#;; Looming Questions (Answered Inquiries) ;;

[undiscovered-horizon]

(tw for self-harm -> literally hitting a tree with a bare fist)

[Tav has to carry the world on their shoulders. But when they begin to question this responsibility and the unfairness of it, they need someone to make sure their grief doesn't destroy them.]

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Astarion knows that something is very off when you drop your bag and disappear behind the tree line, never even acknowledging his existence. The certain skip in your step, a bravado of "There's no mountain I can't move" is completely gone, nowhere to be seen. Now, something more sinister has taken its place - a darkness looming over your shoulder that makes even him shudder. Like you've switched places with another creature.

He notices Shadowheart and Gale watching your departure, both of them fidgeting in their stillness. Their hesitancy is all too obvious. Then, they exchange a look of both concern and inquiry. In awkward silence, Gale and Shadowheart part ways, simultaneously deciding to let you have your space.

Be it his curiosity or worry for you that he so vehemently denies, Astarion marches off in the direction he has seen you go, only to disappear behind the trees. He passes by Gale, who grabs Astarion's arm. The bruises on the wizard's face look almost black in the twilight of the campsite.

"I wouldn't do that, Tav is a little..." he hangs his voice as his eyes glance towards the dense forest, "beside themself."

The vampire wears his scowl like a crown. He yanks his arm from Gale's grasp and makes a show of straightening the fabric of his decorative shirt. "Wonderful advice. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to happily ignore it."

Without awaiting a rebuttal, Astarion continues his march towards the dense, dark forest where he hopes to find you.

The warm, yellow hue of the campfire quickly disappears as the man ventures into the woods. Low shrubbery keeps nipping at his clothes, almost making him more worried about the state of his pants than your well-being. He is about to call out your name when he hears a loud, muffled thud.

What in Hells is that?

Following the sound, Astarion finally finds you - beaten, bruised. Your clothes look like you haven't washed them since crawling out of the Nautiloid. The blood covering your knuckles glistens in the moonlight as you take another swing at the tree trunk. Another thud resounds in the empty forest. A dent behind to show in the wood where the bark has already been broken off. Just how long have been doing this? More importantly: why are you doing this to yourself?

No matter his confusion and burning worry, Astarion manages to pull himself together. He knows that the last thing you need right now is him blowing up at you, masking his fear for your state of mind with irritation.

"And what did this poor tree ever do to you, darling?" he finally calls out in a light-hearted tone. Truthfully, he couldn't be farther from playful jokes and jabs.

"Just leave me alone," you answer in a harsh tone as you punch the tree trunk once more. A whine escapes your lips as your tender, wounded hand meets the hard wood again.

He's taken aback - you don't normally talk this way. This unforeseen and much unwelcome, sudden change makes him all the more concerned.

Astarion stops close behind you, his arms crossed across his chest. He's unsure what to do. "Not until you tell me what's gotten into you," he states in a firm tone.

You growl in response. "It's so," you hang your voice to hit the tree, "fucking" you punch the trunk again, "unfair!" you scream out.

Your bloodied, trembling hand is about to land another punch but something, someone, stops you. Astarion lunges forward, pressing his chest against your back and grabbing your arms. His firm grasp forces you to keep your hands close to your body.

"Why do I have to decide who lives or dies?!" you continue yelling as you try to ineffectively wiggle out of the man's iron grasp. "I never wanted to be the hero who saves the world! I never asked for any of this!" Suddenly, your defiance disappears. Tired, hopeless and sore, you let yourself lean against his chest. "So why does it have to be me?" you whisper in a weak voice. Then you shudder as tears begin flowing down your cheeks.

The great hero falls and it is only natural that their fall must be of equal grandeur.

Astarion feels your hands shake but he's not sure whether it's because you've scraped their skin down to raw muscle or because you're crying out all the pent-up anger, grief and anxiety. No matter what's the truth, his undead heart breaks all the same.

"My sweet, sweet love," he whispers into your ear. His cold lips brush against the conch before he softly pecks your neck. "Anyone else would do it wrong."

Part of him wants to add 'except for me, of course' but he knows, deep down in his viscera, that even he would falter. So he remains quiet until your sobbing silences and your trembling comes to a stop. Astarion's grip never eases down until you've collected yourself, holding you tight against him as though you're fine porcelain that even a mere gust of wind could shatter into pieces.

__ Guys when I tell you I almost tripped running to my laptop to write this

[idkyetxoxo]

Three | Enchanted | Aemond Targaryen

Word count - 2965

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!!), strong language

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My legs carried me before my mind could catch up, the weight of the Old Palace's looming walls pressing down on me, suffocating. 

The familiar stone corridors passed in a blur, every step fueled by instinct, a desperate need for escape that I couldn't ignore. 

I barely realized where I was headed until I stood in front of that door—a place that had always promised a kind of twisted solace, one I was all too familiar with.

The door stood ajar as if waiting. Without hesitation, I pushed it open, my heart pounding with a mixture of anger and something darker, something more desperate. 

Inside, the soft glow of candlelight barely illuminated the room, but it was enough to catch sight of him.

Alaric. His back to me, the powerful lines of his body stark and unforgiving. He moved slowly, methodically, peeling off his tunic with an ease that spoke of a long, arduous day. 

The play of muscles beneath his skin was a sight I had grown used to over the years, but tonight? Tonight, it made my blood surge with something primal.

"Princess?" His voice broke the silence, soft and unhurried, though a note of curiosity lingered. He hadn't turned fully yet, still unaware of the storm brewing inside me.

He wouldn't stay unaware for long.

I didn't answer. Words felt pointless as I closed the distance between us, my hands finding his neck and pulling him to me. 

The kiss was savage, bruising, filled with the fire that threatened to consume me from the inside out. He barely reacted at first, caught off guard by the force of it, but when he did, the heat in his response matched my own.

His lips parted against mine, his breath coming quicker now, but I could sense the question behind his kiss, the silent inquiry. 

Why now? Why tonight? But Alaric had always been a man who understood without words, and when he felt the tremble of my hands and the tension in my body, he knew.

"The reason for your visit?" he murmured against my lips, his tone calm despite the intensity of our kiss. 

It was a game we had played before—one we never discussed but always returned to. Our arrangement wasn't uncommon, but it wasn't frequent, either.

"Fuck me so I don't remember," I growled, my voice thick with desperation, hands pulling roughly at the tunic that still clung to his body. 

My words were a command, sharp and bitter, and they hung in the air between us like a challenge. "So I forget today's humiliation."

He paused, his dark eyes meeting mine, searching. He didn't need an explanation; he knew I was running from something, something I wanted to drown in the only way I knew how. 

His gaze flickered—just for a moment—with something softer, a brief flash of concern. But that wasn't what I needed from him tonight. I needed him to take me away, to pull me so deep into him that I forgot everything else.

And he understood. Alaric always did.

With one fluid motion, his hands found my waist, rough and calloused from years of wielding a sword, but there was a new urgency to his touch now. 

He backed me up until my back met the cool stone wall, the chill biting into my skin, grounding me. But it wasn't enough to cool the fire raging in my veins. I wanted more. I needed more.

I leaned into him, wrapping my legs around his waist as his body pressed against mine.

Alaric's lips hovered over mine, the heat of his breath teasing me, but he didn't kiss me right away. His eyes flickered with a question, one last moment of restraint before the inevitable.

"I said fuck me, Alaric," I whispered harshly, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. "Make me forget."

And just like that, whatever thin thread of control he'd been holding onto snapped. His lips crashed into mine with a ferocity that mirrored my own, a collision of teeth and tongues, all hunger and heat. 

His body was solid against mine, every inch of him radiating the strength I craved, the force I needed to burn away the humiliation still gnawing at me.

His hands roamed over my body, not gentle, not careful, just the way I wanted. He tore at my dress, fingers moving with practised precision as he stripped me bare. 

The cool air hit my skin, but I didn't care. 

All I felt was him—his weight, his heat, his hands gripping me with the kind of urgency that left no room for hesitation.

He entered me in one swift motion, the shock of it pulling a gasp from my throat, but I welcomed the pain. 

It grounded me, cut through the chaos in my mind. 

My body arched against his, my legs tightening around his waist as he began to move inside me, each thrust deeper, more forceful than the last.

The room filled with the sounds of our bodies colliding, the frantic rhythm of his hips against mine, the ragged breaths and low moans that escaped both our lips. 

His hands gripped my hips with a bruising force, holding me in place as he drove into me again and again, each thrust more punishing than the last.

I clung to him, my nails digging into his back, desperate to anchor myself to something tangible, something that wasn't the torrent of emotion swirling inside me. 

I could feel the tension building in my core, a tight, white-hot coil that threatened to snap at any moment, and I welcomed it, needed it.

"Harder," I demanded, my voice barely more than a gasp as I leaned my head back against the stone wall, eyes half-closed in bliss. 

My body was trembling, every nerve alight with the fire he was stoking. I needed him to break me, to tear through the last of my resistance and leave nothing but raw, mindless pleasure. 

His body was built for this—strong, unyielding, yet skilled. He knew exactly how to make me forget everything else.

Alaric complied without hesitation, his rhythm growing more brutal, more relentless, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. 

My breath came in short, ragged gasps, my entire being focused on the building storm between us.

I could feel it, that moment of release hovering just out of reach, and when his hand moved between my thighs, fingers skillfully finding that sensitive spot, it was over. 

My body exploded in a white-hot rush of pleasure, the sensation so intense that I cried out, my legs trembling as the orgasm tore through me. 

I gripped his shoulders, holding onto him like a lifeline as wave after wave of pleasure consumed me.

Alaric wasn't far behind. His movements grew erratic, less controlled, as he neared his own release. 

With one final thrust, he groaned, his forehead resting against mine as his body shuddered in the throes of his climax. I felt the warmth of him spill inside me, the heat of his breath mingling with mine as we both struggled to catch our breath.

For a long moment, we stayed like that, our heavy breaths mingling in the dark, the air thick with the remnants of passion. His hands moved gently over my skin, cleaning me with the same careful attention as always.

"I will walk you back," he said quietly, reaching for his tunic once more. Ever the gentleman, despite what had just transpired.

"No." I shook my head, straightening my dress as I stood on shaky legs. "I'll manage." My voice was steady, though my legs still trembled from the intensity of what we'd just shared.

"Princess..." he started, his tone cautious as I turned to leave, but I cut him off with a sharp look.

"I'm fine," I insisted, the edge in my voice silencing him. 

Without another word, I left his chambers, the heat of our encounter quickly cooling as I stepped into the quiet, empty halls of the palace.

The suffocating dark corridors closed in around me, though my feet carried me with practised ease. The familiar surroundings did little to quell the storm brewing inside me. 

My mind whirled, thoughts colliding, splintering into shards of anger that simmered just below the surface, too fierce to be ignored, too raw to be soothed. 

Every breath felt like fire, stoked by the memory of Alaric's touch—his hands on my skin, his body pressed against mine—but even that couldn't extinguish the burn from earlier. Nothing could.

I didn't need light to guide me; I could navigate these halls in my sleep. 

Yet tonight, they felt darker, the shadows stretching out like long fingers, grasping at the edges of my thoughts, threatening to pull me deeper into the abyss of humiliation I was so desperately trying to claw my way out of. 

The ache between my legs reminded me of Alaric, but the deeper ache—the one I couldn't name, the one gnawing at my soul—remained untouched. Unbearable.

As I neared the end of the corridor, a shadow peeled away from the wall, tall and looming. 

My breath caught in my throat as my heart lurched into my chest, but when the figure stepped into the faint, flickering light, I recognized the sharp, angular profile.

Aemond Targaryen.

His presence was a chill that cut through the air, his pale features illuminated by the weak candlelight, his lone eye gleaming with unsettling clarity. 

"Princess," he greeted, his voice as cold as the stone beneath my feet. 

There was no warmth in his tone, only the sharp edge of mockery, his eye roving over me like I was prey to be studied, dissected. "What are you doing out so late?"

I crossed my arms, more to shield myself from his scrutiny than to make a point. His gaze felt like it could peel back layers, see things I wasn't ready to admit, even to myself. 

"Why does it matter to you?" I snapped, my tone laced with irritation. I wasn't in the mood for his smug superiority.

Aemond's lips curved into that insufferable smirk, the kind that crawled under my skin and set my teeth on edge. 

He mirrored my stance, arms crossed loosely over his chest, as though mocking my defiance.

"I simply worry for your safety," he replied, voice dripping with insincerity. "It's dangerous out at night. Especially for someone so..." His gaze flicked down my body and back up again as if choosing his words carefully. "...delicate."

The audacity of him. My blood boiled hotter. I narrowed my eyes, stepping closer, refusing to let him see that his words had gotten to me. 

"This is my home, dragon," I shot back, the venom in my voice unmistakable. "And besides, I am not yours to worry about."

His chuckle was a low, mocking rumble, the sound of someone who believed he knew far more than you ever could. 

"Did I not best your brother today?" His voice oozed with satisfaction, reminding me once again of the humiliation I'd endured, as though he delighted in twisting the knife.

I bit back the immediate retort that sprang to my lips, forcing myself to breathe, to steady the rage bubbling in my chest. But I couldn't let him win this exchange. 

Not tonight. Not when the wounds were still so fresh. 

"If you must know," I began, my voice steady but cold, "I was with my sworn protector." I tilted my head, daring him to react. "You know, the tall, muscular, handsome one."

Aemond's jaw clenched ever so slightly, a flicker of irritation flashing in his eye before he caught himself. 

I pressed on, stepping closer, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. "Or rather, I was under him as he ravaged my body. Devotedly."

The satisfaction that bloomed in my chest as his expression darkened was fleeting but delicious. 

His lips pressed into a thin line, and I smiled, triumphant. For once, I had broken through that impenetrable façade.

But the victory was short-lived.

Aemond's eye burned with something darker as he stepped forward, closing the gap between us until his towering frame cast me completely in shadow. 

His voice, when it came, was low, almost a growl. "You expect me to believe you find comfort in the arms of a lowborn guard? Really, princess?"

His disdain was palpable, but I held my ground, my chin lifting defiantly. 

"I find comfort wherever I please, dragon." My words were sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. "Not that it's any concern of yours."

His soft chuckle sent a shiver down my spine, though there was no humour in it. "You'd rather debase yourself with that brute than stand beside a prince?" 

His eye narrowed, his gaze as sharp as a blade. "Do you not understand the insult you hurl at me with every breath you take? Or perhaps you're too proud to admit that you'd be lucky to marry into my family."

