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pirateprincessblog · 12 hours

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outlaw

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you wish there would be a time you could call your life boring again. before all the mess, before the town fell apart, before your father disowned you. before jeong yunho. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeong yunho x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 11.1k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: wild west theme, cowboy!yunho, bartender!reader 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: praising, claiming, dacryphilia, marking, size kink, oral, unprotected sex, outdoor sex

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: violence, weapons, alcohol consumption, murder, slight gore, attempted SA 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: django performance might be the reason why i switched from hongjoong to yunho after four years of being loyal. NOT PROOFREAD I AM IMPATIENT I HAD TO POST IT BEFORE GOING TO BED! <3

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"another one, sweetheart."

i'm not your sweetheart, you wanted to mutter. but you bit your tongue, remembering that your father is somewhere in the room. so you have no other choice but to approach the loud, messy table, and pour the greasy dirty man another glass of whatever alcohol you had in hand. it didn't matter anymore, as long as it filled his stomach.

"that's a good girl," he roars with laughter, heavy hand landing on your bottom and making you jolt.

your eyes seek your father, silently asking for help. but no help comes. instead, he points to a different table that demands attention, and leaves the saloon. you stand still, voices muffling around you. your neatly put bun is now falling apart, strands loose on your face and sticking due to sweat, your clothes are heavy on you, and your hands will soon start shaking if you don't take a break from all the work. from early mornings, to even earlier ones the next day, you are destined to be a servant on your own father's property. you wonder if this will last forever. pouring alcohol, dodging flying chairs and tables, taking the harassment so you can survive for another month.

if this really is your future, then what is the point of living? will he marry you off to one of these men? or will he keep you as his servant until the end of his days? you remember the day everything changed for you. you had just come back from the city, finishing the school day. barely a teen, hand in hand with your best friends. your father sat you in the empty saloon, putting his hands on your shoulders.

"you're quitting school."

just a month after you buried your mother, he told you that. there was nobody to help him, he had to fire his staff, and laid his trust into you. the business was crazy that week. who wouldn't want to come and see the owner's little daughter serving alcohol? those men congratulated your father on your birth, watched you play on the street, went to your mother's funeral and wailed with you, came to the saloon to see you struggle with bottles and glasses, only later to have their filthy hands all over you as soon as you turned eighteen. it doesn't stop, no matter how many times you ask. the pleading only makes them do it more, those sick bastards. and each one of them have a wife waiting at home, and a child comforting her.

"hey, bitch, over here!"

monday was a peaceful day. no work, not at the saloon at least. but a basket full of dirty old clothes awaits by the door, waiting to be washed. it is a cold autumn morning, the sun very low in the sky and not warming at all. you drag your feet across the field, hands red from the weight of the basket and the frost. your dress catches onto various branches and bushes, but you do not look back. you need to be done before noon, so you can make lunch for your father.

reaching the river, you drop the basket on the dying grass. a few flowers are still scattered here and there, fighting their way through the cold morning dew. as you scrub your father's shirt on the washboard, you notice just how old those clothes have gotten. you both need new ones, you cannot be walking around looking like the poorest people in town, while owning a saloon. but your father sees no value in those things. talking to him is like talking to a wall that might hit you if you say something it doesn't like. so you keep your mouth shut.

the used, thin washboard suddenly snaps under your hands, a piece of wood jamming into your skin and making you yelp. your skin being almost frozen from being in cold water, and then getting pierced, makes you finally break down. you hug your knees to your chest, and bury your head into the muddy dress. you're cold, in pain, and you miss your mother. your friends. the life you had, and the life you were supposed to have.

sometimes, you selfishly blamed your mother for dying. if she was still here, you could've had a life just like your friends. finding a job in the big city, a man too, a decent one. not this.

you hide your hands in the ruffles of your worn out dress, seeking warmth. you cannot go back home without washing the rest of the clothes, and the sun is rising faster than you want it to. noon will come by soon, and you will have two tasks unfinished. your father won't be pleased.

a distant neigh and galloping have your attention, your head curiously turning to see who it could be. your heart almost sinks when you see the speed the horses are headed at towards you, but with legs and bum frozen on the ground, you cannot move. all you can do is close your eyes in defeat, hoping for the best.

the gallop stops, now switching to a trot. you open your eyes, and see two shiny horses in front of you. the two men riding them dismount, one of them standing next to his horse and taking the leash from the other one. the taller man adjusts his hat, gaze fixed on the floor, and fastens his holster. you gulp, seeing the shiny revolver resting on his hip. then, he raises his head to finally look at you. you almost forget the potential danger of the situation once you look at his brown eyes. he is tall. very tall. and absolutely gorgeous. you look away, suddenly aware of how you look. heavens, what a perfect timing.

"oh, it's just a doe." he says, voice soft and sweet. he tilts his head, trying to get you to look at him. when you don't, he takes a step closer to you, careful not to scare you away. "came for a morning refreshment?"

you don't respond. instead, you look at the man behind him. he stands still, leashes in his hands. his clothes are a bit more rugged than the ones on the man in front of you, but it fits his image very well. then, your eyes betray you end lay on the man in front of you again. he wears a brown leather jacket with fringes, dark blue jeans, and matching brown boots. his brown hat sits perfectly on his head, giving him a mysterious look. he notices you staring, and only chuckles softly. he reaches into his saddlebag, retrieving something wrapped in a white cloth.

"hungry?"

this time, your stomach is the one that betrays you. it decides to grumble as soon as you shake your head no, making the man chuckle again.

"go on, you can have it. you look like you need it."

he holds it out for you to take, closing the distance further. you step back, remembering your father's words.

"no speaking to other men outside of the saloon. if i see you do that, i will personally declare you a whore. nobody will want to marry you, and you'll be alone for the rest of your life."

charming. the man doesn't give up, as he steps further towards you. you step back again, hunger, fear and curiosity fighting inside of you and making you sick to your stomach.

"it's alright. it's just food, i don't mean you any harm."

but he doesn't know what words ring inside your head. taking another step back, your heart almost stops once again. you have stepped into the shallow river, your body losing balance following. the handsome cowboy drops the item on the floor, and firmly grabs your waist and pulls you back to stand on the grass. you instinctively grab onto his shoulders for support, and he pulls your body into his. you breathe out when your chest collides with his, overwhelmed by the situation.

"clumsy girl," he teases.

you can't make yourself move, not only because you don't want to, but because his grip is firm on your waist. he safely moves you away from the water and removes one hand from your body, only to move the loose strands of hair from your face.

"wyatt," he calls.

the other man steps towards the two of you, not uttering a word.

"you go on. i'll catch up with you."

without protest, he gets on his horse, nods towards his companion, then gallops away. you are left alone with the ridiculously handsome cowboy, now feeling a bit warmer than a few moments ago. the man finally lets go of you, picking up the cloth from the ground. a distant thunder surprises you, and you look over at the scattered clothes. the black clouds over the mountains are covering the blue sky quite fast, and it just seems at this moment that everything is working against you.

you hurriedly collect the remaining dirty clothes, crouching down and brushing it against the half of the washboard as best as you can. your hand is in pain, still dripping red, but your father's consequences are more painful. you'd rather have a hundred more splinters ripping your skin than your father slapping you across the face like he is used to.

the man lets you finish, turning his attention to the horse. in the corner of your eye, you see him caressing the horse's mane. the animal leans into his hand, enjoying the comfort of his warm and caring touch. he looks so tough, yet his actions are a complete opposite.

"if you're done staring, you can join me."

caught red handed, and red cheeked, you turn around to see him sat under the nearby tree, opening the white cloth. he sets it on the ground near him, and folds his arms across his chest. you pick up the now clean clothes, the broken washboard forgotten and floating somewhere further down the field. you sit next to him, the food serving as an imaginary border. he takes his hat off, putting it over his face and rests his head against the tree.

"if you're embarrassed to eat in front of me. now i won't look. eat. please."

and you do. you take a bite of the biscuit, enjoying it like it's your first one ever. you take the chance now that he doesn't see anything to properly look around. his horse is gorgeous, white with brown legs and head. you then look at its owner, still chewing on the biscuit. the more you look at him, the more your stomach feels all fuzzy. is this what it feels like to be attracted to a man? are you finally experiencing a crush?

you should really get home.

thunder grumbles again, causing the horse to become restless.

"shh, you're good." the cowboy says soothingly, not moving from his spot. and the horse listens.

it soothes you too, because you lean against the tree like him, and silently eat. your breathing matches his, and for a moment, you think that he has fallen asleep. until you start feeling drops of rain on your head. you don't say anything. you don't really need to, because the man interrupts his short break by standing up and putting his hand out for you to take. you take it, your hand melting into his as he helps you up. his touch is secure, and gentle. nobody has ever held you this way, and you are afraid you might get used to it. he leads you to his horse, throwing his spare jacket your way.

"i'll take you home."

"no!"

the cowboy scrunches his eyebrows, and abruptly turns towards you. his hand doesn't leave yours, no matter how hard you pull. "she speaks." he says, as if he made an important discovery.

you shake your head frantically, repeating yourself. "no, you can't."

"why?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"because."

"that's not a valid answer, sunshine."

if your stomach wasn't turning from the difficult situation you have found yourself in, it would turn from the simple nickname coming from his mouth. you aren't quite sure whether you're feeling nervous because of your father, or because of the handsome stranger. you remember that he is just a stranger, no matter in how much awe he has you. if you get on his horse, he could take you anywhere. but if you don't get on his horse, he could simply tie you up and take you with him anyway.

fuck.

"i like to walk." you blurt out, grabbing the basket of clothes and holding it in front of you, as if shielding yourself from him.

"lies."

"please, just leave me alone. thank you for the food, and for, well, not letting me fall into the water, but-"

"does he beat you every day?"

he says it with a tone so serious it has your blood going cold in your veins. his gaze becomes stone cold, dark, and it pierces right through you. seeing your distressed face, he steps towards you again, moving your hair away from your neck. the bruise you thought you so cleverly hid now uncovered in front of him. funny how a potentially dangerous stranger shows more interest in it than the town.

"or only when you do something wrong?"

"i don't see how that's any of your business."

"it isn't. however, if you want it to stop, you might have to make it my business."

you wish for nothing more than for it to stop. but exactly how does this man plan to make it his business? talk to your father? teach him a lesson? or the worst?

"i'll tell you what. i'll bring you just to the hill so nobody sees us, and you think about what i said until then."

you nod, defeated. you really need to get home as quick as possible and get started on the lunch. the cowboy helps you up on the horse, then climbs behind you. this is the closest you've ever been to a man, and if you weren't sneakily reading those short romance stories in the back of the discarded newspaper, you would think that you are becoming ill by how hot your cheeks feel. when he grabs the leash, also helping you hold the basket in the process, you take your time to admire his hands. pretty pale fingers, slightly muddy from maybe hours or days of riding. he smells of whiskey, vanilla and a hint of tobacco. you allow yourself a moment of weakness, closing your eyes and inhaling the scent. it doesn't help the way his warm chest and torso are pressed against your back, rubbing against you with each horses gallop.

when you open your eyes, you are disappointed to see the hill. it means that the short little adventure with the mystery cowboy has come to an end, and that you might never see him again. it's all up to you. and you hate that.

he helps you down, then fixes the ruffles of your dress that were slightly turned upwards from riding while you are occupied with the clothes in the basket.

"well?" he finally says, seeing that you have no intention of speaking first.

"i'll be fine." you lie.

you almost miss the way he bites the inside of his cheek from disappointment. almost. he nods, understandingly, and approaches you. for the last time, maybe. he takes your hand in his, thumb rubbing over the place where your splinter is. "take care of that. wouldn't want such pretty hands to be in pain or have a scar."

he kisses the back of it, eyes not once leaving yours. you almost shiver, from the cold and from his touch.

"thank you for your company, dove. we must part ways now, but i do hope i see you again one day. you are too pretty to forget."

he takes his hat off to say his goodbye, then climbs back on his horse. with a sweet smile and a nod, he gallops away. you stand there and watch, heart swelling with sadness. you watch and watch, until he becomes just a small little dot in the distance.

weeks pass, and your life dynamic does not change. you still serve drunk perverts, avoid sexual offers, cook, and freeze yourself by the river. only now, you wake up earlier than usual, and keep looking at your surroundings in hopes of seeing a familiar brown hat. but you never see it. it's been almost two months, and not a single sign from him. maybe for the best. he did look like bad news. very handsome bad news.

you currently sit in a dark corner in the saloon, reading last weeks newspaper for the romance update on the last page. the appearance of the main character morphs into the cowboy in your head. no longer short, blonde haired with blue eyes and bulk figure, but dark haired with a short mullet, with brown eyes and a slender figure. you didn't even catch his name, yet you shamelessly daydream about him.

the doors of the saloon aggressively swing, startling you and breaking your bubble. you turn the newspaper upside down, hiding your little secret. a young man, known as denver, stands at the entrance, face pure horror. your father approaches him, putting his hands on his shoulders to calm him down.

"what's wrong, boy?"

denver barely gets his sentence out, before countless gallops are heard outside, accompanied with various screams. "he's here."

"who is?"

"the stallion."

you have never seen your father scared. and that scared you even more. he took a step back, abandoning the young man. the saloon became a mess, everyone pushing each other on the way to the exit, but suddenly coming to a halt. you stand up, taking your place behind the bar. the people are stepping back, slowly, still facing towards the doors. they separate in two groups, making way for the intruder. and when your eyes land on the intruder, you swear your heart could jump right on the bar in front of you.

your cowboy, your mystery man, the man you prayed you'd see again, stands in your saloon. drenched in blood and dust, sweaty, and with a revolver in his hand. the look on his face when he sees you tells you that you weren't meant to see him in this state. but he doesn't say anything. instead, he approaches the bar, along with his companions. they are all a mess, but not as much as him.

"good day, darling."

your stomach twists again, and you have to fight the urge to smile. you can't smile, not when everyone around you is terrified. you clear your throat, collecting any stray thoughts before speaking. "good day, sir."

"two rooms. and two bottles of whiskey waiting for me tonight." he says, a sweet smile on his lips.

"uh, yes-"

"there are no rooms available for you." your father interrupts, making his way to the bar.

the cowboy raises his eyebrow, then looks at your father. "oh?"

"yes. so i'm afraid you'll have to call it a day here."

the young man chuckles, eyes returning to your face. he throws a roll of money on the counter, then pushes is towards your father with his stained revolver. "don't be afraid, we won't."

you feel caged by his gaze, afraid to even move. why are you here, you wanted to ask. and why do you look like that. his clothes might look different, but the look on his face when he looks at you stays the same. in the corner of your eye, you notice someone trying to exit sneakily. but the cowboy also seems to catch it, because he points his trusted weapon toward the ceiling and-

"argh!" the woman screams, pure fear painted on her face.

"nobody leaves, until i get two fucking rooms and two bottles of whiskey. have i made myself clear?" he slams the revolver on the counter, causing you to jolt and step back. "now, if your pretty little daughter said that i can have them, just why the fuck are you meddling?"

defeated, your father takes the money, then nods your way. "show them."

alone?, you wanted to ask. but your tongue feels swollen, and your jaw heavy. you don't say anything. instead, you look at the fearsome cowboy, then proceed upstairs. the three of them follow, not uttering a word. you reach the rooms, opening the doors for them to see. the cowboy nods towards the room, sending them a signal to go in. when the two finally close the door, the dark haired man wastes no time in softly pinning you against the wall, just between the two doors.

"there, there. are you that scared of me, sunshine?"

you swear your eyes couldn't get any wider, and you hate it. you must look like a freak to him. but if you do, he doesn't show any disgust. he removes your hair from your neck once again, letting it fall down your back. his knuckles caress the now yellow spot on the neck, the bruise slowly healing.

his eyes shift from the bruise to your eyes, his gaze softening. "not excited to see me?"

you gulp, figuring which words to use. you are, and you are not. you don't even know.

"that's okay."

his other hand find its spot on the back of your head, slightly tilting it so that the injured side of the neck is more exposed. you feel his warm breath against your skin, growing hotter and closer. you finally let out a noise, it being a whimper rather than a proper word or sentence. soft lips graze your skin, before his tongue delicately swipes across your bruise. your stomach has never felt fuzzier, and your head is in the clouds. all those butterflies you felt while reading the newspaper have now turned into a volcano, waiting to erupt any second. the cowboy continues giving attention to your now sensitive neck, having you tremble in his arms.

he notices, putting his other hand on your waist and pushing you further into the wall, silently ordering you to stay still. he leans his own body into you, warm sensation enveloping you and causing you to moan into his ear.

realizing your horrible mistake, your hands quickly find their way to his firm chest, in an attempt to push him away. but instead, your fingers grip the fabric of his ruined leather jacket, and your head falls completely in his control. his hand massages your scalp, all while his tongue never leaves you. he switches from tender kisses, to kitten licks, and if he doesn't stop soon, you might just drip all over the floor and his shoes.

as if he heard you, he delivers one final kiss, before he pulls away. "i'll see you downstairs at dinner. thank you for the room, dove. and for the lunch."

hearing the door slam shut, you can finally breathe normally. you are left to tremble against the wall, your neck and underwear wet, all because of him. you rush to one of the empty rooms, at the end of the hallway. you lock it, then toss yourself on the bed. you waste no time in flipping your dress over, your fingers finding the soft folds between your legs. you gasp, more at the state of it than the feeling. you are soaked, your fingers almost slipping from your folds.

you spend a worrying amount of time trying to please yourself somehow, but the buildup is just growing and growing, not giving any signs of erupting soon. no matter how much you picture your handsome cowboy, just a few doors away.

and you don't even know his name.

"did he touch you?"

"what?!"

"i'm serious. did he do anything to you?"

"father-" since when do you care? "he didn't!"

he continues to follow you while you serve the guests, asking questions and demanding to know the truth. "did he say anything?"

"like?"

"anything."

"he asked for a prostitute and i said i'm available tonight."

smack.

nobody turns, already used to your father's free will. you bite the inside of your now stinging hot cheek, wishing for nothing more than to hit him with the bottle of gin you had in your hand.

"fucking slut. just like your mother. give me that." he yanks the tray from your hands, causing two glasses to fall and shatter. "pick that up, and go to the stables."

"but it's dinner time-"

"judith will help me. go. now."

not only do you end up not eating yourself, but you don't see the man whose lips you're still feeling on you. maybe that's why your father told you to leave, just so you don't see him. is it possible that he knows today isn't the first time you see the cowboy?

you search for his horse, the one you thought was the prettiest one you've seen. but it's not in the stable.

"it got shot. he had to put her down." slowly getting used to sudden intrusions, you turn around. one of his companions sit on a block of hay.

"oh." is all you manage to say.

"a shame, really. especially because she was a present from his wife."

"what?" you turn around, the bucket of carrots falling from your hands.

"ah, he didn't tell you? why would he. he wouldn't be able to get into your pants if you knew he was married. haven't you noticed something shiny on his finger?"

no, no you haven't. because you were so mesmerized by his face and behavior you didn't question whether he has someone waiting for him at home. besides, a married man wouldn't... touch you the way he did?

"ah, poor thing. you thought he had a thing for you? you don't compare to his wife. he's an outlaw after all, our yunho. his wife is a perfect match for him, almost a female version of him. did you know that the bounty on her head is higher than his?"

you feel like you could throw up. from multiple reasons. you let a married man touch you. hell, you touched yourself to a married man. not just an ordinary man, but an outlaw? what if his wife finds out? is she really that dangerous? will you be next on her victim list? not able to contain the emotions any longer, you run to the corner, bending over the blocks of hay and puking on the floor.

"ah, there, there. i'm quite surprised, that was the calmest reaction yet. other women tend to jump at his throat immediately."

other women? the ground sways under your feet, threatening to crumble and swallow you.

"since you're not in a state to speak, i'll answer all the questions in your head. have a seat, please."

you finally take a good look at the man once you sit down, seeing him stand up in front of you. he's no less handsome than the cowboy, yunho, and he is older. but the somewhat evil smirk on his face is off putting. you hold the now empty bucket in your lap, carrots laying on the ground for the horses to feast on. just in case you feel sick again.

