster but it wasn't good enough. A hand clasped onto your shoulder, grip firm and frightening, and fear shot through you. You broke out into a cold sweat when he pushed you against a building, caging you in and leering down at you, his sour breath poisoned by alcohol. You recognized him as someone from the bar but before you had a chance to process anything else, two massive hands dug into his shoulders and yanked him away in the blink of an eye.

You shirked away when you heard a fist meeting soft tissue, then the clattering of teeth and a pained groan. Your savior's voice growled threateningly, warning the man to get the fuck out of here before I put you in the goddamn hospital, then you heard the squeaking of shoes against concrete and hurried, retreating footsteps down the street.

You were scared. He could sense it. He could fucking smell it. It made his skin crawl and his stomach turn.

Dave's voice was so deep and gravelly, you didn't even recognize him. Not until he crouched in front of you on the street, his dark eyes filled with worry as they scanned your face for any injury did you realize it was even him. Tears welled up in your eyes and he cupped your face. He looked like he was in extreme pain as he watched your tears begin to fall. He then stood, scooping you up so he could carry you to a nearby parked car.

"I'm going to take you home," he said when he placed you gently in the front seat. You had about fifteen seconds to gather your thoughts while he hurried around to the other side of his car.

"Why are you here, Dave?" you asked when he turned his key in the ignition. He paused momentarily before putting his seatbelt on and merging onto the empty street.

"Right place, right time," he muttered. He was gripping the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles turned white. You watched him closely from the passenger seat, not believing him for one second but for some inexplicable reason, it didn't frighten you. In fact, you liked it. The idea of Dave being nearby, possibly watching you, made you feel safe and protected, although you hardly knew him.

You took a deep breath, about to muster up the courage to ask him why he had ignored you all week when you were suddenly overwhelmed with his scent. You couldn't describe it but it was a smell uniquely tied to him. You made a little noise in the back of your throat and squirmed in your seat, desperately trying to stay focused and present, but your body had other plans.

Dave's eyes shifted to you, his nostrils flaring at the way your legs rubbed together and your breath picked up and then he smelled it: the first scent of your arousal in the air. That was all it took for him to forget who he was and succumb to his baser instincts.

His cock throbbed painfully hard in his jeans and his molars were practically ground to dust by the time he arrived at your apartment. You fumbled with the seatbelt, desperate to disappear inside and pretend this embarrassing interaction never happened, but you weren't fast enough. Dave had gotten out of the car so quickly that he was already yanking your door open and violently pulling the seatbelt away from your waist. You blinked up at him as if you were trying to clear your vision and jumped out of the car.

Something felt wrong.

You had an ache between your legs that was growing impossible to ignore and your brain was a hazy, swirly mess being so close to his scent. Did someone spike your drink at the bar?

"Thanks," you whispered, chest rising and falling faster as you tried to drag in more air. Your skin was far too sensitive. All you could think about was getting inside before you tore your clothes off in the middle of the parking lot. "I'll, um, see you around, I guess."

He nodded, his neck and cheeks tinted pink as he stared down at you hungrily. "Wait," he croaked when you made a move to leave, eyes burning red hot into you. "Can we - can I explain - fuck," he winced, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to block your scent from his nostrils so he could take a second to fucking think. He felt like he was going insane and he had no idea why.

"You wanna come inside and explain why you haven't talked to me in a week?" you asked bitterly, your arousal temporarily forgotten. "Why you've been ignoring me? Why you made me feel terrible? I was out tonight trying to forget you, Dave. I was hoping it would be the first night all week I didn't cry, but it's too late for that."

He swallowed thickly, eyes all wide and filled with despair as he gazed down at you. "I made you cry?" he asked softly. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him that he failed, that he did the one fucking thing he shouldn't have done.

You huffed and crossed your arms before looking away. "You hurt my feelings, Dave," you mumbled.

His heart lurched in his chest and he took a step forward to gently cup your face. Despite your anger, you gazed up at him with glassy eyes and almost immediately melted into his touch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so, so sorry. Will you let me explain?"

Reluctantly, you nodded and allowed him to trail after you to your front door.

You flicked the lights on in your kitchen and living room before turning around. Dave stood there looking too big in your average sized apartment, gaze drifting over your walls, your pictures, your plants, your life.

With a little distance, he could feel the clouds clearing and his senses returning, so he took a steadying breath before speaking.

"About last week," he began. You were in the middle of closing your curtains when you turned around to listen. "I didn't want to scare you, but something happened to me that night." You frowned, pulling the curtains closed the rest of the way and took a few steps towards him. Almost instantly he could smell you again, the wetness between your legs practically calling to him, and he quickly held up both hands so you would stop.

"You gotta stay over there," he warned. Hurt flickered over your face but you obeyed and stepped back until you were by the window again. After a moment, the air cleared enough so he could focus and he slowly dropped his hands back to his sides. He was so hard, it almost made him sick.

"I'm sorry," he said once again. "That's part of what I'm talking about. When you're close to me," he pursed his lips and dropped his chin to his chest while you patiently waited for him to continue. "When you're close to me, I can't fucking think straight. And I know it sounds dramatic," he chuckled, looking back up at you across the room. "I know it sounds like I'm making it up but I promise you, I'm not."

"I think I know what you mean," you said softly after a quiet moment. His eyebrows raised a bit, curious for you to elaborate. "It's like... your scent."

"Yes!" Dave exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "I don't understand it but you're giving off a scent and it's doing something to me. Something that frightens me."

You swallowed nervously and took a small step forward.

"Would you... hurt me?"

Dave's eyes went wide and he vigorously shook his head.

"No," he whispered, "never."

You took another step forward and his eyes flickered down to your feet.

"Then what would you do to me?"

His eyes slid shut and he crossed his arms over his chest. What wouldn't he do to you? He would bury his face between your legs until you screamed his name. He would stuff you full of his cock over and over, as many times as you could take it. He wanted to leave love bites all over your body so anyone looking at you would know you're his.

But that would be absurd. You just met and only had one date.

Without even needing to open his eyes, he knew you were closer. The thick smell of your slick filled the air, swirling around him, driving him to the brink of insanity until he was convinced the only cure would be to fuck you senseless.

"I feel it, too, Dave," you whispered, your hands coming up to pull lightly on his arms, unknotting them from their protective place over his chest. You nipped hesitantly at his neck, your lips puckering over his tanned skin, and he felt his resolve crumble.

"Fuck, what is this?" he breathed, his body pulling him forward. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. His mouth pressed into your hair, deeply breathing in your scent, then he dragged his mouth lower. His tongue flicked out to taste your skin, the burst of flavor - you - making his head swim the closer he got to the back of your neck. Before he reached the scar you kept hidden by your hair, he pulled back, gasping for air.

"Come with me," you said with heavy lidded eyes and wet, parted lips. He nodded and followed you, logic and reason fading with each step. He had never felt like this before. It felt like he was being driven by pure instinct, like some kind of animal.

Dave swallowed when you pulled your shirt over your head as you walked, your bare back teasing him with what he could not yet see. Then you worked on your pants, unbuttoning and shimmying out of them as you approached your bed. His cock strained against the metal zipper of his jeans, begging to be touched, begging to be buried deep inside your soaked cunt. And it was soaked. He could see your dampness darkening the fabric of your underwear when you bent forward.

Finally, you turned to face him wearing nothing but your panties and a nervous smile. A low groan escaped from the back of his throat while his gaze drifted slowly down your body, taking in every soft curve and slope while he began to unbutton his shirt.

"You're perfect," he said lowly, shrugging off his shirt before his hands found his belt. "I want you so fucking bad, sweetheart, it hurts. I want to make you mine, make you scream my name til it's the only word you ever remember. I want to fill you up so you're feeling me for days. Want to give you everything you could ever need. Then I want to do it all over again."

Your knees felt weak as you felt another wave of arousal spread through your stomach and between your legs. Shakily, you crawled onto the bed as Dave approached like a predator from the doorway, shedding his clothes and pinning you with an intense stare that, if it were anyone else, would make you nervous.

"You want all that?" he asked you. You were nodding but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the bulge straining in his boxers now that he stepped out of his pants. "Say it," he commanded, and something about his tone made your eyes snap up to his and your spine immediately straighten.

"Yes. I want it. I want you," you replied, then reached your arms out for him to join you. A pleased look passed across his face at your invitation as he kneeled on the bed with you, towering over you with his broad frame, making you feel so small.

He leaned forward with his hands brushing lightly over your shoulders and his lips parted as he admired you openly. Then he murmured, "Lay down and spread your legs," and you felt your stomach flip as you did what you were told.

Dave palmed himself through his boxers when his eyes locked onto the wet spot spreading in your underwear. His long fingers hooked around the fabric and pulled them down, slowly exposing yourself to him. You watched, squirming impatiently, as his eyes turned from brown to almost black when he took a deep breath and spread your legs wide into the bedding.

"I need you," you whimpered. Your skin felt like it was on fire and you were so aroused it almost fucking hurt but you were certain Dave would be able to fix it. You didn't know why or how, but you just knew.

"I know, baby," he said, shifting down so he laid between your legs, his angular nose nudging against your folds and his hot breath fanning over your leaking cunt. You shivered and whined but his big hands held you in place.

"I'm gonna take good care of you, don't worry," was the last thing he said before he placed a sweet kiss on your mound. Then he kissed you again except that time, his tongue flicked out, catching your clit, and the noise that came from your mouth was borderline embarrassing.

"God, you're so wet," he whispered in awe inbetween plunging his tongue in and out of your opening, reveling in the taste of your pussy. The way your scent had engulfed him made him feel insane and the only thing he wanted to do was pull more sweet noises from your lips.

There was no explaining that night. At least, not rationally. The two of you fell into something neither of you experienced before but somehow was all too familiar. You found yourself being far more submissive than you ever were with anybody else, like your body had taken over and knew just what to do. Anything Dave asked of you, you did it, trusting him implicitly.

It was a combination of your sobs and whimpers that drove him forward like an animal, unable to stop eating at your cunt until you came twice from his tongue. You finally had to tug on his hair to pull him away, your skin coated in a thin layer of sweat and chest heaving beneath him.

"Could smell you all fucking night," he admitted hoarsely, wiping his palm over his slick covered mouth. "Drove me crazy, couldn't stop thinking about it. Christ, I- I've never needed someone this badly, baby," he told you as he pushed his boxers off and gripped the base of his cock in his fist. "'M sorry, can't explain it-"

"I know," you croaked before hauling yourself up from the mattress. You moved towards him on your knees, legs still wobbly but you managed to hold yourself up. "I feel it, too. I don't want to leave this bed for a week," you murmured before pressing your lips against his and groaning at the taste of you on his mouth. Again, all you could think was mine, mine, mine. You were consumed by the thought, overwhelmed by the idea of Dave smelling like you so everybody would know he was yours.

Your tongue dove into his mouth greedily, a sentiment he easily returned. You dragged your fingers through his hair, down his neck, over his broad shoulders and down his soft stomach until you found his cock standing at attention between you.

"I- shit," Dave moaned when your lips nipped and sucked down his jaw until you found a tender spot behind his ear you seemed to like while your fist slowly pumped him up and down. "I don't have a condom, I didn't think... do you have any?"

You did, but you paused and thought about it. Even though you were on birth control, you still always used a condom, just to be extra safe. But the idea of having a barrier between you and Dave just felt wrong. You wanted to feel him bare, you needed it. So, you decided on a non-answer.

"I'm on birth control," you whispered, and Dave seemed just as relieved as you at the prospect of taking you raw. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the way you continued to suck and bite at the spot behind his ear while stroking his cock. He wanted to tell you there was a scar there, one he couldn't remember getting, but he was struggling to form a coherent thought.