"Marry into your family?" I let out a harsh, bitter laugh, fueled by the anger that pulsed like a second heartbeat in my chest. 

"Why would I ever want that? So I could spend my days staring at your smug face, listening to your incessant prattle about duty and bloodlines? I'd rather choke on sand."

The twitch of annoyance in his jaw betrayed his tightly controlled exterior. "Careful, princess," he warned, his voice a quiet, dangerous thing. "You forget your place."

"And you forget," I hissed, rising onto my toes to bring my face closer to his, my breath mingling with his, "that I am not one of your obedient little court ladies who will grovel at your feet because you're a prince. I am Dorne, and I will never be yours."

His gaze locked onto mine, the tension between us crackling like lightning before a storm. "Is that so?"

"Yes," I said, my voice razor-sharp. "I'd rather bed my guard a thousand times than spend one moment pretending you hold any power over me."

His eye darkened, and I felt the shift in the air between us. His nostrils flared, his breathing coming heavier as he stepped even closer, his presence overwhelming. 

"You think that because your brother wields a sword better than most men, that it makes you untouchable? That your pride is a shield against what's to come?" His voice was low, a threat woven into every word. "You are mistaken."

I didn't back down, my heart raced, the fury building, spiralling into something I didn't want to acknowledge. 

"And you think," I shot back, my voice quaking with barely restrained rage, "that because you beat my brother in a tournament, you can take whatever you want? You're nothing but—"

Before I could finish, Aemond's mouth crushed against mine, silencing me in a violent collision. 

The kiss was fierce, full of the frustration and tension that had been building between us. I froze for a heartbeat, caught off guard by the intensity, but then something in me snapped. 

My body reacted on instinct, my hands flying to his chest as I kissed him back just as hard, just as furious.

His hands gripped my waist, pulling me against him with a possessive force that made my breath hitch. I responded in kind, my fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic, tugging him closer as if I could somehow get under his skin, claw my way into his control and shatter it. 

Our kiss was more a battle than anything else, lips and teeth clashing as if we were trying to dominate one another, to win something that neither of us could name.

Aemond growled low in his throat, his grip on me tightening as he backed me up against the cold stone wall. I barely noticed the discomfort, too consumed by the fire between us. 

His lips were hot, demanding, and I met him with equal ferocity, my hands moving up to tangle in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan against my mouth.

For a moment, all I could hear was the sound of our heavy breathing, the taste of him filling my senses, and the feel of his body pressed against mine. 

The anger was still there, but it had shifted into something electric, something that had been building for far too long.

Just as quickly as the kiss had started, Aemond pulled back, his breath ragged, eye blazing as he looked down at me. His lips were swollen, the sharp edges of his usual composure softened in the heat of the moment. 

I stared back at him, my own chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath, hands still gripping the front of his tunic.

There was a long, tense silence, the air between us thick with the weight of what had just happened. 

Neither of us spoke, both too stunned by how quickly the argument had spiralled into something else entirely. My heart was racing, still caught between the lingering anger and the undeniable pull I felt toward him.

"You—" I started, my voice hoarse, but he cut me off, his hand coming up to cradle my face, his thumb brushing against my cheek.

"You wanted to forget, didn't you?" he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "Well, princess, I think I can help with that."

I opened my mouth to snap back at him, but the words caught in my throat. 

Instead, I did the only thing I could in that moment—I kissed him again, this time slower, more deliberately, but no less intense.

Aemond responded instantly, his hands moving to pull me even closer as if he were afraid to let go, afraid of what might happen if he gave me a moment to think. 

And maybe he was right because as much as I wanted to hate him, as much as I should have hated him, right now, all I wanted was to lose myself in the fire we had ignited.

Forgetting had never seemed so tempting.

A/n - Whilst writing I envisioned Alaric as Harald Sigurdsson (Leo Suter) in Vikings Valhalla so that may or may not have heavily influenced having him be the fling for the reader xx

Enchanted tag list - @mamawiggers1980 @shilphy87 @esposadomd @targaryendestiel @deepeststarlightmoon

[doodle-pops]

My Sweet Kitty

Námo x reader

A/N: My first ever fluffy Námo fic since I post a bunch of headcanons for him. I know I don’t write much for the Ainur in terms of fics (apart from Eönwë), so I hope this can be a start.

Warnings: none, fluff, humour

Words: 1.1k

Synopsis: You attempt to convince Námo of his feline qualities.

“You know, for someone who has a dog, you radiate a feline persona.”

Your words lingered in the air, suspended like taut strings on the brink of snapping, as you awaited a reaction from your solitary audience. Abruptly, Námo turned his head sharply, his gaze ready to unleash a torrent of his pent–up irritation in response to your comment about his personality. While he had grown accustomed to his siblings’ jibes and prods, ever since love happened to him, this peculiar emotion he sensed in your words struck him deep. It nestled in his chest, a discomfort that resonated in his ears, a subtle insinuation that his persona was unappealing.

His gaze bore into you, his expression a canvas painted with a myriad of unsaid thoughts, as you chuckled and affectionately patted his dog’s head. Watching as your laughter unfurled as you sat on the floor for reasons unknown, he couldn’t help but perceive a certain angelic quality about you. Yet, the ache in his heart remained, uncertain whether your words were intended as an insult or a compliment.

“What,” he began, pausing to draw in a deep breath before continuing, “do you precisely imply by labelling me a ‘cat person’ instead of a ‘dog person’?” His viridian eyes remained fixed on you, the intensity of his gaze drilling into your consciousness, as he awaited your laughter to subside and for you to respond to his pressing query.

Clutching your stomach, consumed by laughter, you were lost in a fit of reliving the scene repeatedly, momentarily forgetting his looming question. Even his dog, Gorgumoth, seemed captivated, nestled beside you, basking in the ripples of your amusement and the gentle head pats he received amidst the spectacle. It took five minutes of Námo’s impatient staring and his unwavering scrutiny for you to regain your composure, wiping a tear away before offering another comment. “Oh, dear, if only you could have witnessed your expression—the way your head whipped around, I could have sworn it was on the verge of snapping!”

Unimpressed by the lack of attention and cheerfulness in your response, Námo made another attempt to seek an answer to his inquiry. “Care to elaborate on the meaning of your statement?”

“Oh?” Your surprise was palpable, as his insistence on uncovering the concealed truths behind your words caught you off guard. Typically, he would have rolled his eyes or showcased his exasperation at your whimsical antics; after all, your hyperactive and eccentric nature stood in stark contrast to his reserved demeanour. “Well, um, it essentially signifies that your persona bears resemblance to the behaviour of a cat. Interestingly, people who exhibit such traits are often inclined to prefer cats over dogs due to the shared attributes.”

Námo’s gaze remained fixed on you, his viridian eyes still piercing with curiosity and a hint of annoyance. Your explanation seemed to have made some sense to him, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. His dog, still enjoying the attention you were providing, nuzzled closer to you as if to endorse your presence.

“So, you’re saying that my behaviour resembles that of a cat?” Námo inquired, his tone slightly incredulous.

You nodded, your laughter finally subsiding as you caught your breath. “Yes, that’s the gist of it. Cats are often seen as more independent, aloof, and sometimes a bit mysterious. And, well, you do have some of those traits.”

Námo’s expression didn’t change much, though you could detect a flicker of introspection in his eyes. He seemed to be mulling over your words, possibly reflecting on how he came across to others. “I suppose I can see the similarities,” he admitted reluctantly.

You grinned, glad that he was taking it in stride. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Cats are also elegant, and intelligent, and they have a certain air of mystery that’s quite intriguing.”

His lips twitched ever so slightly, hinting at a small, rare smile. “You have a way of turning a potentially insulting statement into something...intriguing.”

“That’s my special talent,” you said with a wink. “But don’t take it too seriously dear. It was just a playful observation.”

Námo’s demeanour seemed to soften as he leaned back, his dog now fully sprawled out beside you. “I’ll keep that in mind. And for the record, I do appreciate both cats and dogs for their unique qualities.”

You chuckled. “Good to know. So, do you think you’re more of a cat person now?”

He rolled his eyes, but the hint of amusement in them was hard to miss. “Let’s not push it.”

“Aw, come on now Námo! There’s no harm in being considered as a cat,” you playfully whined as you removed yourself off the floor and strolled over to where he sat, draping yourself all over his shoulders. Lifting your finger to bump his nose, you grinned before kissing the tip and chuckled as he lazily blinked like a cat. “You know, cats are also known for saying, ‘I love you’ when they blink slowly. Tell me, was that a confession?”

Throwing you an exasperated look that screamed ‘Don’t push it,’ he unconsciously inched his head closer to your lips. It was a routine habit of his: deny enjoying or wanting kisses while pushing his head in for more. He was indeed your feline. “I have no idea what you speak of,” he softly muttered, still inching his head closer and staring at your lips.

“You’re not as smooth as you consider yourself to be, Námo.” You chuckled. “You’re displaying all the qualities of a kitty right now—so needy for a kiss.”

Your statement was the worst thing you could say to ruin the moment, and his head jerked away from your lips, facing front. Recomposing himself after the accidental slip–up, he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and picked up his quill to resume his writing, as though nothing transpired between you two moments ago. He was indeed a kitten, getting all bashful and ignoring one’s presence after a confrontation. But you couldn’t resist dipping your head in to land a kiss on his cheek despite his low grumblings about you distracting him.

Leaning in, you whispered near his ear, “You’re more adorable than you realise.”

Námo’s cheeks flushed, and he coughed softly, clearing his throat as if to regain his composure. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

You grinned mischievously. “It’s part of my charm. And who knows, maybe one day you’ll embrace your inner cat entirely.”

He glanced at you, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “You’re pushing it.”

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[zer0pm]

Imagine Luis using a jacket to protect you both from the rain.

“I’m back! Did you miss me?”

Your head snaps up at the sound of his voice and you rush over to his approaching form with haste. Luis spreads his arms wide, ready to accept your warm embrace with sincere enthusiasm. What he got knocked the air out of him. Literally- his breath escapes him as your fist connects with his gut.

“Mierda… that’s a good one…” he groans, hunching over in pain.

“You asshole!” you scold him, ignoring his snark. “I thought you were dead! I saw Mendez dragging you away!”

“C’mon, my friend. Have a little faith,” Luis huffs, his signature grin returning to his face once he recovered to a standing position. “So long as they know I’m the one who hid The Amber, I’m untouchable.”

You had an unamused expression on your face, reaching up to poke at the evident bruise swelling on his forehead. The man winces under your touch but does not move away, a slightly guilty smile on his lips.

He shrugs, “Yes, well- uh, mostly untouchable.”

Although you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the Spaniard’s breathtaking talent for witty remarks in dangerous situations, you were mostly relieved that he was okay. The feeling of water droplets pouring on your head brings you back to awareness of where you both were standing. Lowering your hand from Luis’ head, you latch onto his wrist.

“We should get out of the rain. Hide it out somewhere safe until we figure out our next move.”

Luis nods in agreement, “An excellent idea. Oh, un momento-”. Taking advantage of your grip, he effortlessly pulls you closer to his side. The weather was damp and the air was chilly, but Luis’ breath upon your cheek warms you.

The sudden closeness throws you off guard and you were about to question his actions until a distinctive shadow looms over you both, blocking out the downpour. You glance up to see Luis’ hands holding some sort thick faux fur lined with leather over your heads.

“Stay close,” he advises, each word fanning down the skin of your neck and cheek. “I don’t plan on separating from you again.”

Against the chilly wind and rain, your temperature grew hot, both from the dark-haired man’s close proximity to you as well as his words that made you shudder with heat. He thought you were shivering and inched himself closer against your side. You had no choice then but to wrap your arms around him to stay under the protection of the-

Huh?

Now that you were looking at it, Luis was using a jacket. A jacket that was most definitely not his. The fine brown leather and fur lining was a tell that it most likely did not belong to any of the locals either. The style was too modern. So where did this come from?

“Luis,” you began to ask, “what is- whose jacket is this?”

You hear him chuckle under his breath, the sound coming off like he was revisiting a funny memory. When you glance at his from your peripheral vision, you spot a glint of intrigue in his reminiscent eyes, matching the lopsided smirk characteristic to his sly demeanor.

For a good minute, he doesn’t answer you. When he finally does, there was no mistaking the amusement laced in his voice. “My new friend. Sancho Panza.”

That’s all he said. Of course, you follow-up with more questions, but Luis was a master at evading inquiries with vague responses. The only information you were able to gather was that this new friend came to the village looking for someone but your companion purposefully leaves out the details of how they met as well as how they separated. Eventually, you two come across an abandoned house and that was when you dropped the subject for time being.

Once inside, you moved to detach yourself from Luis, but he stops you. Maneuvering his arms in an almost elegantly dramatic fashion, he drapes the jacket over your shoulders. At his insistence, he helps you slip your arms through the sleeves. Thanks to your shared body heat, the inside was pleasantly warm, a welcome relief against the drafty chill in the air. The dark-haired man then tugs at the fur collar, securing the jacket on your frame, pulling you closer in the process.

At the sight of the blooming blush on your cheeks, the suave man winks at you before stepping away wordlessly. You had to stop yourself from leaning in after him, but your slight tilt did not go unnoticed. His smirk widens.

After the two of you secured the area, you settled down in the first floor and indulged in the brief respite. Luis’ capture threw a wrench in your shared plan to escape, but Luis, ever the optimist, assured you that you were still on course. As you hashed over the details on how to recover The Amber and meet up with Luis’ informant for safe passage, gunshots and screams were heard from the distance.

You rise up from your seat in alarm and look out the window to see two blonds, a man and a woman heading your way, both ardently being chased by a mob of infected villagers. “Luis, look! Survivors. We have to help them.”

Your companion leans his head over your shoulder to follow your line of sight. Against your ear, you hear him curse softly in his native tongue.

“You were bound for an introduction, I suppose.” he scoffs. You didn’t get a chance to ask him what he meant as he left your side to rush over to the door. He pries the wood open and waves at the running pair to come inside. Not long after they were ushered in the house and you and Luis barricaded the door, the blond man takes note of your companion’s presence.

“You,” the man glares, disdain dripping in his firm tone. He stomps towards Luis, the latter backing up with each approaching step.

“Hey,” Luis greets nervously, playing up his sly charm you oft see him use to get himself out of trouble that he’s landed himself in. “Listen, about earlier-”

The angry blond pins the Spaniard against the far wall with a strong fist, “Yeah, about that.”

Curiosity got the better of you, “Luis, who is this?”