"see, while yunho does love his dear wife, she can be a bit of a handful for him. too... dominant for him, one could say. so he seeks submissiveness in other women, just like you. women who are the opposite to lori, women who are, well, nothing. much like you."

his words shoot at your heart, and you know he is right. it just feels disappointing to hear it out loud. were you really a nothing?

"he sleeps with them and whatever, and kindly robs them while they sleep from exhaustion. the rest of us do the same with others, not to worry. it's rude to exclude, don't you think? you know, you should really pay more attention to that notice board next to your house. my head is the third one from the left, right under the mighty stallion."

"why would you tell me this? what's in it for you?"

"my, you speak! what's in it for me? nothing, if i'm being honest. i just happen to be aware of the treatment your father gives you, and i guess the years are starting to catch up to me. i think i feel pity."

"you're going to ask for something in return, aren't you?"

"clever girl, you are." he crouches in front of you, cupping your cheek and caressing it with his thumb. "give me what you wanted to give yunho."

"i didn't want to-"

"you think i'm dumb? like you? i know that if he had only asked you, you would've jumped in his bed right away. therefore, i tell you, give me what i ask."

"no."

the older man scoffs, then stands up again. his hand remains on your cheek, but his thumb stops caressing it. he removes it, only to bring it back with a slap. losing balance, you fall on the ground. the man doesn't give you any time to process what just happened, grabbing you by your shoulders and throwing you on the pile of hay. you open your mouth, letting out a scream that gets cut off by his lips on your mouth. they feel greasy, reeking of onion and beef, not remotely close to yunho's.

your hands are trapped above your head, his hand holding it in place while his other one struggles with the layers of your dress and apron. you kick, as fast and hard as you can, but you only manage to piss him off. he pulls away, only to spit in your face.

"i bet you wouldn't give yunho a hard time like this. why do all women have to be so difficult? all i want to do is make you feel good, baby."

tears stream down your face, words stuck in your throat. even though nothing is blocking your mouth anymore, you don't speak.

"you know, if you just let me... i'd get rid of your father for good. i could take you with me, i'd make you feel good any time you ask. i could-"

his words are left hanging in the air, and you feel hot liquid splash over your face. the shooting noise catches up to you right after the man's body falls on you, lifeless. you finally scream, lungs hurting from the amount of it. your hands fly to your face, wiping off the liquid and staring at it. red drips down your hands, onto your neck, pure terror filling your body as you realize you have someone's remains all over you. short and fast breaths leave your mouth, chest compressed under his heavy figure. it is not until another figure pulls him off you, and puts his hand over your mouth with hushing noises.

"it's alright, love." you recognize the voice as wyatt's, who then helps you up. "hey, you're fine."

you're not. you do not know who to trust. then again, when you don't trust your own father, why bother?

"let's get you washed."

after splashing your face with cold water and wiping it with his handkerchief, wyatt helps you to the back entrance of the saloon, then goes back to the stables. probably to finish the business.

you find yourself laying in the guest bed again, only this time, the sheets aren't wet from arousal, but from tears. you spend at least two hours, eyes fixed on the wooden ceiling . you feel dirty, still feeling his dirty hands all over you. your fingers hesitantly touch your face, afraid that you'll stain them red again. your dress and apron still have droplets of now brown liquid. is this what yunho does? is that why he looked the way he did when he entered the saloon? only the blood on his clothes was still red, still very fresh.

if what the dead man said was true, then you best stay out of the cowboy's way. and just like that, your secret little romance story has turned into a horror one.

the next few days, you don't see yunho much. you see the prostitutes coming down from the top floor, sometimes two or three of them at a time. and you are disgusted. you only see him at breakfast, from afar, and he doesn't show much interest in approaching you. his companions surround him, making the frown on his face bigger every day. were they discussing the strategy of robbing the town? was there something in their way?

for a split second, the man catches your gaze. his eyes soften, and you swear you could see a faint smile on his lips. but you couldn't return it. not when you know the intentions behind it. the soft look is replaced by confusion, which grows even bigger when you only spare him an ice cold glance and move on with your work.

saturday evening, the saloon is full. it is foggy, reeks of cigarettes and alcohol, and is loud. you don't see him or his crew yet, and you are thankful for it. at least one evening of peace. so far.

"it's kind of disappointing, you know? i mean, the sex is amazing. well, you know. you had him yesterday. but it's so sad that the town fears him and wants him dead. wouldn't mind having a piece of that every day. my body is burning, and it's been two days, but i still want more."

"i know, right? what a shame. i wish he'd stick around longer. i don't know about you, but i love that thrill of knowing that he's an outlaw. a wanted man, a gorgeous wanted man, having his way with me? i don't think anything will top that. i mean, did you see his-"

"another drink?" you interrupt, not able to listen anymore.

they giggle among each other before handing you the downed glasses. the saloon quiets down when they hear thuds coming from the stairs. you regret looking up, eyes immediately locking with familiar brown ones. everyone seems to watch their step, ready to get up and free a table if yunho desires it. oh, the amount of power he holds. that isn't supposed to make you feel some type of way. you're supposed to hate him.

but how, when he approaches you so politely, tucking that loose piece of hair that's been bothering you all evening behind your ear. such a simple gesture, which awakes the oceans in you, and probably means nothing to him. just a foreplay, before he finally cages you and fulfills his plans.

slowly, but surely, the music goes on. the people are relaxed once they see yunho doesn't have any thirst for blood tonight.

"gin."

"right away."

the night goes on, with you tending to everyone. and the cowboy follows you with his eyes, so much that the two women at the bar near him start throwing themselves at him just to get his attention.

"say, when are we going to have fun again?"

"yeah, stallion. did you forget us already?"

yunho chuckles, seeing you approach the other side of the bar and mouth their words with a mocking face. you hear him, raising your head enough to look at him. caught red handed, you only awkwardly press your lips in a thin line, continuing to wash the dirty glasses.

"you were never really ones to remember," yunho simply says, bringing the glass to his lips and downing the drink in one go.

he stands up, not sparing the women a glance even after they audibly gasp and start murmuring among each other. he approaches your father, saying something into his ear, then looks at you once again before disappearing upstairs.

"here," a clean washcloth lands on the bar counter by the end of the night.

"what?"

"that cowboy, stallion. he needs a bath."

"so? he can get his own washcloths. why do i need to- oh."

"yeah, oh. we haven't had a single man in a while, so there was no need for edith. now you can go fill her position."

great.

you knock on the door, and use the other hand to fix your hair before you hear him say come in. you do as told, two washcloths secure in your hand as you go deeper in the room. it takes everything in you to stand still not collapse from the sight. his clothes are carelessly dumped on the floor, and he lays still in the wooden basin filled with water. the place is steamy, the fireplace keeping the winter cold away. yunho has his arms hanging from the basin, and his head resting against the edge. the steam has caused his hair to stick to his face, which was shiny. droplets of sweat roll down his neck and into the water, and you think that is the most beautiful sight you've ever seen.

he is so manly, so handsome, and so...

"you gonna stand there and watch while i slowly cook myself into a stew here?"

he is fresh shaven, that is the first thing you notice when you approach him. he lazily opens his eyes, the hot water having relaxed his muscles a bit more than he wanted to. "right, sorry."

you wet one washcloth, then wrap it around a bar of soap. you haven't done this since... ever. yes, you helped wash your sick cousin. but she was sick, and it was different. this? having a whole man naked right in front of you, and you were supposed to touch him?

"go on. i don't bite. not unless you want to."

"i really don't." you murmur, finally pressing the soap against his hot skin.

you exhale, your heart threatening to escape from your chest and jump into the basin with the cowboy. a thin layer of fabric is all that is in the way of you finally feeling him the way you wanted. a fabric that could so easily just slip from your fingers, and you accidentally touch him. and he likes it. and he acts on it. and-

"i see you breaking your back down there. every day. with your father, with all those perverts, with all those jealous women. you deserve better. my offer still stands, you know?"

"i'm fine," you say, just like last time.

"give yourself some time to think."

the next half hour is quiet. peaceful sounds of the wood cracking, water dripping, and yunho's calm breathing. his eyes are locked on you, and you are sweating as much as him, only for different reasons. you fear that he can read your mind, figure out just how naughty the images in your head are getting. but when it gets to a certain point, you are reminded of that night, and you stop. that bastard has stolen your first kiss, and almost stole your first time. if anything, you are thankful that yunho has brought wyatt with him.

"uh... can you sit up straight?"

yunoh raises an eyebrow, amused. you clear your throat when he doesn't move, looking around before finally figuring it out.

"could you sit up straight, sir? please?"

"right away, darling."

he does as asked, exposing his back to you. heavens, you want to- you want to- you don't even know what you want. there he sits, a whole meal right in front of you, and all you can do is breathe heavily and act all clumsy. you rub the soap on his back, gently massaging him and feeling every line on his body.

"you missed a spot."

"huh?"

"right here." his warm hand takes your wrist, guiding you towards his chest once again. your hand rests over his beating heart, and if you weren't so foolishly focused on seeing what the missed spot was, you would've seen the look on his face that is yelling to kiss him.

"oh, sorry."

he doesn't get angry. instead, he chuckles fondly. you are so delicate and innocent, it hurts him. too mesmerized by your focused face, he doesn't notice that your hand is traveling to his stomach. he jolts, hand clasping your wrist so tight that it has you whimper. you seem to have found a sensitive spot, not only to the body, but to the mind and heart. the look on his face shifts from a soft to an angry one, and you take it as your cue to step back.

"that's all. you can go." he mutters, looking away from you.

"but-"

"i'll finish up. go."

coming back to the stables, it takes a lot of energy. you first go during the day, with jongho. he knew, wyatt told him. the rest only knew that wyatt and the man got into a fight and wyatt had to shoot him. jongho is understanding, kind, and doesn't seem to share any of the qualities that the dead man had given them. not only is he not interested in doing any harm to the town and its people, but he is rather helpful.

yunho, again, is nowhere to be seen. you hesitate to ask. you don't know what you did wrong, but you pray that the night isn't your last encounter with him.

you stand in front of the stables, memories flooding your brain once you see the hay blocks. they have been rearranged, some destroyed, possibly by jongho or wyatt. the horses are sitting together in the corner, enjoying the warmth of each other during the first snowy day.

"i can't do it."

"that's alright. i won't force you. i just don't want one sick man to keep haunting you even when he's no longer here."

"i need time."

jongho only smiles reassuringly, patting your shoulder. he's nice, why doesn't your stomach toss and turn when you see him the way it does when you see yunho?

"i still wonder what he told you about yunho. your behaviour towards him isn't at all like he described it."

"what, he spoke to you about me?"

wyatt subtly kicks his knee from the side, ordering him to stop. but jongho feels rather mischievous today, and is growing annoyed of his leader. they were supposed to move on days ago, not behave like tourists.

"you first. i want to know why you despise him. well, except obvious reasons." the young man turns around, pointing at their companions scattered in the main street, keeping people away and scared.

you sit on the bench in front of the stable, running your hands through your already messy hair before finding the right words to say. "is he married?"

the two men look at each other, their faces not giving you much of an answer. they are extremely good at masking their emotions. wyatt sighs, sitting down to your right. "yes. and no."

"what do you mean? yes or no?"

"well, it's complicated." jongho says, sitting to your left.

"it's also not our story to tell," wyatt adds, looking over at jongho with a warning look, "yunho is the one that should be telling you."

you scoff, making both men look at you in confusion. "does it matter? he'll just sleep with me, you all will do your part of the job, and then you'll leave. i should do it as soon as possible, for both of our sakes. i imagine you can't wait to leave this town, just like we can't wait for you to leave."

"listen, if yunho wanted to harm you, he would. we never stay in one place longer than three days. we've been here far longer, as you can see. i don't know the reason yet, but i know he doesn't mean any harm. did he have a change of heart? doubt it. will he continue his crimes? i don't doubt that. is there something holding him here? yes, yes there is. i might have a guess, but-"

"jongho. shut the fuck up."

"i wasn't going to tell her, wyatt, relax."

the two men bicker over you, random words and sentences traveling to your ears and overstimulating your brain. you start feeling dizzy, suddenly overwhelmed by everything. you stand up and march down the street, leaving the two men to feel bad on the bench.

the next time you go to the stables, it is night again. and it is because your father throws a glass at you. it hits the wall right next to you, breaking, shards flying into your skin. you have nowhere to go, yunho's companions basically running the town by now. you don't need one of them to get a hold of you again. you sit on the new pile of hay, far in the corner. sobbing, pulling at your hair, cursing yourself.

how wise would it be to actually take his offer? would you be able to survive on your own? or would every single man in town finally be happy that you're all alone, unprotected, and out of someone's cage.

it hurts to even think about it, and it causes you to sob even more. your chest hurts, and after what seems like hours of crying, you aren't sure if it's from physical or emotional pain.

the animals seem to feel sorry for you, because soon enough two horses find their comfort in the hay right next to you, shielding your figure from the outside world. you can't help but laugh at the bigger one, his head pushing into your lap and demanding attention.

"aren't you cute?"

your fingers gently caress its neck, lulling it to sleep. it seems like the whole stable was affected, because soon enough they all start laying down one by one, calling it an early night and pulling you to sleep with them. funny how you got way more peace and affection from animals than your own family.

"moonshine."

click. click. click.

"come on, girl."

the warm surface you were laying on moves, following the mouth clicking noises and leaving your head to rest on the hay. you're still asleep, not aware that someone else has joined you in the stable. but the other person isn't aware that you're there either.

"there's my good girl," the man pets the black stallion, which lives up to its name and stands under the moonlight, in its full glory and shine. "aren't you beautiful?"

your eyes peel open, the voice slowly waking you up. you hear crunching, and a bucket rattling. when you finally open your eyes, you see the outline of the familiar figure at the entrance. it is not yet morning, that you figure out by the darkness that has swallowed the place. the only light being the gas lantern hanging from the saloons entrance, you don't see much. but you recognize that hat and figure anywhere.

"i wish you could speak, my pretty moonshine. you'd tell me why blood was spilled, and why my pretty girl won't lay her eyes on me anymore."

his...? his pretty girl? you don't move a muscle, hoping to hear more. the mare only points its head towards the bucket, demanding more food. yunho chuckles, reaching for another apple.

"do you think i scared her away? i made sure she knows i don't mean any harm to her. did someone fill her pretty head with something?"

the mare lets out a noise, as if wanting to confirm. yunho exhales, then sets the bucket aside. he goes further into the stable, walking just past you and grabs the saddle from the corner. going back, his boot gets caught in your dress, and causes him to halt. you shut your eyes, pretending to still sleep.

"heavens." he exhales.

you feel him get closer to you, and almost betray yourself when you feel his knuckles caress your face.

"darling?"

his voice is usually low and pleasant, but hearing him whisper is just something else. why does he have to be so perfect, yet so dangerous?

you stretch, pretending to not notice him yet. finally opening your eyes, you fake a gasp. you lean back into the hay, trying to keep a distance from him. he crouches in front of you, fixing his hat. you can't get over how well it suits him.

"had a good nap?"

"well, yes. had." you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

"that's no place to sleep, dove."

"it's the only place that gives me comfort right now."

he nods, understandingly. he offers you his hand to take, and you only look at him, puzzled.

"i'll take you to a place that will give you more comfort."

"i'm not sure-"

"that wasn't a question." the tone is serious, but the wink he gives you after it relaxes you.

the cowboy stands up, making his way to his mare. you stand up, dusting off your dress and following him. he puts the saddle on the horse, securing it, then offers you his hand again. this time you take it, not yet sure what he had in mind.

"go on, climb her."

"uh... she's quite... bigger than the last one. or any other one i rode on."

"yeah, moonshine is quite something. she's gentle though, nothing to worry about. go on, don't be shy."

with a bit of struggle, and a little push from yunho, you finally sit comfortably on the tall mare. she indeed shines under the moon, black fur reflecting beautifully in the dark night. yunho climbs behind you, taking the leash in his hands and guiding the mare down the street.

"is she fast?"

"she can be. want to see?"

"i don't know. i might scream."

he chuckles. he maintains the pace, gracefully trotting down the quiet sleepy town. you see some of his companions keeping watch, each nodding their heads your way as you pass them. your gaze falls on his hands, searching for the shiny item that was mentioned that night. but you don't see it. was it really a lie? or did yunho somehow know, and took it off? is the wife even real?

"hold on tight." he whispers into your ear, hot breath brushing your neck and cheek.

you grab onto his thighs, instinctively, right before you pass the last house and yunho whips the leash against the mare. it neighs, puts its two front legs up in the air and almost throws you on the grown. you gasp, but manage to collect yourself once the animal returns to its position and starts galloping. it feels like you're flying, and you're enjoying it more than you're scared of it. your hair flies into his face probably, but he doesn't say anything.

you pass hills, past the river where you first saw the man, and into the mountains. you don't remember the last time you went this far outside of town. not only because you weren't allowed, but you had no time or way. it's not as if you had a horse of your own.

his thighs are firm under your hands, nothing but pure muscle. and it suddenly drives you crazy, the way you feel his torso pressed against your back, arms holding the leash and keeping you from falling off along the way, his breath against your ear.

"you alright?"

"yes!"

"how do you feel? scared?"

"this is so much fun! it's scary and fun!"

his laugh is loud over the wind, chest vibrating behind you. the mare slows its pace when arriving on the steep mountain trails, carefully navigating to the top. once there, it comes to a halt. it is not very high, but high enough too overlook the fields, the river, and the distant town. yunho dismounts, then helps you down.

"cold?" he asks, noticing your trembling frame.

"a bit."

this time, he doesn't throw the spare jacket at you like the first time you met. he takes off his own, helping you put it on. it's warm, smells like him, and it's making you so dizzy you might just fall off the cliff. taking a good look at him, you decide that even if he is dangerous, his handsomeness makes up for it. he wears a brown waistcoat, accentuating his thin waist and broad shoulders. heavens, he is so dashing.

you stand still, waiting for his next plan. he pulls a blanket out of the saddlebag, along with the familiar white cloth, and sets it on the ground. the mare continues it's path further up, taking a spot near a boulder, as if used to the situation already. which brings you back to the questions in your head; did he bring other women here?

"sit down, peach. make yourself comfortable."

and you do, right next to him. you both sit still for a few moments, looking at the faint light in the distance. yunho then fidgets with something in the pocket of his jeans, before holding it out for you to take. in his open palm lays a ring, the very ring you've heard about and had your head spinning for days.

"hmph," he laughs through his nose, "figured that was the issue."

"there is no issue. you have a wife. end of story."

"take it."

"no."

"take it."

"i don't want to."

yunho sighs, then closes his hand again. he sits still for a few moments, as if thinking. and then-

"why would you do that?!"

you stand up, watching the shiny piece of jewelry fall from the cliff.

"if you listened and took it, you would've seen how worthless it is."

"i don't need your wedding ring, yunho."

his eyebrows are knit together, and you suddenly realize your mistake.

"you know my name."

"yeah."

"how?"

and you tell him. every detail of it, including the wife story. he listens carefully, face not giving any emotion. typical. by the time you finish, you are laying down and looking up at the shiny sky, tears streaming down your face. yunho is propped up on his elbow, laying on the side and listening. his fingers catch a fresh tear, brushing your cheek in the process. you are left completely baffled when he puts the very same fingers on his lips, tongue peeking out to lick the salty liquid.

"you poor thing." he coos, bringing his hand back to you. he removes the hair from your neck, then smiles with satisfaction once he sees your healed skin. "that's good. seems my medical techniques worked."

you scoff, putting your hair back over your neck with embarrassment. "so, uh... your wife?"

"a psycho."

"oh."

"she stabbed me. almost bled out to death if it weren't for jongho."

he says it so casually, as if it isn't a big deal. "you're still married though, right? that's why you had the ring."

"not quite. we weren't really married. it was just play pretend, so she could have half of everything i was bringing back. once i stopped, the bitch jumped me with a knife. barely made it out alive."

"then... why did you keep it?"

"to keep women away from me. well, those i didn't want."

"but you sleep with them. you use them anyway."

he frowns at the accusation. "no, no i don't. i only rob. i sleep only with prostitues, sometimes. what my companions do is none of my business. we have a deal, and i do not ask about what they do. just like they don't ask about me or what i do."

so, not all of it is true. but then again, can you really trust him?