When your teeth grazed his skin too harshly, he growled and bared his teeth like a goddamn animal, but not because it hurt. Because it felt good.

"Think you can take it, baby?" he rasped, fingers pressing into the softness of your hips.

"Mhmm," you hummed, finally tearing yourself away from his neck, proudly leaving a little red mark of your own before letting go of his cock and twisting around to fall onto all fours.

Dave moaned at the sight of you presenting yourself to him on a silver fucking platter before crawling forward.

He took hold of himself, all heavy and leaking, so he could notch at your entrance. He hummed a little, enjoying the way your warmth spread over his engorged tip, using it to spread your slick around to make it easier to first enter you.

Impatiently, you wiggled a little and tried to spear yourself on him, but he chuckled and grabbed your waist, making you still.

"Want it that bad?" he taunted, voice dropping low, the lust in his veins pumping hard and fast through every inch of his body.

"Yes," you whined, tilting your head back as if you were in pain. "Yes. Please, Dave, don't tease me."

And how could he deny you? He simply wasn't strong enough, his need for you so hot that it burned through his resolve in a matter of seconds.

His eyelids fluttered when his tip slipped past your folds, jaw dropped when he first pressed a few inches inside, face twisting and breath growing ragged when his hips finally came flush with your ass.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, blinking away the tears that suddenly burned his eyes. Shaky hands found your hips and he braced himself, taking a few deep breaths while he waited for your walls to relax and your whimpering to quiet down.

Dave swallowed and looked down, nearly coming apart right then and there at the sight.

"God, baby, you oughta see the way you stretch for me," he breathed, still staring down where you were connected. "That feel good? Hm? Talk to me," he pleaded before drawing back an inch just to watch more of your arousal get pushed out when he slid back inside.

"Yes," you hissed, "I'm so hot, Dave, it feels like I'm on fucking fire, please fucking move."

"Are you sure?" he asked, but his hips had already begun to rock into you without his permission. You nodded and let your eyes fall closed so you could focus on the way each one of his thrusts and grunts soothed the flames roaring inside you.

"Harder," you whispered, not even sure he heard it, but then a moment later his grip around you tightened and his hips snapped faster, the sounds of his skin slapping against your ass filling the room and making you dizzy.

You heard him whispering something to himself but you couldn't make it out. You craned your neck back, bleary eyes trying to find his but every forceful thrust of his hips jolted your entire body and sent you halfway up the bed just to have his massive hands drag you back down.

"Fuck it," he murmured before grabbing you by the shoulders and yanking you up so your back was pressed to his chest. You gasped in surprise and cried out at his relentless pace, never once missing a beat. One of your hands reached around to grab the hair on the back of his head, pulling him close so his mouth was directly next to your ear.

"So - fucking - tight. Want you so - fucking - bad," he whispered through clenched teeth. Both his arms circled around your middle in order to keep you steady, sweaty skin sticking to sweaty skin. You twisted your neck, seeking out his mouth so you could swallow down those words and have them echo like the beat of a drum inside you.

Your lips crashed together, messily licking and biting at one another while he grunted and growled, hammering into you with everything he had. The tip of his cock reached a spot deep within you that forced all the air from your lungs just to be followed by a sharp gasp. It was making you lightheaded, the persistent pattern - grunt, thrust, gasp, grunt, thrust, gasp - and then his hand traveled lower.

"Oh!" you cried out, your fingers slipping through the thick hair on the back of his head and body slumping a bit but he kept a firm hold around your ribs, still pressing you against his front while his fingers rubbed fast, precise circles over your clit.

Your thighs began to shake and your hips sunk lower, unable to keep yourself from giving into the pleasure mounting low in your belly. Your muscles fucking burned from the effort to stay upright, even with his help it was becoming impossible to do.

"Dave," you whimpered, eyes squeezed shut as your head came to rest on his shoulder. It was all you could remember to say, Dave, Dave, Dave. Just like he said. And it was perfect because that was all he wanted to hear.

"You're close," he murmured, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, fingers working expertly over your clit and hips still snapping tirelessly against your ass. You just nodded, slack jawed, as you focused on your release. So close. So fucking close, you wanted to say, but no words came out.

"Give it to me," he growled, voice sounding like a command. Your eyes flew open and a moment later, you came. You bore down on him, pussy clenching around his thick shaft still slamming inside you, in and out, in and out, while you wailed his name over and over until you grew weak and your muscles threatened to give out.

Dave made a pleased sound before pushing you forward onto the bed. You fell onto your forearms with a huff, still in a rosy haze from your orgasm. One hand gripped your hip, the other your shoulder, and he used you. He fucking used you to get himself off, slamming into you as hard as he liked, chasing his release, puffing and growling above you until he finally stilled and you felt his spend slowly fill you up.

"Fuck!" Dave groaned, gaze pinned to the way he spilled out of you when he pulled out. "Fucking beautiful, baby," he whispered hoarsely, still panting for breath as he continued to watch. You whined and your hips began to drop, so he collapsed next to you and tugged you against him, spooning you with his face pressed into your shoulder and his hands soothingly stroking any part of you he could reach.

"I'll... I'll get you something in a minute," he muttered, chest still heaving as he held you close. You just shook your head and closed your eyes.

"It's okay," you whispered softly.

There was so much you wanted to say, but fear held you back. You wanted to tell him how incredible it was, how you never came that hard before in your life, how amazing you felt now that he finally gave you what you needed.

Once his breathing evened out, he began to nose gently at your back. He trailed up through your hair, pushing it aside until his tongue found the skin on the back of your neck. It felt so good, melting in his arms and sharing in a warm glow while he bit and licked at the back of your neck. It didn't even strike you as an odd thing to do, the pair of you were too deep to recognize it.

With a sigh, you lifted his left hand from your stomach and examined his long fingers, your own slowly tracing his as he continued to mindlessly suck at your neck.

"What's the story here?" you asked bravely, tapping twice on the tan line of his ring finger. "You never really said much."

He grunted into your skin and forced himself to unlatch from your neck.

"Was married," he said simply. "Didn't work out."

You hummed and laced your fingers with his while he watched from over your shoulder. His cock twitched alive against your thigh when you wiggled in his grasp.

"Why?"

He shrugged, lips dragging over your shoulder. If someone had asked him that six months ago, he would have had a much more emotional reaction. Anger mixed with pain, most likely. But you had somehow managed to dwindle it down to a light shrug.

"Don't think it was just one thing," he admitted.

You nodded solemnly, thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles.

"Does it still hurt to talk about?" you asked him. You wished you knew more but you feared you might burst the perfect little bubble you had found yourselves in.

Dave smiled and, with his free hand, lifted your leg so your ankle rested on the outside of his knee.

"Not anymore," he said right before sinking back inside you.

It was the dreams that finally made you both snap out of the lust filled stupor you were lost in.

Dave had spent the night and entire next day with you, only giving yourselves enough time to eat and rest in between the countless times you found yourself impaled on his cock. It was sometime in the mid afternoon when you had fallen asleep on his chest that you awoke with a start, unable to shaky an eerie feeling.

"Dave?"

His eyes snapped open and found yours, looking slightly rattled, himself.

You breathed a sigh of relief and nuzzled into his bare chest. "I had such a weird dream."

"Me, too," he said, voice thick with sleep. He swiped a palm over his face before stretching both arms above his head. "What was yours about?"

You went on to tell him about the very vivid dream you had about him, although the man in your dreams didn't look like Dave nor did he have the same name, you just somehow knew it was him. With your face heating up, you glazed over the part where you fucked like animals in heat for a week straight and all together left out the end where you had a full blown family together, figuring it would be a bit too much and it would most definitely scare him off. But much to your surprise, he detailed a dream of his own that was so similar, it gave you goosebumps.

"Maybe we need to get out of this apartment for five fucking minutes," you joked, yet still couldn't shake the lingering feeling of familiarity.

After a few moments where you both remained quiet and lost in thought, Dave spoke again.

"There was something else."

You tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"I think we had... a family."

Dave closed his eyes as if he too felt like saying it would be too much too fast, but you shot up excitedly in bed.

"We had kids in my dream, too," you confessed, and the both of you stared at one another in shock. "And this isn't the first time, either," you added. Embarrassment was the furthest thing from your mind now as the words came tumbling from your lips. "I had them before we even had our first date."

Dave's eyes went wide and he sat up, as well.

"Shit," he muttered, "me, too. Thought I was crazy."

"Maybe we are," you huffed, still in complete disbelief. Then you remembered what Shannon had said when you poured your heart out to her and your brow furrowed before digging in the sheets for your phone.

"What is it?" he asked as he watched you.

"My friend, the one you met the night we had our date," you said as you busily focused on your phone. "She knows a little about this stuff. She's a little strange but -"

"Let's go talk to her," he said before you even had to ask. You sent your text and looked around your room.

Could you really have known one another in a past life?

You weren't sure how you got there, but in just a few short days you found yourselves standing outside the old Victorian house of Talia Carter, a friend of Shannon's whom she recommended the minute she read your text about your shared dreams.

Talia, or 'Duchess' as she preferred to be called, claimed to be clairvoyant and promised she would be able to do readings on you both to find out if your hunch was right or if you were both just certifiably insane.

Despite all the evidence, you still had your doubts as you climbed the old wooden steps of her porch. Talia swung the door open, her bright red lipstick laid on thick and stretched into a wide smile framed by her very long, straight dark hair. But her smile faded almost instantly once she saw you and she gripped the doorframe for support, alarming you both. She quickly shook her head and refocused her gaze on you both before apologizing and ushering you inside.

You hesitated for a moment and glanced up at Dave.

"My friend Shannon called, I'm -"

"I know, sweetheart," she said as if it were clear as day. "I know exactly who you are."

Dave's hand fell to your lower back and he peered inside her house before determining she wasn't some kind of obvious psycho before nodding to you and taking your hand. Talia bit back a smile and she stepped aside, holding the door open wide for you both.

"If you would like to follow me, I have a study where I do my readings just off the kitchen. Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked over her shoulder, leading you past a dark cherry wooden dining room table and matching China cabinet, as well as countless green plants stuck on every flat surface.

"No, thank you," you said, gaze roaming around the room, temporarily stunned by the very unique Elizabethan style she chose. It seemed as though she liked her wallpaper dark and oriental rugs mismatched. The woodwork appeared to be all original, or at least it was made to look that way, and it was all meticulously cared for.

"I prefer to model my home after my own past life," she said when she caught you gawking at the beautiful wainscotting and then the glittery chandelier above her desk.

The two of you sunk down into a soft velvet sofa across from her.

"You remember your past life?" Dave asked, his hand falling to your knee, body curling protectively around you when he crossed a leg and leaned forward. Talia noticed but she didn't say a word. Not yet.

"Yes. I believe Shannon mentioned I preferred to go by Duchess," she explained as she pulled out some tarot cards as well as a few books from the built in bookshelf behind her. "I was the Duchess of Argyll and I still very much connect with that lifestyle, so I have tried to recreate it in my home."

"Well, you've done a beautiful job," you told her honestly. She paused and gave you a sweet smile before opening one of her books and flipping through the pages.

"You are very kind, thank you," she said, "but we are not here to talk about my past life. We are here to talk about yours."

You bit your lip and leaned closer to Dave. Without even looking up, she asked, "Hundreds of years ago, the human race was suffering and on the brink of going extinct. It's believed Mother Nature took over and created ranks among human beings in order to boost the population. Have you ever heard of Alphas and Omegas?"

You both frowned and shook your heads. When she found the page she wanted, she lit up and turned it around, pushing it across the desk so you could see.