Your voice rips the blond man’s attention away from Luis, redirecting it now towards you. His cold eyes scan over your face with analytical wariness until they relented to something akin to genuine surprise upon noticing the article of clothing on your person. His expression filled in the details that Luis purposefully omitted behind the story of the jacket. The gears in your head clicked into place. It was your turn to throw an accusatory glare at the Spaniard.

“Did you-” you started before sighing, pinching the bridge of your nose. You approached the two men, an apology on the tip of your tongue as you shifted to remove the jacket and give it back to the stranger as a show of good will, but Luis’ voice stops you in motion.

“No hagas eso. Keep it on, it looks good on you.” The Spaniard interjects, grinning playfully at you. His grey eyes then glance back at the blond expectantly who still had his uncertain gaze on you. “Our new friend thinks so too. Eh, Sancho?”

[nayziiz]

Reckless | CS55

Summary: Via finds herself caught up in office politics and encounters Carlos Sainz Jr., the intimidating son of her boss. Despite her initial reluctance, she is drawn into a web of intrigue surrounding the Sainz family and their business empire. As tensions rise and secrets unravel, Via and Carlos grapple with professional challenges, personal relationships, and the allure of forbidden romance. Via must navigate the complexities of power, ambition, and desire, ultimately confronting difficult truths about those around her in a world where appearances can be deceiving and loyalties tested.

Warning: Violence, blood, alcohol, smut, fluff, guns

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC (Via Driscoll) - appearances from other drivers

Masterlist

Chapter 2

As the clock ticked down to the quarterly business meeting, Julia and Eleanor were in a frenzy of activity, hurrying to ensure that everything was in order before the impending deadline. With less than thirty minutes remaining, they dashed about the executive suite, orchestrating last-minute preparations and double-checking every detail to guarantee a seamless presentation. The air crackled with tension as they worked tirelessly to meet the looming deadline, their determination unwavering in the face of the impending challenge.

“What time are the drinks arriving?” Eleanor inquired, her voice tinged with urgency as she glanced over at Via, who was diligently setting out notepads and pens in the boardroom.

“They'll be here shortly before 11.” Via replied, her tone calm and assured despite the flurry of activity around her.

She focused intently on her task, ensuring that every detail was attended to in preparation for the upcoming meeting. With time ticking away, Via remained steadfast in her commitment to ensuring the meeting's success, her professionalism unwavering in the face of the mounting pressure.

As Via and Eleanor conducted a final sweep of the boardroom to ensure that everything was in place for the quarterly meeting, Via couldn't shake the sense of unease that had settled over her. She couldn't understand why Mr. Sainz had specifically requested her presence, as she had never been included in his meetings before. Via's attention was drawn to an extra chair positioned to the left of Mr. Sainz's seat. Instantly, her curiosity was piqued. Being privy to the guest list for the meeting, Via realised that the additional chair was not accounted for. 

A sense of apprehension washed over her as she exchanged a meaningful glance with Eleanor, silently acknowledging the anomaly. With a furrowed brow, Via couldn't help but wonder what unexpected developments lay ahead as she took her position in the corner of the room, the mystery of the extra chair lingering in the back of her mind.

“Who else are we expecting?” Via inquired, her curiosity getting the better of her as she turned to Eleanor, seeking clarification.

“Mr. Sainz Jr. will be joining the meeting this morning.” Eleanor hesitantly answered, her tone betraying a hint of uncertainty.

“Is he going to be working for the company?” Via pressed further, her brow furrowing in concern as she contemplated the potential implications of Carlos Sainz Jr.'s presence in the meeting.

“What’s with all the questions, Via?” Eleanor countered, her frustration evident in her tone as she glanced at Via, clearly impatient with her inquiries.

“I’m just curious. Julia said he never used to be involved in the business.” Via responded, her voice tinged with a sense of intrigue as she sought to understand the sudden shift in Carlos Sainz Jr.'s role within the company.

“She’s right, but he’s going to be more involved moving forward. His father is looking forward to teaching him about the business, so the rest of us don’t have much of a choice than to tolerate him.” Eleanor explained, her impatience fading slightly as she offered Via some insight into the situation.

As if on cue, Mr. Sainz Sr. entered the boardroom, his presence commanding attention as he strode purposefully into the room. Via watched as Eleanor, who was at his side almost instantly, exchanged a subtle glance with him, their silent communication speaking volumes about their close rapport.

Via couldn't help but marvel at the synchronicity between Mr. Sainz and Eleanor. In the few times she had been around them together, she had observed how they moved in perfect harmony, as if they were two halves of the same whole. Mr. Sainz always ensured Via was comfortable, whether it was by offering her a seat or ensuring she had refreshments. Their connection was palpable, a testament to the deep bond forged over fifteen years of working closely together.

As Mr. Sainz took his place at the head of the table, Via couldn't shake the sense of awe at witnessing their seamless partnership, their ability to anticipate each other's actions and thoughts a testament to the strength of their relationship. It was a dynamic that commanded respect and admiration, leaving Via with a newfound appreciation for the power of true collaboration.

As Mr. Sainz whispered something to Eleanor, Via couldn't help but notice the sense of urgency in their exchange. Moments later, Eleanor swiftly joined Via in the corner of the room, her expression serious as she relayed the message to Via. 

“Listen to me carefully, Via.” Eleanor stated firmly, her tone leaving no room for misunderstanding as she grabbed Via’s attention. “Everything said during this meeting is strictly confidential. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Via replied, her voice steady as she nodded in acknowledgment.

“Mr. Sainz is going to be testing your loyalty, and if any information leaves this building today, you will be the prime suspect.” Eleanor continued, her words carrying a weight of seriousness that made Via's heart skip a beat.

“Understood, Ms. Pope.” Via agreed, her determination evident as she braced herself for the challenge ahead.

“You do not speak unless spoken to. You stay in this corner with me unless you’re pouring the guests a drink.” Eleanor added with her instructions leaving no room for deviation as she outlined Via’s role in the meeting.

Via's heart raced with anticipation as she absorbed Eleanor's words, her mind racing with possibilities about what Mr. Sainz's whispered instructions could mean for the meeting.

Their conversation was interrupted as the refreshments for the meeting arrived, drawing their attention back to the task at hand. Via and Eleanor quickly made their way to the table, their movements synchronised as they busied themselves with arranging the refreshments for the attendees.

Across the room, Mr. Sainz watched the two women intently, his gaze penetrating as he observed their interactions. Via couldn't help but feel a sense of scrutiny under his watchful eye, a reminder of the gravity of the situation unfolding before them.

Via shifted her focus to the arrival of the first guests as they entered the boardroom and took their seats. With a warm smile, she and Eleanor greeted the executives, their demeanour poised and professional as they welcomed each attendee.

Grabbing a bottle of champagne, Via moved gracefully among the guests, pouring the sparkling liquid into their flutes with practised precision. Soon, the boardroom was filled with the sound of chatter and the clinking of glasses as everyone settled into their seats, anticipation hanging heavy in the air.

As the meeting commenced, Via couldn't help but notice the empty chair reserved for Junior, its significance not lost on her. With Eleanor by her side, she observed Senior rise to his feet, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension as she prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead.

"Good morning, everyone. I’m pleased to see that you all could make it. I know your schedules are quite full at the moment," Mr. Sainz greeted the attendees, his voice carrying a commanding presence that demanded everyone's attention.

Via couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as she listened to Mr. Sainz speak. His authoritative tone and confident demeanour made it clear that he was a force to be reckoned with. Despite her intuition and observational skills, Via found it difficult to read him, his demeanour shrouded in an air of mystery that left her feeling uncertain and apprehensive.

Via remained vigilant, keenly aware of the weight of Mr. Sainz's words and the implications they held for her future within the company. With each passing moment, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being tested, her loyalty and integrity hanging in the balance as she navigated the complexities of corporate intrigue and personal ambition.

“We have an exciting few weeks coming up. We have our annual charity gala happening in a few short weeks and, as far as I can tell, it’s coming together quite well.” Mr. Sainz announced, his gaze shifting down to his notes as he spoke.

Via listened intently, her attention fully focused on Mr. Sainz's words. The mention of the upcoming charity gala sparked a glimmer of excitement within her, despite the tension that hung in the air. She couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at being involved in such a prestigious event, even if her role was primarily behind the scenes.

As Mr. Sainz continued to outline the details of the gala, Via's mind raced with thoughts of the preparations that lay ahead. With each passing moment, she grew more determined to ensure the success of the event, her dedication to her work unwavering.

A brief knock at the door interrupted the meeting, capturing everyone's attention. Eleanor nudged Via, prompting her to answer the door. As Via opened it, she was met with the gaze of Junior, his pebble brown eyes locking with hers for a moment before he entered the boardroom and took his seat beside his father.

“Nice of you to join us, son.” Mr. Sainz remarked casually before continuing down his agenda. “Then later this week, Eleanor and I will be travelling to Spain to check in with our Barcelona branch.”

Via couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue at the mention of the Barcelona branch, her mind already racing with thoughts of the upcoming trip and the potential implications it held for the company.

“Navy blue suit, dotted navy tie.” Eleanor whispered to Via, her voice barely audible as she discreetly pointed out the man sitting next to Junior.

Via nodded in understanding, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took note of the man's attire. She understood the significance of Eleanor's instructions and was determined to carry them out with precision.

“Keep filling his glass. He's inclined to be more cooperative after a few drinks.” Eleanor added, her tone low and deliberate as she emphasised the importance of their strategy.

Via maintained her composure as she made her way down to where the man sat, her smile warm and professional as she caught his eye. As she poured the champagne into his glass, she felt a jolt of discomfort when the man's hand rested on the small of her back, his touch unwelcome and intrusive.

The action didn't go unnoticed by Junior, who shot Via a glance filled with icy disdain, clearly displeased by the man's inappropriate behaviour. In a silent display of solidarity, Junior nudged his champagne flute across the table for Via to pour into, a subtle gesture that did not escape her notice.

Grateful for Junior's intervention, Via poured the champagne into his glass, her nerves easing slightly as she glanced down at him. Despite his outward appearance of calm and collectedness, there was an underlying tension simmering beneath the surface, a silent promise of retribution for any further transgressions against her. 

“Thank you.” Junior murmured under his breath, his voice barely audible but loud enough for Via to hear.

With a small nod of appreciation, she resumed her position in the corner of the room, her focus sharpened as she continued to observe the proceedings with unwavering determination.

“And, as you have all seen, my son, Carlos Jr., will be working under me as he learns the business.” Mr. Sainz continued, his announcement drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

All eyes darted to Junior as Mr. Sainz spoke, and Junior responded with a confident smile, acknowledging the scrutiny with a sense of self-assurance. Despite the weight of expectations placed upon him, Junior remained composed, his demeanour poised and confident as he prepared to embark on his new role within the company.

Via couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue at the revelation, her thoughts swirling with questions about the implications of Junior's newfound position. With each passing moment, the dynamics within the room shifted, setting the stage for a new chapter in the company's journey, one in which Junior's presence would undoubtedly leave a lasting impact on the future direction of the business.

“Why, sir? Are you planning a sabbatical of some kind?” The man next to Junior asked, his interruption causing a ripple of curiosity to sweep through the room.

“I assure you, Henry, I will not be going anywhere.” Mr. Sainz stated firmly, his tone laced with dry amusement as he addressed the impertinent question. “He wishes to be more involved in his family’s business, and I am happy to mentor him.”

Via observed the exchange with keen interest, noting the subtle shift in Mr. Sainz's demeanour as he responded to the man's inquiry. Despite the interruption, Mr. Sainz remained composed and in control, his unwavering commitment to the company's success evident in his response. With each passing moment, Via's admiration for Mr. Sainz's leadership only grew, solidifying her determination to follow his example and excel in her own role within the organisation.

Eleanor's almost imperceptible eye roll did not escape Via's notice, a silent acknowledgment of the frustration simmering beneath the surface at the need for Mr. Sainz to justify his son's presence to his subordinates. Via couldn't help but sympathise with Eleanor's sentiment, understanding the delicate balance of power dynamics within the corporate hierarchy. The fact that Mr. Sainz felt compelled to address the question spoke volumes about the complexities of familial relationships in the context of business, highlighting the intricacies of navigating personal and professional boundaries.

“On a less joyful note, we are faced with a continuous issue that is yet to be resolved. This was the case at the last quarterly meeting too.” Mr. Sainz continued, his tone shifting to one of seriousness as he addressed the room.

“On several occasions, we have seen confidential business information be leaked to the media, which has resulted in an unstable stock exchange and a loss of profits across numerous departments. My question is, why has this not been resolved? Did I not ask you to find the leak and take the appropriate steps to resolve the problem?” Mr. Sainz's voice held a note of frustration as he demanded answers from his team.

Via felt a sense of unease settle over the room as Mr. Sainz addressed the issue head-on, his words underscoring the gravity of the situation. The implications of the leaks were far-reaching, with potentially dire consequences for the company's financial stability and reputation.

As Mr. Sainz's gaze swept across the room, Via couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her colleagues, knowing that the pressure to find a solution weighed heavily on each of them. With each passing moment, the urgency of the situation became increasingly apparent, leaving Via with a sense of determination to do whatever it took to help resolve the issue and restore stability to the company.

“Sir, it’s not so easy to just find the leak.” Henry countered, his voice firm as he addressed Mr. Sainz, causing a ripple of attention to sweep through the room as everyone glanced in his direction. “All the departments have launched internal investigations which have yet to deliver any substantial evidence.”

Henry's words hung heavy in the air, his candid assessment highlighting the challenges inherent in uncovering the source of the leaks. Via couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy for her colleague as he spoke, recognizing the immense pressure he must be under to address the issue.

As the tension in the room mounted, Via braced herself for Mr. Sainz's response, knowing that the outcome of the meeting hung in the balance.

“Then try harder.” Mr. Sainz quipped, his tone edged with frustration as he pushed back against Henry's explanation.

“Mr. Sainz, we can’t just fire persons we suspect without any reliable evidence counting in our favour. The investigations need to run their course, and we will go from there.” Henry countered, his response firm but respectful as he defended the cautious approach to handling the situation.

Via observed the exchange with a mixture of apprehension and admiration, recognizing the delicate balance between Mr. Sainz's demands for action and Henry's commitment to due process. The tension in the room was palpable as the two men squared off, each advocating for their respective positions with unwavering determination.

“If you, and your departments, are incapable of conducting a simple investigation, perhaps I should get a third-party investigator in to assist. Perhaps that will lighten the burden on you, Henry,” Mr. Sainz spat, his frustration evident in his tone. “You would think three months would provide you with sufficient time to have at least some leads, but even that seems impossible. Have we truly appointed a bunch of fools to run the departments, or am I hallucinating?”