"i'm so sorry, dove. if i knew that sick bastard would go behind my back, even after threatening them not to touch you-"

"it's fine. nothing happened." you try, seeing him get angrier with every second he spends imagining the situation you were in.

"he stole your first kiss."

"well, yes. but, what's done is done. it was barely a kiss, really. more like mouth to mouth breathing. it was like inhaling a whole onion." you say with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. but yunho doesn't laugh. instead, he unbuttons his waistcoat, then his shirt.

"what- what are you doing?"

"well, since you showed me your bruises, and told me your story, it would only be fair that i showed you mine."

you remember the night you washed him, when you went to touch his stomach and he told you to leave. kneeling in front of him, you finally get to see why. a scar decorates his lower torso, just above the jeans and the v-line. you breathe in, ready to do something you would only in your dreams.

you lean in, hands trembling against the blanket and fingers scrunching it from the nervous state you're in. yunho shivers, feeling your lips press against his scar. you don't stop there, inspired by his own actions. you allow your tongue to graze it, and when you get another gasp from him, you take it as a sign to keep going. his hand finds its place under your chin, raising your head to that you can look at him. and he snaps.

he grabs you by your waist, pulling you up so that you sit in his lap. you don't fight back, you're enjoying it. over the layers of the dress, you feel something poking you, and it makes your cheeks heat up.

"stop looking at me like that." he whispers, lips inches away from yours.

"like what?"

"with those big eyes. like you want me to ravish you right here."

"maybe i do."

"you're saying risky things, sugar."

seeing that he doesn't intend on making the first move, you do. you close the distance, pressing your lips against his. you don't know what you're doing, but try your best. luckily, he gives in, humming into your lips and kissing you properly. his hands on your waist scrunch the fabric of your dress as he contains himself from just pushing you below him and having you his way. he needs to take it slow. you're not like others.

"relax your jaw." he mumbles, and when you do, he allows his tongue to touch your lips, as if asking for permission to enter. and you grant it, parting your lips and unsurely letting your tongue join his.

he massages your muscle with his own skilled one, rubbing it just right and making your thighs rub and seek pleasure. he kisses you slow, and deep, each stroke of his tongue more passionate than the previous one. he feels you get annoyed by something, and is forced to stop.

"what is it?"

"as much as i love your hat, it's in the way."

the man chuckles below you, immediately removing the hat and putting it on your head. "there."

"how do i look?" you adjust it, getting used to the new item.

"like a feast."

with a swift move, yunho pulls your body closer to his face, so that it is between your legs. his hands shuffle through the layers of fabric, finally finding the undergarment and pushing it aside. "what are you doing? i'm going to squish you!"

"sit."

"what?!"

"sit."

you hover above him, not yet listening. this time, he is the one to get annoyed, and puts his hands on your bottom. he slams you against his face, tongue immediately licking a stripe up your already slick folds. you gasp, hand flying to his shoulders for support.

"rock your hips, sunshine. make yourself feel good."

you do as told, rocking your hips back and forth on his tongue, soft moans and gasps leaving your mouth. you tremble in his hands, the newfound pleasure too much for you to handle. "i can't- yunho, it's too much-"

the man only sends you a mischievous look, before taking the situation into his own hands. his plush lips close around your clit, sucking it, while the tip of his tongue teases the tip of your clit. you let out a long and loud moan, body shuddering from the surge of intense pleasure.

"fuuuck-" you whine, hips hopelessly grinding against his tongue.

deciding it's enough, yunho flips you underneath him with a swift motion. "do you want to do this?"

"yes, please."

"then, i'll have to prepare you. since you asked so nicely."

he flips your dress over, exposing your wet bottom to the cool air. you shiver again, his jacket not helping much with the cold.

"this is going to hurt a little. i promise i'll be gentle."

you nod, then go back to abusing the poor blanket underneath you. you bite into it, feeling his long digits intrude your tight walls. it is unpleasant, but not that painful.

"that's a good girl. you're so wet for me, look how easily you're taking me."

he starts pumping in and out, squelching noises having you completely lose your mind and almost drool on the blanket. his fingers are long, very long. how will you survive his-?

"this good, darling?"

"yes."

"yes, what?"

"yes, sir." you moan out, hips moving along with his hand in hopes of more pleasure.

he doesn't speed up. being soft and slow seems to be his way of doing it, and it is a pace you are enjoying very much. it's not fast, like you do it. you do it to get rid of it. he does it for actual pleasure. when he removes his fingers, you can't help but whine at the loss of contact. he turns you around so that you lay on your back, facing him. his hair is a mess, much like yours, and he smiles lazily at you.

"my needy girl." he coos, pressing a kiss to your lips. "can i claim you, sweet thing?"

"what?"

"do you wish to be mine?"

do you? or is it just the horny speaking instead of you? either way, you might end up regretting. so you simply say:

"yes, sir."

"say my name, darling." he pulls himself out of his jeans, the tip of his cock running circles on your sensitive clit.

"yunho."

he hums, slipping his tip past your folds. "again."

"yunho," you gasp, feeling him inch by inch splitting you in half.

"again."

"yunho-"

"more."

"yunho," thrust, "yunho," thrust, "yunho!"

he gets lost in the feeling of your tight warm walls, hips snapping deep inside of you and driving you crazy. you get wetter by the second, even more when you see him so dizzy. it's nice to know that you have him in a chokehold as much as he has you.

"does it hurt?"

"no," you reply.

"that's because you're so perfectly made for me. look at you, you fit in the palm of my hand."

that's not true, obviously. but the way he says it makes you really feel that you could fit, and that you could stay protected there. his hips collide with yours, and your eyes roll back.

"such a pretty pussy," he growls, pace getting sloppier and slower. "wish i could do this all night long."

"me too," you moan.

his hands rip your dress apart, exposing your chest. his lips waste no time in attaching to your skin, leaving bite marks all over it, until reaching the tense nipples. he takes one in his mouth, tongue swirling around it, while his other hand plays with the other. your fingers find comfort in pulling his hair, subconsciously pushing his head into you further.

"my sweet peach," he coos, cock sliding in and out so easily, "my pretty girl."

"so sweet"

"even your moans are so beautiful"

"use me for your pleasure, darling"

you find yourself moving your hips along with his, only in a faster pace. you need to finally feel that orgasm. you feel something build up in the bottom of your stomach, and you're not sure what to do.

"yunho..."

"yes, my love?"

"i don't know how to- how to orgasm."

"you'll feel it. don't think about it. just relax, and let your body do it. let me do it."

you feel the buildup, then you lose it. again, and again, until you whine about it. yunho turns you around again, so that you are sitting on his lap. you feel him deep in your stomach, almost pulsating.

"let's try this."

he helps you up and down, rolls your hips, until he finds what works for you. you hover above him, hopelessly biting into his neck to contain your inappropriate noises. his hips snap into yours with a fast pace, finally hitting the spot you didn't know existed. the buildup starts again, this time not stopping. and when pleasure washes you over, you can't help but pull at yunho's hair mercilessly, moaning into his ear and letting yourself completely go. he helps you ride it out, waves of intense pleasure washing over you as yunho helps himself get closer.

"fuck, darling." he growls, pulling out of you.

"wait, what about you?"

"i'll just- i don't know."

his hand wraps around his cock, which is ready to unleash any moment. the man almost audibly gasps when he sees you kneel in front of him, innocently opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. just how did you know?

"are you sure?"

"positive."

"absolutely sure?"

"yunho?"

"yes?"

"please cum in my mouth."

and it's all it takes. yunho jerks himself on your tongue, or at least tries to. some of it ends up on your face, but you so carefully try to collect every single drop he gives you. you don't miss the way his head falls back, eyes rolling and low moans escaping his pretty lips. coming down from his high with one last pump and moan, he finally looks at you. the texture on your tongue is not the most pleasant one, but you decide to impress him further, and swallow it. he scoffs in disbelief, running a hand through his hair.

"you are just perfect, aren't you?"

in the morning, the ride back is much more comfortable. you still wear his hat, proudly, and his jacket. he can't help but kiss your temple as you ride, having it difficult enough to keep his hands off you. if only he could hold you in his pocket all day.

upon entering the town, you notice the people, your people, standing and waiting. would now be the right time to tell yunho you accept his offer?

he helps you dismount, before taking the revolver in his hand.

"what's this? a rebellion?" he says, mockingly.

"does she know?" your father asks, pointing at you.

you scrunch your eyebrows, looking between the two men. something shines in your fathers hand, and you realize he also holds a revolver.

"there is nothing to know." yunho replies, approaching him and standing in front of you. "you keep your mouth shut."

"oh, but there is. see, my little daughter, if you want to whore around, you could've picked anyone from the town. not your own mother's killer."

blood runs cold in your veins. the sun suddenly doesn't shine as bright anymore, and the man in front of you morphs into someone else. he turns around towards you, shaking his head. "no..."

"he shot her."

"you shot my father!"

"he deserved it!"

"no, the fuck he didn't!"

you step back, tears burning your eyes. did you really give yourself to the man who took your mother away from you? who also took your father away from you?

"listen-" yunho tries, hands reaching to touch you.

"don't touch me."

"he came here to finish the business. but he didn't count that he would fall for the daughter. what a clash of interests."

he doesn't deny it. and it only infuriates you more. so he did have an evil plan after all.

"you came for me, didn't you?" your father presses further, raising his revolver.

"no, i didn't." yunho replies, face changing from a guilty and sorry one to a neutral. "i came for her."

he grabs you by your shoulders, putting his hand over your mouth. you toss, scream, and whatnot, but what are you compared to his grip?

"i assume you won't care much if i took her away. but it would mean much to me. tit for tat."

"you are to never step foot into this town again. not you, not your companions."

yunho nods. and your father puts his weapon away. and it crashes your heart. you know you don't mean much to him, but to give you to an outlaw so easily?

"i came for what i wanted, not to worry. you won't see me ever again."

and just like that, you find yourself tied up and tossed over the black mare.

why did you ever wish for a life other than the one you had?

"you're all mine now, sunshine."

feedback greatly appreciated! <3

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coco-loco-nut · 3 days

Text

Forza Red Bull

Pairing: Max x Best Friend Reader

Summary: You have a big decision to make, stick with Red Bull or move to Ferrari

A/n: changing when the driver's press conference is for the plot. Thanks for the request!! I loved writing this

requests open masterlist

_________

It is getting increasingly harder to hide your trips to the Ferrari motorhome, where you are negotiating a potential contract. Fred has been talking with you the latter half of the season, just waiting on a phone call from you, one that you are reluctant to take despite it being an offer you can't otherwise refuse. Your contract ends after this season and Red Bull is waiting until after the season to offer you a new contract, despite them knowing your requests.

Carlos is leaving the team, having gotten a better seat elsewhere. Most F1 fans believe Ferrari will be signing Ollie Bearman or Arthur Leclerc.

"Y/n, it's a beautiful day for racing," Max wraps his arm around you, fresh from a workout. The hot Abu Dhabi air doesn't help the sweat.

"Ew, Max, get off of me, you smell," you gag for the added effect.

"I'm wounded, my own teammate and best friend?" Max places his hand over his heart.

"Go shower than we can talk. I stopped dealing with sweaty Max after karting," you shove him off of you. Max rolls his eyes, heading to shower while you beeline for coffee.

Your heart hurts while greeting the staff you have grown to love since you joined the team in 2021. Hannah sits down beside you.

"How are you feeling today?" she asks, handing you a pastry.

"Good, I think I have a shot at winning today, hopefully with your brilliant strategy I will," you smile hopefully, one that drops as you see her cringe a little.

"About that, Christian wants you to defend," Hannah tells you, you can feel the anger building. You have been so close to beating Max last year and the championship is just within your grasp, you need this win. You should've known better, you were brought onto the team for your ability to defend.

"Hannah, please," your eyes beg her to give you the better strategy.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," she whispers, the one person on pit wall you thought that was on your side other than your race engineer. You swallow your pride and nod, looking away.

"Understood, I'll defend," you say after a second.

"You are a wonderful teammate and driver, Max is lucky to have you," her comforting words fall flat. Max. Your best friend and fiercest competition.

"I have to go to the press conference," you say, standing up and walking away.

"Y/n? Everything okay?" Pierre asks, you two weren't close, but you were a part of a group chat for drivers who are traumatized by Red Bull, one that you had often joked that you don't belong in. Now you know why Daniel added you.

"Red Bull," you huff angrily.

"I'm sorry," Pierre doesn't know why he's apologizing, but he can certainly empathize with you. The two of you walk to the conference together. You weren't close with Pierre, but you aren't enemies either.

You receive the first question of the conference.

"Y/n, you've been strong in free practice and qualifying. How are you feeling going into today, knowing that these are crucial points in your battle with your teammate, Max? Especially since you were in this position last year," the interviewer asks.

"Wow, starting off strong. Um, yeah, the car has felt great all weekend, I feel great going into today. It's always so much fun to race with Max, something I've had the privilege to do since we were karting together. Max got the win last year, so I hope I can secure it for myself this year," You say, hoping that satisfies the question. It does, at least until the journalists.

"How is Red Bull handling the driver situation, seeing that you and Max are both fighting for a championship," the journalist asks.

"Obviously the team wants us both to succeed, they will have a winner either way. I'm really glad to be with a team that supports both of us that way," you lie through your teeth, knowing that Christian wants Max to win. There is a reason that the Red Bull PR team loves you doing press conferences. You can feel Pierre, Carlos, and Daniel looking at you, knowing that you are likely lying, they just aren't sure which part.

"Good luck today, Y/n, if someone is going to beat me, I want it to be my best friend. If it isn't this year, I know you will take next year's Red Bull to the top," Max hugs you. Your anger dissolves for a moment, you aren't mad at him. He makes a great point, you already have a great relationship with Red Bull, you love it here, even if Christian makes you mad sometimes. Ferrari is, well, Ferrari. The car isn't as good and the strategy is lacking. You are smart, you know Red Bull is the better team, and Christian can't ignore your ability after this season.

"Thank you, Maxie. I hope you lose," he can't help but to laugh with you. You go into your driver's room to text your agent, letting them know which team you chose.

"Y/n, are you sure?" She asks over the phone, calling you immediately.

"I am," your agent agrees to let both teams know, only asking you to call her after the race.

You get ahead later in the race, wheel to wheel with Max as you battle for P1. You know Red Bull isn't going to show their hand that they want Max to win yet.

Y/n, let Max overtake

The instructions flow through your earpiece, you push harder.

No. Max can take the win from my cold dead hands. That's a team order, Y/n I don't give a shit. Tell Christrian and Hannah to fuck off.

Max is a bit confused why you aren't letting him pass, GP told him he was getting the overtake, but he respects you wanting to fight. You ignore your engineer trying to get you to follow team directions.

Y/n, I'm saying this as your friend, your race engineer for the past 3 years. Max has the faster pace, you have to let him pass before you end up in a crash

You hold back the tears in your eyes, as you watch Max slide in front of you, taking P1.

It's not fair. I know, keep fighting. We will get it next season. I will hold you to that. Red Bull owes me that much.

You keep your helmet on after the race, not letting the cameras see you cry. Max immediately finds you after weigh-ins.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry, I didn't know they were going to do that," Max says, pulling you into a hug.

"I knew. Hannah told me this morning," you do your best not to take your anger out on him.

"Why didn't you tell me? I would've fought for you, you're my best friend," Max asks, confused.

"I didn't want you to throw your race for me,"

"This isn't happening next year, I will make Christian understand that. You fought so hard for the win, you deserved it," Max tells you and you nod.

"I know, I'm negotiating it into my contract. I have to go pee and make it look like I wasn't crying. I'll see you in a minute," you tell Max, purposefully being ambiguous like you have the past couple months, going into the private bathroom to make the quick call, getting your phone from your assistant.

"You have the green light to announce your contract," she says before you hang up. You subtly give your phone back and head to the podium.

"That was one hell of a fight, is Red Bull mad at you for ignoring team orders, even though you did give up the spot?" You are asked after the podium by Sky Sports.

"Probably, not that it matters much now since it was the last race of the season," you shrug.

"You have yet to announce your contract renewal with Red Bull, will you be negotiating the team orders part?" Another asks.

"Yeah, I will be making sure any future contracts don't allow something like today to happen again. Red Bull has been waiting because of my salary increase. Which is why I will be joining Scuderia Ferrari next season," you say, dropping the bomb. You had been tempted to say Forza Ferrari over the team radio. Max looks at you in disbelief and hurt. You don't comment after that, electing to leave the room and go back to your driver's room. Charles nods supportively at you, having been informed already about his new teammate.

"Y/n, open the door," you hear Max's voice on the other side a few minutes after you change.

"Max, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I made the decision minutes before the race," your voice cracks a little.

"How long have you been talking to them?"

"Since after summer break,"

"Damn it! Why didn't you tell me, I could've helped you," Max looks utterly broken.

"Because you needed to focus on your racing. Even if I stayed things would be good for a few races then they would go back to how they are now. Red Bull will always choose you. I'm not mad at you for it, please know that," you plead a little as Max pulls away from you.

"You knew you were changing teams for half of the season and didn't tell me. You are going to our rival. You are supposed to be my best friend,"

"I am your best friend, Maxie, I wasn't allowed to say anything,"

"Don't call me that, I can't be friends with someone who doesn't trust me," Max gets up and leaves.

"Max! Max, please come back," you cry, a hole in your heart. You leave the paddock discreetly and go back to your hotel room. Usually, you'd be celebrating with Max, but now you don't know what to do. There is a knock on your door, you hope it's Max,

Daniel, Pierre, Yuki, Carlos, and Alex stand at your door with wine, a cake that reads 'Fuck Red Bull' and another that reads 'The real WDC winner'.

"Max is a dickhead," Daniel offers as you let them into your room. Despite Daniel's good relationship with Christian, he knows right from wrong.

"Thanks, guys," you say, happy to celebrate with them.

"Sorry, Y/n, you deserved the win. I'm glad you are taking my seat at Ferrari," Carlos says, patting your shoulder.

"Let's get drunk, eat cake, then go to the club," Pierre suggests, a plan that you all quickly agree to. Yuki and Alex show you the massive support you are receiving online and the backlash Red Bull is getting. It is comforting, you just wish your best friend was here.

Twitter has a field day with the squad you roll up to the bars with, but they all ask the same question, where's Max. It takes until testing for you to comment on it.

"You shocked the world after announcing a move to Ferrari not long after being forced to lose the world championship. Any harsh feelings towards Max Verstappen following last year's drama?" you are asked right away.

"None. Other drivers might be mad or take it out on the track, but at the end of the day, it wasn't his call, it was Red Bulls. Obviously, it sucks to lose someone who was your best friend, but everything happens for a reason. I can't wait to drive equally with my teammate and have the Tifosi support," you say, catching Max watching you out of the corner of your eye. He is obviously still upset. You ignore him, he can find you when he is ready to apologize.

"If she had told me what she was planning on doing, maybe we would be friends still, but I can't be friends with people who lie to me and are traitors," Max says when asked for his opinion. Max only apologized after you won the season with Ferrari, you think it was because Charles and Daniel forced him to. You are just happy to have your friend back.

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo #f1 grid #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you

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thekeeperof-thefandoms · 2 days

Note

Hello, oh my, damn... so english isn't my first language and i wasn't sure how to phrase it better so don't worry, i totally understand being uncomfortable and I'm sorry 😅

I did enjoy your version very much and i also think that you should definitely go for a crow reader cause that is such a cute idea!

- accidentally proposing anon

No problem! And since you're interested here's some very quick ideas I had about crow reader before I go to work today!

Alastor

Nothing phases this man anymore. Niffty literally gifted him a crown of dead roaches. So when you flutter excitedly and present him with a string of shiny can tabs, you've been collecting he accepts it graciously.

"You're quite right dear, these are incredibly colorful. Yes, very shiny are you sure you don't want to keep this? Oh! You made it for me? Well, aren't you just precious."

He makes it into a necklace or even something to decorate his horns.

Vox

Valentino likes light, you like shiny things, both of you tend to like being around screens and bright colors.