"I could do a reading on you both, but it's simply not necessary," she said. You were about to lean forward to look at the page when you froze.

"Why?"

She grinned and sat back in her chair, looking at the two of you like she couldn't believe her eyes.

"I sensed it the moment I saw you. You were mates in a prior life," she replied. She pointed to Dave's hand on your knee. "You're very protective of her, yes?"

Dave shrugged and scooted closer to the edge of the sofa. "That isn't unusual."

"No, you're right," she said, then leaned forward to rest her elbows on her desk, lacing her fingers together. "But tell me, do you have any noticeable scars? Maybe ones you have trouble remembering how they came to be?"

Your hand immediately came up to rub the back of your neck and Dave noticed. Visions of him licking and biting in that very same spot swam in your memories and you glanced up at him once again, watching as he came to the same realization.

"How did you get that?" he asked you softly. Your eyes darted wildly back and forth between his before answering.

"My mom and dad always told me different stories, I'm not - I was never really sure."

Then you recalled how fixated you were on the spot behind his ear the first time you had sex and you lunged forward, brushing his hair out of the way with a gasp.

"Where did -"

"I don't know," he said immediately, the energy in the room shifting as you both stumbled into something inexplicable. "I grew up in an orphanage. No one was ever able to tell me."

Your eyes watered for a moment at the thought of a young Dave growing up scared and all alone, but you forced yourself to put it out of your mind for now. You turned back to Talia, who was watching you both with an unreadable expression.

You told her everything. You told her about your dreams, the extraordinary pull between you, the intensity and passion when you had sex, the hopelessness you felt when you thought he rejected you. And most importantly, the calm and secure feeling whenever he was near.

She gave the book a little nudge and you took it on your lap so the two of you could read, but you were hardly absorbing any of it. The words knot, glands, scent marking, heat, imprinting floated across the page while she spoke, explaining everything she knew. And as crazy as it all sounded, neither of you could deny the signs.

You stayed for over an hour, asking question after question. She explained how your scars were most likely remnants of the scent glands that each of you pierced, which bonded you forever as mates. How the dreams that you both had were memories of your past life and the unbreakable bond you shared was what drew you together. When you mentioned the way your body felt like it was on fire, skin hot to the touch, she explained in more detail about heats and ruts and how it was your body's response to finding one another.

When you finally stood to leave, exhausted and unable to think of another question, she refused to take Dave's money. When he tried to insist, she held up her hands and shook her head firmly.

"You have no idea how rare this is for someone like me. Meeting the two of you is an experience I will never forget."

She even let you take home the book you had still open on your lap, your minds racing as you tried to keep up with the whirlwind of information thrown at you.

When she walked you to the door, the sun dipping low in the sky already, she placed a hand on each one of your shoulders and looked at you both intently.

"Promise me you will not squander this gift," she said. "You have no idea how unusual it is for mates to find one another again. The odds are astronomical and yet here you are, reunited by a twist of fate."

You had no idea what to say. You looked up at Dave sheepishly and he smiled warmly at you before saying, "We promise."

Once back in his car, silence surrounding you even though your minds were buzzing with activity, he reached for your hand.

"Do you believe her?" he asked. You bit the inside of your cheek and stared straight ahead down her long driveway before slowly nodding and turning to face him.

"I think I do."

A big grin stretched across his face and he brought the back of your hand up to his lips. "I think I do, too."

You giggled and ran your fingers through your hair, a rush of adrenaline burning through your veins.

"Now what?" you asked him, letting him drop your hand so he could shift his car into drive.

But before he pressed on the gas, he gave you one final look and said, "I don't know, but whatever it is, we'll do it together."

#dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york x you #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york #roll a trope challenge #the equalizer 2 fanfic #the equalizer #omegaverse #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o verse #reincarnation

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blakeblueboi · 10 months ago

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Cat Animagi Au

Purely self-indulgent- I simply wanted to draw some kitties and honestly, I feel like this could be hilarious so here's some head canons I thought of while drawing this ---->

Harry

Harry was not at all expecting to be a cat Animagus. He fully expected to be a stag like his father or some sort of dog like Sirius was. The last thing he expected was to be a cat, and a very large one at that.

Harry became an animagus in eighth year.

Professor McGonagall was thrilled that she was no longer the only cat Animagus at Hogwarts. She personally saw to it that Harry was registered as an animagus at the Ministry.

Hermione often finds Harry curled up in the common room on the windowsill.

Ron is convinced that Harry is some sort of "titan" cat due to his humungous size but Hermione speculates that he's some sort of maine coon or Norwegian forest cat.

He is very much a void in the darkness and has scared the piss out of Ron, Seamus, and Dean many times.

However, his animagus status is kept quiet from anyone other than his housemates. The other houses now recognize his animagus form and give him weird or outlandish nicknames. They're mostly to do with either the faint glasses markings around his eyes or his larger than normal size.

Harry takes advantage of his smaller size to sneak around the castle during the night.

He has taken pleasure by nipping Draco's heels in the hallway between classes.

Draco

Draco, on the other hand, was hoping his animagus form was anything but a ferret. Every since that incident in the courtyard with Professor Moody he has loathed the creatures.

His mother predicted he could have been an exotic bird and for a while he was fond of the idea until he realized he would have to molt feathers every year.

The first time he transformed Pansy gushed over him and promised to purchase him one of those pretty necklaces that she's seen muggles give their cats. Draco had to explain to her how that was, infact, not a necklace, but a collar. Blaise would not shut up about giving Draco a collar for the next month.

Draco takes pride in his appearance and that does not stop when he's in his animagus form. He's always very sleek and shiny without a hair out of place. His tail is by far his favorite feature with how it looks like a fancy feather when he walks.

He's yet to register with the Ministry as an animagus.

He can often be found infront of the fire in the Slytherin Common room curled up on a silk pillow.

Draco hates the black smudge on his right foreleg that imitated the dark mark on his arm. Even as a simple cat he can't escape the choices he made in the past. He's tried ripping the fur out there but found that the skin underneath was also just as black. He had a mind to dye it but that idea quickly went out of the window for a multitude of reasons. One being he did not have opposable thumbs.

Draco and Harry

When Draco stumbled upon Harry in his animagus form it was completely by accident. At first Draco was afraid that the Chosen one would somehow recognize him but was surprised to find a gentle hand passing over his head and spine. It was the weirdest experience he has ever had.

Draco took to following Harry around the castle on weekends convinced that Harry was none the wiser about who he was. It was nice. Of course when Ron and Hermione weren't around. WHen they were Ron teased Harry about gaining a follower, as if he did have those already, and Hermione studied him as if he was one of the massive tomes she carried around. He was half convinced that she had figured him out long ago, but just hadn't said anything for some unknown reason.

Draco met Harry finally in the other's animagus form while stalking the halls late at night. A quick glance and Draco was petrified by two glowing green eyes in the darkness and it took everything in him not to flee down the hallway.

It took awhile for the two to get along in their animagus forms and on several occasions had to be broken up by Professor McGonagall who during several of those occasions was in her animagus form as well.

After a while, Harry and Draco slowly form a weird routine of walking the halls at night. They bond quite well during their time together.

Harry at some point joins the gag about getting Draco a fancy collar. Draco is surprised that it doesn't seem like that bad of an idea when coming from Harry.

Draco teases Harry about how even as a cat his furr is still just as messy as his hair is in human form.

#drarry #harry x draco #draco x harry #animagus #harry potter #hp fanart #harry potter fanart #hp fandom

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flowerandblood · 5 months ago

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Play with my heart (Epilogue)

[ modern actors • Aemond x Strong • female ]

[ warnings: semi-public sex, smut, angst, fluff, sexual tension, little domination & praise kink ]

[ description: He gets the main role in a series about a great family and dragons, which could change his career. He is set to play the uncle and love interest of his childhood friend. When he meets the actress who plays her role, he begins to lose track of what is an acting and what is his real feelings. Sexual tension, grumpy, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: Yeah. I talked about it and I did it. You don't even know how much fun I had doing this. Of course, my characters play in a series whose script is an exact copy of my story The Fall from the Heavens. In this universe, Aemond (playing the One-Eyed Prince) and Rhaenys (playing the Princess) are of course not related – the other characters are also just actors. This three-part series is my gift to all fans of the original series, thank you so much for your support. "Rhaenys" in this story is her artistic pseudonym which she use instead of her real name. You can read this as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

The first months after the shooting were both wonderful and terrifying for him. Contrary to his grandfather's predictions, he did not stop thinking about her; moreover, he missed her so much that he did not know what to do with himself.

He got used to their daily conversations, the embrace of her warm arms, falling asleep between her soft breasts, watching Disney movies together with her with a big bowl of popcorn.

She brought a breath of fresh air into his life, a smile, lightness and laughter, forcing him to let his inner child that he had always suppressed within him come to the surface.

With her, he was not ashamed to be weak, tired, sad, discouraged. She gave him the comfort of knowing that all his feelings as a human being were natural and desired by her, no matter how ashamed he might be of them.

They tried to see each other every two weekends, taking turns visiting each other. Although he wanted to spend time with her walking around museums and parks, they usually ended up staying in bed all the time off, trying to make up for lost time.

They also saw each other at interviews to promote the series, for which the producers sent the actors in pairs, and unfortunately, although they tried to hide it, a few gestures and glances during them caused both her and him to be flooded with a wave of comments from fans so large that they had to block them from being added to their profiles.

Nooo, they're not a good match. 😫

It's just a promotional trick. They're going to break up after they finish airing the series. 😒

Leave my prince alone!!! 🤬🤬🤬

I'd love to fuck her myself, not gonna lie 👀

It's already clear where the chemistry between them comes from, lol. Pathetic. 🤮

Both of them were very much affected by the nasty comments and criticism, fearing that the production would draw some consequences against them, but it turned out that this made the whole project generate even more interest before the premiere, which pleased them.

However, in between the nasty, bitter remarks, they also received messages filled with good emotions, wishing them luck, saying that they were great to watch, that they complemented each other perfectly in interviews, that it was clear from the trailers that there was genuine affection between them.

They tried to cope with it all by talking for hours on the phone, sometimes crying together from sadness and exhaustion, falling asleep with speakerphone on, waking up in the morning and seeing that they hadn't hung up all night.

He felt he was ready to move on and thought everything through, at the same time wanting to surprise her.

"– how was your audition? –" She asked softly, excitement in her voice.

"– unfortunately, not very successful –" He lied, fiddling with his pen between his fingers, sitting at his desk, having just exchanged emails with the director of her theatre, with whom he had spoken personally a few days before about the terms of his future employment.

"– oh no – I'm very sorry – how are you feeling? –" She asked clearly worried, making him feel remorseful for a moment that she would believe he was suffering.

"– fine – I wasn't feeling that role – I'm lucky that I can be more choosy now – and how are you, little one? –" He hummed, writing back in an email that, as agreed, he would turn up in three days to sign the contract in their town.

His girlfriend grunted, clearly very excited by the news she had to share with him.

"– apparently they've hired a new actor in our theatre, but no one knows who it is – the director is very mysterious –" She said, her voice light and warm, filled with joy.

"– mmm – are you excited to have a new colleague on stage? –" He murmured as he sent the email, closing his laptop with a quiet click.

He heard her laugh at his words.

"– not in the way you suggest –" She said.

"– are you a good girl when I'm not around? –" He hummed, licking his lips involuntarily, feeling the pulsation in his trousers at his words.

"– well –"

"– are you touching yourself? –"

"– I –"

"– answer me – don't lie –"

She was silent for a long moment making him grin, biting his lower lip.