A chill ran down Via’s back as she listened to the CEO threaten his employees. Despite his harshness, Via couldn't help but acknowledge that he had a point. After three months of investigation, there should have been at least some progress made in uncovering the source of the leaks.

“Mr. Sainz, I assure you, we are trying our best to-" Henry attempted to reason, but Mr. Sainz cut him off abruptly.

“Not to worry, Henry. I will take the necessary measures to ensure this matter is dealt with as soon as possible. We can’t keep losing money as a result of your tardiness.” Mr. Sainz snapped, his tone final and uncompromising as he asserted his authority.

The room grew eerily quiet as the individuals around the table refused to meet the CEO’s eyes, their silence hanging heavy in the air like a palpable tension. Despite the subdued atmosphere, Junior remained a passive bystander, observing the heated meeting with a calm detachment that belied the intensity of the situation.

Via couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as she glanced around the room, noting the strained expressions and tense postures of her colleagues. The weight of Mr. Sainz's words lingered in the air, casting a shadow over the room as everyone grappled with the implications of his ultimatum.

As the gruelling forty minutes of the meeting came to an end, Mr. Sainz finally concluded the proceedings, and a collective sense of relief swept through the room as everyone rushed out, eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere created by the grumpy CEO. Some lingered for a moment longer to greet Junior, undoubtedly hoping to curry favour with the influential figure.

However, amidst the flurry of activity, Carlos's attention was focused solely on Via. While others vied for his attention, he remained fixated on her, his gaze following her movements as she went about clearing the table of empty champagne flutes and discarding crumpled paper balls into the waste bin.

Via couldn't help but feel a sense of unease under Carlos's scrutiny, the intensity of his gaze leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. Despite her discomfort, she remained composed, determined not to let her emotions show as she continued with her tasks, her mind racing with questions about the true nature of Carlos's interest in her.

Via's attention was momentarily diverted from her task as Eleanor's voice rippled through the room, breaking through the tension that lingered in the air. She turned to face Eleanor, her expression attentive as she awaited further instructions.

“Yes, Ms. Pope?” Via responded, her voice steady despite the undercurrent of uncertainty that coursed through her.

“I need you to come with me to Mr. Sainz's office. There are some matters we need to discuss.” Eleanor's gaze lingered on Via for a moment before she spoke again, her tone measured yet inscrutable.

Via's heart skipped a beat at Eleanor's words, a sense of apprehension settling over her as she followed Eleanor out of the boardroom and into the CEO's office. When Via and Eleanor entered Mr. Sainz’s office, they found Junior already in the midst of pouring whisky for his father and himself. The air in the room was thick with tension as Eleanor shut the door behind them, enveloping all four individuals in the confines of the office.

Senior's demeanour was visibly agitated as he threw his notepad down on the desk with a forceful gesture, causing Via to flinch slightly at the sudden movement. The sound echoed in the silence of the room, drawing Junior's attention as he placed his father’s drink down on the coaster on his desk.

“They are fucking imbeciles.” Senior's voice rumbled with palpable frustration, his words laced with contempt as he vented his frustration at the perceived incompetence of his employees. “Three months to conduct an internal investigation? That's unheard of.”

Eleanor, ever the composed presence in the room, wasted no time in addressing her boss's concerns.

“Would you like me to contact the PIs to start investigating?” She questioned, her voice steady despite the tension that permeated the air.

Mr. Sainz's expression softened slightly at Eleanor's offer, a hint of contemplation flickering in his eyes as he considered his next course of action.

“No. There's one more thing I want to do before we contact Verstappen.” He countered, his tone measured yet resolute as he hinted at a plan that had yet to be revealed.

Via listened intently to the exchange, her curiosity piqued by Mr. Sainz's cryptic words. With each passing moment, the anticipation in the room grew, leaving Via with a sense of apprehension about the unknown challenges that lay ahead.

“What’s the plan?” Eleanor wondered aloud, her curiosity mirroring Via's own as they awaited Mr. Sainz's response.

Mr. Sainz glanced briefly at Junior before his gaze settled on Via. With a decisive nod, he made his announcement, his words echoing through the room with unexpected clarity.

“You two will be running the investigation.” He declared, his voice carrying a weight of authority that brooked no argument.

Via's heart skipped a beat at the revelation, her mind racing with a flurry of questions and concerns. She exchanged a quick glance with Eleanor, their shared apprehension mirrored in each other's eyes. Via braced herself for the daunting task that awaited her, knowing that the success of the investigation would depend on her ability to rise to the occasion and prove herself worthy of Mr. Sainz's trust.

“Sir, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Eleanor quickly interjected, her concern evident in her voice as she voiced her reservations about the decision.

Mr. Sainz paused for a moment, considering Eleanor's question before offering his rationale. 

“Two young minds with clear perspectives is all we need. And, if I’m being honest, the leak could have been in that very meeting just now. A mistake will creep in at some point. I just want this handled.” He explained, his tone resolute as he defended his decision. “Will you two help us with this?”

Via felt a surge of apprehension at the weight of the responsibility placed upon her shoulders, but she knew that she couldn't afford to let her doubts overshadow her determination to succeed. With a sense of resolve, she met Mr. Sainz's gaze with unwavering determination.

“Yes, sir.” She agreed, her voice steady despite the uncertainty that lingered in the air.

Carlos, too, voiced his agreement, his expression solemn as he acknowledged the gravity of the task ahead.

“Yes, father.” He affirmed, his commitment unwavering as he prepared to embark on the investigation alongside Via.

As the reality of their new roles sank in, Via couldn't help but feel a sense of determination stirring within her. With Mr. Sainz's trust placed firmly in their hands, she knew that failure was not an option.

“Then it’s decided. Eleanor, will you make sure they have all the information they may need?” Mr. Sainz asked, his voice firm as he addressed Eleanor.

“Of course, sir.” Eleanor nodded in acknowledgment, her efficiency evident as she prepared to assist Via and Carlos in their new roles.

She turned to Via, her demeanour urgent as she grasped her arm, almost pulling her out of the office in her haste to get started on the investigation.

“Leave the girl.” Mr. Sainz requested, his tone softer as he settled back into his seat, signalling the end of the discussion.

Eleanor swallowed hard as she and Carlos exited the office, the weight of the impending investigation hanging heavy in the air. Meanwhile, Via turned back to face Mr. Sainz, her nerves fluttering as she awaited his next words.

“You can come closer, Ms. Driscoll. I don’t bite.” Mr. Sainz chuckled lightly, his demeanour surprisingly relaxed given the gravity of their conversation.

Via feigned a smile as she stepped closer to his desk, her curiosity piqued by his sudden change in tone.

“I’m sure you’re rather overwhelmed with all of this information.” He started, his voice gentle as he acknowledged the daunting task that lay ahead. “When we hire new staff members, we go through an extensive process in confirming their references. You’re one of very few employees who had a squeaky clean background.”

Via's heart skipped a beat at Mr. Sainz's words, her mind racing with a flurry of questions and concerns.

“May I ask where you’re heading with this, sir?” She asked, her voice steady despite the uncertainty that lingered in the air, catching Mr. Sainz by surprise.

“You’re direct. I like that.” Mr. Sainz remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice as he acknowledged Via's straightforwardness. “Eleanor has spoken very highly of you and commended your hard work. That’s why I would like you involved in this investigation. You seem to be quite level-headed, and that’s what I need in someone conducting this investigation. I also thought it would be the perfect opportunity to get Junior involved; a more hands-on approach, if you will.”

Via's heart swelled with a sense of pride at Mr. Sainz's words, her determination to succeed in the investigation growing stronger with each passing moment.

“Certainly, Mr. Sainz. Thank you.” She agreed, her voice steady as she expressed her gratitude for the opportunity.

“Of course, this is a confidential investigation. Not even the executives may know you or Junior are involved. Is that clear?” Mr. Sainz emphasised with his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding.

“Understood, sir.” Via assured him, her commitment to maintaining confidentiality unwavering as she prepared to embark on the investigation alongside Junior.

“Good.” Mr. Sainz smiled genuinely, a rare expression that softened his features. “That is all. Oh, please ask Junior to come in.”

Via nodded in acknowledgment as she rose from her seat, her mind still processing the weight of their conversation. She made her way to the door and opened it, fully expecting to find Junior waiting outside.

However, what she found on the other side was something she had not anticipated. Junior stood in front of Eleanor’s desk, his fists resting on the surface as he and Eleanor exchanged tense glances, the air thick with unspoken tension.

“You best tell your father to keep her out of this.” Eleanor warned, her voice laced with a hint of warning as she locked eyes with Junior, her demeanour unwavering despite the palpable tension between them.

Realising the gravity of the situation, Via quietly clicked the office door shut behind her, determined to prevent Mr. Sainz from overhearing their conversation. With each passing moment, the sense of unease in the air grew, leaving Via with a sinking feeling that there were more secrets lurking beneath the surface than she had initially realised.

“It’s too late, Eleanor. She’s already involved.” Carlos countered, his voice firm as he defended his father’s decision. “When are you going to stop questioning my father’s decisions?”

With a tense silence hanging in the air, Carlos pushed himself off Eleanor’s desk, his movements betraying the undercurrents of frustration and tension that simmered beneath the surface. As he turned towards his father’s office, his gaze inadvertently met Via's, and for a fleeting moment, the intensity in his eyes softened.

“Your father is asking for you.” Via stated softly, her voice breaking through the tension-filled atmosphere as she watched Carlos's demeanour shift, his wound-up body gradually softening in response to her words.

In that brief exchange, Via couldn't help but sense the complexity of the dynamics at play, the underlying tensions between father and son, as well as the unspoken connection that seemed to linger between Carlos and Eleanor.

Despite his softened demeanour, Carlos pushed past Via and entered his father’s office without a word, leaving Via to quietly close the door behind him. As the latch clicked into place, the tension in the air seemed to dissipate, leaving Via alone with Eleanor, whose stance had weakened considerably since Carlos's departure. 

Via approached Eleanor cautiously, concern etched into her features as she observed her colleague collapse onto her chair, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as if she had been holding them in for far too long.

“Is everything okay?” Via inquired gently, her voice laced with genuine concern as she reached out to offer Eleanor some comfort.

Eleanor scoffed at the question, her frustration evident in the sharpness of her tone as she struggled to regain her composure. Despite her outward bravado, Via could sense the vulnerability that lay beneath Eleanor's tough exterior, leaving her with a sinking feeling that there was more to Eleanor's distress than met the eye.

“Yes, Via, everything is perfectly fine. I just love babysitting my boss’s son. And, now you’re saddled up with him too.” Eleanor sarcastically replied, her words dripping with bitterness as Via made her way back to her desk. "As if we don’t have more important things to worry about."

Via couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at Eleanor's pointed remark, knowing that her involvement in the investigation had only added to her colleague's burden. With a heavy sigh, she settled back at her desk, the weight of the day's events lingering in the air like a thick fog.

Later that evening, as Via made her way out of the building, the sound of rain echoed off the pavement, its steady rhythm matching the tumultuous thoughts swirling in her mind. On any other day, she might have welcomed the rain as a soothing reprieve from the chaos of the day, but tonight it felt like an ominous portent of the challenges that lay ahead.

Via couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over her, a nagging sense that the storm clouds gathering overhead were just the beginning of a much larger storm looming on the horizon.

Seeking refuge from the relentless rain, Via hurried into a cosy coffee shop just a block away from the office building. The soothing aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped her as she navigated through the bustling crowd, her thoughts still consumed by the events of the day and the impending interaction with Carlos for the investigation.

Finding solace in a seat close to the window, Via fumbled through her purse in search of her phone, her fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. Though she wasn't completely drenched, her hair glistened with droplets that threatened to obscure her phone's screen as she finally managed to unlock it.

With a sigh of frustration, Via opened the Uber app, only to be met with disappointment as she realised there were no available rides nearby.

“Wonderful.” She muttered under her breath, her irritation mounting with each passing moment.

Resigned to her fate, Via removed her coat and hung it over the back of her chair before scrolling through her contacts in search of Neil's number. Amidst the chaos of the crowded coffee shop, she longed for the comfort of familiar company, hoping that Neil would be able to offer some semblance of solace in the midst of her turbulent thoughts.

“Hey, Via.” Neil answered after a few rings, concern evident in his voice. “What's up?”

“The rain!” Via exclaimed, her voice shaky from the cold as she recounted her predicament.

“Where are you? I'll come pick you up.” Neil offered without hesitation, his willingness to help warmed Via's heart despite the chill in the air.

After providing Neil with her location and directions, Via sent him her exact coordinates and hung up, feeling a sense of relief knowing that help was on the way. She tucked her phone away and rubbed her hands together, attempting to generate some warmth as she waited for Neil's arrival.

As Via glanced out of the window, her heart skipped a beat when she spotted Carlos walking by and entering the busy coffee shop. She instinctively turned away, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters, but she couldn't shake the feeling of his presence lingering in the air like a familiar scent.

Carlos stood in line, patiently waiting to place his order, his eyes scanning the crowded coffee shop until they landed on Via's familiar figure. Despite his efforts to maintain a casual demeanour, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he observed her from a distance. He found himself drawn to her, his curiosity piqued by their brief interactions earlier in the day.

Their eyes met briefly in the reflection of the window, sparking a moment of silent recognition between them before Carlos tore his gaze away, his thoughts consumed by the enigma that was Via. Her voice echoed in his mind, its soothing yet firm tone reminiscent of his mother's, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue.

Meanwhile, Neil entered the coffee shop, his eyes scanning the bustling crowd until they landed on Via. With determination in his stride, he made his way towards her, every effort focused on catching her attention and ensuring her safety amidst the chaos of the storm.

“Via!” Neil exclaimed, his voice cutting through the air and drawing both Ana's and Carlos's attention.

Ana turned to see Neil approaching, a warm smile on his face as he helped her into her coat. Carlos's gaze remained fixed on the interaction, his curiosity piqued by the familiarity between Ana and Neil, and the ease with which they shared physical contact.

“It's freezing, and I really just want to get home.” Ana informed Neil, her voice tinged with a hint of urgency as she leaned into his comforting presence.

Neil nodded in understanding, more than happy to assist his friend in any way he could. As they made their way out of the coffee shop, Carlos quickly grabbed his coffee order and followed behind them, the chill of the night air driving them closer together as they sought warmth in each other's company.

“You're shaking, Annie. I have an extra coat in the car.” Neil observed, concern evident in his voice as he pulled Ana closer to him, offering her the comfort and support she needed in that moment.