Except you don't just like screens, it's anything colorful or shiny. Actually sometimes it's not even that, its just random odds and ends that caught your attention for some reason. He gets it sometimes, textures, patterns, things like that.

But you have everything from soda can tabs to random buttons to rocks of various shapes, sizes, and colors. You have different sticks and pieces of wood you found that for some reason you then had to have. Pieces of mismatched jewelry. It's cute but it also clutters up space and he eventually designates one room for your stuff and tells you to keep it condensed. You do, and swear it's organized, but it's all just a jumbled mess to him.

He's in his lair, observing all the many different cameras, looking for some wannabe actress who owed him money, when you bounce in, barely stifling excited squaking. He sighs fondly and turns to you, knowing he's not going to be able to concentrate until he sees what you want to show him.

It's a collection of your molted feathers, the best ones, sleek and iridescent, bound together with some colorful twine you found and attached to it is a miniature glass jar filled with colorful, shiny bits of plastic, metal, and rock, and corked shut and sealed with hot glue.

It makes a nice rattle sound when he shakes it and the feathers are nice to pet and run his fingers over and..."Did you make me a fidget toy? From....random stuff you found? That's, that's actually really cute, thanks Doll."

He downplays how much he uses it, but it's literally on his key ring, so you know it goes everywhere with him and if during long meetings his staff are subjected to the consistent background noise of little shiny bits rattling around in a jar, then that's their problem.

Lucifer

As you may have noticed Lucifer also tends to collect things he has no need for. But he might need it one day! Between the two of you it does get to be a bit of a problem, so you both agree to sort through and condense your piles.

It takes days cuz you guys keep stopping to show each other cool stuff you guys have. Then, several more days just to get through his numerous rubber ducks. Eventually it's down to a single room where your collections have merged. Each item carefully chosen and presented to one another like expensive jewelry or other such luxurious things. But it's a cool rock you found, a giant bronze spring, a box full of candy wrappers with clever sayings, and a scrapbook with various brightly colored pieces of cardboard from snacks, toys, shoes, literally anything, that caught your eye.

It's anyone's guess on who adds what, but you do both have to agree on it before it's added so you don't hoard things again.

That's the end, but maybe I'll go back and add Adam and some of the other characters later. I just wanted to get my initial ideas down before work.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel lucifer #vox x reader #lucifer x reader #alastor x reader

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i4mizu · 1 day

Text

you were watching your girlfriend's latest skating performance, when...

❄️ skater!mizu x fem!reader ❄️

masterlist <3

the day was already tense.

you were at the skating rink waiting for your girlfriend to get ready.

the famous mizu would make her last performance as a brilliant ice skater. but something wasn't right…

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・. .・

she was very quiet.

ok. she can be silent and cool as a midnight breeze sometimes... but she never stays quiet before a performance.

obviously it would make sense! of course, the last presentation of a career marked by so much success and achievements!

nahh... it's nothing. she’s just anxious.

but you didn't stop worrying.

"i’ll go there with the others, ok?" you kiss her forehead.

"what if i fail..."

you automatically turn around and kneel in front of her.

"what are you saying? mizu, look back! since you were a teenager you have had a brilliant career and changed women's skating forever! everyone will only have good memories of your hard work, my love."

"but if i do it badly specially today it will be marked." you couldn’t hold the chuckle, the way she said it was adorable.

suddenly a staff arrived in the room.

"you'll be in in two minutes."

you two look at each other.

"i better go now... i love you, alright? everything will be fine!"

you share a quick kiss with her before leaving and joining the other people in the ring.

a few minutes later, all the lights went out.

seeing her there in the middle of the ice is like waking up in a dream…

the way her figure moves in an unpretentious way? charming the cameras, the jurors. it was natural to her. she was born for this.

each jump made majestically.

it’s as if the mizu from minutes ago had disappeared...

you scream a few times scaring the people around you, but you don’t give a shit.

the woman of your dreams was about to put an end to her amazing career, history was being made.

the presentation was coming to an end, everything was completely perfect.

but suddenly strong hands covered your face.

the song was coming to an end and you were desperately trying to free yourself. the hands left your face seconds later and you opened your eyes, still scared.

and she was there… in front of you

on her knees, with one hand on her heart and the other open towards you.

holding a box with an engagement ring.

the audience didn't understand until the scene was shown on the screen, everyone started screaming and throwing flowers at you two.

this would be her last performance because… she wanted to marry you!

your whole body started to shake, and tears started to run down your face even though it contained the most genuine smile you've ever shown.

seeing you accept and repeat ‘yes yes yes’ several times, mizu jumped over the wall (even with her skates on) and she hugged you so easily that she could spin you in the air.

she doesn't care at all if she loses the competition, she just wants you.

i am barely with my eyes open so i’m sorry if this sucks, i just had this idea while thinking about one of my favorite animes: yuri on ice 🥺

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tobereadindiapers-again · 3 days

Text

The Nurse pt. 2

That night was one of the loneliest of your life. You spent most of it tossing and turning, and trying not to imagine all of the horrible ways your life had changed in an afternoon. How would you hide your diapers? How would you manage your changes? What would your friends and family think? What about women? What would they think of you. Wrapped in your smelly, wet diaper all day, every day. Would they think of you at all any more? You tried to keep that pitiful look Sarah had given you out of your mind, until you were nearly crazy with anxiety, fear, and exhaustion. Is that the only way women would look at you now? Sad, half masked pity.

Every time you felt your eyes close heavy with the promise of sleep, a small warm trickle snapped you back to waking. You spent the dark hours of the early morning straining with all of your might to stop the steady drip, drip, drip of urine into your diaper, but to no avail. It made you furious. You wanted nothing more than to stand up and rip the damn thing off and hurl it at the wall. This whole situation was infuriating! Unfair. Pathetic.

Finally you focused your mind on the muffled hustle and bustle of the hospital hallway outside your doors. The scurrying feet of hospital staff, the wherrs and beeps of the hospital machines, the hushed voices of night shift nurses outside your door. You wondered absently where Sarah was now.

You awoke abruptly to a clatter outside your room. People talked in hurried voices, and you heard scrapes and clanging as whatever fumbled hospital gear was quickly gathered back up.

You rolled over to face away from the door, and were immediately reminded of your new condition. The sagging, bulging diaper between your legs crinkled louder than the plastic hospital bedding. Its massive bulk felt foreign between your thighs, and your most intimate area felt slick, damp and clammy. Worst of all, you felt a horrid sticky, slippery mess between your cheeks as you rotated. It clung tight to your ass and shifted in the seat of your diaper as you rolled. Without thinking you reached down and grabbed at your ass in a panic. Your hands came into contact with the seat of your diaper far sooner than you expected and you felt the luke warm mass press into your ass, spreading into every little crevice it hadn't already occupied. The pressure from your hand emptied the diaper of air, pushing it out the back of the diaper waste-band to fill the tiny hospital room. You nearly gaged as the putrid smell of human excrement, mingled with the sweet aroma of baby powder, filled your nose. You wretched fully at the realization that your entire midsection was now smeared in your own shit. You began to pull desperately at the seat of your diaper, hoping to put some room between your ass and the sticky cake of mud you had produced in the night. But your diaper was too snug, or too full, and each attempt only kneaded the mass within the diaper producing a sickening squelchy feeling against your backside. You wrenched again.

"Knock knock." You heard a soft voice whisper as the door to your room slowly creaked opened.

Fast as you could manage, you rolled back onto your backside, stiff as a board, clutching at your bedding covers and pulling them tight up to your chin. You were almost in too much of a panic to fully register the sickening feeling of excrement reforming itself to your movement, filling the space between your legs and pressing itself tight to the back of your hairless balls. Almost.

You tucked the covers in under your legs hoping against hope that you could contain your stench beneath. You looked up to see Sarah, closing the door behind her, a small plastic tray held high in her hand, as if she were waiting tables, a bundle of clothes was tucked under her other arm.

"Hey Matt! How'd you sleep? Are you ready for breakfast?" She asked, with more cheer than you had anticipated from a nurse at the end of a double night shift.

"Ughhh yeah, sure thing. I slept great! Thank you... uh Sarah! You can umm. Just leave all that there, I'll get it in a bit." You stammered with more cheer than someone in your position ever aught to. Maybe, just maybe, you could get her to leave. Maybe you could avoid a humiliation ten times worse than you had suffered the previous night. Maybe you could save this poor, beautiful woman the indignity of scraping human shit out of your useless, weak, mess of an asshole. You had to try. For both your sakes.

"Well I'm glad you were able to catch some sleep in this noisy place. I'm jealous. I hate working nights. I'm so ridiculously tired." She said.

You could believe it. She looked beat, and it seemed her chipper air of professionalism had tarnished somewhat over the course of the night.

"So," she continued, "I'm happy to leave these here," she indicated a tray of breakfast foods, and the bundle you now recognized as the clothes you wore in when you were first admitted yesterday morning, "but... I can't leave without giving you your final examination to clear you for discharge."

"Oh. Yeah, I uh, I forgot." You were leaving. You had almost forgotten.

It hadn't even been 24 hours since you were put under for your 'routine procedure' yet it felt a lifetime. So much had changed in so little time. It all felt so... unceremonious. 'Sorry we fucked up your life, bye-bye now'. You felt a flash of hot rage cross your face at the thought.

"What? You'd rather stay another night?" Sarah said, raising an eyebrow in jest.

"Ha" you laughed reflexively. It was so hard to concentrate on anything other than the messy diaper between your legs. She seemed... blurry, far away in comparison. Like your mind was trying to block her out. "No, no. I just. You know, I feel fine. Other than... you know." You nod down to indicate the hidden shame you both know was there."

"Yeah. I guess that's definitely going to take some... getting used to, huh?" She said.

"I guess." You said, unable to meet her eyes.

"Well, would you like to have your breakfast first? Or should we get you out of here?"

The thought of eating breakfast while wearing a diaper full of your own shit nearly made you wretch for a third time. But you were still determined to get out of here with some tiny, imperceptible, shed of your dignity intact. She would NOT be changing your messy diaper, not if you could help it.

"You know, I'm actually not all that hungry. Let's get checked out."

"Ok! Would you mind sitting up for me? I just need to give you a final once over, then we can get you changed, and if everything looks good we can get you checked out!"

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and sat up to face Sarah. Big mistake. Your full weight was now perched atop your messy diaper, you could feel the mass inside spread to every remaining unsoiled bit of skin it could contact. You squirmed uncomfortably but the mess persisted.

"Changed? I um, I'm actually pretty good I think."

Sarah pulled a stool up in front of you and slid a blood pressure cuff over your arm.

"Matt, come on. You know it's hospital policy." She said as she began to pump up the sleeve.

"No, I know. It's just, I don't think I need one is all. It can wait until I get home." You said, glancing down at the surprisingly massive bulge of diaper protruding from between your legs. The thin hospital gown did practically nothing to conceal it, and you sheepishly tugged at the gown to better hide the obvious.

"Your blood pressure is a little high." She said absentmindedly.

"Might be I'm a bit nervous..." you said, trying to crack a half grin.

Sarah looked at you. Exhaustion in her eyes. "I'll tell you what." She said smiling up at you. "I just worked a brutal ten hour overnight, and I can't tell if I'm more hungry or tired. After I'm done here, you can change yourself...."

You couldn't believe how happy you were to hear you could change your own diaper. The thought both excited and depressed you.

"... under my observation." Sarah finished sternly.

You were about to protest this humiliating condition but she cut you off.

Sarah softened her tone, "Look, I'm going to level with you. I know this is embarrassing for you, but for me it's just another Tuesday. You're my last patient, and then I'm out of here. But I'll be honest, I'm not exactly thrilled at the thought of finishing this awful shift changing your messy brief. But i'm not going to finish it getting chewed out by my boss either. So, I'll stay here with you and guide you through it, or we can both suck it up and I can change you. What do you say?"

'Soiled brief' she had said. She knew you had messed yourself in the night. She knew you had pooped your diaper, and were wearing it right here in front of her. 'Of course she did' you thought, 'how could she not?'

"Okay." You said, wishing you could shrink into the floor.

"Deal." She said offering her hand. You shook it loosely, feeling a strange excitement at her touch. You were embarrassed that you could only bring yourself to meet her eyes for an instant before glancing away.

"Now just a few more things." She said pulling on some nitrile gloves.

She had you lean forward, and she examined your back, pressing on different areas and inquiring about the pain level. If she hadn't known you'd shit your diapers before, she definitely would now, with the whole backside on display. She repeated the tests on your front, even pressing in on the diaper under your gown, by your abdomen. She checked reflexes, the sensation in your feet, and a half dozen other things, scribbling in your chart between procedures. Finally she seemed satisfied.

"Alright Matt, that's it! You'll be happy to hear that for the most part your procedure was a success. You're in very good health. I've scheduled you for a follow up in 6 months, and other than that, let's get you changed and get you out of here!"

'The procedure was a success!?!' You thought. You nearly screamed it. For an instant you were FURIOUS at Sarah. How could she even say that with a straight face. You were practically an invalid. Wrapped in a diaper filled with your own piss and shit. And expected to go on living that way. How dare she!

"Hey Matt?" You looked up at her, practically seething, "I hate to ask this, but... are you really not going to eat that?" She asked pointing at the trey of eggs and toast.

Your anger faded. It wasn't her fault you were like this. She didn't fuck up the surgery, she didn't sign the dotted line below the list of possible surgical complications. She was just a tired young nurse, trying to do her job.

You glanced at the plate of runny eggs, and failed not to think of the consistency of the mess in your diaper.

"Go ahead." You said. Unsure of how ANYONE could eat at a time like this.

"Oh my god, thank you so much. I am starving. The supplies you need are all there under your bed there." She said sitting on the vacant bed in the room and helping her self to the tray. She really did seem to have checked out early you thought.

Slowly, you rose to your feet, feeling the weight of the mess in your diaper shift down between your legs. You felt the full weight of your diaper on your hips for the first time, pulling you down under its own gravity now. You bent down awkwardly to retrieve your supplies, trying not to turn your back to Sarah, and expose your shame.

Once you had gathered everything on your bed she spoke up.

"Ok, first things first." She said in between hurried mouth fulls of egg. "Feel the front of the brief there. See how soft and soggy it feels? I mean, this brief DEFINITELY needs a change, but just pretend, that softness is a pretty good way to tell it's time."

"Ok..." you said awkwardly prodding your diaper beneath your gown. "So do I just lay down?"

"Well, the incontinent parents I work with seem to prefer changing their soiled diapers standing... Opp... I'm sorry. I hope you don't mind me calling them diapers. I'm sorry, I'm just so tired.." she had almost finished her breakfast, you felt like you were about to loose yours.

"No... it's whatever. That's... what they are isn't it?"

"I know, I know. It's just, well we're trained to use the term 'brief' is all. I guess some people find it less..."

"Degrading?" You offered. Sarah blushed and made a sad face. "It's fine." You offered. "It's what they are."

A painfully awkward silence stilled the room for a moment.

Mercifully, Sarah broke it "Anyway, like I was saying. The incontinent people I work with, the ones who are capable of standing on their own anyway, often prefer to change their messy diapers, or briefs, or whatever you want to call them, from the standing position. I think it makes it easier to clean yourself up, but that's totally up to you."

"Ok." It occurred to you suddenly that you had absolutely no idea how to do this. "So just here then?" You asked standing across from her on the far side of the room.

"Yeah, wherever. Oh wait! Don't forget to prep your new diaper, remember?"

You could feel your face turning red as you waddled back to the bed and unfolded your next diaper in front of her. The damn thing was massive, and so so loud.

"And fluff it." She added.

"Like this?" You asked crumpling the diaper back and forth in your hands. You felt like a child, worse than a child. Children didn't wear diapers.

"Yep! That's right. Just break up that padding a bit."

You laid the diaper on the foot of the bed and turned to face Sarah, using your gown to shield your shame as best you could. You could feel your knees shaking as if they were about to give out.

"So now I just... take it off?" You asked.

"Yeah, whenever you're ready... oh wait.." she said, stuffing the last bit of toast in her mouth and placing the empty tray down beside her.

You still couldn't understand how someone could eat in a situation like this. Perhaps she really was just THAT numb to it all. You wondered when that would happen to you, now that this was your life.

"Now I know you don't want to hear this, but this whole thing is going to be way easier for you if you take that gown off."

"What? Why? I'd, rather not if that's ok." Was she trying to humiliate you.

"That's fine by me. I just think it's going to get in your way is all." She said matter-of-factly.

"I'll leave it on." You said, upset to feel the sting of tears on the back of your eyes return now that the moment of truth had come.

You were surprised to realize how much your hands were shaking as you fumbled at the tabs of your sodden diaper. Finally you found purchase and ripped. The sound felt deafening in that tiny room. One, two, three, humiliating rips, and with the final pull you felt the diaper come loose from your body. You caught it awkwardly before it could fall fully under its own weight, and were mortified to feel how much of your own mess still clung to your ass. Worse yet, the putrid smell in the room seemed to double maybe even triple. You felt the tears well in your eyes now, and were unsure if it was from the smell, or from your abject humiliation.

You knelt slowly to lower the horrid thing onto the ground between your feet. Gingerly you began to roll it up, eager to again trap as much of the smell within as you could.

"Wait, wait, no. Leave it open. You'll put your used wipes in there, then close it all up when you're done." Sarah said hastily.

In a state of panic at the sad state of affairs, you slowly righted yourself, and reached to the bed beside you for a wipe. In your haste you lost track of where your gown was, and felt it tug at your neck as it dragged across the open diaper of muck between your feet. You saw the bottom was immediately spoiled, and pulled the first wipe to try and clean it. It swung back as you moved and slapped your leg, marking it with brown. Fully panicking now, you stooped to wipe your ankle, fully draping the gown into the diaper mess.

"Woah, woah, hey." Her voice was gentle. "Take your time. Breathe. You don't have to do this all in under a minute."

Your first tear fell. It landed on the floor just beside your used diaper. Without looking up at Sarah, you took a deep breath, and removed the gown. Soiled as it was, you let it fall to your feet. You stood now before her, completely nude, caked in shit, with your used diaper between your feet and tears in your eyes.

"Just start cleaning up." She said gently. "The hard part is over."

You were afraid to speak, less you start crying. You looked down at the disgusting mess at your feet, and at your nudity. You had forgotten you were completely bare down there. Your own genitals looked foreign to you. Smooth, and glistening wet with piss. You raised your head, and saw her.

She sat patiently on the bed across from you, hands crossed neatly in her lap, her face an absolute study of the word pity. She nodded gently.

You reached for another wipe. You reached it back behind yourself and started to clean. The first wipe came away with nearly a full fist of excrement. You let it fall into the diaper below you. The second wipe was just as filthy. As was the third, and the fourth. You continued to wipe yourself for what felt to be ages. Each time some area seemed to be clean another area was found that seemed untouched. Your back began and thighs began to hurt with the strain as you squatted over the growing pile of dirty wipes. Pee dribbled from your penis as you continued to wipe, missing the diaper completely, and splattering on the ground around it.

"What the fuck." You whispered to yourself. "What the fuck." You repeated quietly in between wipes. What had you become? Just a day ago you were a strong independent man. Now you were this... this thing. Hairless, and helpless in all of the most vulnerable ways. More pee fell from your dick, you tried to reposition yourself over the spent diaper, but most still missed. You were crying now.

"Do you... want me to help?" Sarah asked quietly

"No. No, i can do it." You spat with more frustration than you had intended. You could do it. You could change your own messy diaper, and she would watch, with that same heart wrenching look of pity and disgust.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the wipes were coming back more clean than dirty. But you didn't feel clean. You had shit smeared across the back of your wiping hand, as you had forgotten your gloves, and you were still coming back with streaks of brown on rags as you struggled to clean your hairless balls. You wondered absently if you would ever feel clean again. Finally, at long last, you were 'satisfied' that you had gotten it all off of yourself. The dirty diaper beneath you was piled so high with dirty wet wipes you doubted you would be able to close it. You used the final wipe to clean off you hands and threw it in the pile. You stooped to roll up the diaper at last.

"How about we just get you in your fresh diaper first? Just in case you have anymore accidents on the floor." Sarah suggested mildly.