"– so you haven't been a good girl, or am I wrong? –" He sneered and heard her swallow hard.

"– you know what happens to bad girls, don't you? –" He asked, looking at the display of his screen, feeling his heart pounding fast.

"– but –" She finally mumbled out in embarrassment.

"– mmm – I'll see you soon –" He murmured and hung up, knowing that he had left her in complete shock for sure with her panties wet with her moisture.

The third thing he enjoyed most right after fucking her and talking to her was teasing her.

The next day the removal van took his things to the flat he had rented on short notice figuring they would find something together later, and after two days he drove to her town straight to the theatre building.

He went inside through the main entrance and ran quickly upstairs, praying not to meet her on the way, heading for her director's office. The man welcomed him warmly, saying that he was very happy that an actor with such charisma would be performing on his stage.

From the audience it was impossible to see whether his eye was real or fake, and his scar could be covered up with make-up if necessary.

His grandfather was furious, saying that he was giving up a world-class career for second-rate theatre, but he was relieved.

He didn't want to go through again what he was going through now – being torn apart by paparazzi and fans, being in the spotlight all the time.

He was tired of it and decided that, although it was a great adventure, like her he wanted to work in theatre, where artistic sense, monologues and dialogues counted more than nudity and sex.

It was what he wanted for both of them.

The director said it was time to introduce him to the whole crew.

"– I kept it a secret from everyone so that she wouldn't accidentally find out about anything –" The director laughed, a short, grey-haired man with a warm voice and a good-natured face, a visionary and a lover of the classic literature he was staging in his theatre.

"– I can see you with the eyes of my imagination in the roles of Hamlet and Ophelia – you've been wonderfully matched, I have to give you that –" He said softly, and he nodded, thinking in the back of his mind that indeed, this was a fantastic idea.

He felt excited like a little child and thought in the back of his mind that it was because of her, that she had changed him, making him fight for his fulfilment, his comfort, his joy.

"– my dears –" He called out, stepping onto the stage during their rehearsal for The Wedding of Wyspianski, his Rhaenys dressed in Slavic folk costume and a garland on her head turned towards them along with several other people.

Her eyes grew big in disbelief at the sight of him.

"– I would like to introduce you to your new colleague, who from now on will be playing on the stage of our theatre – I am very pleased –"

Everyone looked at her and she just stood there, looking at him and his grin full of satisfaction, breathing loudly through her mouth, her bright eyes hot with affection, disbelief and happiness that apparently shook her body.

Several people laughed as she threw herself into his arms and burst into a loud, panicked sob, whooping and panting with her own tears, his broad hands stroking her hair and back while his lips placed warm, reassuring kisses on her face hot with emotion.

"– shhh – it's okay, little one –"

She looked at him in disbelief, gushing with energy and joy as she introduced everyone to him one by one. He was relieved by the warm welcome given to him by the other actors, some of whom could have been his parents or even grandparents.

They seemed very close to each other and addressed each other warmly.

He was allowed to stay in rehearsal to see how they worked, so he watched as his girlfriend played a young bride, a village girl marrying a nobleman, during whose wedding many unexplained, mysterious events occur.

He smiled the whole time, watching her, satisfied that apart from one brief kiss there was no intimacy on stage between her and her partner, exactly as she had described it to him in their telephone conversations.

When it was all over she ran up to him in her folk costume, all hot, breathing loudly through her mouth, field flowers entwined together on her head.

"– what do you think?! –" She asked, and he hummed under his breath.

"– I really like your staging – I need to read this drama – you look amazing –" He hummed. He smiled under his breath as she sat on his lap – the seats in the audience were sunk in darkness so the people on stage couldn't see very well what they were doing.

"– I can't believe it – you've been lying all this time –" She muttered simultaneously embittered and delighted. He shook his head at her words.

"– I told you I had an audition – I just didn't say where –" He stated.

"– you said you did badly –" She said, wrinkling her eyebrows – she squealed as he caught her around the waist and pulled her closer, making her feel the hard bulge in his trousers.

"– that was my subjective assessment which was clearly not shared by your director –" He grinned, looking at her with his lips slightly parted. They both sighed as her hips rubbed against his pulsing erection, her gaze hot and misty.

"– my little girl can't stand it? – shall I take you to the toilet? –" He sneered and she swallowed hard, red with embarrassment and nodded.

Nothing more than panting and moans left their throats as they locked themselves in one of the cabins, their mouths immediately clinging to each other in greedy, loud, messy, sticky kisses. Their saliva clicked each time their lips pulled away from each other, his hands pulled up the material of her skirt and petticoat, pulling her panties off her thighs.

"– turn your back to me –" He commanded, and she did so without a word of objection, in a natural reflex leaning over and bucking her buttocks towards him, knowing what he wanted to do. His hands exposed her bare hips to him and what was between them, her opening glistening from her wetness, pink and swollen.

He hit her womanhood with a sharp, short slap and she jumped up with a quiet squeal and whimpered.

"– quiet – I warned you – I said: no touching – didn't I? –" He asked, gently rubbing and massaging the little spot that pulsed all over and leaked from his stroke, teasing the puffy bud between her plushy folds.

"– 'm sorry – I tried –" She confessed with embarrassment, panting heavily, rolling her hips to the rhythm of the strokes of his hand, trying to find a better source of squeeze.

"– the deal was different –" He said coolly, parting and rubbing her throbbing, dripping wet slit, her cheek pressed against the wall all red with pleasure, her lips parted in a helpless moan.

"– it's all mine – the sight of your fulfilment, your moisture, your little cunt is meant for my eyes –" He continued, as if he was explaining to her some essential, eternal principle, something obvious and logical that she could not change. She trembled as two of his fingers slipped between her slick, throbbing walls, stretching her core.

"– yes – I'm sorry – I missed you so much –" She mumbled, rocking her hips to the rhythm of the thrusts of his fingers, which teased and pressed the spongy bud between her fleshy folds deep inside her, from which a trickle of her moisture ran down her thigh.

"– mmm – I know, baby – I missed you too –" He confessed, recognising that although he wanted to, he couldn't last much longer. This sight and the euphoria that gripped his body made him let go of her as his hands slid down to the belt of his trousers, undoing it – her eyes opened in hope, her breath accelerated and uneven.

"– please –" She muttered.

"– shhh –" He hushed her, grabbing her by the waist, the other releasing his throbbing, fat erection, the tip of which he guided to her leaking, swollen slit.

"– thaat's it – there you go – fuck –" He exhaled, slowly forcing his way between her hot, fleshy walls, clenching greedily around his cock, sucking it inside her.

"– yes – yes, God, please, yes –" She mewled, immediately beginning to roll her hips to the rhythm of his impatient, fierce thrusts, fitting his pulsing erection inside her again and again, though they tried to restrain themselves, their panting and moans echoed around the restroom.

"– Rhaenys –" He muttered, sinking his face into her fragrant, hot neck, her scent wonderfully familiar, her insides moist and warm, welcoming him with ease. He thought about it, thrusting into her with slick, sharp stabs – how deep he was in her body, how much they united in this chaotic, viscous act of desire.

"– Aemond – o-oh, fuck, fuck, oh, God –" She cried out as he imposed a fast, aggressive pace on her, pounding into her with the deep, sharp pushes of his hips, opening her wide with his manhood throbbing painfully with longing.

"– shhh – shhh, little one – just a little more – yes, that's my girl –" He praised her, panting heavily as he felt her reach the edge, her breath heavy and loud.

Nothing more than moans and grunts left her lips, her little cunt gave him a few more thirsty, steady squeezes before she shuddered with sweet fulfilment, her wetness running down his thighs as with the last, loud slaps he reached his peak inside her with a sigh of delight.

Since she was taking the pills, he could fuck her whenever and wherever he wanted.

"– fuck –" He breathed out, embracing her tightly from behind, while still rocking his hips inside her and hugging her like a little, longing child.

He wished she would say that they were going to watch some new cartoon or comedy in the evening, that they were going to lie in their sweatpants, spread out comfortably on her bed, cuddled up, eating popcorn, kissing and caressing each other.

"– m-maybe – maybe let's go to my place – we'll watch something and relax – I can cook you something, but we need to do some shopping –" She whispered, stroking his arm, and he purred, delighted by her words.

"– yes – yes, that's what I need –"

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pickingupmymercedes · 5 months ago

Text

I need you to let me go - Lewis Hamilton

Sequence: Not just a pretty face / I need you to let me go / Fly on my own / Leap of faith (bonus)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: angsty

wordcount: +2K

a/n: It's not even a slowburn atp, just pure longing and angst. Anyway, do we want a happy ending or just pure heartbreak and right person wrong time trope?

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

_______________________________________

The air thrummed with a deafening bass beat, the pulsating lights painting the faces in the opulent ballroom with a kaleidoscope of colors.

Y/n felt the familiar unease crawl up her arms. Parties like this were a necessary evil, a way to keep her father's business connections happy. But that night, the forced smiles and meaningless conversations felt unbearable. Her eyes flitting across the room, searching for the familiar dark hair she had seen before, a hint of that easy swagger that always seemed to draw her gaze.

Lewis stood laughing to a corner, his arm casually draped around the waist of a blonde model. Y/n recognized her from his Instagram baddies rounds; someone with a penchant for fame, fast cars and the medal that was having Lewis Hamilton for a weekend.

A sharp annoyance twisted in her stomach, but not jealousy, not exactly. It was more a bitter disappointment, a confirmation of something she'd always knew but had been trying to ignore. Lewis, the man who often made her world tilt on its axis, was just like the others and their list of conquests.

She straightened her back, forcing a smile onto her lips as a group of her father's associates approached. They were a predictable bunch – men with oil money dripping from their tailored suits, wives adorned with enough diamonds to blind those who didn’t know any better.

The conversation followed a familiar script – pleasantries about the weather, questions on her father, on who would take after his business, about her "jet-setting lifestyle." Y/n answered with practiced ease, her mind already a million miles away.

But then a voice cut through the monotonous drone. "Y/n! Looking as radiant as ever."

She turned to see Francis Chrysler, heir to a automobile empire and carrying his family name on that party, much like Y/n. They had known each other since they were kids, Y/n would travel up north to spend summer in the Hamptons with her grandmother and Francis would meet his parents in the US, back from his bordering school in the UK.

Y/n couldn’t deny he was something. Tall, impeccably dressed, and with a smile that could charm the birds from the trees, Francis was exactly the type of man everyone hoped she’d marry – stable, successful, from a “good family” and undeniably the type to merge her family’s fortune to even deeper riches.

But that night, he was also the perfect tool for the job at hand.

"Francis" she replied, a touch of coolness in her voice. "Lovely to see you."

The blonde took her hand, his fingers lingering a beat too long. "I must say, I didn’t expect to see you in the city so early in the year."

" You know me too well. I’d much rather stay in California until it’s warm enough up here" she said, her eyes scanning the room again. Lewis was gone, the blonde model nowhere to be seen.

“But duty called?” Francis focused his gaze on her, trying to get her to look at him before he touched her arm “Something like that” she finally conceded, looking up at him with a warm but emotionless smile.

The rest of the night was a blur of champagne flutes and hollow conversations. Francis, was attentive, even charming in his way. But his attentions only served to highlight the hollowness that echoed inside her.

Lewis's fleeting stares, the way his eyes seemed to see right through her meticulously facade - those were the things she craved, the things she couldn't have.

As the party started to wind down, Y/n found an excuse to slip away. She needed air, needed a moment of sanity away from the suffocating atmosphere and maybe some fresh air from her own mind.

Stepping outside onto the balcony, she took a deep breath of crisp night air. The city lights shimmered below, a glittering reminder of everything she was supposed to aspire. But all she could think about was how her mind and heart could never reach an agreement.