As Neil and Via reached Neil's car, Via's gaze wandered to the sleek Ferrari parked next to it, realising it belonged to Carlos. She couldn't help but feel a pang of recognition as Carlos greeted her by her full name.

“Olivia.” Carlos greeted her.

“Hello.” Via responded vaguely, her mind still reeling from the encounter as she hurried into Neil's car, eager to put some distance between herself and Carlos.

Carlos's smile faded into a frown as he watched Via retreat, his thoughts swirling with questions and uncertainties. He climbed into his own car, his expression unreadable as he started the engine and drove off with an air of determination.

Back in Neil's car, Via's unease lingered as Neil buckled his seatbelt, his question hanging in the air.

“Who was that?” He wondered aloud, his curiosity reignited by the unexpected interaction.

“That's the boss's son.” Via explained, her voice betraying a hint of apprehension as she glanced out of the window, still processing the encounter.

“Oh! Well, he is attractive.” Neil chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood with a playful remark. “Maybe you should be a bit nicer to him.”

Via managed a weak smile in response, though her thoughts remained consumed by the enigmatic figure of Carlos Sainz Jr. and the mysteries surrounding him.

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

A long distance

Oneshot Summary; You’d never really done long-distance relationships, but never thought they could be that hard. But now Price is away, deployed for at least two months, and not able to give you much more info than that it could run longer. And you learn it’s hard, really hard.

Pairing: John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 5.8k

Warnings; angst, fluff, suggestive theme but no smut, implied age-gap

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

A/N: AHHHHHHH one step closer for these two to finally get together😭

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

"I'll be gone for two months, perhaps". John's hand runs up and down your spine, some stray water droplets smearing along your skin.

That seems like a short time for deployment. But you keep your thoughts to yourself and don't question John. You angle your face towards him, hair sticking to your naked upper body, still damp from the shower the two of you had taken. "Perhaps?" You ask instead.

"Sometimes things tend to run a bit long", he hums in response, his gaze meeting yours. His hair hasn't dried, still shining and plastered to his head, a drop trickling down his temple. You rise onto your elbow, pressing it into the mattress of his bed, the hand that previously rested on his equally naked chest stopping the watery trail with a swipe of your fingers. It stains his skin in a shiny see-through path down to his beard.

"Okey, good to know".

He'd said it on a Sunday, the one wrapping up your weekend stay at his place. The Sunday a week before the next when his leave wrapped up.

But it hadn't felt like a goodbye. Not when you'd gotten a few more sweet hours with John. You lounged in his bed for a bit longer and John had picked up a book to read as you lay there. You cooked lunch together that you ate on his patio.

It still hadn't felt like a goodbye as you packed your things and headed to the car. Of course, with John carrying your bag. Especially not when he'd dropped it by his feet and caged you in his arms, 'don't you wanna stay a bit longer' whispered in-between kisses.

What felt like a goodbye, however, was yesterday.

Thursday. It was such an ordinarily dull day for the heavy feeling that evening had settled in your chest.

The day began like any other of your working week, getting up at a reasonable hour and going down to have breakfast at your little coffee shop. For an hour or two, you sat there answering inquiries from new and old clients. You walked home after that, sitting in your study for an hour or more before lunch.

The routine would've continued if it hadn't been for the call you'd gotten around two o'clock. You'd happily answered when you'd seen John's name light up your phone.

And yet, the second you'd did, there was something different within his sweet sentence of 'I've got some pastries from your bakery, thought I could come over'.

When you'd swung open your door for him about twenty minutes later, you also saw the difference. Not only had John gotten a trim, his hair cropped, but still just long enough to twirl around a finger at the top. He carried himself differently, shoulders squared and spine straight, standing to his full height.

It's a sweet afternoon and night with John. It always is. But, the difference you noted is ever-present. You initially thought it was the looming presence of his upcoming deployment. It played a part, you came to realise, but it wasn't the sole reason.

Each time you gazed into John's eyes, they didn't feel as deep, as if a wall blocked you from reaching the softness he otherwise offered you freely. He was less expressive but still as, if not more, intense. You wouldn't call it overbearing, but there was an air of authority around him. He sat straighter, never slouching, always facing you enough that your eyes averted more from his blues than usual. You tried to play it off with a shake of your head in reaction to what he said, a dip of when you spoke or something like that.

You also noticed his right arm pressed close to his body, his hand resting just below his waist at the hinge of his hip, fingers tapping against the muscles of his upper thigh. Meanwhile, his other hand rested on the table.

When he talked, his sentences weren't curt but bare, not that John was a poet otherwise, though once again, there was a difference in all noticeable aspects of him tonight. A difference that if he hadn't shown interest in what you'd done the past few days or if you had any plans coming up, you would've given the impression he didn't want to be here.

And then he did something. It was a quick flash, enough that you could've missed it if you blinked. His brows furrowed, eyes narrowing as he tipped his head to the side with a sharp nod to something you'd said. You clocked it then, Captain.

With so close to shipping off, he slipped away from the secure and calm John Price and into the assertive leader of Captain. It wasn't bad, per see. It was still the blue-eyed man you'd gotten to know the last month sitting opposite you, not an alter ego. At the same time, it explained the minimal distinctions you picked up on and the new things you learned about him.

You paid close attention to him the rest of his stay, taking mental notes of what you detected. The most prominent of factors, you realised, was that it seemed he weighed between his off and on-duty self, not settled into either. The more time you spent with him, trading smiles, soft brushes that turned into caresses and later hugs, a kiss on the cheek he returned on your lips as he faced you, you realise gentleness is what he came for. And, the more you showed him, the more he returned.

You and John had laid on the couch for the past hours, watching a few episodes of a series you'd begun following together. He rested behind you, arm slung over your waist for comfort. You felt his deep breathing against the back of your neck. Until now, it had been steady, but then he sighed, the puff of air against your skin working as a silent forewarning as he shifted slightly.

He didn't need to say it. You'd gotten better at reading his signs now.

"Need to head out?" You bring up the subject for him, earning another sigh before he answers.

"Yeah". You shuffled to sit up, glancing down at John as he remained horizontal on the couch, looking up at you. "Don't finish it without me", he mused about the show, currently paused after three episodes. A flash of John, you noted upon the carefree smile toying with his lips directed at you.

"You know I won't". You flashed a smile in return, standing up, John following you as you headed towards the door.

It hit you then, as you watch him step into his shoes and take his jacket from the hanger. John was leaving for two months. You tried not to let your mouth turn downwards. Yet you couldn't help how your eyes flickered to the floor.

"Goodbye, love". It sounded so heartfelt.

Your eyes flickered to meet his gaze and you must've done a piss-poor job at hiding that this was hitting you harder than you'd thought.

"Goodbye, John", you returned, chancing a smile. "Be as careful as you can". He didn't say yes. He didn't nod. But a softness broke through whatever shield he'd slowly started to build to protect himself and others for his upcoming deployment.

Your eyes fluttered close as you stepped up to him, swiftly rising on your feet, arms winding around his neck. You didn't say anything, just hugged him close to you, wanting that last intimacy with John before he left.

His arms encircled your waist, acting as grounding weight as he pulled you even closer. You soaked it in, his warmth, his firm build, the imaginary sensation of his beating heart against yours.

You only pulled away for him to let your hand slide through the finely trimmed hair at his nape to settle beneath his ear, thumb resting on his bearded cheek, pulling him in for a kiss.

It began as a peck from you until John chased after your lips with his. He bowed his head, somehow kissing up into you despite being taller, as he deepened the intimate goodbye enough for your head to tilt back.

'I'll miss you' and 'I'll be waiting for you' rested on your tongue, but rather than parting your lips and pressing your tongue against your teeth to form the words, you swallow, forcing the utter cliches into the growing pit in your stomach. Too desperate, too constricting, according to the rational part of your brain.

"When you're back, will you call when you can?" You parted from John with a tilt of your head, gazing into his eyes with a small, shy smile. It gave him space, time, a choice.

"Will do". It didn't sound like an order taken, not from how the sides of John's eyes creasing preceded the answer. 

Your eyes flickered from his, just for a second, with a slight nod. But those seconds earned you gentle fingers along your lower jaw. His baritone voice, smoothened into a new gentleness, followed the brush of his fingertips. 

"Hey...". John leaned his upper body slightly backwards, hips shifting forwards, his already bowed head dipping to eye-level with you, browse raising just slightly.

God. John didn't need to say more to reveal he noticed the difference in you, much like you'd noted his during the evening. You offered him a small smile in return, earning you a lingering kiss on your lips.

When you parted for the final time, he opened the door and stepped backwards, keeping eye contact with you as his hands buried in his pockets.

You step forwards, gripping the door handle as you give him a small wave before the hand falls to the door's edge. He can't fight off his lips from curving upwards as he spins on his heel.

The image of John's shoulders swaying as he makes his way down your complex's staircase, one of his hands coming up to the back of his head, only to be dragged down the slope of his neck and fall by his side, is the last thing you see of him before his deployment.

....

The first week went by with you processing the feelings John's last visit dropped on you like a stone.

The second week went fine. Just live your life, becoming the mantra.

In the third week, you worked, ate, and went out as if it would've been any other time in your life.

Week four was a good one. Halfway through. You smiled and laughed a lot during this week.

In the fifth week, the intrusive thoughts trickled through, the dangerous what-ifs. You battled them by spending more time at the bar with Marissa, keeping her company on slow days.

She pointed out how you wouldn't have any nails left if you kept up the bad habit. You hadn't even noticed you'd sometimes gnaw at them when falling into the pit of worst-case scenarios.

In week six, you asked Marissa if she needed help in the bar. You knew she saw through your request, knowing it was more a plea than an ask. Nevertheless, she gave you days to come in, three days in the upcoming two weeks.

You knew she did the maths. You'd mentioned when John said he would be back.

In week seven, Marissa took you to a manicure. You felt fresh, good, for once, as you dressed up and spent the night enjoying dinner together.

In week eight, you counted down every day. Every single one until Sunday. It came and then went. And then come Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. 

John wasn't home.

You finally had the breakdown you'd put off for so long.

You'd sat down with your dinner and put on the TV to watch something mind-numbing, only for the first thing to pop up was the series you and John watched. The dams burst then. You couldn't stop the quiver in your lip and watery lines down your cheek. Head dipping, your face fell to your hands as you bent forwards over your crossed legs.

Your chest shook, breaths heaving. You and John weren't anything, no label. You talked, you went out on dates, so maybe you could say you dated. But further than that? You hadn't talked about seeing each other exclusively, not even if it would lead to something down the line. Nothing, really. And here you sat, waiting for him like an emotional fucking wreck.

Your dinner had been tasteless as you put on music rather than the TV. You slept like shit that night, falling asleep harder than it should, tossing and turning, only to wake up throughout the night.

On Thursday, you wake up with crusty evidence of the restless night on your cheeks and the corners of your eyes. When you enter your bedroom, you eye your reflection in the mirror, noting how you look as shit as you feel. At least, you could do something against the former.

You take a shower, the water easing your muscles somewhat. Stepping out of the bathroom with your entire body and hair routine done made you feel like a functioning person.

You walk down to your coffee shop and buy a takeaway with the new pastry, hoping it could lighten your mood. When you settle on your couch, you throw your blanket over yourself as you open your computer, planning on working some while eating your breakfast.

And then your phone goes off.

You glance at it where you'd place it on the table, thinking it's Marissa or another friend, only to see the caller ID displaying neither.

You hurl yourself forwards, laptop slipping off your lap and thankfully to the side of the couch as you practically throw your breakfast plate on the coffee table. You answer the call within seconds of the phone being in your hand.

"John?"

"Hello, love". His greeting immediately soothes your nerves that came closer and closer to tightly drawn strings each day over the two-month mark. "Remember you said I should call when back at base". Your lips curl inwards. You blink, head tipping backwards until you stare at the roof upon the smile you hear in his voice. He's alright. He's back. You feel the tears threatening to come, the relief overwhelming. 

"You there, love?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, just...". You stop yourself from rambling by taking a shaky breath that you slowly release to steady your heart. Trying anew with a relieved smile emerging upon finally talking to John again. "Thought I said you should call me when you had time?"

"Initial debrief all done, so don't matter how long we've been back", he says with a chuckle, making your eyes widen at the implication.

"John, don't say you just got back?" That makes a laugh ring through the speakers from his end, a hearty one.

"Not just. A few hours ago". You shake your head, unable to wipe the smile from your face upon hearing his laugh.

"Surely you have more pressing matters to take care of?"

"They did a med-check", he informs you. "The rest can be dealt with later. Wanted to speak with you". And there you could melt through the floor, all the emotions from the past two months welling into a concoction that welled over upon hearing.

"Happy to hear from you", your voice cracks slightly at the end and you cringe, hoping John didn't catch it. But you know he's observant, perhaps even more tuned in after recently returning from the field.

"How are you?" His question is slow and he must press the phone closer to his face as his deep voice becomes stronger over your speaker.

"I should be asking that question". You chuckle slightly, more out of embarrassment than anything else. That's why you shift attention towards John rather than answer his question. "Did everything go well?" It was a loose formulation of the same question he asked you.

"Mhm, got delayed 'cause we got held up", John says, keeping it vague enough he can indulge you. "Otherwise, yes". You nod as if he could see the action.

"And you, John, the rest, you all doing good?" Even though medics had checked him, that only calmed you enough to know he didn't get any life-threatening injuries or his call came from a hospital bed.

"Alive and kickin' the lot of us".

"Okay, that's good", you sigh, slumping backwards on the couch, finally able to relax. You can hear John exhale on the other side of the phone, shuffling in whatever seat he's in.

"I'll have some things to get done before I can leave, maybe a week more on base, but-". John stops himself and you wait for him to find the words he's searching for. "Thought about stoppin' by once I'm off if you'll let me?"

"God, yes, John, of course you can", you don't hesitate to answer on the brink of being too rushed.

Perhaps that's why you hear a smile in his voice when he replies. "I'll let you know when I've wrapped up before I'm on my way".

"Do so", you nod repeatedly, barely able to get the words out. Feelings slowly start to creep up on you again. You're going to see him. "Lookin' forward to it".

"Me too", you return softly on an exhale, eyes closed.

Speaking your soft bye's, you hang up, yet you sit there, smiling to yourself in the silence.

John's back.

That week was simultaneously the fastest and slowest among the past nine. Compared to the others, you looked forwards to each day, knowing each one meant a day less until meeting John. At the same time, it felt like they could never be over fast enough, time mocking you in your desperate state.