You wiped your eyes with your forearm, careful not to touch your face with your hands and examined the damage. You had made a terrible mess. The shit filled diaper, soiled gown, and wayward used wipes, laid in a small puddle of urine. It dawned on you Sarah would have to clean that up as her last act of the day.

"Yeah. Sorry Sarah." You sniffled as you walked over to the open diaper on the bed and played down on it.

Eager to end this humiliation and get the fuck out of there you reached for the powder, but were reminded promptly to complete all the steps.

Better late than never, you dawned a single purple glove and squeezed barrier cream onto your index finger. Trying your best to block out the beautiful nurse in the corner of your eye, you started fingering your asshole with the ointment. It was strange, to say the least, to have lost so much dignity so quickly. You could feel through your glove the tone of your asshole. It felt the same to your finger as you expected it to, you had never had to finger your ass hole much before, but you thought absently that your asshole felt differently, that it didn't feel your finger as you thought it should. Having adequately covered yourself in the sticky, slippery jell, you opened the baby oil and spritzed your cold naked pubic area. Sarah watched wordlessly. Finally the time had come. You were nearly there. You almost looked forward to it, as it signified the end of your ordeals. You opened the baby powder and poured it liberally over your pathetic member, which lulled listlessly in response, releasing another small stream of urine to trickle down your freshly cleaned ball sack and into your diaper. You lifted your legs over your head like a baby on a changing table and covered your ass. Then without bothering to close the bottle you pulled the diaper up over your privates. Were they even 'privates' any more? Were they even YOURS for that matter? You share as shit didn't have any control of them. They were now just filthy, leaky things to you now.

Finally hidden from the watchful eye of you observer you breathed a sigh of relief. It was sad to think that being wrapped in a fresh white diaper in front of a beautiful woman was a relief to you now. It was still humiliating, but it wasn't that.

Sarah stood and walked over beside your bed.

"Here, this parts tricky. Let me help." She held your hand as you held the diaper tapes and guided it into the correct position. Her touch felt nearly angelic. A caring, gentle touch in a time you had felt so unlovable. She didn't shy away, or make any indication that she had been disturbed by the whole pathetic disgusting act. She simply helped you tape on your diaper. Then she handed you your clothes

"Here. You get dressed. I'll clean this up."

"No, I can do that."

"It's my job Matt, I don't mind."

You couldn't watch as she pulled on her gloves and fell to her knees to began the work of cleaning up your shame. Instead you pulled on your boxers in a hurry, and found they did nothing to cover the diaper waste-band or conceal the bulge. Are you even supposed to wear boxers now? You didn't ask, but quickly pulled on your pants. Anything to cover this fucking thing. To your dismay, your pants felt about two sizes two small. You had to struggle and shift to pull the back over the puffy ass of your new underwear. Your quiet grunting was accompanied by loud obnoxious crinkles the entire time. Ones up around your waist, you then hade to fight the zipper, pushing down on the crotch of your diaper just to get it closed. The resulting look would have been comical if it weren't that YOU were the one wearing it. Your crotch bulged out unnaturally, and you could only guess what your ass looked like. A ring of blinding white plastic ringed your torso around your belt, making it perfectly clear to any and all that you were wearing a diaper. You threw on your t-shirt just as Sarah finished dumping the last of your mess in the bin by the door and tying the bag closed tight.

She turned around and took a long look at you.

"Feeling better?" She asked.

"Uhh." What could you say? "Yeah. Thank you."

"Good! You look better! You're a pretty handsome man Matt." She said with a smile.

"Oh, yeah. Thank you." You felt like you were being talked down to by an elder, rather than genuinely complemented by a beautiful woman.

"Well. Let's get out of here shall we? You'll want to meet up with reception. They're down the hall on the left. They'll get you sorted with your supplies and prescriptions." She said opening the door. "And Matt, you're going to be fine. The first diaper change is always the worst. Eventually it'll become second nature, and you won't even think about it. So stay positive, ok? Maybe I'll see you around sometime."

You shook hands in the hallway. You couldn't find the words to say goodbye. Just a single nod. And she was gone.

"Eventually you'll get used to it." She had said. It dawned on you this wasn't some horrible event that only happened to you that one time. This was your life now. THAT is how you go to the bathroom now. THAT is something you will do every single day. You piss and shit in your diapers now, and you always will.

You turned and headed down the hall. You didn't even try to hide your awkward diaper waddle. You couldn't if you tried.

"This is your life now". You thought, as warm urine flooded the puffy plastic padding between your legs. "And you'd better get used to it."

If you enjoyed this story, please consider submitting more photos of "the nurse". Anything will do. I have one or two more myself but nothing I can work with at the moment. So please help.

hope you enjoyed.

thank you.

#ab/dl relationship #ab/dl fiction #diapered #diaperhumiliation #incontinence #incontinent #diaper bulge #diaper captions #ab/dl #diaper dependent #ai art #ai girl

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ashdreams2023 · 3 days

Note

Hiii, could I request a severus snape and little sister reader where she's the opposite of him and so all the students love her until someone insults him one day and she's all snarky and a miniature version of snape and everyone's like ".....maybe they are alike....." while severus looks on like a proud parent??? I love your fics so much!! Thankss!!

The same tree

Severus snape x professor sister reader

The student body was in shambles the day you were announced as a new staff member, the name snape was enough to send shivers down some students backs.

They barely handled one snape, let alone two!

Everyone expected the worst, 2.0 snape female version then you got to your first class, it wasn’t like anything they had in mind.

Heck you gave house points and they paid attention to the lessons.

"She’s human, oh my god she’s not evil!"

It spread pretty quickly how nice and patient you were, you didn’t show any favoritism towards anyone nor did you encourage any rivalry in your class, as long as they passed it was a win for you.

Your office hours were filled with students coming to you for help, some even asking for help of topics other than what you teach, sometimes asking about stories of your youth but none dared to ask about your brother.

But there were times were kids can get way too comfortable in matters that have no business with them, unfortunately for a certain fourth year Ravenclaw he learned his lesson the hard way.

"I can’t believe that git took points because I added a point to his lesson! It’s fucking ridiculous, he’s a selfish idiot who only wants his way and everyone else is wrong"

"Jesus calm down mate, it’s only ten points you’ll live and he’s like the professor so…"

The Ravenclaw rolled his eyes "I know the book, I read it piece to piece I know my way around this stuff, he’s just one bitter old son of a bitch-"

"Excuse me you little bird" the boy froze as he felt a hand touching his shoulder, he looked up to meet your piercing dark eyes, they had the dangerously familiar feeling to those of their potion master.

"Professor i-"

"No no no…go on, continue what you were about to say so the oh so great Ravenclaw knows everything, because what? Because you read an outdated, basic, dusty ass potion book"

The boy swallowed, your tone was so different, you weren’t smiling and it reminded him of being schooled by severus snape himself.

"Why so quiet? Snake got your tongue?" You smiled proudly at the look of terror on the boy’s face "Let this be a lesson to you little bird, my brother is no idiot and without him little airheads and know it alls would be dead by now, so know your place, am I understood?" You tightened your grip on his shoulder.

"Yes ma’m!"

"And 30 points from Ravenclaw for showing disrespect to faculty staff members"

The boy’s jaw dropped but didn’t dear argue back and sprinted away with his friends, you couldn’t care less that students were watching, they call all spread rumors or whatever.

"Oh my god…she is like him…"

"Shush she’s gonna hear you! At least now we know not to overstep it"

You sighed and left the great hall, you pumped into your brother by the end of the day, he arched an eyebrow at you when you causally sat down and sipped your tea.

"I see you’ve made quite the impression today"

You shrugged "They’re just stupid kids, it was about time they learn anyways"

Severus leaned back on his armchair "You sound awfully familiar to me, I suppose I am rubbing off on you"

"The apples may look different but they all belong to the same tree" you smirked.

"You’re still terrible at potions though" He remarked knowing well how atrocious you were at his best interest.

"Hey! I was defending your honor"

You glared at him and he glared back then after a few seconds of intense looks you two snorted at each other and went back to having your regular sitting for the day.

Thank you for your kind words and glad you do 🥰

#imagine #pro severus snape #severus snape x y/n #platonic severus snape x reader #severus snape fanfiction #severussnape #harry potter requests #severus snape headcanon #severus x reader #severus snape x you #severus snape x reader #severus #severus snape #snapedom #pro severus

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askarsjustsoswedish · 2 days

Text

Alexander Skarsgård – Free Your Mind – Cut Copy (x)

How Cut Copy got Alexander Skarsgård in their video - Dan Whitford: “Basically we did a show in Rio and Alex Skarsgard actually came down to the show and demanded to come backstage after. He wanted to see us because he wanted to tell us what a massive fan he was. He was telling us this story about how he was shooting a series called Generation Kill in the Kalahari Desert without a break for like four or five months and while he was there his one link back to home was listening to our second record “In Ghost Colours” on repeat. It just took him back to being in Stockholm and partying. The life he was missing out on was represented by that record. So he had this emotional attachment to that album and was a massive fan and he basically came backstage to tell us all this. We ended up hanging out and having this crazy night. The next day he introduced us to his family. He comes from a big family of actors, obviously his Dad’s a massive actor, who were all there with him at the same time. We somehow became best buddies just from hanging out in this 24 hour period and said “if we’re ever in the same place again let’s hang out”. We had such an awesome time.

So when we were thinking about making a video for this new record we thought we’d ask him and see if he would be interested in doing it. Like, no pressure, but if you were up for it that would be awesome. We sent him the song, he loved it and he said “I’m in, let’s make this happen”. It was a very organic thing. I guess like a lot of the stuff we’ve done it’s via people we know or through friends. It was just amazing in this case because that friend happened to be this big shot Hollywood actor who people are quite fanatical about. He’s got quite the set of abs on him. It’s funny, towards the end of the day when all the staff were packing up, the ones that were left was this group of like six or seven different make up girls and hair stylists who found a reason to stick around. Everywhere he went he had this entourage of girls following him around just being like, “Skkkkaaaarrrrsssgggaarrrdd””.

Pedestrian TV (x)

#alexander skarsgård #alexander skarsgard #free your mind #cut copy #ajss13 #https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPRJVKtrCCk #pedestrian tv #dan whitford #https://www.pedestrian.tv/music/dan-whitford-tells-us-the-cool-story-of-how-a-whirlwind-bromance-with-alexander-skarsgard #bts generation kill #long post #ajss gifs #qas #fym #btsgk #skarsus!

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cyle · 3 days

Note

Hi, how have you been?

So, pornbots are so last epoch. Apparently what's all the rage with the bots is ... amazon warehouse job openings??? Have you seen these guys? They're all over my For You page, using usual bot tags (meme lol funny cat) which aren't even tags I follow or that the people I follow use, so, that's interesting.

Anyway, the main question was: for these waves of bots, around how many users send in a report before staff gets to dealing with it? Not in a "staff is lazy/slow/whatever" way, but in a "how much public do these bots actually reach with these strata before being wiped?" Sure, not everyone will report, but this could give some estimate, couldn't it?

there is no threshold, because we're looking at every report we get. the vast majority of spam is "dealt with" before anyone even sees it, actually. what you end up seeing is the stuff that somehow made it through, because spammers are always changing their tactics, faster than we can keep up sometimes. it's a never-ending war. we are always dealing with it, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.

sometimes it takes us time to clean it up, because we have to target it in a way that doesn't cause collateral damage, and that can be really difficult. because spammers are clever, and try to look just like normal users. it may seem obvious to you that it's spam, but it's rarely obvious to a computer once it's cut through existing detection methods, which is why it's such a prevalent problem across the internet. AI-generated spam is only making it worse.

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 2 days

Text

After Hours (Boss!Geto x Assistant!Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

Pairing: Geto Suguru x Self-Insert!Reader

Synopsis: In which Geto Suguru, your boss, and owner of his own public relations firm, celebrates a job well done on a five-month-long project with you, his trusty secretary, but what was once a friendly, professional relationship between you turns into something else when the staff goes home for the night and champagne gets involved.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Reader is Black, Fem & Plus-Sized!; Crush Confession; Boss/Secretary; Some Power Play; Sexual Tension; Coworkers to Lovers; Office Sex; Mild BDSM; MDom/fsub; Geto Pours Champagne on the Titties & Kitty; Temperature/Sensory Play; Ice Play; Cunnilingus; Sex Against the Window; Geto Got a Big Ol' Dick; Unprotected PIV; Mutual O; Cum on Ass; Aftercare; Surprise Ending

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Once again, a big thank you to @curiouscutie143 for allowing me to bring her fantasies to life. I had so much fun writing boss!Geto & now I wanna lowkey write a longer fic about an office romance with him. Enjoy! -Jazz

*********

“Cheers,” your boss says with a smile. “To the successful end of this stupid fucking waste of time.”

You laugh, lightly clinking your champagne flute with the extremely handsome, wealthy, intoxicating man sitting next to you on his office couch…who also, again, happens to be your boss. “It wasn’t a waste,” you giggle. “But I will say it was very time-consuming. At least we got it done in time.”

Geto Suguru hums in agreement as he takes a sip of the champagne in unison with you, making even that look hot.

He is truly a man to behold with his long, black hair he kept tied into a respectable ponytail, a lean build under his button-down and slacks, gage earrings that he purposely kept in for tonight’s festivities, brown eyes you could swim in forever, and tattoos that he usually keeps hidden beneath his blazers and designer suit jackets, but tonight are exposed under his rolled-up sleeves.

He puts all models and men to shame with his beauty. And wealth! He is his own boss and CEO of his own PR firm which he has owned for over six years now. It skyrocketed in popularity in only a year, earning the title of the 6th most popular business in Japan which has jumped to 2nd place on that list. You joined his team two years later as his personal secretary after working as an assistant for his HR team.

Geto, who interviewed and hired you, was so impressed with your work and presentation that he offered you the job. “I need a personal secretary,” he explained to you, “and I think you’d be the perfect fit.” Two years later, you’re still here and you don’t see yourself going anywhere else. Geto is a wonderful boss who offers great pay, supreme benefits, and understands the importance of mental health days.

Though he doesn’t allow anyone to play with him or his money. If he suspects that an employee is not giving him the most on the clock or is taking advantage of his kindness, he will either straighten them out himself with a private meeting or send them on their way. However, he is a kind, respectable, understanding man that you are honored to have worked for for four years.

And a man that you have embarrassingly been crushing on for four years. “All thanks to you,” he praises. “I can’t tell you enough how grateful I am to you, V. Seriously; I so appreciate all of those times you’ve stayed late with me and the team and set up all of those lunch meetings and conference calls.”

Those eyes, so generous and kind, smile at you in his spacious, luxurious office. Seriously; Geto’s office is like a damn penthouse stretching over 900 square feet with polished marbled floors and open-brick walls. A kitchenette, coffee section, wine mini bar, and bathroom sit on the left side of the office while his mahogany desk and bookcase sit on the right.

His lounging section, or “decompression area” as he calls it, sits smack dab in the middle, included with two chairs and a couch you both currently occupy with a glass coffee table sitting in the middle.

Though the office is wide enough for space, you feel as if the walls are closing in on you the more you sit and stare at Geto. “Well, that’s my job anyway,” you joke, clearing your throat. “It was no trouble, Mr. Geto, really! I’m honored you chose me to work with you on this.”

Geto scoffs, raising an eyebrow at you as he begins to loosen his tie with one hand. “You thought I wouldn’t?” he chuckles. “You’re my trusted assistant and a great employee. Plus, dealing with people is your specialty, unlike me. If anyone was needed on this project, it was you.”

You feel like you flush as red as the cocktail dress you are wearing despite the fact you’re as Black as your mama.

Tonight was the celebration of your five-month project ending. Geto has been interested in partnerships and merging his firm with other companies, especially tech companies. When a popular tech firm in Germany reached out, it took about five months to get everything finalized and a lot of reaching out to multiple people.

You sweated over this project, doing work at home, setting up meetings, and sometimes staying late with Geto and his business team where he ordered Chinese and pizza for the crew around dinnertime.

There were also days and nights when everyone wasn’t here then you’d be with Geto in his office, typing up memos and emails he would think of at the top of his head. But you didn’t mind. Not only did your boss pay you overtime for all the hours you spent working on this, but it also meant you could spend more time with him.

Finally, just a week ago, the project was completed and Geto’s partnership was greenlit. All staff was invited to the party, including those who didn’t even work on it, to celebrate such a milestone for Geto’s firm. Food, alcohol, and music were all included, lasting from 5 PM to 9 at night.

You danced and sang karaoke with your coworkers and friends, trying to get Geto to join in though it was like trying to pull teeth out of his mouth. He looks more relaxed now as he loosens his tie and pops a collar to his shirt, revealing the column of his throat and toned chest. You look away, feeling warm.

“Now I can finally rest without hurrying here at 6 AM to prepare for meetings or deal with that stupid fucking Excel chart,” he huffs, revealed. “And we’re blessed with a new partnership. Praise God or whoever.” He points his glass to the ceiling before taking a sip of the Brüte champagne. You giggle, feeling his relief.

Suddenly, the door to his office opens and you startle as if you were just caught in a very compromising position with your boss. Gojo Satoru, your supervisor, Geto’s right hand, and the heart throb of the office (understandably since the man is just as fine as Geto), pokes his snow-white head into the room.

“You two still in here?” he scoffs, glaring at you beneath his glasses. “Oooh, are those more of those cupcake cheesecakes?” He strides into the room and bends down to pluck one of the tiny cakes off of Geto’s desk, but Geto chucks a pillow at him. “Uh-uh, greedy,” he criticizes. “You barely left any of the food at the party earlier. Besides, aren’t you goin’ for dinner now?”

Gojo catches the pillow with one hand, grinning. “Dinner and drinks,” he cackles. “Shoko, Yuki, and I were wonderin’ if you two wanted to come along and not be boring for once.” He slips his glasses down his nose and winks at you, indicating that he’s joking.

Knowing his game and having this relationship with Gojo, you play along. “I am not boring,” you scoff, putting a hand to your chest. “My cat thinks I’m a lot of fun at 3 AM, thank you very much. I put on all kinds of concerts for her!”

Geto gives a big laugh that lights your insides up while Gojo physically cringes. “Fun to us isn’t just downing shots and passin’ out on our couch, Satoru,” your boss scoffs. His friend takes a moment to think about it, sitting down on the edge of Geto’s desk. “Okay, point taken, but the offer is still open. C’mon, we need to celebrate and it’s a Friday night!”

Even with his friend’s whining, Geto shakes his head, looking apologetic. “Thanks, but not tonight,” he sighs. “I wanted to clean up my office a bit before I head home and get some much-needed sleep.”

Gojo takes his glasses off and rolls his ocean-blue eyes. “Such an old man,” he huffs. “What about you, Ms. V? You up for some fun with me?” The gorgeous, Colgate smile he gives you is full of temptation, but you’ve already had enough drinking and dancing for tonight.

“Thank you, Satoru,” you sweetly say, “but I have to get ready for a family event tomorrow. My mom is forcing me to help cook.” You get up from the couch and saunter over to him, barely seeing his eyes glazing over your hips. “Buuut if y’all ever decide to have another night out, let me know and I’ll put it on my calendar.”

You take the pillow from him and offer him a sweet smile which he returns. It damn near makes him prettier. “Will do,” he replies. His phone suddenly dings and he sighs. “That’s Shoko chewin’ me out,” he announces, slipping off the desk and heading to the door on his long legs. “I’ll see you two kids later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…or do. I don’t give a fuck.”

He gives you another wink and a smile before slipping out of the office and shutting the door behind him. “Have fun!” you call after him. Once he leaves, you realize how quiet the building seems. “Any of the janitors still here?” you curiously ask Geto.

He is still sitting on the couch, one arm draped over the back of the couch and still sipping his champagne. “Nah, I sent everybody home after the party ended.” He gives you a curious look, almost looking like a puppy...or maybe that’s just the champagne getting to you. You only had a half of glass at the party and now you find your current glass empty.

“How come you didn’t want to go with Satoru, if you don’t mind me asking?” he suddenly asks, his head cocked to the side. You don’t mind since Geto and you have a very “close” relationship.

It’s one of the closest you have at work, ironically enough. You know what his condo looks like having visited there before to deliver papers and packages that accidentally came to the office.