A sudden movement near the edge of the balcony caught her eye. Lewis stood there by himself, leaning against the railing, his face hidden in the shadows. A surge of conflicting emotions coursed her as she noticed he too studied her face – relief, anger, hope.

"Lewis," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Enjoying the company, Y/n?" His voice was a low murmur, his hands gripping a bit too tight against the metal bar.

The question was laced with a playful challenge, a reminder of her earlier display with Francis as they talked and his hand rested a bit too low on her waist. "I manage" she replied, forcing a lightness that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"So, I see," he said, his gaze dropping to where the blonde’s hand had been. A flicker of something dark crossed his face before it was quickly masked by a charming smile. "He seems...familiar with you."

"He's harmless" Y/n said dismissively, the lie bitter on her tongue.

"Didn’t look like that" Lewis countered, his voice taking on a serious edge.

They stood there, the unspoken tension hanging heavy in the air. Y/n, unable to bear the weight of his gaze any longer, broke eye contact.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Y/n" Lewis said, his voice laced with amusement.

She scoffed. "Jealousy? Don't flatter yourself, Lewis. You can have your little arm candy."

His amusement vanished, replaced by a coldness that made her shiver. "Is that what he was then? Your arm candy?"

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Y/n knew she was playing a dangerous game, one that probably wouldn’t end well.

"Why the charade, Y/n?" He took a step closer, the air crackling with unspoken tension. "Why the forced smiles?"

"Maybe," she countered, her voice holding steadier than she felt "because I'm tired of the stolen glances and the late-night texts that lead to nothing."

Lewis stared at her; his expression unreadable. She could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, processing her outburst.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Don't tell me you haven't felt it too, Lewis. The frustration, the longing. We dance around each other like moths to a flame, but neither one of us dares to get burned."

He remained silent; his jaw clenched tight. Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse. "What do you want, Y/n? Because honestly, I have no idea anymore. It was never a secret how I feel about you."

Her heart hammered against her ribs. Here it was, the question she both dreaded and craved.

The answer, however, remained a tangled mess of emotions.

"I..." she started, then stopped.

There was the comfortable life she'd always known, the endless jet-setting, the security of her family's wealth. The power she carried with her from a very young age. A power her mother had taught her to never take for granted. To never trade for a man.

But then there was Lewis, her very own whirlwind of passion and ambition who challenged everything she thought she knew and wanted. He was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. And she couldn’t stand the possibility of changing a single inch of him, even if he offered.

"I don't know," she finally admitted, a tear rolling down her cheek. A truth so raw and honest it took her by surprise to being able to say out loud.

Lewis reached out, brushing the tear away with his thumb. His touch a reminder of their connection that transcended words. For a moment, they were lost in each other's eyes, a silent peace hanging in the air.

"But you want something" he pressed gently.

She nodded, unable to speak through the lump in her throat. Part of her yearned for a life intertwined with his, a life with the adrenaline he came intertwined with. The other though, craved stability, a future that she could plan about.

"Why are we doing this, Lewis?" she blurted out, finally turning to face him fully again. "This game of… of pretending we don't care."

His jaw clenched briefly, a flicker of frustration mirroring her own. "Because," he began, his voice low and controlled, "because it's easier than this. Easier than admitting what this is."

He gestured vaguely between them; the unspoken truth thick in the air.

"And what exactly is this, then, Lewis?" she challenged, a tremor in her voice finally showing the faltering of her walls.

He took a step closer, his eyes searching hers, and with each step, the temperature between them seemed to rise, Y/n not backing the slightest.

"It's frustrating, isn't it?" Y/n spoke the words hanging in the air, her voice barely a whisper.

"It's torture," he corrected her, his voice raw with emotion. "Seeing you with someone else..." He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. The implication hanging heavy. Y/n felt his pain echo within her, a bittersweet recognition.

His eyes searched hers, a silent plea hanging between them. He wanted her, she knew that much. But the fear of disrupting their fragile equilibrium, of sacrificing their comfortable charade, held them both captive.

A wave of despair washed over Y/n. They were caught in a never-ending loop, dancing around their desires, afraid to take the leap.

"Then why do we keep doing this?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Why do we keep pretending?"

He reached out, his thumb tenderly brushing at her hand.

"Because," he said, his voice barely above a murmur, "because even this… even this agonizing dance is better than not having you at all."

"Is it?" she questioned, the tears she had tried so fiercely to keep in finally spilling over. "Because all this yearning is slowly breaking me."

He flinched at her words, the pain in her eyes mirroring his own. They stood there, bathed in the city’s lights, the weight of unspoken desires and the reality of their relationship created a suffocating silence between them.

Finally, Y/n took a step back, pulling away from his touch. The physical distance mirroring the emotional chasm that seemed to be growing between them.

“I can keep you in the dark, Lewis. You deserve love. And I can’t give you that. Not right now” The look of raw vulnerability on his face tore at her heart, but she knew she was right. They couldn't keep living in this state of perpetual longing.

"Y/n, I’m not a child, I know what I’m getting myself into" he began, his voice laced with annoyance. But she held up a hand, silencing him.

"I need to go" she choked out, turning away from him before she crumbled completely.

Without another word, she walked back inside, the party lights blurring with the tears that she fought so valiantly to hold in.

Weeks later y/n found herself sneaking into a european f1 paddock late at night on a Friday.

The roar of the engine had long been replaced by the sterile hiss of the garages closing around them. It was a sound she would normally hate, a constant reminder of the world that made Lewis impossible to her.

But that night, it was a chilling and fitting melody to accompany the hollowness in her chest that threaded to swallow her.

They hadn't spoken in almost a month. Not since the party and since their talk, the one that shattered the fragile peace they'd managed to balance.

His silence was a language she knew all too well, a tapestry woven with disappointment and unspoken blame, his and hers.

She watched him from across the dimly lit garage, the harsh overhead lights glinting off at his temple. He looked beautiful, untouchable, a goddamn champion shrouded in the shadows.

It was a sight that would've probably lighten something in her, a reminder of why she kept coming back.

But tonight, all she felt was a cold dread.

"I need your help Lewis.” she whispered, the words a plea and a surrender all at once. The air hanging heavy, thick with the unspoken truth that both refused to accept it.

His eyes flickered to hers, surprise quickly replaced by a steely glint. He opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his lips as she continued. “I need you to let me go”

Maybe he saw it too, the raw vulnerability etched on her face, the fear that threatened to consume her.

"Because honestly," she murmured, her voice barely above a choked sob, "I haven’t been able to do it on my own”

The words hung in the air, a desperate confession that shattered the carefully constructed walls around her heart. Lewis took a hesitant step towards her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Y/n?" His voice was rough, laced with something that sounded suspiciously like hope.

She shook her head, tears blurring her vision. "Nobody gets me like you" she choked out, the words echoing the hurt in the duty she felt to follow her better judgment instead of her heart.

It was a messy confession, a tangle of contradictions and unspoken desires. But in the quiet of the garage, under the harsh glare of the lights, it felt like the only truth that mattered.

Lewis closed the distance left between them, his arms enveloping her in a warmth that chased away the chill that had settled in her bones since that NYC night.

There were no answers, just the echo of a question hanging in the air, a question that they both knew neither had the answer to. But for those moments, in the fragile space between letting go and holding on, they hung to a sliver of solace, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way out.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf @priopp123

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you

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xomakara · 4 months ago

Text

Game On, Love

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | Yunho's a gamer and so are you. In fact, you're both so good at it, you reach top rankings in international competitions, and that's how you notice each other. But romance is more than a game—or is it?

PAIRING | Yunho x Reader

GENRE/CONTENT/WARNINGS | gamer!Yunho, gamerl!Reader, smut (with some plot), literally just pure unadulterated filthy smut, consensual sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up y'all), fingering, dirty talk, pet names (little one, etc), praise kink

RATING | Mature, Explicit, 18+, NSFW, MDNI

LENGTH | 4.642 words

TAGLIST | --

NETWORKS | @cromernet (reuploaded so only tagging nets that haven't reblogged it yet)

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Hi, hello~ 👋 thanks @yessa-vie and @yourlocaljonghoe for beta reading this (and loving it 💚). Love you much and I hope you all like it! Comment, like, reblog, anything would be greatly appreciated~

As the weekend sun streams through your window, you wake up with a sense of warmth and anticipation. Today marks the beginning of the international gaming competition you've been eagerly preparing for. Feeling a surge of adrenaline, you get out of bed and head to the kitchen to brew your morning coffee. The rich aroma of the brewing coffee fills the air, wrapping you in a sense of comfort and steadying your nerves as you take your first sip.

You've got your coffee in hand as you sit at your computer desk. The soft padding of your gaming chair provides comfort as you boot up your system. As you log into the tournament, you feel your heart rate quicken as the reality of the competition sinks in. Players from every corner of the globe gather in this virtual arena, all eager to showcase their talent and claim the top prize. But you're confident. You've dedicated yourself to this, honing your skills daily, and now it's time to let your talent shine.

The early rounds pass in a blur of concentration and precision. You move through them with ease, your strategies paying off as you adapt to the playstyle of each new opponent. As you progress, a name starts to stand out: Yunho. He's a fellow competitor from your region, and you can't help but notice his impressive performance. Curious, you decide to observe one of his matches.

Yunho, with his striking appearance and intense focus on the camera, effortlessly defeats his opponents with his skill. Although his confidence may come across as arrogant, it's this very quality that captivates you. His movements are smooth and captivating, drawing you in. Before you realize it, you find yourself seeking out his matches, eager to witness more of his undeniable talent.

As you advance in the tournament, the online community buzzes with speculation about a potential showdown and the rivalry between you and Yunho. Little do they know that your interest in Yunho goes beyond his gaming skills.

Intrigued, you decide to do some digging. You learn that Yunho is a force to be reckoned with. With his dark hair and piercing dark eyes, he exudes an air of mystery. Blessed with height and a toned build, he certainly stands out. There's an intensity to him, a fiery focus that translates into lightning-fast reflexes, and a strategic mind that predicts his opponents' every move. But it's the contrast between his confident gaming persona and his unknown real-life self that fascinates you the most.

Then, finally, your paths collide. It's the semi-final round, and the anticipation is palpable. You and Yunho are pitted against each other in a best-of-three series, and the winner will secure a spot in the grand finals.

In the first game, the tension is high as you both adapt to each other's strategies. Your persistence pays off as you ultimately clinch the first game, taking the lead. During the break before the second game, you feel a sense of respect for your opponent and look forward to continuing the competition.

"Great game," Yunho types in the chat, his avatar giving a casual nod. "Let's see if you can keep up that level of play."

There's a hint of teasing in his words, challenging you to rise to the occasion once more.

You stretch your arms over your head, fingers laced, feeling the satisfying pop of your spine as you reply, "Just enjoying the warm-up. I'm ready for more."

You emphasize the last word, knowing full well that this friendly rivalry is sparking something special.

"Good. Let's get back in the game," he says, his avatar nodding once more before returning to his seat.

The match resumes, and the two of you continue your battle for dominance. Yunho brings his A-game, demonstrating why he's earned his place among the tournament's elite. He evens the series, claiming the second game as his own and setting the stage for an epic conclusion. As the third game loads, you take a moment to gather yourself. This is it—the moment that could decide your fate in this tournament. You steel your resolve, determined to leave it all on the digital battlefield. The game becomes a fierce battle of wits and endurance, with both of you refusing to yield. The match stretches into overtime, each of you landing blows, but neither willing to concede defeat.