And then, finally, comes the day when calls, 'Leavin' soon, do you want me to make any stops on the way?' You've never breathed out a faster 'No, you're more than enough'. He'd chuckled before you bid your goodbyes.

You cleaned your apartment in the meantime. Not because you wanted to greet John with a casual mess, well, you didn't want that either, but your nerves made you unable to sit still. Bustling around your living space, you cleaned it until it looked almost spotless. The only thing battling the sterile smell of cleanliness was the fragrance sticks you placed about, a gentle vanilla and milky aroma spreading about.

When your doorbell rings, you stop yourself from dashing towards your entrance, not fancying to be out of breath when you greet John for the first time in months.

You take a deep breath on your way to the door. It's been two months, not the first time, so stop acting like this. You took another deep breath as your fingers flipped the lock.

As you opened the door, all previous thoughts went straight to hell.

"Oh, John". He chuckles when you step towards him, engulfing him in a hug. With your arms winding tight around his neck, face burrowing in his neck, his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer.

His warm breath puffs against your shoulder. His firm body wraps securely around you. He smells faintly of body wash and beard oil. John's character comes to life again. He's here.

"Gonna let me in?" He asks but doesn't release you to let you lead him inside.

"Just a little longer", you mumble. That's when you feel something wet touch your lips as they brush John's neck. So does he.

Against your will, John pulls away from you, urging you to do the same with a hand on the back of your head. You have to fight the whine in your throat when you let him pull you out of his neck and for him to see your face.

"You alright, love?" His hand slips to your cheek, wiping away the droplets rolling down your face, worry bleeding into those blues. You nod, yet new wet lines trail down the same path.

"I'm good. It was just-". You clench your jaw as you feel a hiccup rise in your throat. "I-It was harder than I expected", you breathe out.

Something changes in John's eyes and you fear it for a few moments, wondering if this was the last thing he needed just when returning. But he doesn't roll his eyes and he doesn't sigh. John does nothing that suggests he's tired of your antics. Instead, the arm around your waist loosens somewhat until his hand settles on your hip.

John nudges you to step back and you do. Simultaneously, his hand falls from your face and closes the door behind him. The two of you are silent as he steps out of his boots and hangs up his jacket.

You feel small as you watch him with water beading your lower lashes and occasionally creating a fresh trail down your cheek, hands clasped in front of you, standing there as though frozen. But John doesn't push you away as he does, nor ask for you to give him some room. Instead, when he stands straight, he breaks up your wringing hands and links your fingers, leading you into your apartment.

Trailing a few steps behind John, your eyes flitter over his back until he turns, eyes locking. You hadn't noticed he guided you to the couch until he released your hand and sat down. 

He opens his arms wide, motioning for you to sit. You don't shy away from crawling into his lap, straddling his legs and once more winding your arms against his neck, burrowing your face between his neck and shoulder. And much like before, John pulls you near, one arm around your waist and one around your shoulders.

He begins stroking your hair. You feel a never-ending shiver in your body, goosebumps spreading over your arms and legs. John's shirt starts to get damp from the gentle roll of tears down your cheeks. You don't hulk, but your nose slowly gets clogged, making you sniffle.

You sit like that for a few minutes until you calm, tension easing from your limbs, breathing evening out and tears drying up as you finally can take deep breaths through your nose.

John must feel how you melt against him, finally able to relax in his hold since he'd left two months ago.

"Wanna tell me about it?" It's a gentle question and John doesn't urge you to meet his gaze. He solely continues stroking your hair.

You know what it is. It's how you've kept up during his absence. "First month was alright, second I started to worry about you". You stopped there, remembering all the 'what ifs' that plagued you. As if knowing what those entailed, John hums.

"Know those can be hard", he agrees with a rub of his bearded face against the side of your head. A gentle bump of comfort as you still hid away. "How'd you cope?" His voice was soothing, a deep rumble in your ear making you melt further into him.

"Worked. Asked Marissa for a few shifts down at the pub as well", you respond. Once again, John hums before he speaks.

"Didn't overwork yourself, did you?" You shake your head.

"She wouldn't give me more than three shifts a week". You remember how Marissa refused to give you more hours, knowing your proneness to overwork yourself.

"Good", he said matter of factly.

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience", you noted, finally leaning back to face John. His hand on the back of your head slid to cradle the side of your neck.

"I do". John looks up at you, thumb circling a spot on your waist. "With the amount of paperwork I have, it's easy to lose track of time".

You smile, shaking your head. "Said I would take care of you if it's so meant paperwork or not". John chuckles slightly. "And here I am, a fucking mess". No more tears are falling, but you still wipe your lower lashline and cheeks with your sweater.

"It's alright, don't mind it". You let out a burst of choked laughter at the reply.

"Well, it shouldn't. You must be tired and-". John interrupts you as he leans up and kisses you. It's the first one since he's come back and you effortlessly fall into it as John shifts your head to the side with the grip on your neck.

"Havin' you back in my arms is more than enough as a welcome home", he says once parting from you, soft-looking blues gazing at you.

"Still want to do something nice for you". You pout slightly, but John brings his thumb to the edge of your mouth, teasingly tugging it upwards. And you can't, in fact, help but smile at his silly attempt at turning your lips the opposite way.

"There's time for that later, love". He shifts a little, steadying you against his front as his back faces the rest of the couch before he falls backwards, bringing you on top of him. "All I want to do for a moment is to hold you". And there's so much behind his words, which makes you worry he can sense your whole body flush where you rest on top of him. So you shuffle. Not only to hide what his sweet words made you feel but to lay comfortably between his legs instead.

"Okay, I'm not arguing against that right now".

John smiles at you as your hand settles on his cheek, bringing him in for a short kiss.

You lay like that, losing grip on time. But it's needed for you both. John relaxes beneath you as your fingers come to card through the locks at the nape of his neck, his hair longer since the last time you saw him. And you feel each fibre of worry in your body vanish when his fingers, which had found their way under your sweater, trace non-distinctive patterns against your skin.

Occasionally, you press a kiss to his throat, cheek or lips. Other times, John places one against your forehead, the side of your head or mouth.

It's slow as you bask in each other's presence once again. You feel how something grows in the intimate space of falling back into the old, yet there's something new alongside it. You treasure the feeling, but at the same time, you wonder what will come next. It feels like you and John took steps forwards in your relationship when apart. And now, when back together, those steps brought you to this, basking in feelings of unhurried comfort and safety.

A gentle nudge of his nose against yours brings you out for your thoughts.

Your eyes re-focus on John. The ever-present softness in his eyes is accompanied by amusement, probably having noticed your mind wandered not to something that wasn't bad.

"You fancy goin' to the pub?" Your brows raise. Shit, you completely forgot.

"I didn't break a tradition now, did I?" You ask. John only shakes his head.

"You didn't break it. I did". Your mouth falls open as you begin pushing up on John's chest, but before you can speak, he interrupts both attempts by tugging you against him again when he continues his sentence. "And don't start with you bein' the reason, said to the others that I had somethin' else to do before goin' to Marissa's. They overheard our call a week ago, so they knew, said to invite you if I decided to join them". 

You warm at that, unable not to break into a big smile. You're calmer, the void in your chest healing upon having John back, so you nod.

"Yeah, alright, that way, I can say hi to the rest as well". This time, John lets you rise and stand up from the couch after kissing you.

"Will keep them off my back if you do, they've been askin' for you since last time". You glance over your shoulder with an amused look towards John as he sits and then pushes off the plush sitting cushion, following you.

"Have they now?"

"MacTavish's nosey", he said with a shrug. "Can't stop yappin' when bored. Sets of Kyle and for someone who doesn't talk too much otherwise, Ghost enjoys speakin' his mind when the others bring you up".

You chuckle, walking into your bedroom and over to your closet, desiring a change from your sweats into something decent for public settings. As you bend to pull out your pant drawer, you notice John leaning against the doorframe out of the corner of your eye.

You pull out a pair of linen pants, strip your sweatpants and throw them on your bed. In the edge of your vision, you see John shift slightly, arms crossing over his chest, but you also sense his eyes rove over your bare legs. You catch the repressed huffed grunt as they supposedly sweep to your ass and underwear. It's a plain cotton pair, not the 'barley anything there and see-through' kind, but still cutting close to a thong model.

You turn when you pull your pants over your hips, smiling as John's eyes remain cast downwards, latched onto the sight he seemingly enjoyed before you catch the zipper between your fingers, fastening the loose linen in place and hiding any bareness or underwear from him. Only then does his gaze flicker to meet yours.

"You're teasin' me". John accuses you with a cock of his head.

"I'm changing", you reply with a smirk. It wasn't untrue, but you notice how it affected John. In response, he scoffs, his chest puffing out.

You can't help how your eyes dip following the action and continues down his front.

It's been two months since you've seen him and John looks as good as ever. But there was something with him at the moment, something rugged he perhaps hasn't shaken from deployment that still clings to his large frame taking up the entrance of your bedroom.

You'd touch yourself to the image before you, his return and whatever sweet guarantees it promised. It had never been enough, not after all the pleasure his hands, mouth and cock had spoilt you with. Sometimes you'd given up in frustration, puffing as your fingers didn't do it and your vibrator didn't give you the satisfaction you'd hoped. Sometimes, those destroyed moments set the rest of the day afoot.

Your eyes snapped back to John's when he cleared his throat.

"If you continue with that, you can't use dressin’ as an excuse".

You shrug. "You're not the only one who's missed someone's company. My finger doesn’t really cut it anymore". You turn, not before catching John's groan as his head falls sideways with eyes closed, thudding against the doorframe.

"Fuckin' hell love, say things like that and we need to wait before goin' down to the car".

You giggle, the implication of John's words lightening something in your stomach. I wouldn't mind, could take care of it for you, you think.

You beat down the feeling in your stomach and your dirty mind. Instead, you focus on rummaging through your shirt drawer.

"Maybe you should take a drink tonight. Calm yourself. I can drive", you tease John as you pick a white sweatshirt, pulling it over your head. Summer verged on autumn now and the weather was still warm, but evenings got progressively colder.

When your head exited from inside the fabric, John's before you, apparently having wandered from the entrance of your bedroom. And, the second your face is visible to him, his hands settle on either side of your face, bringing you in for a kiss.

"Don't need it when I'm gonna have you later", he kisses you again despite your emerging smile.

"Can you wait that long?" You breathe against his lips.

A low sound ripped itself from John's lungs. "I'm a patient man, love. I can wait if it means I can take my time ruinin' you later". Your lips dropped open around a sharp inhale.

"Fuck..." I missed this. You harshly bit your lips to stop the word from tumbling out. Instead, you glance away, exhaling amusedly. "Maybe I'll need that drink".

Your reply made John chuckle. "You deserve it", he says, hands falling to your waist, making your eyes flitter back to him.

"No, I need it. You deserve it", you return. "You said everything went well whilst away and Marissa bought in an oldie I think you would like".

His brows arch in intrigue. "What kind?"

"A 22-year-old Ardbeg". His brows raise as he whistles, impressed.

"Can't spoil myself like that", he shakes his head, making your eyes roll.

"Then I have found one way to treat you good. And the boys for the matter".

He cock his head, brows knitting together. "Can't let you do that, love".

"Sorry, customer service won't answer until tomorrow morning", you reply, which makes John's head dip with a slight shake.

"Mactavish and Kyle are celebratory drinkers".

"In this instance, I support that. Because they should be when coming home from what seemed to be as successful as deployments come". You nod with a pleased expression making John chuckle as his eyes lock with yours.

"Can't win this one, can I?"

"Nope". You pop the P.

His lips quirk slightly then. "Only think you'll be more popular with the lads".

You giggle, shrugging as you look up at him through your lashes.

John's hand settle on your cheek and you lean into his touch. His thumb brushes your cheekbone before he leans close, your noses touching. He hovers for a few seconds before finally pressing his lips to yours.

You sigh. Yeah, you missed this too. You missed John. Your hands settle on his chest, one promptly sliding to his side, fingers pressing into his shirt as his tongue coaxes yours to play.

When you part, he looks down at you with something so evidently there but something you still can't place. You adore this moment, but knowing the two of you should get on the move not to arrive too late, you try to urge John to come with you as you attempt to step out of his hold. But he only pulls you back.

You look at him for a few beats, silently questioning his action.

"Glad to come back to this, you". John says, voice reaching a new depth.

And despite whatever rational part of your brain had stopped you from saying it when he left, your heart won this time as it melted and coated your reply in something sickly sweet rather than red. 

"Can't be more happy that you're back with me". 

With John's eyes practically shining upon your words, it makes it worth every fucking syllable.

[sushiwrote]

݃　⠀🈳 𓃉⠀⠀．. ★ 𝙳𝙴𝚂𝙸𝚁𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙰𝙸𝚂 𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂𝙻𝙴𝚈 ,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀      𝙻𝙰𝙶𝙾𝚂 , 𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙰  —  𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 :

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀      ⠀ lowercase                             intended.

the putrid and thick smell of burning flesh mingled into his labored breaths as his tired, bloodshot red eyes patterned back and forth in the darkness, searching.

searching for a glimpse of light, any signs of life in the cold space of the damp room, an exit he could find, a random object left behind that he could lean down and grab to pick the lock of these chains or something useful.

his pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out the deafening silence that surrounded him. in it, he could hear the echoes of every memory, every moan, every laugh, that led him to this moment. beaten, bound and chained, on the cusp of death.

even then, akua was still on his mind.

his mind raced with void questions he knew he wasn't likely to get any answers to. things like, was she safe? where did they take her? was she still alive? what seemed to be hours ago, he heard her screams as she was ripped from his grip.

a sudden flashback hit him like a wave. they had been running through the narrow maze of alley ways downtown, as the sound of shouting and gunfire burst behind them. desire turned to see akua's terrified face, her eyes wide with fear.

they almost made it to safety when the men caught up with them, dragging akua away as desire fought desperately to hold on to her. the last thing he saw was her being thrown into a black van before he was knocked out and somewhere along the journey, ended up here.

his fruitless inquiries probed him as he struggled against the rusty uncomfortable chains that bound his arms behind his back. there may have been hope for her; something in his heart refused to believe she didn't make it out without fighting. it could've been the fact that she grew up hard or that she was always street smart and resourceful... but he, on the other hand, was far from safe.

nowhere in the cards did he foresee his flight to lagos all those months ago bringing him to something as sinister and unnerving as this. his intuition was usually right about looming danger and taking precaution of the unfamiliar, but not this time.

this time, his sixth sense failed him. his boundaries dissipated, his moral compass was snatched by her smile. her smell, the way she moved. the taste of her lips, her eyes. her accent, her culture. she held all of his reasoning in the palm of her hands.

he was alone in a room, and the evidence of fear began to settle in. where did he misstep? one minute he was immersed beneath the red strobes of the strip club, his body pressed against the warmth of her beautiful brown skin, and the next, he was tripping over his own two feet. lost, isolated, a wanderer in the world of the unknown.

silently praying for an escape. a blessing, or some relief, to a foreign god. as if answering his plea, the door creaked open, its heavy steel frame moving slowly. this was the first time it had been opened since he was thrown into this hell.

a figure stepped into the room, the blinding light of the world outside casted long, ghoul-like shadows on the graffitied concrete walls. he squinted, trying to make out who was entering. he hadn't caught more than a thirty second glimpse of who captured him before he was out cold. as the figure approached, his heart skipped a beat.