You know his birthday and he knows yours, even sending you flowers to your apartment every year, each one bigger and more beautiful than the last.

You talk about anything that annoys or bothers you when you find yourselves together, even sometimes having lunch together (for work purposes).

You would say that he is almost like your work husband, but that would be pushing it. You find yourself needing to remind yourself that he’s your boss! No matter how good he looks in his suits or the way you feel when he praises your work, you must remember that. This is your job. Your responsibility.

“Eh,” you sigh with a shrug. “Sometimes, I just like being home to unwind and relax. Nothing beats a glass of wine, a hot bath, and a movie.” Geto nods, understanding.

“What about you?” you curiously ask as you sit back down beside him. “Why didn’t you go with Gojo? He’s your best friend, right?”

Geto drains the rest of his glass before pouring another. “Unfortunately,” he jokes, making you laugh. He seems to enjoy that. “Nah, but I’m the same: sometimes, I like to unwind with some drinks and social outings, and other times, I just chill at home in my very spacious, very lonely condo with my dog. When you’re the owner of a PR firm, it’s usually the second one.”

You can’t help but feel sad about that. “So was that story about your mom a lie?” he asks with a smirk. Sheepishly, you nod. “So I’m guessin’ that show for your cat is the move for tonight?”

You would say yes, but something pulls you back. You don’t know if it’s the champagne or the way Geto’s cologne smells, but something is keeping you glued to the couch with him. “W-Well, I was gonna say I can help you clean up your office if you want…a-and drink the rest of this champagne!” You pick up the bottle and pour yourself another glass, raising it to him.

Geto looks taken aback as he clinks his glass with yours. “I mean…if you want,” he hesitantly says. “You absolutely don’t have to stay for my sake, V. You’re not on the clock.”

You flush, not wanting him to think you’re weird for staying here or that you have ulterior motives (which you do). “It’s okay!” you laugh, waving your manicured hand. “Really! Call me weird, but I kind of like organizing.”

Geto laughs at this, getting up from the couch. “Well, now I know why your office is so pristine,” he chuckles. “Lemme turn on some music then.”

You watch him as he walks over this his desk, shamelessly ogling his firm, toned, juicy ass in his slacks. You would give so much to feel it in your hands, your nails digging into the flesh while his hips grind against yours, his cock buried deep inside your–

The sound of a piano mixed with horns and a smooth bass makes you jump, deep in your naughty thoughts. Geto sighs and his shoulders loosen as he presses the volume up on his Bluetooth, happy and relaxed.

“Jazz music?” you snort. He gives you a sheepish smirk. “I know, I know: I’m an old man.” To make him feel better, you begin to snap your fingers, albeit offbeat, and that makes him laugh even harder.

For the next hour, you sit with your boss and help him organize his office while downing champagne. While he rearranges items on his desk, you lounge on his couch with your heels off and organize documents, either throwing some away or keeping some to file. You talk every so often about everything––new movies, restaurants, plans for the summer, etc. But the silence that follows these conversations isn’t awkward, but peaceful and comfortable. You feel relaxed with Geto.

“So what’s the plan for this weekend?” he suddenly asks as he organizes his bookcase. “Maybe a date or something?” You pause, not sure why this question is making you feel so frazzled. “If that’s too personal, I understand,” he quickly adds, noticing your reluctance to answer.

You push your glass away, having already finished your second glass. You feel bubbly and loose, the alcohol sinking its claws into you. “No,” you reply, sheepishly so. “No dating for me right now with work and everything. Maybe one day if I find the right person.”

Geto hums and goes back to organizing his books. You continue to work, mostly to give your hands something to do. “What about you?” you ask. “With your kinda money, you could take a weekend trip to Mexico for the hell of it, if you wanted!”

Your boss suddenly turns, his expression stoic and a brow raised. “Exactly how much money do you think I have, Ms. L/N?” he asks in a deep voice that makes your pussy jump.

At first, you think you went too far but then you see the corner of his mouth flick upwards. “Like you don’t have a condo,” you scoff. “Which I know because I’ve sent you packages from work and secret admirers before.”

Geto’s brows wrinkle cutely. “Secret admirers?” he parrots. You nod, already giggling at one particular memory. “You remember the flowers sent here when you were sick with COVID that time?”

He blinks, clueless, and then his eyes widen. “Ohhh, yeah!” he laughs, tossing his head back. “God, Gojo wouldn’t leave me alone about that for weeks. She was an old partner of mine who heard through the grapevine that I was sick.” He turns and leans against his bookcase, his, big, tatted arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh!” you exclaim, still shuffling papers. You want to give yourself something to do as the next question gnaws at you. “A…business partner?” you carefully ask. You never knew who this woman was that sent Geto the flowers; only that you didn’t know her but she knew your boss.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, giving you a smile that looks almost saddened. “I haven’t dated anyone long-term in over two years. Like you said, maybe one day if I find the right person, but that hasn’t happened yet.” He chuckles to himself. “You’d think it’d be easy with my status, right?”

You don’t say anything for a while and the silence becomes thick even with the music playing. When he turns around to finish his work, you finally get up the nerve to speak to his backside.

When you start, you can’t stop yourself, the champagne overflowing out of your mouth. “You know, if it’s any consolation to you, I-I think you’d deserve to meet someone nice,” you stutteringly say. “You’re a very good man, Mr. Geto.”

And then he turns slowly to you and the way the city lights from the window reflect on his shocked face and in his eyes makes you realize what you just said. “V,” he says, his voice breathless and soft. You cover your mouth but it’s too late. You can’t take them back. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said that,” you quietly gasp.

Immediately, you get up, but the papers you were organizing fall from your lap onto the floor.

“I’m so, so sorry!” you squeak. “I-I should leave!” You’re near tears, a hot rush of humiliation falling on you. You fall onto your knees and begin picking up the papers, swearing as you do.

“No, no, V,” Geto says, walking toward you. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.”

“No, I do!” you protest. “That was totally inappropriate! I don’t know why I–” You pause when your finger catches against the edge of a sheet of paper too quickly and it slices into your skin.

“Ow!” you hiss, immediately snatching your hand away and dropping the paper.

Quickly, Geto stops the music and rushes over to you. He kneels down in front of you, crushing the papers under his knees as if they mean nothing. “What happened?” he demands.

You silently show him your bleeding finger, whimpering at the sting. “Lemme see,” he says, already taking your hand. He examines the cut and frowns at it. “Oh, honey, it cut you deep,” he coos, the pet name making your stomach flip. He’s never called you that before. “Here, don’t move,” he orders and quickly hurries to his bathroom.

He returns with a first aid kit and coaxes you to sit up on the couch. He takes your wounded finger in one hand, holding an alcohol swab in the other. “It may sting a bit,” he warns. “Just squeeze my leg if it’s too much.” And it does sting. You hiss and grip his thigh as he cleans the cut, watching your expression. “That’s it,” he softly coos. “Good girl.”

Your stomach flutters and your body grows hot at the very inappropriate pet name, but what is more inappropriate are the past thoughts you’ve had about him calling you a good girl. His good girl. He smiles at you when he finishes cleaning the cut. “Hard part’s over,” he chuckles. “Now I’ll just add some antibacterial cream and a band-aid to make it all better.”

You stay quiet as he applies the cream to your cut, his touch soft and gentle. “I’m sorry, Mr. Geto,” you whisper. He narrows his eyes at you. “What are you talkin’ about?” he scoffs. “V, you didn’t do anything wrong. It was just an accident. You could never do anything to upset me…except think that you don’t deserve to date right now.”

The silence around you swells the instant he says it. “W-What?” you whisper, gaping at him. He continues his work, now wrapping the band-aid around your finger. “Y’know, if it’s any consolation to you, you deserve to meet the right man too. You’re so sweet and smart and beautiful…who wouldn’t want you?”

Finally, he finishes and just looks at you. You look at him too, both of you just staring at each other in the dimly lit office. Geto finally breaks and pinches the bridge of the nose. “God, I really shouldn’t have said that,” he groans. “We shouldn’t be doing any of this.”

Seeing his internal battle and realizing that he feels the same way you do, you keep your hand on his thigh and squeeze. “Suguru,” you softly say. “It’s okay.”

He looks at you in shock. This is the first time you’ve ever used his first name, especially when talking to him. He moves closer to you, making the room feel like it’s shrinking. The city lights reflect in his eyes through the window, twinkling at you. “Say my name again,” he demands but it’s more like a plea. “Tell me what you want me to do, V. You can tell me to stop and I will.”

You know this is very bad. You know this is wrong. You know that if you do this, you can never go back to the way things were. But you can’t turn back at this point. “Suguru,” you say again, “please. I want this.” You trail your hand up to his chest, feeling his heart pound against your fingertips. “I’ve wanted you for 5 years,” you confess.

The restraint in Geto’s eyes finally dissipates and he places his hand on top of yours. “Fuck,” he growls. “I’ve wanted this too, V. You have no fuckin’ idea.” He takes both of your hands in his, gently stroking your knuckles with his thumb. “Can I kiss you?” he asks. You damn near choke, feeling like you’re about to faint.

He scoots closer, close enough to do so himself…but he doesn’t. “I need your words, mama,” he murmurs.

Finally, you find the will to speak: “Yes,” you whimper and it’s enough to make Geto melt. “Kiss me, Suguru.” Immediately, he swoops in and takes you into his arms, holding you against him as he places the hottest, most passionate kiss you’ve ever had on your lips.

His lips are soft and wet against yours, pulling you in farther and farther. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him flush against you. If this were a romantic comedy, there would be fireworks popping off outside the same way they are in your head. Geto pulls away, softly panting. “Keep talkin’ to me,” he whispers. “Tell me what you want from me.”

He swoops in to kiss you again, drowning out your soft moans. “Touch me,” you plea into his mouth. “Put your hands on me, Suguru.”

He does just that, his big hands moving down your hips to pull you into his lap. You wrap your arms tight around his neck like a koala bear, latching onto his body. Geto wouldn’t have it any other way. He loves how your soft, pudgy body feels against him and sitting on top of him, your heat radiating from between your thighs against his crotch. Your kisses grow deeper and wetter, your tongues swirling against each other, arousing the both of you.

“You’re wearing too much,” you whisper, tugging at his collar. He sniggers against your lips, his hands gripping your ass. “So are you,” he chuckles. “But we can help each other with that, can’t we?” Even without the seduction in his gaze, you wouldn’t resist.

You begin to pop his buttons, yank off his tie, and peel his shirt off while he unzips your dress. You beat him, successfully getting him semi-naked. At the feeling and sight of his toned abs, pecs, and tatted, tanned skin, you damn near get a nosebleed. “Like whatcha see, babydoll?” he purrs. “Because I’m lovin’ what I’m seein’ right now.”

He coaxes you to stand up in front of him and finally peels off your dress, exposing your lace bra and panties to him. At the sight of you standing between his thighs in only your underwear, stockings, and heels, Geto almost busts a nut. You’re so fucking beautiful, babydoll, shit,” he hisses.

His hands glide down your sides before pulling you closer. You allow him to do what he wants, loving whatever he does, especially when he latches his lips onto your brown nipples. While he sucks and laps at your nipples, alternating between each, his big hands mold and fondle each juicy breast that his mouth can’t occupy.

Your sultry, slutty moans are like music to him, way better than the jazz. “Fuck!” you moan. “Suguru…that feels so good!” Your head falls back and your eyes close, the pleasure immense. He’s so, so good with his mouth! You wonder just how good he is eating pussy.

Geto suddenly looks up at you, his mouth still latched onto your hardened, brown nipple.

“Lay back on the couch and put your arms over your head,” he orders you. You do so, shivering in delight at him telling you what to do. He then takes his empty champagne glass off of the table and pours himself a glass.

“Lemme try something,” he pants before slowly pouring some of the champagne over your breasts. You gasp as each cold, little droplet hits your skin, making your nipples even harder. He then swoops down and begins to lap at the champagne, drinking it from between your cleavage and lapping it off your nipples.

“Mmm,” you softly moan, melting into the couch cushion. You’re so relaxed that you barely notice the ice cube in Geto’s mouth until he’s dragging it over your neck and tits. You gasp, your back arching into his cold lips.

He smiles, leaning back up with the ice cube in his mouth and giving you an open-mouth kiss. The ice cube falls into your mouth, immediately melting. “That feel good, babydoll?” he chuckles, loving the way your skin jumped at the cold ice cube.

He continues to suck on your nipples while you grind your hips against his thigh wedged between your thighs. “My, you’re so vocal,” he hums. “Thank God the staff ain’t here or we’d be in big trouble.” He then sits up, straddling you, and slowly takes down his ponytail. Watching his locks of black hair cascade over his shoulders and back is more than you can handle.

“I need more of you,” he says, sounding hoarse and in need. “Is it okay if I taste you, babydoll? I’ve been dreaming of what you’d feel like against my tongue for so long.” He doesn’t touch you. Not until you say so. Consent being so important to him makes you wetter, your cunt throbbing against his knee. “Yes, sir,” you moan. “Please taste me. I’m yours.”

He yanks you closer by your legs, making you squeal. “Keep saying that,” he demands. He then hunkers down in between your legs, peppering your jiggly, luscious thighs in kisses. “I’m yours,” you say, a laugh slipping out of you.

He takes your panties off of you, leaving your heels on. “I’m yours,” you gasp as his lips make contact with your fatter, softer ones down under. His tongue laps and licks at your folds, caressing your clit. He then begins to gently suck on the tiny bud, making your toes curl. “I’m yours, Suguru, fuck!” you moan, your hands lacing in his hair. “Please do that again!”

Geto smirks against your pussy. “What?” he chuckles. “You mean this?” He does the same move again, this time swirling his tongue around your clit.

The pleasure is overwhelming, making your mind blank and emitting the sluttiest sounds out of you. “Shit, Sugu, yes, fuck!” you pant. “You’re s-so…oooo, fuck, baby, right there!”

Geto continues to feast on your pussy, eating it up like it’s his last meal for a while. “Goddamn, you’re so fuckin’ cute,” he groans against your slit, his tongue sliding down to your asscrack before sliding back up. “I like seein’ you like this. Keep makin’ more of those sounds for me, babydoll. That’s an order.”

You can’t help it, so you do it, making as many moans, whines, and grunts as he wants. With the way he works his mouth against your pussy, it’s impossible to not. But when his hands move up to tweak and pinch your nipples, you almost explode.

“Yes, like that!” you whine. “I love that so much! Keep goin’, sir, please, sh-sh-shit!” You begin to grind your clit against his nose while his tongue explores your insides, his hot, wet mouth and cushiony lips too much to bear. You can’t take much more of this! “Shit, Suguru!” you moan. “Fuck, sir, I’m gonna cum!”

“Mmm-hmm,” Geto hums, slipping his tongue out of you. He begins to suck on your throbbing clit again, making you see heaven. “Say the magic word,” he coos against your clit. Your hands grip his hair as your back arches into his ministrations, needing more. “Please, sir!” you whine. “Please, please let me cum! I need it, please!”

His chocolate eyes peer up at you through the V of your thighs, demanding you to give him what he wants. “Give it to me, babydoll,” he orders. “Cum all over me. Fuckin’ do it.” As his voice drops several octaves, you feel shivers travel up and down your spine. Your core begins to tighten more and more as you grind against his magical mouth over and over again.

When you cum, you cum hard. You’ve never had such an intense orgasm before. It tears through you, making you nearly arch off of the bed as you explode in Geto’s mouth. Moans and cries of pleasure leave your lips, tingles of ecstasy coursing through you. The man between your legs hungrily laps at your pussy, slurping up all of the cream that you give him.

Finally, after several seconds, you come down from your high, aching in the best way possible. Geto pulls away with a sigh, his lips dripping with you. “You’re way better than the champagne,” he chuckles, licking your juices off of his lips. “Now I need more.”

He seems to shift into a whole other person the more you look at him. His eyes darken and his hands massage your thighs a lot more as if he can’t get enough of them. “I’m sorry, babydoll, but you seem to have made me into a fiend,” he growls. “If you don’t want this, tell me now before I bust a hole through these pants.”

He grips his hard-on pushing into his slacks and your eyes have never stretched so wide before.

“B-But what about–”

“You don’t need to take care of me,” he interrupts. “What you can do is lay back and let me fuck you like I need to.” He gazes down at you, molten lust evident in his eyes. “Will you let me, V?” he asks. “Is that okay with you?”

Is that okay with you? Your pussy is dripping at the mention of finally getting what she and you both want. Finally!

Instinctively, you open your legs for him, exposing your soaked pussy to his naked eyes only. “Fuck me, sir,” you purr. “I want you so bad. Please, just fuck me now.”

Geto doesn’t need to be told twice. After planting another rough, wet kiss on your lips, he unzips his pants and shrugs his boxers down to his waist.

Like a Jack-in-the-Box, his cock springs up, fat, long, and throbbing. You practically salivate at the sight of it. Smirkingly, Geto wraps a hand around himself and slowly slides himself home inside the wet, spongy walls of your pretty cunt, emitting a gasp from the both of you.

He looks down at you expectantly, waiting for you to give him the go to move. Once you have adjusted to his size and girth, you put your hands on his shoulders and nod, giving him a reassuring smile.

He settles on top of you, keeping his arms on either side of you to hold himself up, and slowly begins to rock his hips. As soon as he begins to sheathe his cock in and out of you, you feel the pleasure you felt before return but it’s increased by 100. You are overwhelmed with ecstasy every time Geto pumps his cock inside of you and his pelvis rubs against your clit, unable to hold back the slutty sounds dripping from your open mouth.

Geto smiles down at you, loving how adorable you look underneath him as you take his cock. He holds himself up with one hand to hold one of your juicy tits in his hand, loving how it jiggles as he fucks himself down into you. “So needy for me,” he sighs. “So fuckin’ cute.” His hips piston into yours just right, nailing that spot again and again as he fucks you into the couch.

“Fuck, Sugu!” you cry, gripping his broad shoulders. “Please go faster! Fuck me faster, sir!” His handsome face flushed and black strands of hair falling in his face, Geto gives you what he wants. He sits up and grips your fleshy thighs before pumping his cock deeper and faster into you, causing the sounds of your moans to grow louder.

If anyone were to be outside of the office right now, they would immediately know what’s going down in Mr. Geto Suguru’s office. The sound of sex–grunts, moans, whimpers, couch springs bouncing, skin slapping against skin–is way too obvious to pass it off as something else. The idea of that makes you wetter and tighter around Geto’s cock. It makes him damn near insane.

Unable to control himself any longer, his big hands move under your ass to pull you to him.

He then sits up with you and slowly stands, lifting you up with him. You gasp, gripping onto him tight like a cobra, and he chuckles. “I’ve got you, honey. Don’t worry, just hold onto me.” You do so as he walks over to his office window, the glittering lights of the city gleaming back at you. He slowly puts you down and wordlessly stares at you, his gaze dark and oh-so seductive.

You don’t have to ask what he wants. Immediately, you turn around and place your hands on the cold glass of the window, sticking your ass out for him. “Damn, I didn’t even have to tell you to assume the position,” he chuckles. “I guess you’re feenin’ too.” His hand caresses your asscheeks, his thick fingers massaging them.

You look down at the streets below, seeing people walking their dogs and having a night out on the town. You’ve never done anything like this before, but the idea of having sex in front of a window where anyone could look up and see you makes you wetter than you’ve ever been in your life. And nobody would ever know that it’s your boss giving you such good dick.

Your coherent thoughts are pushed to the back when Geto slaps his cock up against your asscheeks and then sinks himself back into your pussy. “Shit, baby!” he hisses, immediately going back to railing you. “You’re tighter than before.”

You whine in response as he grips your hips, pumping himself into you like you’re no more than a toy. A fleshlight. His personal sex object. It’s so dirty. So wrong.

And yet it feels so, so good. You can’t deny how much you enjoy his thick cock stretching you out and sending sparks of pleasure throughout your brain. How much you love the sweet ache in your knees and your body. How much you love the way he makes your tits and ass jiggle as he fucks you.