At some point, your motivation changes. It's no longer just about winning; it's about impressing this mysterious opponent who has gained your attention and respect. You want to show Yunho that you are a formidable presence both in and out of the game.

And impress him, you do. In a stunning upset, you manage to eke out the victory, claiming the third game and the series.

"Congratulations," Yunho types. "I guess I'll see you in the finals."

He's not bitter or angry, and the sincerity of his message warms your heart.

"Thanks, and yes, you will. See you there." You return his message with a smile.

Elation courses through you, but there's a hint of disappointment as your encounters with Yunho come to an end. Throughout the semifinals, you've become accustomed to the thrilling rivalry and the unspoken connection you shared.

As you advance to the final round, your thoughts drift back to Yunho. He was a formidable opponent, one who challenged and inspired you, and you can't help but feel the absence of his presence. Perhaps if you meet him again...

Your daydream about a possible encounter is interrupted by the buzz of your phone. Glancing at the screen, you see a notification from the tournament. It's an invitation from Yunho for a private voice call. You accept, feeling excited and curious about why he's reaching out. The call connects, and a deep voice comes through the speakers.

"Hello, stranger," his voice was smooth and playful. The sound sent a shiver down your spine. "Congratulations on making it to the finals."

"Thanks," you replied, hoping he couldn't hear the tremor in your voice. "I'm surprised you reached out. Aren't you afraid of the competition getting into your head?" You teased, unable to resist poking fun at him.

He chuckles with a deep, melodious sound that causes your heart to flutter. "I'm up for a little friendly competition," he says.

You pause for a moment, carefully weighing your next words. "Well, maybe we can spar off-camera then," you suggest, hoping he picks up on the hint of flirtation in your tone.

"I'd like that," he said sincerely. The promise of an intimate encounter sent a rush of heat through you. You made plans to meet up after the final match, feeling anticipation building at the prospect of getting to know him better.

As the conversation comes to a natural end and the call disconnects, you can't help but smile. Yunho has captured your attention, and you can't wait to see where things go.

The grand finals are a whirlwind of cutthroat competition and tactical maneuvers. Driven by your ambition to secure the top spot, you bring your absolute best to every match. It's a battle for the ages, and in the end, your determination pays off. You're crowned the champion, and the elation is almost enough to drown out the bittersweet realization that your encounter with Yunho has come to an end.

Almost.

But there's a silver lining: you and Yunho have decided to meet in person.

When the day comes, you're feeling very nervous. What will it be like to finally meet the person you've been chatting with? You've seen what they look like on camera. You try to stay calm as you wait, but the suspense is almost unbearable.

Finally, you see him approaching. He is tall and you knew he was handsome because you talked to him virtually. You can't help but notice his long fingers as he adjusts the cuffs of his shirt, the movement revealing a glimpse of his muscled forearms.

"It's a pleasure to meet you in person," he says, his voice as smooth and inviting as you remember. "I knew you were pretty on camera, but you're even more beautiful in person."

"You too." You're thankful for your steady voice, even as your heart races at his proximity.

"I'll be honest, I've thought about you a lot since the tournament," he admits. "I'm glad we finally have a chance to meet."

Your cheeks flush at his admission, and you can't help but reciprocate the sentiment. "Me too," you say, your gaze never leaving his.

The tension between you is electric, and as the conversation flows easily, it's clear there's something special between you.

"Can I take you to dinner?" he asks, his hand reaching for yours, and the touch is enough to send a jolt of desire through you.

"Yes," you say, knowing there's no turning back. You're already committed.

Dinner is a blur of delicious food, intriguing conversation, and a growing sense of intimacy. Yunho's charming, and you can't stop stealing glances at him as you eat. With each moment spent in his company, you feel closer to him, drawn to his magnetic personality and effortless confidence.

"So, tell me more about yourself," Yunho says, leaning forward, his eyes intense. "What do you like? What turns you on?"

"Hmmm..." You took a sip of your drink. "Why do you want to know?"

His lips curve into a sinful grin as he slides an arm along the back of your chair, his body angled toward you. "Call it...curiosity."

You take a sip of your drink, feeling the warmth of his skin radiating through you, and heat pulses in your veins. You've never been so forward, but there's something about Yunho that makes you want to be honest.

"Well," you begin, your voice soft. "I like whispers, gentle touches. But I also enjoy a little roughness. It's a contrast, I guess. I like to feel desired."

A slow, sexy smile spreads across Yunho's face, and he leans closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. "I think I can help you with that. I love a woman who knows what she wants. And I have a feeling you and I are going to have a lot of fun together."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel yourself getting wet. You take a bold step forward, reaching out to trace his strong jawline with your fingertips.

"What about you?" you ask, looking into his dark eyes. "What do you like?"

Yunho looks down at you, a teasing gleam in his gaze. "That's a dangerous question, little one."

You arch a brow, challenging him. "Don't tell me you're afraid."

His lips tilt up into a crooked smile, the dimples in his cheeks flashing. "Hardly," he murmurs, his voice a silky purr.

You feel a spark of delight at his words, and the confidence in his voice ignites a fresh surge of arousal through your body. The air between you crackles, and you let your gaze run down his body, admiring the lean muscles hidden beneath his tailored clothes. He's everything you imagined and more, and you want nothing more than to take him home and explore all his hidden talents.

"All right, little one, challenge accepted," he murmurs. A shiver of excitement races down your spine. "How about we have a game of our own, just the two of us?"

His gaze burns through you, and you can't seem to tear your eyes away from his. The atmosphere is tense with arousal and promise, and all you want is a chance to discover just how good you both might be at playing together.

"You're on," you reply with a sexy smirk. Your body's trembling in anticipation. The raw, sexual attraction is there. Now, it's a question of who's going to initiate it. You'll bet it's going to be him.

The dinner is done and so is the playful flirting. But the night's still young. You want to let the real you play. That is if he's able and willing to rise to the occasion. The arousal pumping through your veins gives you the boldness you need to slide your foot along the taut length of his thigh. And with a smoldering stare, you ask him, "Should we play at my place or yours?"

Yunho responds by laying his card on the table and signaling to the waiter. You're only too happy to pay as the two of you leave the restaurant to continue this little adventure elsewhere. The destination? Well, it doesn't matter. You only care about the journey. And if the sexual tension is this electrifying on the short ride home, then you're eager for what's to come.

The cab seems to take forever to reach Yunho's apartment, but finally, you're stepping inside, the door clicking shut behind you. You waste no time, turning to face him and pressing your body against his. You feel his desire for you, hard and insistent, and it fuels your own need.

His hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and your lips find him in a hungry kiss. You taste the beer he was drinking earlier, and you moan into his mouth, wanting more. His tongue tangles with yours, and his hands move lower, cupping your ass and lifting you slightly so you can feel just how much he wants you.

You break the kiss, gasping for air. He takes the opportunity to trail kisses along your jaw, down your neck, and onto the sensitive skin of your collarbone. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he whispers, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Then don't hold back," you plead, arching your neck to give him better access. "Take what you want."

With a growl, he lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you towards the bedroom. The slight roughness of his actions sends a thrill through you, and you tighten your legs around him, pulling him closer.

He kicks the bedroom door closed with his foot and lays you gently on the bed, his eyes burning with desire as he looks down at you. Slowly, he begins to undress you, kissing and caressing every bit of skin he reveals. He takes his time, teasing you with soft touches and gentle whispers, contrasting it with the rough hunger in his eyes.

You can't take it anymore; you need to feel him. You tug at his shirt, pulling it over his head and running your hands over his toned chest. He leans down to capture your lips again. It sends a wave of desire coursing through you, and you pull him closer, needing to feel his weight on you.

His hands are in your hair, holding you still as he dominates the kiss. He leaves no part of your mouth unclaimed, exploring every inch with his lips and tongue. He pulls back slightly and meets your gaze, his eyes dark and intense. "I want to make you come undone, make you lose yourself in pleasure," he whispers, and you whimper in response.

He leans down, his lips tracing a path across your collarbone to your shoulder. Your hands clench on his biceps, feeling the solid muscle under his skin. His fingers caressed your skin, finding all the secret places that make you gasp. "You're so perfect," he whispers.

Yunho looks down at you as his finger trails down to your navel. The suddenness of his movement causes a gasp. A subtle smirk forms across Yunho's gorgeous face, but then the next moment, you feel his fingers trailing lower and lower as they reach the juncture of your thighs.

"Please..." You let out a groan when his finger is almost hovering over your clit.

You want his mouth on yours; his hands, his body, his breath, his everything. You crave his attention—not only during the daytime but also during the night. But you don't know if he wants the same; if this is just a game for him like all the other tournaments or something more... You know he enjoys the challenges you bring, and you do too.

Your breath stutters. The sensation of his finger resting there is enough to send jolts of pleasure running through you, and yet he hasn't even made proper contact.

"Look how wet you are for me," he whispers, his voice sending another ripple of pleasure through you. "I love hearing the way I affect you, the way you gasp and moan for me."

His finger made contact with you, and your entire body shuddered from the contact.

"Is this what you want?" he asks, his thumb stroking slow, torturous circles around your clit. "Want my fingers inside you, making you come apart for me?" He slips one long digit inside you, and you arch your back at the sensation.

You bite your lip hard. It feels so good, so damn right, but the sensations aren't quite enough to push you over the edge.

"Not enough, am I?" He teases, pumping in and out of you with his finger, and you can't suppress the whimper that escapes.

"More," you plead.

"Beg for it," he says, his gaze never leaving yours.

You open your mouth to retort, and he quickly slips in another finger, plunging deeper inside you and forcing all coherent thoughts from your mind.

"Yes," you groan, shamelessly grinding against his fingers. "Fuck Yunho. Your fingers—god—you know exactly what I want, exactly what I need."

Your words spur him on, he adds a third finger and curls them perfectly, hitting the spot that makes you see stars. God, you knew his fingers were good. Knew that all the hours of playing games would mean he was damn near skilled at playing your body.

But you want more. So. Much. More.

"Please," you gasp, grabbing at his arms, and feeling the hard muscle beneath his smooth skin.

"Begging already? Such a good girl." He leans in close, his lips ghosting over yours as his fingers pump in and out of you with a relentless, steady rhythm that's sending sparks shooting down your spine.

"For someone who won the tournament...it looks like you're losing this game right now. Any last words before I claim my prize?" He taunts, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

Before the tournament, you didn't even know each other, but after many games against each other, and countless interactions after every victory, you learned some things about Yunho and he, too, became interested in you.

"If you want a prize, all you have to do is ask," you say. "I mean you did make it to the semi-finals."

He laughs softly, the sound rumbling through you, his fingers continuing their steady pace, not once relenting the intensity.

"A consolation prize, then," he murmurs, bringing his lips back to brush against the soft shell of your ear. His free hand moves to grasp your hip, holding you firmly in place while he increases the speed of his fingers, his thumb never missing a beat on your clit.

It's too much. You cry out, clutching his shoulders and pulling him closer, desperate to feel him, all of him, against your body.

"Come for me, little one," he commands, his lips finding your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin just below your ear. "Come all over my fingers and show me how much you like losing to me."

His words send you spiraling over the edge. You clench around his fingers, his thumb keeping up a maddening pressure on your clit. Pleasure flows through you, rolling over you in waves and drowning your senses until you're a panting, blissful mess.

Yunho removes his hand and slowly licks your juices off, one finger at a time. Fuck. He's a total show-off, but you can't help watching. After all, he's a gamer in a broad sense; that skill carries to the bedroom.

When he finishes cleaning off his fingers, he leans down and licks your dripping folds. You flinch a little, overly sensitive, but he grips your hips tight and doesn't let you move away.