" desire, "  the voice was soft, almost tender.

he recognized it immediately. it was akua. relief washed over him, but it was quickly replaced by his confusion. how did she manage to find him and what had they done to her?

"  akua... baby, thank god you okay,"  he rasped, his voice barely a whisper that croaked from his dry and aching throat.

she stepped closer and closer to him, her face now visible from the door's light, but the look in her eyes wasn't one of concern or fear. her expression was still and she wasn't battered. not so much as a scratch was on her. a visual difference compared to how beat up he was.

she didn't speak as she knelt beside him, her dainty fingers gently tracing the lines of his bruised face. her touch was demure and affectionate as it always was, but it hurt to be touched. his brows drew together as he winced in pain.

something told him that he could hold off on the specifics of asking her what she went through or how did she get away, he was simply happy to see she was alive.

she leaned in, her lips delicately brushing along his jawline, sending a shiver of mixed emotions down his spine. for a brief moment, hope unfurled within him. maybe they would be able to get out in time.

⠀⠀⠀maybe there was still a chance for them to make it.

" do you remember when we met, you told me to use you however i want to? and how you'd do anything for me ? " she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. her voice was a seductive whisper laced with the thick accent of her native tongue and the distinct smell of liquor on her breath.

her collected but eerie demeanor in contrast to his own was telling him more than anything she could've ever said. he was worried, but hesitant. trying to decipher the meaning of her words.

his heart dropped as he struggled to understand where this was going and why she was bringing the past up at a dire time like now. they had bigger things to worry about if they didn't move swiftly.

" of course i do, but why you bringin' this up right now? we should be tryna to get out here... , you been drinkin' ? " he managed to choke out his concerns.

" this isn't a rescue mission... i'm not here to save you from any of this. i'm here to collect on that offer, "  she continued, pulling back slightly, her eyes locking with his.

the sudden realization mercilessly sliced through the fragile hope he had clung to for hours in this hellish confinement.

her words were earthshaking, and he felt as though the ground beneath him was shifting. the weight of her betrayal pressed down on his chest, crushing him.

she wasn't here to help him? was this a setup? maybe their love got lost in translation. blurred somehow, somewhere along the lines of their time together over the last few months. he desperately hoped his sense of understanding was faulty and he was simply in a daze, dreaming, hallucinating—anything to make her words not mean what he thought they did.

" i don't know what they did to you in there kua, but please, babe... we can still make it out of here. we can still do everything we talked about. i promise we can sort all this out later, i'll protect you. just please untie me. " he pleaded, desperation seeping into his voice.

she shook her head slowly, every back and forth motion indicated her pity and evident disgust.

" oh look now, the pathetic sex-crazed american man wants to be my savior. he wants me to run away with him like this is a fairytale, so we can be together forever and live happily ever after. my hero! are you that stupid, desire? you don't get it, do you? this was never a relationship, it was a transaction. "

before he could respond, she straightened her posture, and stood to her feet once again. her curvy figure towering over him in power on all levels but her dismissive gaze never left his desolated one.

" i'm sure you remember all those nights you told me how love isn't worth the trouble, how you swore every woman was the same, how they only saw you as a status symbol because of your fame. you said they only wanted your money and how different i was but you still lied to me just the same. "

she paused, a smirk playing on her lips, her eyes darkening with a knowing look. it was as though his thoughts rushed ten thousand miles a minute, as so much became unknowingly revealed to him.

their once intimate conversations had a special place in his heart, and he had every intention of getting her away from the shallow lifestyle of her career. he knew she was never happy with being a stripper.

he understood what drugs, crime, and sex ultimately led to in the end, but it never crossed his mind that his attempt at bending the truth to protect her would have hurt her like it did.

"  you lied, but i wasn't as naïve as you thought. i knew more than i let you believe i did. if you wanna act confused, i'll let you sit with that. as of right now, understand this: i'm a businesswoman here to collect a debt. let's see how much your love is really worth... "

his eyes followed the slight glint of the silver key tied around her neck, the hope for survival reigniting briefly within him. he knew that key was his ticket to freedom from these chains, from this torment, from lagos, if only he could convince her to use it.

she noticed his gaze and a sly smile spread across her lips. she reached up, fingering the key before dangling it in front of his face, letting it swing teasingly just out of his reach.

" you think this is your way out, don't you? " she purred, leaning in close.

" you're not getting away that easy, baby. not when we've finally got you right where we've wanted you for months. "

the realization hit him harder than any physical blow. she had been playing him from the start, and now, she held all the power. defeated, he couldn't speak another word, desperately trying to find a way to turn the situation in his favor, but every avenue seemed to lead back to her.

✷ SCANNING . . ❘❘ ❙❘❚❘❙ : STAY CONNECTED TO THE STORY ! ❜ ℗

STORY NAVIGATION , sol .

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[natrogersfics]

The Anthology - Chapter 4: I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3

“What did you just say?”

An amalgam of emotions washes over Natasha as she sits in front of her vanity, watching in horror as the moment Steve grabs a paparazzo by the collar replays on her phone. Concern is at the forefront. As anyone who’s spent even the briefest of moments with Steve Rogers can attest to, it takes a lot to get a rise out of him. And while the words of the photographer in the video are too mumbled to make out, she can only imagine what he must have said to elicit this kind of reaction from him.

Then there’s the worry. While she avoids the online gossip rags on principle, with the clip making the rounds seemingly on every platform, it’s hard not to see. And if she can’t escape it, she doubts that Steve can. People may fawn over him left, right, and center these days, but she’s played this game long enough to know that there are also those patiently waiting for the opportune time to cast the first stone against him regardless of the full picture.

Looming large above all, though, is the guilt. While their filming schedule is winding down, what little days they have left on set have only grown more difficult to navigate. Outside of their scenes, she and Steve haven’t spoken to each other since he’d confronted her on her way back to her trailer that day. Even so, the silence between them is nothing short of deafening. On the rare occasion that she allows herself to steal a glance at him, she can still see all the questions swirling in his face. Questions she knows she owes him answers to, but that she can never give. For in the midst of all those inquiries, she can also see vestiges of what she thinks might still be hope. For what, she’s not certain. All she knows is that it doesn’t matter – it can’t – and that she’s the last person that can ever give it oxygen.

At least, that’s what she’s been convincing herself of every night when she heads out the door with her lips lacquered and her clutch in hand and into the flashing lights of one club. Then another.

It’s for the best.

A sigh falls heavily from her lips. Those four words are ones she finds herself repeating like a mantra more than she cares to admit these days. In theory, she knows that they hold true even when it does nothing to stomp out the deep-seated ache in her chest – especially now, as she looks at the screen once more and takes in the way Steve’s posture has gone rigid, his expression incandescent with anger as he stares the photographer down. And not for the first time since she hightailed it out of his rental that night, she catches herself scrolling through her contacts, her thumb hovering over his name.

It’s for the best.

Just as she’s done every other time, she sets her phone back down, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

“Late night?” The question comes from Melina later on as they sit in the back of a town car enroute to her next appearance. Her agent’s tone is a little too pointed for her liking, and she lets her know as much with a sharp glare. Melina brings her hands up as if in surrender, and she just shakes her head as she leans further back into the headrest, closing her eyes. “Are you okay?”

Like a reflex, her response comes to her in an instant, but she bites it back just as quickly. As the lie hangs acridly on the tip of her tongue, she keeps her eyes shut. She would like to think that after decades in this business, she’d be used to this by now. And she is. Saying what people want to hear. Appearing in such a way that people want to see. All of that became second nature to her long ago – her circumstances behind closed doors be damned.

Nevertheless, every now and then, she gives into the nagging craving to speak the truth. “Does it matter?”

As the seconds drag on and her response goes unanswered, she turns to Melina to see the woman already another world away, her ever sharp gaze trained on the screen of her tablet, taking in the details underneath what looks to be a headshot of a petite young blonde with piercing green eyes. As she turns back to watch the busy streets pass by the window, the humorless chuckle that falls from her lips is one she would never in a million years be able to stifle. “Body’s not even cold yet.”

“Natasha,” Melina says, her tone conciliatory now. “You know it’s not like that.”

The car comes to a stop, the relentless clicks of the cameras flashing away outside audible even through the closed windows. The sound only intensifies as her door is opened, but before she steps out, she pauses to look back at Melina. “Make sure you tell her what this job really entails.”

If Melina reacts to her words, she doesn’t hear or see it as she steps out and onto the carpet. The smile on her face is cut straight out of the glossiest of magazine covers, never once losing its luster as she makes her way towards the hordes of people shouting her name on the sidelines to sign photographs of her own image and to grin into one outstretched phone screen after another.

“Natasha, nice to see you again,” Betty Brand, the bubbly host of E! greets once she finally makes it to the end of the carpet, giving her a kiss on either cheek before holding out the microphone in her direction. “How have you been?”

Without missing a beat, her lips curl up into another blinding smile. “Fantastic as always, Betty. Thanks.”

“Good to hear. So, tell us, who are you wearing this fine evening?”

Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

[sugarakis-p2]

Diavolo's dark desires

art by vellatrelle

Did you know curiosity is a sin? Diavolo becomes worried for a you who is consumed with asking questions and seeking answers. Despite the belief that you will not be missed, the importance of justice is always on his mind. The question arises of what punishment awaits you if you are caught pursuing your curiosity.

WARNING: 69 (Sex Position)Tentacle Sex Anal Fingering ,Anal Sex, Anal Play, Double Penetration, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Alternate Universe - Prison, Loss of Virginity, Mutual Masturbation, bl touches, Oral Sex, Oral

Happy valentines day! Extra filthy for you!

Stepping into Devildom was a complete culture shock that you faced with eagerness. After all, the tales of the stunningly beautiful fallen angels had spread far and wide. Despite the massive implications of living in a tri-dimensional reality, the world refused to accept the presence of the other realms that co-exist with us.

Demons and angels have long been enshrouded in mystery of the two concealed worlds they inhabited, with the religious implications being the most controversial of all. Unraveling the spiritual aspect of this emergence was unquestionably the most significant challenge. Yet, gazing into this extraordinary new universe changed life as you know it, rendering it impossible to turn away. If for no other reason than because the rumors of the beauty of the fallen angels were legendary.

Diavolo's presence was as alluring as it was disturbing. He was beautiful, but at the same time, his existence felt like a looming threat. The first day he answers the question on every human’s mind. Is religion correct? His cryptic words cause tension and curiosity.

"I am Diavolo the current lord of the underworld. They are right and wrong from what lore I do know," he said laughing. "There are so many versions it will take me a hundred of years to compare to what I have experienced. My mission is to bring balance to the worlds. Welcome, and let us learn from each other."

His enigmatic answer only amplified the unease pervading the air, inviting more questions that you hoped it might be willing to answer. What exactly does 'bringing balance to the worlds' mean? Is something out of balance therein? What consequences could unfurl? You were eager to discover the answers to these inquiries yet fearful of what the truth might entail. It doesn't sound like anything good to you.

Trying to communicate with the demons is absolutely petrifying. With salacious lust in their voices, they discuss how delectable mortals appear to them. Not with a hint of amusement or in a fun sexual way, but instead with a sinister plan to eagerly consume their prey's sweet, tender flesh. Detailing their craving for the sound of crunching bone and sucking out the marrow from within, they scheme of devouring hearts and licking the squishy eyes out and popping them like grapes between their fangs. Their longing for delicious human flesh is undeniable. Whispers of how they could probably eat one, and no one will notice. Yet they vigilantly respect Lord Diavolo's edict and never fail to obey his orders. This is always followed by a shudder when his name is mentioned.

The fallen angels are as sinister as the pure-blooded demons, ready to pounce and easily provoked. Somewhat ominously, they have a curious affectation towards their resurrected sister spirit, with whom they indulge in a profoundly uncanny courtship; they embrace her like a beloved, yet their embrace is that of a niece with their sister's spirit indelibly embedded in her. You couldn't wrap my head around what you were being told. The thought of it is simply too disturbing to comprehend. The avatars of sin live up to their names.

The angels may appear pleasant, but the air has a definite chill. Any questions about their past are met with a wall of silence, creating a feeling of distrust. Trouble finds them at every turn. Last but not least, the others. The strange beings can only be called chaotic, which makes sense because the classes are also chaotic. The history of devildom is sterile and makes little sense. Devildom's mysterious origins only add to the bedlam, creating a swirling hurricane of chaos.

After months of struggling to adapt, you were summoned to Diavolo's office. With a smirk of satisfaction on his dark face, his assistant Barbartos served tea as you warily took your seat. Diavolo seemed jovial, but you knew the devilish wheels in his head were turning.

"So, tell me what the problem is." He pauses, and you tell him nothing is the problem. Then, slyly suggested employing a Devildom liaison. Instantly, a chill ran up your spine as you vehemently rejected his suggestion. You could feel Barbartos' prying eyes on you, and your stomach dropped as he handed Diavolo your diary. The cloying scent of the tea was oppressive as the silence stretched between you.

"Is it because you have some reservations about Devildom?" Diavolo asked. The hollow thump in your chest echoed ominously, and you gulped down the bitter brew in your cup. Your fate was in Diavolo's hands.

"Where did you get that?" You ask, a hint of unease creeping into your voice. Diavolo gives a sinister chuckle as he abruptly opens it and reads the contents out loud.

"Very ardent pejorative opinions," Barbartos says ominously.

"Indeed. You seem uneasy," Diavolo purrs with a menacing gleam in his eye.

"I'm fine," you reply hastily. Diavolo arches one dark eyebrow and studies you intently, knitting his fingers and looking concerned.

Barbartos sighed deeply. After all the blood, sweat, and tears they put into retrofitting Devildom for humans, he couldn't help but wonder if they had done enough. But the inquisitive gleam in Diavolo's eyes was undeniable.