Speaking of ass, Geto is a fiend for it, staring at the way it shakes and jiggles as he fucks your pussy. “I need to see this ass bounce for me,” he shudderingly groans, giving your ass a harsh smack. You gasp at the sting, the nasty act of it making your pussy throb around him.

“Do that again!” you whine and he does, the pain mixing with the pleasure as he sinks his cock back into you again and again, going deeper and deeper each time. You have to brace yourself against the window the more he pounds into you, going so fast that he could damn well put a pornstar to shame with his stamina. “Fuck, Sugu, yes!” you sob. “Y-Yeah, just like that, fuck me just like that!”

“Fuck me back, babydoll,” he demands. “Work for that cum, c’mon. Be a good secretary for me.” You do so, pressing into your heels and tossing your ass back into him. “God, that’s it!” he moans, giving you another spank as a reward. “I’ve always dreamed of fucking you like this. Always wanted to see you like this.”

You want to tell him the same, but your tongue is tied, the pleasure making you crazy as you begin to frantically rub your clit. You can quickly feel that knot in your stomach about to snap the more he fucks you. You feel him press himself against you, pushing you into the window. You gasp as the cold glass touches your bare, brown tits pushed against the window while Geto’s big, rock-hard body pushes against your back.

“You wanna cum with me, babydoll?” he pants into your ear. “Tell me. Tell me you wanna cum with me.”

You can feel the wetness begin to drip down your thighs and stain his balls, no doubt getting on the floor. “Tell me you want me to give you my cum,” he growls. “Say it. Tell me where the fuck you want it.”

Somehow, you find the words to speak and scream out, “Yes! Yes, sir, I want your cum! Do it on me, please! I don’t care where! Just please, please cum with me!”

That just about makes Geto snap. He turns your face and tongue kisses you, his lips and mouth tasting like a night of champagne. You don’t speak as he continues to rail you, chasing his orgasm at full speed and taking you along for the ride.

When you both finally cum, you do so together. He manages to pull out of you quickly and pumps his cum all over your plump, soft, perfect ass while you do so onto his hand, his fingers replacing yours.

Swears, sobs, and moans leave your lips as you’re finally released like a genie in a bottle, your orgasm hitting you dead on. It drains all of the energy out of you, making your knees buckle and your body feel weak.

“I’ve got you,” Geto softly says, hugging you to him from the back. “Just melt into me, mama. It’s okay.”

Deliriously and happily, you smile, doing as he says. You loop an arm around his head, bringing him closer to you. You don’t ever want to leave his arms. You want to stay like this forever, pressed against him in his office, while the rest of the world turns and moves outside. At some point, you both sink onto the floor and just stay there for a while, silence descending onto you.

Once the pleasurable fog of your orgasm fades, the concrete realization hits you like a truck: you just had sex with your boss. Geto seems to know what you’re thinking though and turns your face towards his. “Tell me how you feel,” he tells you, his eyes firm but soft. “Listen, I don’t want you to regret what we did, Y/N, ‘cause I don’t. This was real for me.”

He bites on his bottom lip, looking flushed and nervous. You’ve never seen him look like that before. “I know this was a lot, but if you want, I’d like to turn this into something more. But it’s all up to you.” You blink at him, wondering if he’s serious. He continues to hold that firm yet nervous look, his eyes hopeful.

After sex like that, you’d be crazy to say no! You place a hand on his cheek and move in to kiss him softly. He accepts the kiss, his lips dancing with yours before you pull away. “I’m ready to try if you are, sir,” you softly answer. “But dinner would be nice.”

Geto begins to laugh and kisses your hand. “Of course,” he chuckles, sounding relieved. “You like Italian? Or maybe ramen? I know this place that just opened that–”

Knock, knock, knock! Quickly, Geto places himself in front of you, blocking you from whoever is at his office door. Fear jumps inside of you, making your stomach churn. “I thought you said nobody was here!” you hiss.

“There isn’t,” he whispers. “Or there wasn’t supposed to be.” He clears his throat, giving a clear, short, “Yes?”

“Brooo, it’s me!” Gojo shouts through the door. “I think I dropped my wallet in here! Can ya let me in?” Geto turns to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What do you think, babydoll?” he asks. “Should we let my friend in?”

You don’t know why you say yes or why your pussy throbs despite having just orgasmed twice, but Geto gives Gojo the okay and he comes waltzing into the office. At the sight of his best friend and his personal secretary sitting naked on the floor in their afterglow, Gojo’s blue eyes widen in shock…

And then they grow hooded with lust. “Well, well,” he chuckles. “It’s about fuckin’ time.”

He begins to loosen his tie, giving you a flirty smile. “I hope it ain’t too much to ask if I can join, babe.”

THE END.

Fan Art by @almaadst

#commission fill #black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #my fic shit #black writers #jjk smut #geto smut #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru #suguru aka sugar #suguru geto x plus sized!reader #boss/employee relationship #office romance

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lemons4u · 3 days

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𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐓 ! - 𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒┊it’s finally the end of this tiny smau ❤️ i never intended it to be longer than 2 parts but guess what??!! ngl this smau was very very rushed so i may rewrite it in the future

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒┊fluff, modern au, CUTIE PATOOTIE READER, dumbass alhaitham, HUGE timeskips here

today marks officially 4 years of talking to alhaitham.

today is also the day.

alhaitham asked you to meet him at the cafe where you both had your first “date”.

wait, could you even consider that a date?

i mean if it wasn’t what else would it be…

that doesn’t matter though, what matters is the fact that you arrived 20 minutes earlier than you were supposed to.

not even haitham was here, and he always comes early!

did you get the location wrong…? no, you couldn’t have possibly. you’d never forget this exact cafe. ever.

you whine in frustration, today definitely wasn’t your day… yet you showed up anyways.

had you really grown to like alhaitham that much…?

your face almost immediately heats up at that thought.

your thoughts were distrusted by the sound of the door being pushed open.

“ stupid cafe door is always jammed…” a familiar figure muttered under his breath.

his eyes then wandered away from the door, resting on you.

“you’re here early.” alhaitham spoke softly, quickly making his way over to you.

he had one hand behind his back, and he seemed awfully embarrassed— cheeks flushed and all that.

“ do you have a gift for me or something?” you chuckle, resting your head on your palm.

he scoffs, revealing a bouquet of your favorite flowers and two gifts…?

“ you mentioned once that — are you favorite flowers so i decided to get them for you today… or well my roommate suggested i should.” he started, his voice then trailing off.

you chuckled, of course kaveh helped him.

“you remembered that?” you then ask, slightly in awe, as you take the flowers.

he nodded sheepishly before clearing his throat, “i also got you these…” he muttered, handing you the gifts that were wrapped oh so lovingly.

“ what are they?” you blink curiously, admiring the pink wrapping, adorned with a silver bow.

“ open it to find out.” he said, sitting down.

you smiled at him, before digging into present number one.

a photo, a photo graph of you two sitting on a bench outside this very cafe.

the date, same as today, but 4 years ago.

“ we didn’t take any photos that day huh…?” you lifted your brow at the photo.

he cleared his throat, “kaveh took it… he was eaves dropping..”

another laugh escaped your lips before you focused on the next present.

as you picked it up you could see some of the staff shuffling around nervously.

“ hm…” you begin to unwrap it carefully, a jet black box with fancy letters you didnt bother to read was revealed.

slowly, you open it, met with the sparkle of a diamonds.

you looked up at alhaitham who pointed to the sign the staff held up.

‘ will you marry me ’

tears welled up in your eyes and you toppled over the table, reaching to alhaithams seat to hug him.

“ yes! no..? maybe.. if you want me to.. no!”

you took a breath.

“ of course i will.”

⟣ master list ⋆ next ⋆ prev

#alhaitham #alhaitham fluff #al haitam x reader #alhaitham smau #alhaitham scenarios #genshin x reader #genshin smau

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inkblot-inc · 13 hours

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"Go Fish"

Summary: We get to see a bit of what the Council of Nine got to discussing while our main trio was getting acquainted (and re-acquainted) with the living island.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Mutant!TigerShark!Reader

[AU Masterlist] Arc 2: [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] This is Part 4

Warning(s): Starting with a bit of human discriminaiton in the beginning, and then there's a touch of mutant discrimination/racism at the end...also language cuz of course there is-

Note(s): There's a lot more dialogue than i thought in this chapter- There’s even a whole scene of dialogue spoken between Enokan people, and while initially I was going to be difficult and use code for the whole exchange, I decided to keep it in regular text. I figure from the perspective of the scene, everyone knows and is speaking the Enokan language, whereas for other scenes, there were people present that don’t speak or understand the language. God I hope that makes sense. That really just means that you have a brief break.

Word Count: Just scraping by 3k

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit!

While Sienna met with the Council of Nine, they came to the decision that the two humans were to be left alone for now. Not only because of their apparent connection to one of their people, that being Y/n, but Enoka herself hasn’t shown herself hostile toward them.

They could have been done away with as soon as they set foot on her soil if She wanted to, as history has proved before.

Of course there was confusion and disagreement among most of the council members, as humans have been nothing but trouble for them. But at the end of the day, the Council of Nine acts as Enoka’s mouthpiece, and to deliberately go against Her would be sacrilege.

-----

One of the oldest members in the Council of Nine, Gideon, was not as easily appeased at the “stagnant” solution, and decided to speak up. “But we were ALL there at LumeCrest,” A few of the council member’s eyes went downward, “Even She couldn’t prevent things from going tits up! We must be proactive in getting rid of all of our potential threats.”

“And we are, that’s why we’re discussing this here and now. Enoka sees all that happens on this island. If she believes that the outlanders are safe enough to be here, then that’s all there is to it. She has yet to change her mind, but if she does, we will be the first to know and act.” Leander, the member of the council chosen to be impartial while presiding over this discourse, definitely had his exercise in patience.

Gideon would not let up, “But can She read hearts? She speaks to the mind, but can she foresee what these strangers will do? It would serve us well to be vigilant and get rid of the root of the problem before it decides to grow. And who’s to say that these humans couldn’t have poisoned one of our own against us and had them lead the two here?”

Sienna set her glass of water down firmly, her eyes narrowed and fixed on the table in front of her. “Mind your tongue. That’s my blood you’re smearing, you cretin.” She took another sip of water to cool her head. This greybeard would not be getting a rise out of her to try and discredit Leander’s point with bias.

The older man’s indignation was clear as he banged his staff on the polished flooring. “By Sthenya’s Wings!-”

Sienna didn’t even turn her head to look at the white haired man, “Don’t you dare attach my mother’s name to your tantrum, Gideon. I could care less that you’re my elder. Keep my family’s name out of your mouth. They have nothing to do with our conference,”

One of the younger members, Aeris, piped up as she ran her index finger around the top of her own glass, “Hells, Gideon, with your lack of faith in the fucking ground you walk on, it’s a miracle you’ve been on the council this long.”

There was a pregnant pause after Aeris was the only one to chuckle at the ridiculous debate. Leander eventually cleared his throat, “Regardless of our personal feelings, Enoka has spoken. To not heed her words would make us impious figures. If you still find you cannot trust or show confidence in Her judgment, then let someone else take your place” Leander looked between all the council members before releasing a breath to recenter himself. “That’s all that will be said about the matter. Our people will express caution with the outlanders and they will be monitored during their time here,” He nodded his head in Sienna’s direction, “And they will leave Enoka physically and mentally intact,” He stared directly at Gideon who continued to grumble under his breath. “This meeting has come to its conclusion, I trust all of you have your work cut out for you over the next few days. May Enoka hold your hand.” With that, Leander got up from his own seat along with all of the other council members save for one.

---

Despite her overall stoic demeanor, Sienna was overjoyed to have found her youngest sibling.

It doesn’t take her long for her to find you, Natasha and Wanda walking through one of the more secluded Enokan flower fields before joining you.

Realizing that the three of you have only been on the surface level of the living island, Sienna then takes it upon herself to show you all the developments that Enoka has gone through in your *ahem*... time away.

The atmosphere was a bit awkward between the three of you as it hadn’t been that long since your last conversation reached a rather unsatisfying conclusion.

Both Natasha and Wanda didn’t have the time nor were they really eager to explain that neither of them really felt wanted on the island. In an effort to say something, both women took to saying that the timing of going to Enoka’s main vessel was too soon.

-----

“It’s not that we don’t want to visit the…..being that we’re literally standing on, but maybe we do that when we’re more settled.” Wanda placed a placating hand on your shoulder as she could feel your rebuttal brewing.

Natasha looked toward the lighter footsteps she heard in the distance briefly before speaking up in a slightly louder tone. “Maybe sometime after we find where our bags were put.”

Wanda’s eyes widened slightly, “Preferably, yes.”

Your eyebrows still furrowed, you let up on the idea for now, “Alright alright, fine. But I’m gonna make sure that shit happens,” You were still slightly confused at their insistence, but you could partially see their point, maybe easing into it was easier?

You coughed a bit before you reached up to your neck to smack your apparatus a bit. It was then that you heard a slight sloshing sound that shouldn’t be there. “Tash’, can you come look at my bulbs real quick?”

Natasha came closer to see that the domes holding water around your neck were only half full, and only managed to splash against the gills on your neck instead of surrounding them. “It’s emptying.”

The redhead moved to tighten the bulbs or see if the reservoir needed adjusting before Sienna finally approached the three of you. “I trust the three of you have been staying out of trouble,” She raised a brow at the device around your neck with curiosity and a hint of apprehension. “Is everything alright?” I saw that around your neck when we met as well.”

You briefly tapped Natasha’s hands before going to remove the apparatus yourself, “I’m just fine, my ‘rratus is just fuckin’ up. Probably from when you knocked it off my neck back on the boat.” Your eyes were looking over the breathing device with practiced diligence before sighing, “It looks like it’s an internal issue, and I don’t have my bag with my kit inside to try and fix it.”

“If it’s tools you require to fix your… contraption, then you would certainly find such if we go below,” She looked up at the sky to see the Sun just starting to wane following a darker blue hue. “We should make it by sunset if you’re in a hurry. Follow me,”

---

The four of you walk (it’s a walkable place for sure bud goddamn the three of you are getting your steps in) toward the center of the island that almost resembles a plaza with a gigantic sinkhole in the middle that certainly wasn’t there before in your memory.

Sienna explains that the sinkhole came about as a byproduct of the flood.

If you look over the lip of the sinkhole you can see an encased cross section of the newer underground/underwater parts of Enoka that have been developed over the past ten-plus years.

For mutants whose mutations don’t do well in water, there’s a walkway as well as elevator of sorts down to the lower levels of Enoka.

The four of you decide to take the elevator to the underground layer that’s between the surface and underwater layers of the living island.

Sienna makes it clear that Enoka has rebuilt herself the best She could and is now identified, not only what’s on the surface, but by three residential layers known as: The Survived (surface), The Buried (underground), and The Sunken (underwater)

There are just as many homes and establishments underground as there are on the surface and one could conclude that the same could be said for the underwater portion as well.

The underground is flooded in artificial light in the form of lanterns and poles that hold resemblance to streetlights.

It turns out that over the years, the Natural energon Enoka produces was synthesized to be used in smaller devices put around the subterranean portions of the island.

The natural energon has found many new uses, not only as a form of energy/power, but also helps produce stronger currents of electricity.

Those eclectic currents were then used to jumpstart their private network, allowing one to pluck signals from outside of Enoka.

et voilà: secured access to the internet and media from all over.

-----

Sienna had the four of you walk around the rim of the layer closest to the wall to avoid regular civilians as they had the habit to stare at Natasha and Wanda. The two of them not only felt but probably smelt off to the general population of mutants, and while you'd gotten agitated more than once at the squints and partial glares your partner and close friend received, you took to almost straddling the stone wall to minimize attention.

“Enoka certainly feels bigger than she was before the flood,” You rested your hand on the large stone wall that made up the integrity of The Buried. “Y teb u'yore a 'hll fo a tol torgresn, oto.” There was the smallest pulse underneath your hand that made you chuckle. You turned toward Wanda and Natasha and gestured for them to come closer to the wall. “Here, feel for yourself.”

Natasha didn’t need much convincing, but Wanda was a bit more hesitant. “I’m not stroking a wall, gup.”

Natasha’s hand stayed in one place, but the rough surface was rather warm as opposed to the cooler temperature of normal sediment. “She really is everywhere,”

You nodded at the russian’s remark with a flash of your pointy grin. “Basically,” You then reached for Wanda’s hand before she could protest and continued to goad her until she lightly placed it on the wall. There were a quick few pulses under the brunette’s hand that almost tickled and made her hand flinch.

You chuckled at Wanda's response as you slowly let go of her wrist while she kept it there, “ese, u'yore nief, Wandy.”

Sienna watched the exchange with a far away look in her eye.

~ “Just rest your hand on the tree, grumps. She’s not gonna bite your hand off if you touch her.” A younger Sienna had the adolescent version of you by the wrist to try and place your hand on one of the trees along the shoreline.

Younger you definitely fought a lot harder than Wanda seemed to be, “That’s not what Rudy said! ‘Noka snacks on kids and I don’t wanna get eaten!”

Sienna briefly chuckled before kneeling in front of you, “I told you that you can’t trust anything that that birdbrain says, Y/n. come here, I’ll show you,” She grasped your wrist once again and slowly moved your smaller hand toward the trunk of the tree.

Once it touched the scratchy texture of the tree, your little face scrunched together to brace for the impending chomp on your hand. A chomp that never came even after more than a few seconds. You slowly opened your eyes to see your hand perfectly intact before slightly blushing in embarrassment.

Sienna rested her hand on your shoulder as you focused more on the warm feeling radiating under your hand. “The last thing She wants is to hurt us, Y/n. The most she’ll do is reprimand you, and I’m sure Rudy knows that much well enough” You jumped slightly after feeling a few stronger pulses from the tree trunk under your hand, almost as if She was cosigning Sienna’s words. You laughed at the thought of the Bird boy that always managed to get in trouble or piss someone off.

Sienna took her hand off of your shoulder to ruffle your hair with a smile, “Ese, u'yore nief, Y/nn.” ~

Sienna cleared her throat as she returned back to the present. “The passage to The Sunken is just this way.”

---

The passage down to The Sunken is inside of some form of glass tube that allows the four of you to see out into the ocean, where people and sea life alike are going about their day.

Aquariums have nothing on this view fr-

You’d gone down far enough that you can even start to see farmers at a few of the brine pools and sea farms by the ocean floor.

The difference in air was something even Natasha and Wanda had begun to notice as you could almost taste the residual salt that still hung in the air at this deep of a level.

-----

The four of you finally reached a space that looked more like a medical building of sorts. Though the expectant smell of sterilizer was replaced with that of pear and lemon.

“Everything that isn’t grown directly by Enoka herself comes out of this building. We’ve even started Sunken Gardens down here so that that our lowest layer has access to plants that were originally only grown on the surface. Our bigger brains do work down here.” She led you into one of the smaller laboratories that had shelves stocked with tools, machines, and naturally made (as well as engineered) chemicals and metals.

You inspected a stack of thinner sheet metal with a smirk, “Well ain’t that somethin. I’ll definitely be able to make hella improvements down here,” You grabbed a few sheets of the white gray metal and a mess of other things and set them on an empty table before you turned to the three women in the room. “This shouldn’t take me too long, but I don’t blame you guys if you aren’t too interested in just watching me.”

Natasha spoke up before the thought could fully register, “Watching you has never bothered me before,” Wanda and Sienna were content to pretend that neither had heard what the redhead said while she found the rubber tile flooring to be more interesting.

Sienna pushed ahead, “I figured you all would want to get to your belongings and where you’ll be staying sooner or later.”

At the mention of their belongings, Wanda perked up and agreed. “I really should,” The brunette gave a longer look toward Natasha before turning to Sienna, “Both Wanda and Jaws can stay here, but if you could show me where we’ll be staying that’d be great.” There were a few things Wanda had to look over in her bags, and maybe call Vision to unwind a bit, but maybe this would also be a small opportunity to have a positive interaction with Sienna.

Sienna, for her part, seemed neutral about the prospect, “We should get going now, since I believe your things were set up on the surface.” The security chief watched Wanda’s eyes widen at the thought of having to walk back up through the two layers before fracking a knowing smirk that looked very similar to your own. “There’s an elevator to The Survived in this building, no need to worry for your arches.”