"So fucking sweet," he says against your slick center, his gaze fixed on your face. You groan, heat rushing to your cheeks. The attention makes you feel vulnerable, and exposed, but also hot as hell.

Your toes dig into the mattress and your back arches. When he drags his tongue up to tease your clit, your hands instinctively reach out to bury your fingers in his hair. Your grip is tight, but he doesn't seem to mind. He presses harder against you, pushing his tongue inside, before swirling around your entrance.

You're a mess. You're close. Again. This man knows what he's doing. He keeps at it with that talented tongue, sucking and nibbling your flesh until you're trembling, right on the edge. "Fuck, Yunho! Please..."

His laugh rumbles deep in his chest, a sensation that echoes throughout your core. His hands trail down your sides, feather-light and teasing, until his palms finally rest on your outer thighs. The weight is comforting, the contact enough to ground you as your pleasure threatens to drag you away.

Yunho pulls back and rests his chin between your thighs. He looks so fucking gorgeous, you don't know whether to strangle him or beg him to stay between your legs forever. You meet his gaze, your lips swollen and red from the kisses and nips he gave you.

"Play with me, Y/N," he murmurs. The playful tone sends sparks flying through your nerves.

"Game start," you whisper, a grin stretching your lips.

"Last chance to walk away," he warns. He doesn't need to threaten. There was no chance you'd give this up. Not now, not after everything you went through.

"Shut up and fuck me, loser." You laugh.

That's all the incentive he needed. Yunho's lips pressed against yours. You could taste yourself on his lips, the musky sweetness making your toes curl and heat pool low in your belly. You pulled away with a laugh, staring at him through glazed eyes.

"Can't say I'm not eager." His laughter was like music. "Now, spread those pretty thighs of yours. Let me see how ready you are for this gamer to win this game. Ain't no way I'm losing to you again."

His words heated your core as he began to grind against your entrance. You groaned at the friction. He felt so goddamn good against you, his hardness dragging against your clit and coating the length of him in your essence. It was getting harder and harder to think, especially with him looking at you with his lust-filled eyes, knowing the effect he was having on you.

"Fuck, you feel good." Yunho closed his eyes, sliding into your pussy without warning. You clenched around him, whimpering as he stretched you perfectly. He let out a sharp groan, rocking his hips slowly against yours. "Always knew we'd be good together like this."

"Didn't think…fuck…that we'd get here," you gasped out, pressing yourself against his thick length and enjoying the way his thrusts rubbed against that spot that made stars explode behind your eyes. "Fuck, you're so big, Yunho. Gonna fucking fill me with that fat cock and claim your prize."

"Going to fucking cream yourself all over me. And then I'm going to pin you down and do it all again." His words made you tighten around him, dragging another groan from his mouth as you squeezed his cock.

Yunho shifted his grip on your hips and moved to pin your hands above your head. "Gonna claim that tight little pussy. Every inch of me is going to be imprinted in your memory. So get ready, my little gamer."

You could barely form the words to retort as he pounded into you. The sounds of your lovemaking filled the room, the two of you working in sync to bring yourselves to the brink of orgasm. You were close, so close to release. Just a few more hard thrusts, and then—

His thrusts slowed down, and the change was nearly enough to drive you crazy.

"Stop fucking teasing," you whined.

"Game's not done," he answered, nipping at your jaw. "How many rounds are we playing tonight, my little gamer?"

"A lot. Fuck, a lot." The pleasure coursing through you is unlike any gaming session you've had, and you can't get enough.

He fucks like a god, his hips snapping with precision and his mouth on every inch of you he can get his hands on. When he groans out a particularly loud moan, you know he's getting close.

"That's right," he gasps. "Keep on squeezing, little one. Can't wait to feel this perfect cunt wrapped around my cock as you scream my name, soaking the both of us."

"Don't... stop," you breathe. It's just too fucking good. You're writhing and shuddering beneath him, chasing your orgasm and determined to keep going until he's spent.

"Never gonna fucking stop." He grabs your ass and rocks you forward, the motion nudging his length to rub against your g-spot. The pleasure intensifies and it's all you can do not to scream at him to keep fucking you, hard and fast. You claw at his shoulders and clench around him, wanting to milk every last drop of cum out of that huge cock he's buried deep inside you.

It's all the incentive he needs. Yunho moans and kisses your neck, your cheek, your collarbone, and then finally, his mouth is on yours, capturing your tongue and teasing the soft flesh there. His thrusts are quick, forceful, and utterly breathtaking. You don't ever want him to stop.

"God, fuck, Yunho." You bury your face into the crook of his neck, teeth sinking in and scraping at his flesh. He lets out a shuddering groan, his hold on your ass tightening as he pins you to the mattress and continues his brutal assault on your body.

"C'mon, cum all over my cock. Let me feel you," he groans, his teeth pressing into the skin on your neck. "Can you do it, little one? Can you cream that pretty little pussy on my dick?"

You whimper and cling tighter to him. "Fuck... Yunho, I'm—"

He cuts you off before you can finish.

"That's it, Y/N..." he purrs, pressing a kiss to your neck and holding you tighter. "You're gonna be dripping for days after we're finished tonight... and that's only the start. We've got plenty more rounds planned, remember? Make sure to come nice and loud for me, okay?"

With a loud gasp, you throw your head back and cry his name. "Yunho!"

Your fingers scrabble against his back as he buries his length deep, your entire body wracked with tremors. He moans into your neck and whispers his encouragements as you spasm around his throbbing cock, cum running down the insides of your thighs and soaking the sheets. He doesn't let up, grinding his dick against your cervix and sending aftershocks of pleasure coursing through you as you continue your rapturous embrace.

As you float down from your post-orgasm haze, you can only repeat one thing, "Yunho..."

He kisses you once more, smiling against your lips and panting slightly. "How does my little champion feel?"

"Like a fucking winner," you tell him. "Is this what first place feels like? 'Cuz shit... I could get used to this."

"Round two's starting soon," Yunho growls, pumping into you again, his cock hard once more. "Think you can take it, little one?"

You hold back a smirk as you pull him down for a long kiss. You don't mind giving in, just this once if you're going to get some mind-blowing rewards. Besides, the first-place spot is yours for the taking, and that includes this sexy gamer, Yunho.

Game on.

#illusionnet #blossomnet #atzhouse #cromernet #wonderlandnet #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez fanfics #ateez stories #ateez smut #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho

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chrispotatos · 4 months ago

Text

quit - chris sturniolo

summary: you had a stressful day at work so chris suggested you quit.

warning: none unless you're allergic to having chris as your bf.

a/n: i may or may not be projecting

a/n 2: i might only be able to write quick little stories like these then write smut and angst on the weekends because it takes me longer to write those generes than cute little fluffy shit.

my whole week was bad and it consisted of the same cycle on repeat work, eat nap. i could hardly see my boyfriend and my friends because of my busy schedule and when i wasn't with at work i was in my apartment trying to recollect myself.

today was friday and i promised chris i would come over to their house and stay till monday rolls around.

don't get my wrong i was itching to get there but i wanted peace and quiet. after all my social battery was drained and it felt like any minute i could cry if someone asked 'what's wrong' the feeling of taking my anger out on my friends and boyfriend because of a stressful day made my emotions subside by a little so something like that doesn't happen

i arrived and didn't hear anything i walked up the stairs and still no talking, laughing, nothing.

i took that as a sign they weren't here at all maybe they were filming. i leave chris a text letting him know im there.

i go down to his room and pick out some clothes that got cleaned from the last time i was here. the tub in nicks room was the only one that was here so i used it, putting in epsom salt and a bath bomb with a lack of scent so my headache doesn't get even worse.

when my bath was done i went to the kitchen and got ice cold water then headed back to his room.

i tried picking a movie but my thoughts flooded with what happend today and how my manager was yelling at me even though i was confused and needed clear instructions.

the thought made tear unwillingly fill my eyes and fall, it stung remembering the harsh words the way she made me feel small and disrespected.

i heard the triplets voices, slight bickering the front door closing after, i knew chris was gonna be coming to his room shortly after so i went under the blankets.

my predictions being correct the door to his room opened and he called for my name. i hummed as a response, that not being enough he came over to my side of the bed peeling the blankets off of my body.

"y/n, baby are you okay?" he asked worry coating his expression i cover my face crying more.

that question always tipped me over the edge "no im not okay, my boss- megan no maya i mean-" a frustrated grunt is all i could get out from all the clouded confusion. "it's ok take your time" he rubbed my arm being patient with me and thats what i needed right now.

"-my manager is a bitch and she was yelling at me. im tired and i don't wanna be mean but im so stressed out" i explained, it was more of a ramble with some words getting mixed together cause of the speed i was talking in.

"im so sorry" his arms wrapped around me, pulling me towards him, and rubbed my back while whispering comforting words to me, reassuring that everything will be all right.

"you should quit" he suggested i shook my head no, i couldn't quit it wasn't gonna work if i did my life would only get worse.

"no one should get treated that way especially you, you don't deserve that and it shouldn't have a toll on you. it's fucked up"

i draw back from the hug by a bit to see the sympathetic look on his face, he really felt bad for me and i know he couldn't wrap his head around why i wouldn't just quit if im being treated in such ways.

"it's not in my cards to just quit" he smiled unbeknownst of what he was thinking i reciprocated an awkward smile "I'll take care of you, you can move in with us" he stated it wasn't an offer he wanted me to do it.

"im not letting you do that" a humorless chuckle left my lips. chris wiped the tears that were left and kissed my forehead "yeah you will" he muttered giving me a endearing smile taking the glass of water off the night stand pressing the glass to my lips, i took a few sips then he put the glass back down and tucking me in.

"I'll come back in a few, i just need to talk with matt and nick real quick then take a shower and I'll be all yours for the rest of the day"

i nodded from where i was, snuggling into the blankets "love you y/n" he said on his way out even if he couldn't hear me i said it back.

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marciaillust · 4 months ago

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I am in the process of succumbing to The Social Media FOBF (fear of being forgotten) so I'm gonna write a little update post (˶˃⤙˂˶)

With Ecdysis finally wrapped up I have officially entered the rest period. I'm not gonna lie to yall, I have never crashed emotionally so badly after a project, to point creativity seems like a chore. Some would even call it a burnout.

But I also know that I am currently in the most hectic part of the year, the prophesized summer of horrors I saw the writing on the wall for already in December '23, and this situation is not contributing to my journey of resting at all.

They are not real horrors and I am merely jesting but the situation is still somewhat emotionally taxing in a very normal and predictable way. Anyone who had to move back in with their family past the ripe age of 26 can probably relate, being in a position where you're expected to revert to your old role (of the eldest daughter, in my case) can be challenging, especially when those pants don't fit you anymore. But it is what it is, and it's temporary, too. (And it's not all bad, I love my family and my family love me lots.)

There's this flat I will be moving into, finally a place I plan to live in long term, unlike all these previous house shares and flats I've lived in 1 year max as a student or a young young adult. But that place requires a ground up renovation and to be furnished and if you ever had to spend your weekends driving around town looking for tiles you know that it's its own brand of taxing. Alongside all this, it's work as usual. And I paint for a living so. little rest in the creative department there, too.

All this to say I am just really tired. Really really tired. Really really really tired. It will pass, but currently my time is not my time - it belongs to everyone around me.

And it will pass, it will pass. And I'll rest and find the space to be creative. Though "burnt out" I think I'm slowly starting to brim with potential creative pursuits. But before I do anything the summer of horros must settle into the autumn of resting.