---

Far outside of Enoka was a deep gray ship that was occupied by a great deal of armed forces in full black suits roaming around. Below the main deck in the cockpit/planning room of the ship was a familiar brown haired man standing over the screen in the center console showing a map with a small blip on it that was no longer moving. It hadn’t moved for about five hours now. The Brown haired man looked to his left at the woman at the helm steering the ship, “You told us we had to fall back, but how far out are we?” The woman internally sighed before taking her eye off of the waters in front of her. “A little over a week. I told you we would have to take this slow so that they don’t catch on. Stay on the move and circle around so we don’t get caught by their defense and surveillance. We’ve been over this, Graydon. I urge you to find your patience.” Graydon ran a frustrated hand through his hair before taking a breath and calm his rather antsy behavior. He looked back down at the virtual map with the steady blinking light on their target. “I know, Tar’. I just want to do this as soon as possible before the higher ups decide to pull us out of this job.” “Well they’ll know we’re there as soon as we step foot on the goddamn sand, so urgency isn’t really a factor,” Tara looked at Graydon for a second before putting the ship on autopilot and getting up. This isn’t a high level op. There’s only a 75% chance they’ll put us on more if we do this right.” She moved to stand next to Graydon before taking a look at the map to try and see what he was seeing. “What’s so important about this job that you’ve wanted to run it three different times?” “My birth mother was one of these muties. Said she wanted a place just like this for people like her where they could breed mutants and make more of them like rats. She’d go so far for her perfect world that she threw me away… She’s gotta be there, and even if she’s not I want to burn her dream to the fucking ground.”

** footnote: I wanted to use a completely different script for the Enokan language being spoken, but I couldn’t find a way to import it so that it was shown, so instead I made a simple code using typoglycemia (aka just unscramble the letters of each word). To make it so that it didn’t look as clunky, I sometimes replaced (i) with (y). Some words that end with vowels may have an apostrophe that takes the place of the vowel. Apostrophes can also be found at the beginning of words with vowels for fluidity’s sake. I didn’t think swears should be scrambled cuz that just *looks* off to me. The point of these changes is to have this resemble a spoken language more than it is a blatant tactic to confuse you.

Here’s a word unscrambler in case you need it

#jaws au #jaws: arc 2 #marvel #marvel fanfiction #black widow #natasha romanoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #mutant!reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x yn #jc inkworks #ink.nat #ib-jc.

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coco-loco-nut · 3 days

Text

Wreck

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Sister Reader

Summary: Charles has a racing inchident with his sister

A/n: sorry for modifying the request, I couldn't bring myself to send baby leclerc to the hospital

requests open masterlist

——————

“Let’s go, Y/n, we are going to be late,” Charles bangs on your hotel room door. You open it, giving him a death glare as he walks in.

“I might actually murder you,” you scowl, pulling your hair up into a pony tail. Charles looks all fashionable heading into race day while you just wear a Mercedes polo.

“No you won’t, you love me,”

“Not more than Arthur and Enzo,” you say, the former stands up from the couch in your room.

“Ha, I knew she loved me,” Arthur says, shoving your team backpack into your hands.

“Alright, let’s go. Someone has an F2 race to drive in,” you take a quick glance around the room, making sure nothing was left behind. The three of you enter the paddock and cameras capture your banter. You don’t even stop in the F1 motorhomes, the three of you walk with Arthur to his garage. Lorenzo is waiting for you three.

“You two go back to the F1 paddock, you have your own races to prep for,” Enzo tutts, you roll your eyes lovingly at your older brother.

“Good luck out there, Arthur. I’ll be watching,” you hug your baby brother, who is more than happy to return the hug. Due to his association with Ferrari, you usually only see him on race days when visiting Charles unless there is a support race.

“I’ll see you later,” Arthur tells you, waving goodbye to you and Charles.

“Meet me in Ferrari to watch the race,” Charles says when your reach the Mercedes motorhome.

“There are the best siblings in the paddock,” George greets the two of you.

“We do have the best relationship in the paddock,” you laugh. “I’ll see you later, Charles,” you wave as you walk in with George.

“I think we have a real shot today,” George says, grabbing two coffees.

“Thanks, I agree. The car feels great this weekend and it’s a weaker track for Red Bull. Ferrari are also feeling good, so it will be a strategy fight,” you hum.

You and Charles cheer your little brother on during his feature race, celebrating when he makes the podium. Unfortunately you can’t watch it due to the Drivers’ Parade. Your PR team shows you that you and Charles are trending thanks to your ‘perfect sibling bond’.

“Charles, apparently we have the perfect sibling bond,” you tell him. Your garages are beside each other, which is only a little confusing for some staff.

“If only they knew the truth,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Good luck on the track today,” you hug each other like always.

“You too, may the best Leclerc win,” you smile, shaking his hand, then going back into your garage to talk with your team.

“Our strategy is sound, how are you feeling?” your race engineer asks.

“Have we looked at an overcut? The tires have been good and the car has good pace this weekend,” you suggest, looking at data from the support races.

“That is something we can look at,” Toto agrees. Having Toto in the garage is oddly comforting, he is an active member of your conversations.

“No worries if we don’t go with it, just thought I’d throw it out there,” you nod. the last bit of time before the race flies and before you know it you are in the car, waiting to release the brake and hit the gas.

A good start and good strategy has you fighting for second. As you are approaching your last pit stop later in the race, your engineer informs you that they are going with your overcut idea. You push the car as Charles pits. You were right, a beautiful overcut puts you in P2.

As you are approaching the end of the race, you are fighting with Charles. To you he is just a Ferrari and to him you are just a Mercedes. You feel your wheel get clipped and your car spins out, sending you into the wall. You confirm that you are okay and climb out of your car, frustrated beyond belief. It doesn’t take too long for someone to pick you up and take you to the medical station to get checked out.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Lorenzo and Arthur rush in.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just sore. Is Charles okay?” you ask in return.

“The race just ended, we haven’t gotten a chance to speak with him yet but he sounded upset on the radios,” Arthur tells you, making you move over on the medical bed so he can lay down.

“Y/n! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to clip you. Are you okay?” Charles rushes in, clearly distressed.

“That depends, where did you finish?” you grin.

“P7, I took damage,” Charles says a little confused.

“Then yeah, I’m fine. If you had finished top 5 it would’ve been different. Relax, it was a racing incident, the track narrowed and we both didn’t leave a lot of room. I may not be the FIA, but I don’t blame you,” you ramble a little, trying to stop Charles before he spirals.

“But I hurt you, oh god, what if you died? I shouldn’t ever race again,” you look at your brothers to help, “Arthur do you want my seat?” Charles has tears in his eyes, not quite believing you.

“Ye-” Arthur starts before Lorenzo cuts him off.

“Charles, Y/n is fine. Look at her. She’s a little banged up but that’s nothing that painkillers and a couple days off won’t fix. Quit offering Arthur your seat any time you mess up,” Lorenzo says firmly.

“No, keep offering Arthur your seat. He deserves it more,” you tease, an evil grin on your face. Charles notices and snaps back to reality.

“Next time you say that it’s on sight, I will run you off the track,” Charles pouts.

“Alright, let’s stop before the FIA hears something and holds it against you, even if it’s just sibling banter,” Lorenzo huffs, a little tired of being the parent of the four of you.

"I really am sorry," Charles reiterates, forcing Arthur off the medical bed so he can have the spot.

"I know, it's why you are going to take us out for a really nice dinner," you grin. "Smile," you take a selfie of you and Charles to post on your socials to let the fans know that you are fine. Naturally, you captioned it "nothing, just an inchident."

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc

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iridescentpull · 2 days

Text

Day Four of Hideduo/FitPac Kiss Week – Kiss on the Hand & Royal AU

[ ao3 link here ] [ fic below cut! ]

Tomorrow is the day the War of the Rose Valley may come to an end, and Fit is terrified.

This is not the first war that the people of the Rose Valley have fought in, and it’s not even the first war that Fit himself has fought in. He’s one of the head guards of the Rose Valley Kingdom, and even before that he has seen enough death and destruction to last a lifetime. This probably won’t be the last time he sees or partakes in a war, either. Violence is something familiar to Fit, a constant.

But this? This is different.

Because there is a possibility the prince may not live to tell this tale.

“We ambush from the west.” Prince Pac says, pointing at the map in front of him. He has already laid his pieces out, the figurines of soldiers standing on a flat, green landscape, and his generals stand around him, nodding along as he talks. Fit stands beside him, holding his trident up with a tight grip, watching his prince give out his orders. “We will use the hills as a cover, and we’ll catch them off guard.”

The others agree, and Fit does not speak. He feels a lump on his throat as he listens to his prince talk about death and battles and strategies. His hand tightens on the staff of his weapon and he swallows hard. Pac’s black eyes are hard as they look over the map, his lips set in a straight line. He knows.

They’ve had this conversation before, after all.

The Kingdom of Omospondía wants the person on the throne’s head, and they are ready to kill the entire Rose Valley army to get to him. They should be going behind the king technically, but since the King of the Rose Valley has been bedridden for weeks and on the verge of death, Pac was the one to take the responsibility and charge.

Which meant Omospondía would be hunting for Pac.

Fit begged and begged his prince not to get to the war, but Pac smiled sadly and refused. He couldn’t simply sit around when his kingdom needed him, couldn’t run and hide while his men died for him. Fit loved how kind and responsible his prince was, but he hated the fact that Pac was so selfless, too.

That’s why he’s here, talking about battle plans with a cold yet tired expression on his face. That’s why his hands tremble as he moves the figures across the map. That’s why his heart beats so loudly, that Fit can hear it from where he stands. Because Fit knows his prince. Pac wouldn’t just sit and hide while his people got killed. Pac would fight.

Fit knows it.

He also knows why Pac is so nervous, too.

Pac never wanted to be king. He never wanted any of this. Since Fit met the other, he knew Pac only had his brother on his mind, the one who was born and raised to be king, who had the charisma, the knowledge, the leadership, the intelligence, the strength, the everything Pac lacked. He always thought he wouldn’t need to become king.

And then Pac’s brother was kidnapped.

The Rose Valley was thrown into chaos. No one knew what had happened, or who was the one behind it, or what would happen next. And when the King of the Rose Valley fell ill, everything became a mess, and it was decided that Pac would take his father’s place, even if it was only temporary.

Pac wasn’t happy with it. Fit could tell. But the prince swallowed his fear and tried to help his people. He worked as hard as he could, giving out orders and making plans to help his kingdom and his family. He never rested, he rarely ate or slept. The kingdom and council thought Pac was the perfect fit to lead.

But Fit had the privilege to see the other side.

Pac didn’t want to be in the lead. He felt he was incompetent. He was scared of making decisions that would harm his people. He didn’t trust himself enough to know what to do, so he relied heavily on the council, and on the ones around him. Fit had the privilege to see the breakdowns, the crying and the shaking, and Pac would whisper to him, his voice weak and tired.

“I’m not good enough for this. I don’t know how to do it. What am I doing, Fit? Am I making the right decisions?”

Fit would answer by telling Pac the truth, that the prince was more than capable, and that his people believed in him– that he believed in him. Pac would smile shakily, but not reply, and just lean his head on the other's shoulder, looking for support. Fit would provide, wrapping his arms around the prince, letting Pac rest, if only for a moment.

The knights nod, asking the respective questions and giving their ideas. Fit tries to pay attention, but all he can think about is his prince on the battlefield, with blood splattered over his body, the color clashing with his black hair and pale skin, the red contrasting sharply against the black of his eyes. Fit feels his heart beating wildly and his breath catches on his throat.

“That is all.” Pac says, standing up straight and holding his arms behind his back. His clothes cling to his body as if it were dragging him down, the crown of the Rose Valley Kingdom sitting amongst the soft waves of his black hair. “Inform the camp of the plan. We will attack tomorrow at dawn.”

The head knights and generals bow and exit the tent, leaving the prince and his knight alone. Pac lets out a deep sigh, and his shoulders sag as if a weight has been lifted from them. His hands go to his head, and his fingers brush the silver crown. He takes it off and stares at it, running his finger over the sharp edges and the blue gemstones. He furrows his eyebrow.

Fit stands, not knowing what to say. He can’t tell him not to go, he has no right to. But his heart breaks when he looks between the crown and then at his prince. It’s not fair, it’s not fair. He wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to do this.

But they both know that it’s a lie.

After all, Fit had a choice to join the knights.

Pac didn’t have a choice to be the prince.

“My prince.” Fit says, and his voice is softer than he meant. Pac doesn’t look at him, just continues staring at the crown, the metal catching the light of the fire from the torches placed by. Fit doesn’t move closer, just continues looking at him, his hand tightening on his trident. “You should rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

Pac’s jaw tightens, and he finally looks up at him. He has bags under his eyes, and he hasn’t slept in days. “You too, Fit. I need you to be awake for this battle.”

“I’ll be fine.” Fit says, and steps forward. The prince’s eyes drop to his feet, and the knight stops. He can feel his pulse pounding under his skin, his heart beating fast in his chest, his breath caught on his throat. He needs to calm down. “You need to sleep. It’ll do you no good to show up exhausted and ill rested.”

The prince’s eyes flicker to his, and he nods. He lets out a shaky sigh and drops his arms to his side, his hand still clutching the crown. “Will you stay?” He asks, and his voice is so low that Fit almost doesn’t hear him. “I want to spend one last night together in the case I…” He trails off, but Fit knows.

“Of course.” Fit says, his own voice cracking. “I will stay.”

Pac smiles at him, a soft, sad smile, and sets the crown down on the table. He crosses the room and steps up to Fit, who lets go of his trident and puts his hands on the prince’s waist. Pac sighs softly and leans his forehead against the knight’s, his eyes falling closed.

They stay like that, standing in the middle of the tent, the fire flickering and making shadows dance over their bodies. Pac’s arms come around his neck and he holds him tightly, and Fit does the same. He presses a kiss to the prince’s hair, and the scent of the roses from the valley fills his nostrils. He’s scared, terrified of what tomorrow might bring. He’s always been afraid of losing Pac.

Which is why he’s going to make an oath.

An oath to do everything in his power to keep him safe.

“Pac.” Fit says, and the other man’s eyes flutter open. His irises are a dark black, like the night sky, and he looks so tired. “You know how the knight’s of the royal army take an oath when they join?”

The prince nods. “Of course.” He says, smiling faintly at the memory. Pac was wandering the castle grounds when he walked into the courtyard, where a few dozens of new knights were standing in straight lines, reciting the oath. “‘I, as a knight of the royal guard, pledge to always be loyal to the king and his kingdom. I will be the protector of the people, a shield against danger, a sword against injustice. I will always be just, and will do everything in my power to protect the royal family. This is my oath.’ I think it was like that.”

“You got it.” Fit smiles, open and honest. Pac’s the only person he can do that for. “Well, I am going to take a new oath.”

Pac frowns, confused. “A new oath?”

“Yes. Only for you.” Fit says, and takes a step back. He goes down on one knee, and bows his head. “I, as the personal knight of Prince Pac, pledge to always be loyal to you. I will be your protector, a shield against danger, a sword against injustice. I will do every single thing in my power to keep you safe. I will move Heaven and Earth and Hell to protect you, I will destroy anyone and anything that stands in my way. I will fight to the death to keep you safe, to make sure no one ever lays a hand on you. I will always be your knight, your lover. I will die before I let anyone hurt you. This is my oath.”

He hears a sharp intake of breath, and then a sob. “Fit, no.” Pac shakes his head, pulling back. “Please, don't say that.”

The knight shakes his head, before grabbing one of Pac’s hands. He intertwines their fingers and brings his knuckles up to his lips, kissing them. He looks up and sees Pac has tears streaming down his face. He smiles sadly.

“It is my duty, as the knight of the royal family, to protect the prince at all costs.” He whispers against his skin. Pac’s eyes are wide, and he shakes his head. “But it is my personal duty, as your lover, to always protect you, and to make sure no harm ever comes to you. I promise on my life, I swear to always keep you safe, even if it kills me."

Pac shakes his head and tries to weakly pull his hand away. “Fit.” He whispers hoarsely, his voice trembling. “ Fitch , no.”

A tight smile is on Fit’s face. “It’s my duty and it is my personal mission,” He continues to press kisses on Pac’s knuckles, each more tender than the next. “To love and protect you.” He ignores the way he feels the other tense. “My life is yours, and if I must die, so be it. I would rather die for you, then live without you.”

Pac’s lips part, but he can't seem to speak. His eyes are glistening, and tears start falling down his cheeks. He shakes his head, but doesn’t pull his hand back. Instead, he surges forward and wraps his arms around Fit, pressing his face into his neck. Fit’s arms come around his back, and he hugs him tightly. The prince is shaking, and Fit can feel his tears slipping through the plates of his armor. He holds him tighter.

“I won’t let you die.” Pac says, voice wet with tears and muffled by his shoulder. “I won’t let them kill you.” He shakes his head and Fit tightens his grip. “I need you, Fit. I need you by my side.”

Fit’s chest hurts, and his own eyes sting with tears. He can’t bear the thought of Pac dying, the thought of being killed, the thought of never seeing his smile again, never feeling his warmth or the touch of his lips against his.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, and Pac tenses in his arms. “But this is my oath.”

He feels Pac shudder and shake his head. “It’s not fair.” He whispers, and he sounds so broken. “You’re all I have left.”

Fit doesn’t know how to answer.

He knows the prince’s brother is missing, and has been for a while. He knows the Queen has been dead since the prince was a baby. He knows the King is barely holding onto his life. He knows the prince is not close to anyone in the castle, much less the Kingdom. He knows the prince has no one else.

Fit’s all he has. And Pac’s all Fit has. It’s not fair, but this is their reality. It’s not fair, but this is the hand they’ve been dealt. Fit just wants to hold Pac, and make sure no one ever hurts him. So he will keep him safe, no matter the cost.

“I’m sorry.” Fit whispers. “I’m so, so sorry.” He presses a kiss on the prince’s temple, and he can feel the other tremble. “I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here, and I��ll protect you.” He runs his hands down his back. “But now, we need rest. Come, lie down.”

The pair gently remove each plate of Fit’s armor, piece by piece, setting it aside carefully and methodically. It is only after the last plate falls that Pac’s resolve seems to break. He turns away and starts crying, his hands coming to his face. The knight’s heart breaks, and he gently turns Pac around and holds him.

The prince cries in his arms, his face buried in the crook of his neck. His fingers dig into his skin and he trembles against him, the sobs wracking his body. The knight’s arms come around him and he presses his nose to his hair. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He holds him, whispering words of reassurance. It is the only thing he can do.

Fit helps Pac lay on the makeship bed of the tent, before eventually joining him. They lie down together, facing each other, their noses barely touching. The prince’s eyes are closed, and the tears have stopped, but his breathing is still uneven and heavy. Fit reaches out and brushes his thumb over his cheek, and the prince leans into his touch.

“It’s okay.” Fit says, his voice gentle. “It’s okay, luz da minha vida .” He repeats. Pac opens his eyes and looks at him, his dark eyes shining in the low light of the torches. The knight’s hand cups his cheek, and Pac closes his eyes again.

“It’s not okay.” Pac whispers, and his voice is broken. “I can’t lose you.”

Fit’s heart shatters. “I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers, and he hopes it is a promise. He runs his hand through the prince’s hair, pushing the black waves out of his face. “I’ll always be here for you.” He continues to run his fingers through his hair, and the prince sighs, his body slowly relaxing.

Fit continues to play with the other’s hair, and soon the prince’s breathing slows, and his body relaxes. His eyelashes flutter, and Fit can see the exhaustion seeping in. It has been a long few weeks for him, and his body has barely recovered. The knight gently pulls him closer, until their chests are pressed together, and Pac’s head is tucked under his chin.

Fit holds him close, running his hands down his back. Pac is so warm and soft, and the knight closes his eyes. He listens to the sound of his heartbeat, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. He breathes in the scent of roses, and he knows that this is where he is meant to be.

He will protect him.

He will fight for him.

He will do anything for him.

Because he loves him.

And if he dies, so be it.

#hideduokisswk #fitpac #fitmc #pactw #aynee writes #i apologize in advance

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