I am positively ITCHING to draw the Clockmaster. If you've spent this long reading (puts a hand on your shoulder) buddy there are already 5 new clockmaster pages in existence. Fresh of the press, 2024 made, still warm still sizzling. I drew them last month between days of packing Ecdysis orders. They will stay in the vault for now because as I said in previous TCM related posts I plan to release the story in big meaningful chunks now rather than page by page like I used to. So it will be some time before you see them. But brother (squeezes the hand that is still on your shoulder) (visibly tears up) it's so good to be feeding the brainworms again. Orion I love you Rosie I love you Garret I love you Catherine I love you and- and- and there is a new character joining us too! You haven't seem him yet, obviously, but I think you could easily guess who he is. I can't wait for all of you to meet him.

I'll see you on the other side friends!!!

#marcia's post-ecdysis recovery arc #you know its mental illness when i gotta explain myself to the imaginary audience so they dont forget me #tbh you can forget me i wont let you forget about tcm tho #i think ill put this in the tcm tag since its an update on its status too #sorta anyway #tcm #the clockmaster

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 4 months ago

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Alright, here's a quick look at the upcoming Norm Maclean one-shot for those interested! Like many of my pieces, it's rapidly become longer than I was planning, so I apologize if anyone out there is dying of impatience waiting. I'm hoping to have it up in the next week (I would say "few days", but I work insanely long shifts on the weekends, so Friday-Sunday is often a bit of a wash around these parts). I hope you like it!

Shoot The Moon

Pairing: Norm Maclean x Female Reader

Warnings: smut (18+), angst, pining, discussion of arranged marriage, love confessions, wet dreams, mild voyeurism, panty sniffing, masturbation (male), nipple play, cunnilingus, anilingus, hair pulling, blow job, praise kink, unprotected sex, unintentionally rough sex, mild cum play, creampie.

The small utility closet is inconspicuous, tucked at the far end of one hall, away from the living quarters and around a corner almost no one ever takes, save for the occasional person assigned to some of the maintenance tasks around the Vault. However, their hours are predictable, and the dinky little room had become somewhat of a place of refuge for him over the years. Since he was a boy, when he really wanted to be alone, he'd steal away to this hidden, quiet place, spending as much time sat on an upturned bucket, studying various manuals, savoring the silence, as he thought he could get away with.

This day, however, it had only been a few minutes of peace before he could hear the telltale sound of someone fiddling with the lock. He'd taught himself how to re-seal the lock from inside, but it could still be picked from the outside by someone who knew how. Panicking for a moment, he sat frozen, gripping the systems terminal manual in his lap so tight he was afraid he'd rip the pages. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. The only person who knew about his penchant for hiding away here was Lucy, and she wouldn't just barge in. She would linger down the hall, near the more common areas, waiting to see him emerge so she wouldn't draw attention.

Maybe he could lie and say he accidentally got locked inside.

However, his overthinking proves unnecessary when the door flings open and the very person whose visage he'd come here to escape steps inside, her head peeking around the corner before she lets the door close behind her.

When she lets out a deep sigh, leaning her forehead against the door, he realizes she hasn't seen him tucked away in the corner, and he knows he needs to say something quickly.

"Uh, hey." he says lamely, slowly rising from his spot, setting the book aside.

She does jump, but when she turns and sees him, her reaction is more positive than he expects.

"Hi there." she replies, her eyes darting around somewhat awkwardly in what he guesses is embarrassment. "Sorry, I assumed this particular random broom closet would be unoccupied."

There's a bit of a pause as he takes in what she said, leaving the two sort of shuffling back and forth as they stare at one another.

"Well, I guess you know what they say about assumptions." he jokes, desperate to ease the weird vibe quickly filling the room. To his pleasant surprise, this earns a seemingly genuine chuckle from her, and the warm, sweet sound makes him smile wider than he has in a long time.

"Well, my apologies. I can find another closet to hang out in." she smiles.

"Oh, please. Feel free to stay and take advantage of the luxurious accommodations as long as you'd like." he says, sweeping his hand in a grand gesture around the space, highlighting the stacks of boxes and shelves of janitorial supplies.

She outright laughs at that.

"You're the Overseer's son, right? Lucy's brother? I'm surprised I don't see you more."

There's a bitter taste in the back of his throat at her words, but he knows she's just making an observation to keep the conversation going,

"Yeah, Norm. I'm fairly practiced at blending into the background." he introduces, sticking his hand out in front of him rather awkwardly for her to shake. His palm feels a little clammy as she presses her own against it, and he cringes internally at how damp it must feel to her. She doesn't react, however, keeping eye contact with him as they shake firmly.

"Norm." she repeats, and hearing her lips wrap around his name like that makes him shiver in a way he really hopes isn't noticeable. She introduces herself, and he politely listens, rather expertly pretending that he hasn't had all the information she gives him for weeks. It would be difficult to not know of her purely due to her popularity as a topic of discussion, but he knows he would have been fascinated by her, regardless. Something about her, something beyond the physical beauty, is constantly drawing him to her, making her take over his thoughts since she'd arrived.

"So..." he asks. "Hiding from someone?"

She looks rather sheepish for a moment.

"Maybe a few someones. I've been pretty hard-pressed for peace and quiet since we all got here. I knew people would be excited to meet us, but I really wasn't expecting how much people would wanna talk to me, personally. I'm used to a little more alone time than this."

I don't blame them. he thinks. I want to be around you all the time, too, and I hardly know you.

"I mean, really, you're welcome to hang out in here. No one comes in here most of the time, save for once a week or so. I can leave if you wanna be alone." he offers, somewhat awkwardly making a move towards the door.

"Oh, no, please!" she insists, her warm hand resting on his chest for a moment as she tries to stop him. His heart breaks into a sprint. "I don't wanna kick you out of your spot. Maybe I could just sit in here with you for a few minutes?"

He's rather taken aback by her offer, but he certainly isn't going to turn her down, gesturing to a stack of boxes to his right

"Terminal manuals?" she asks, thumbing through the tome he'd been reading when she arrived. "Trying to join the IT team?"

"Oh, no." he says. "It's more of a...hobby, I guess."

"Ahh. So you're teaching yourself to hack into things." she replies, her tone teasing as she cuts her eyes at him. "I could teach you a thing or two."

"Careful, I'll take you up on that." he teases, and she giggles again.

For a long while, maybe an hour or so, the two sit in mostly silent company, browsing through the stack of manuals that lived on the shelf they crowded around. Occasionally, she asks him an innocuous, simple question, or makes a small joke. He aches to do the same, but holds his tongue unless spoken to for fear that he'll say something weird. The tight space of the utility closet is warm, full of the lingering tang of solder and old, crispy book pages.

Eventually, she stands and stretches, smiling at him before placing the book in her hand back on the shelf. She bends over the stack of boxes she'd been sitting on as she does, and he can't pull his eyes away from the shape of her ass jutting out at him. He digs his teeth into his cheek until it hurts to distract himself.

"Alright, I need to get back to that rewiring project I was working on." she says, stretching as she turns to face him. "Thanks for letting me hang out with you, Norm. Let's do it again soon."

"Yeah." he chuckles, trying to remain casual as his gut tightens at the sound of his name on her lips again. "Like I said, whenever."

He doesn't really believe she means what she says, but she does grin rather eagerly before she disappears out the door, leaving him alone in the silence once more. He waits a while longer before following.

That night, he dreams of her. He doesn't try to, but nevertheless, she's there, hidden away in that closet with him again, her intoxicating smell filling the space completely, making his head swim even more than the surreal-feeling setting. Almost everything is eerily similar, only this time he doesn't have to worry about being defeated by his own cowardice...

...and this time she's literally welcoming him with open arms, calling him to her eagerly with that bright smile plastered to her angelic face.

He knows she was only being friendly when she'd laughed at his jokes, that the smile she'd flashed him was probably one she used with everyone. But in that moment, it had felt like it was just for him, and the memory of it makes him shudder strongly as he feels the pressure of her hands against his chest, tugging him closer by the breast pockets of his suit.

"Norm." she beckons, and her seductive voice rings through his head. The dream is bordering on lucid; he knows this can't possibly be real, but wants it to be so badly that he pushes forward, pressing his face into the flesh of her throat. It's warm and ghostly and tingles against him like television static, his brain apparently unable to even guess at how heavenly soft her real skin would be.

Endless praise pours from his mouth, breathless words of worship that don't quite make it to his ears. When he makes full contact with her, she's suddenly completely naked, stood there in all her full, soft glory, her loose hair framing her face beautifully as she wraps her leg around his hip, pushing herself at him eagerly. She doesn't say anything, but he can feel her pleading, begging, and he can feel himself overheating as he fumbles with his fly. She kisses him as his cock slides against her skin, and an almost inhuman growl leaves her as he finds her opening and slips inside, his hips moving quickly and harshly against hers...

Norm wakes rather violently, the sudden, pooling warmth of his spend tainting his sheets ripping him from sleep. It takes a moment for his head to clear, the fog of sleep making it difficult to determine if what he's experiencing now is any more real than what he was experiencing a moment ago. This, however, is much less pleasant. Stumbling a bit as he scrambles to his feet, he takes in the mess all over him, all over the bed, a cold wave of shame washing over him as he makes his way into the bathroom to retrieve a rag. Stripping naked, he shivers unpleasantly as the cool, wet cloth moves across his hot, sticky skin. His cock is still incredibly sensitive in the wake of his orgasm, and he glares at it as it continues to throb softly, not yet deflated.

The humiliation he feels at kneeling beside his bed, naked and tired and scrubbing a mess off of his sheets, is intense. Accompanying it, an overwhelming sense of guilt at reducing her to fodder for his sexual fantasies after talking to her exactly one time. He's no better than any of the other men in the Vault, he thinks. Something of this nature hasn't happened to him since he was a teenager, and apparently all it takes to reduce him to a hormonal mess once more is the presence of a nice, attractive woman who doesn't completely ignore him.

In the aftermath of the frantic cleaning, he sits on the edge of the mattress, hiding his burning face in his hands as he tries his best to will away the second erection plaguing him. Several long, grating minutes pass, the young man too busy staring at the wet spot on his sheets and internally berating himself to even think of trying to get back to sleep.

Eventually, his increasing fatigue and frustration come to a head, and he begrudgingly makes his way to the shower, letting the hot water blast him with a deep sigh. He wastes time for a few minutes, washing his hair unnecessarily before moving to soap his body, pointedly avoiding his aching cock, flushed red and angry at his neglect. If he's going to be a creep, he can at least practice a bit of self control. However, eventually the water begins to cool, and he begrudgingly pops open the bottle of conditioner from the shelf beside him, dropping a generous glob in his hand.

He strokes himself quickly, harshly, trying to finish himself off as efficiently as possible, embarrassed at the way he can't keep the image of her out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries to think about anything else. The brief view he'd gotten of her ass bent over at the waist is drilled into his head, hips bucking hard into his own grip at the thought of sliding his cock into her from behind, burying his face in her soft hair as he pumps away at her, making her squirm and come apart around him. The thought makes him explode, spattering cum across the shower floor and wall.

Resting his forehead against the warm tile, his hand splashes away the mess before fumbling for the nozzle, the spray gurgling to a halt and leaving him standing there, nude and dripping wet, alone with his thoughts. His plan had worked, at least somewhat; he feels nothing now but guilt, mild worry, and the chill of the increasingly cold shower stall. Wrapping himself in a towel and taking in his seemingly half-drowned form in the mirror, he resolves to continue essentially avoiding her. The way he sees it, he's doing her a favor, his ability to act normally around her feeling more and more nonexistent by the day.

Little does he know, his new acquaintance is formulating other plans.

#norm maclean #norm maclean x you #norm maclean x reader #norm maclean smut #fallout prime #fallout tv show #admin post

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