Before Barbartos had the chance to voice his concerns, Diavolo declared with a vast grin, "I think the best thing for you, little guest, would be to experience Devildom for yourself! And I'll escort you!" A thrill of excitement coursed through Barbartos at the idea, a hint of a smile spreading across his face. Because he knew what was to come. Before you could collect your thoughts, the moment was gone. He was pulling you away, not giving you any time to argue. You were frightened but also, somewhere deep within, excited. You had no idea where you were going, but you knew it would be amazing. The next thing you knew, you were in the air with the wind in your hair. The thrill of the unknown filled you as Diavolo swooped you away on an incredible adventure. You had no clue where you were headed, but you had never felt so alive. His grip was firm but gentle, and you knew that wherever you would go, he would be by your side. You were so excited about the adventure ahead!

He took your hand in his. Your heart raced, filled with adrenaline and warmth. You had thought he was deceiving you with a fake smile, but the look in his eyes told you he was sincere. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he twirled you around the mall, admiring all the extravagant displays of the latest fashion trends. You couldn't help but laugh at his child-like fascination with the new, modern inventions of humans. As he grabbed some cotton candy, he studied the wispy sugar cloud before placing it in his mouth. He was adorable as he tried to understand where it went when he put the sugar cloud in his mouth. Onlookers stared, your cheeks flushing with color. You giggled, and Diavolo looked at you with a seductive smile before he brushed your hair off your face. Diavolo's eyes pierced through yours as he leaned in, brushing his lips against your forehead in a gentle kiss. You couldn't decipher what you felt, just a flustering, warm sensation. But as you looked away, you noticed the dark glint in his eyes, and you couldn't help but wonder what else he was capable of.

As you walked, he entertained you with funny anecdotes and stories of his days creating the school. You listened intently, your attention never dwindling. They stopped in front of a jewelry store, and he pointed out some exquisite diamond pieces to you, asking your opinion about what looked best.

You proceeded to try on the different pieces, and when you chose a sparkling necklace, his eyes lit up and he said, "That one looks perfect on you. You should definitely keep it," with a mischievous smile on his face.

You protested lightly, of course, but eventually gave in and said, “how could I resist your sweet gesture?”

He shook his head and said, “You can’t, and I knew it!” You both laughed before he led you to the register, where he paid for the necklace and presented it to you with a grand gesture. You two shared a brief laugh before he moved to the register. With a grand gesture, Diavolo gave it to you. Your heart fluttered as you opened the box, and the necklace shimmered in the light. Speechless, you put your hand to your mouth. In awe, all you could whisper was, "Wow."

"It's not as beautiful as you," Diavolo said with a mischievous glint. You thanked him, feeling a tapestry of emotions ripple within your chest. Hand-in-hand, the two of you walked out of the store with heartfelt smiles. The air was alive with bliss and anticipation as you looked forward to more dates.

I hope you made up your mind to stay. His penetrating gaze fixed upon you as he spoke earnestly and passionately.

"It is important for you to keep your grades up. Tell me, what you wrote in your diary—were those your true feelings?"

A tremor ran through your body as you struggled to keep a brave expression. Still, you could feel every bit of your being burning under Diavolo's penetrating gaze. You shift under that intense gaze of those strangely appealing eyes. You felt forced to answer.

You reluctantly admitted, "Yes, those feelings had been true then." His gaze suddenly sharpened as he stepped closer, staring intently into your soul. His stern voice demanded an answer.

"Will you vow to stay and put those thoughts behind you?" he asked as something shifted in his presence. Instead of this being like a romantic date, it feels like a wolf that has isolated a sheep. Your pulse started to skyrocket as you felt a trembling in the depths of your being. The magnitude of this decision was immense, and you knew you had to choose what was best for your future. Could you summon the strength to give your reply?

You are about to answer when your breath catches as you detect a slight, almost imperceptible shift in his presence as he spots something beyond you.

"Stay here. I saw someone that should not be here," Diavolo orders before striding off, leaving you feeling both scared and excited. He disappeared into the crowd, mumbling how he wanted one moment for himself. He left you to contemplate if you wish to stay. Before this, you would have instantly begged to go home. But perhaps not everything is as bad as you thought. This is culture shock; you know you're not adapting well. As he fades out of view, you realize you have the opportunity to explore a world that most don't see. A world of mystery and danger that can prove even more thrilling than you originally thought.

As these thoughts ran through your mind, something grabbed your attention. A movement out of the corner of your eye. Had that alleyway always been there? Were you standing here before? You question yourself. You look down the alleyway and shudder. It was like looking into the abyss, and it had looked back. A strange and powerful force pulled you down that alleyway, shocking you out of your trance. You hear faint whispers, which seem to guide you further down the path. You sense that you are getting closer to something important that could give you many more answers than you could have imagined.

You slowly take a deep breath as you venture into the void of the alleyway. You were aware that something strange was happening, and your heart began to race. You took a deep breath and felt the adrenaline rush through your veins. The air was thick with the smell of mystery and anticipation. You could feel a strange energy around you and wondered what this new path would bring. Your curiosity was enough to make you take a few steps forward and find out what lay beyond. You could feel your skin prickling with mystery and anticipation, your heart beating faster and faster as you slowly moved closer to the unknown. You were ready for the adventure that was about to come. Carefully navigating through the uncharted darkness, you notice how the pleasant stone buildings become harsh and imposing. The texture changes under your touch as you keep going. You find yourself standing in the middle of a courtyard, surrounded by towering structures of flesh, their walls pulsing with a feverish heat that you can almost feel seeping into your skin. The chill of the night dissipates in an instant, replaced by a warm and inviting sensation that invades your senses as if you are being enveloped by the heavy breath of the buildings. The chill of the night air is replaced by a warm and inviting energy that emanates from the walls themselves. Alarmed, excited, and intrigued, your gaze turns to the center of the courtyard, and you realize that the darkness here is far from false - in fact, this place is alive. There was no false sky here. Here, there was a fast darkness as one looked up.

The streetlights barely illuminate the darkness, and you feel a sense of apprehension with each step you take as you use your hand to guide you along. As the end of the alley looms, colossal structures are made of shifting flesh. You feel a tingle of excitement and slight fear as you take in your new surroundings. Your eyes settle on the figure in the center of the courtyard.

His presence is commanding, yet he guards carefully over the area. His mere presence is enough to keep any intruders away. You see his lips move ever so slightly as if he were reciting a chant under his breath. As he notices your presence, he stares back. You feel as if time has suddenly stopped, and each second stretches on forever. You are paralyzed with fear, but as his gaze passes over you, he gives you a slight nod of acknowledgment, and a tentacle slithers out to grab your ankle. You are dragged to the powerful demon. Its name is YaalNalgroth and its presence fills your mind with an undercurrent of danger and anticipation as its forked tongue snakes out to lick your face.

"How...How do I know your name?" You squeaked, trying to control the fear and shivers that ran down your spine as his tentacles caressed you lewdly, ripping your clothes off and leaving you to squirm and struggle.   Yaal smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Such a curious little treat. Always asking questions. Always wanting more. Looking for answers. You know that's a sin?" he said slowly, his tentacles wrapping tightly around you as he slithered into your mind. "You’re craving to taste the forbidden fruit that is knowledge is delicious and tantalizing. It reminds me of the first. Diavolo wasn't in being and may not be aware of his deep-seated yearning for you," Yaal savors you again. His long, forked tongue lathing your flesh. Yaal savors you again, his lips parting against your skin, sending electrifying shivers coursing through your body. His moans of pleasure speak the truth. His long, forked tongue tantalizingly trailed over your body, teasing, and tasting every inch of you, intensifying your craving for knowledge and feeding his desire for you.

Yaal pulled you close as he purred softly in your ear. "Can't you feel it? You are the forbidden fruit here. He won't notice if I take a larger sip of your sweet nectar, my love." He carefully lowered you to the hot, writhing mass of bodies below. As you lay there, you soon realize that they are not in the act of pleasure anymore but instead in pain, for they are shapeless lovers in a perpetual state of ecstasy. As Yaal feeds you knowledge, you can feel yourself slowly ripening, as if anticipating the forbidden fruit of knowledge before you. Suddenly, you both are cast back to the moment when YaalNalgroth was born, when the first woman sunk her teeth into the lusciously soft flesh of the illicit fruit.

Just as Yaal was about to take a sip, you writhed, ready to let him. You are poised in front of his lips when you cry out in surprise and are suddenly faced with the formidable presence of Barbatos. Yaal's invading memories flood your mind as part of his ripening. Barbato's wasn't there to save you.

Barbato's' voice was stern and firm as he commanded Yaal, "Duke YaalNalgroth. Please, stop corrupting what is not yours." Yaal immediately released you and stepped back, clearly overwhelmed by the power of Barbato's' voice.

Diavolo suddenly appeared, an intimidating sight in his true form. He was magnificent and fierce and stood tall, staring down at you with pity. His horns were broad and curved inwards, adorned with gold decoration. His four wings were a dark red and black mix, the ends sparkling with golden embellishments. Over his shoulder draped a black-furred shawl, upon which sat a striking gold pendant with multiple bat wings, the center emblazoned with a red jewel. On his arms were six rows of golden triangle patterns punctuated by black vertical markings across his torso. He wore black harem-style pants, with two gold chains and a set of red jewel pendants on each side, draped in a white cloth with a pattern of golden designs. His whole appearance made it clear that he was an entity to be reverenced.

Diavolo's voice turned sinister as he conversed, an unsettling calmness in his tone. "I distinctly recall telling you to leave her to me," he hissed, his eyes narrowing in discontent. But, just as quickly, his expression softened into one of worry, his brows furrowing in false concern. He tried to mask it with a gentle smile, but the blazing fire in his eyes betrayed his true intentions.

"My apologies, sir, but I simply cannot stand idly by as such a delicate and alluring creature slips through your fingers," Barbatos pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion. "I fear that your gentle nature will lead you to release her, and I cannot bear the thought of her being lost to us forever. I know you only wish for peace and harmony within our realm, but I could not help but intervene. I did not seem to overstep my position. But perhaps what I say next might. The risk is worth it, for I cannot bear to see you lose her." Barbatos was saying as he reached into Diavolo's pants. Barbados’s words and touch sent a delicious shiver down Diavolo's spine. He knew he should push him away, but the forbidden pleasure was too irresistible. Little did he know this moment would change everything. His words felt like they were caressing his soul. Barbatos delved deeper into the forbidden territory of Diavolo's pants. The thrill of potentially overstepping my boundaries only fueled the desire in the air.

Your mind is drowning in a sea of overwhelming knowledge, causing you to feel lost and disoriented. Reality seems to be slipping away as you struggle to understand it all. Just as a question form in your mind, the answer floods in, overwhelming you further. It's almost as if you were set up for this chaos. And indeed, you were. Barbatos had orchestrated this situation, his calculating hand at play figuratively and literally as he continued to sensually play with Diavolo's hardening wood. And for what? For his master, the one who stood above you with a tantalizing glint in his eye, his desire palpable as he watches your tender body quiver under his gaze. Barbatos stroke his ever-growing bulge. All of this was for his own twisted pleasure, and you were nothing but a pawn in their wicked game.

"That's true," Diavolo gasped, the words dripping with a primal need. Pre-cum dribbling from his engorged head. "My goal is always at the forefront of my mind, consuming every waking moment. I've had little time to indulge in my deepest desires." Diavolo let out a tortured moan as his throbbing length was expertly caressed by Barbato's slick hand. The hunger in his eyes was palpable, his desire for you a constant ache in his demon heart. The intensity of his longing sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned as fiercely as his own.

 "And yet you deny yourself any pleasure," Barbatos’s voice cut through the air like a whip, causing Diavolo to flinch. "When was the last time you took something for yourself, sir? Something purely for your own satisfaction?" Diavolo remained silent, his guilt evident in his trembling body. His duty as the ruler of the underworld had always been at the forefront of his mind, leaving little room for his own wants and desires. But Barbatos refused to let him continue this self-destructive path.

"You are a demon, sir. A demon with primal needs and urges," the butler's voice dripped with urgency and longing. "And this young, nubile body before you is a delectable treat waiting to be savored." At Barbatos's encouragement, Diavolo's resolve crumbled, and he collapsed between your legs, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he hungrily gazed at your body. With Barbatos's loving guidance, he positioned himself at your entrance, his rock-hard cock throbbing with need. But even in this moment of passion, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disgust towards Barbatos, whose devotion to Diavolo bordered on obsession. You knew he was nothing more than a simp, jerking off his own master in a desperate attempt to please him.

"Dammit! You monsters!" You scream, tears stream down your face as you struggle against their tight grip. "How could you do this to me? I trusted you!" Your heart aches as you realize the magnitude of their betrayal. "I just want to go home!" Diavolo's features shifted instantly, a wave of sorrow washing over his usually proud expression. But you knew deep down it was all just an act. You could see it in how his eyes didn't quite reflect the sadness in his words.

"Breaking a contract with a demon is a grave mistake," he continued, his voice laced with disappointment. "And yet, you dared to venture into forbidden territory. Now, you can never return home. A contract is a contract, such is the law of devildom, and now you must face the consequences." His words hit you like a ton of bricks, crushing any hope of escape.

"I can't believe I fell for your lies," you whisper, defeated. "I never stood a chance against your magic."

Your eyes shift to Barbatos, who calmly strokes his master as if nothing is amiss. You glared at him, defiance burning as they loomed over you. But your anger was soon redirected as Barbatos, the mastermind behind this situation, caught your attention. His hand expertly stroked Diavolo's length, a smug smile playing on his lips as he saw your reaction. Your glare intensified, but Barbatos merely brushed it off with a wave of his hand. Your protests were silenced, just like your chances of ever leaving this cursed place. Panic sets in as you realize the full extent of their power. They are demons, after all. Diavolo and Barbatos exchange a satisfied smirk before turning to you with dark intentions. You know you will never be able to return home at that moment. This is your new reality - a cruel and manipulative demon world ruled by those who tricked and betrayed you. As they hover over you, a sense of dread washes over you, and you can only hope to survive in this hellish new existence.

“That’s right, master. She can’t be allowed to leave after everything she has seen. Listen to me, Master," Barbatos spoke with a sinister glint in his eye. "She cannot be allowed to leave. She has witnessed our forbidden world and willingly indulged in our secrets. She is a treacherous sinner who succumbed to temptation. She chose to break the rules. No one made her. She's a sinner who gave in to temptation. Now, we must decide what to do with her. Maybe we should wait until Master Diavolo has had his fun to punish her properly."

He parted your lips, readying you for Diavolo's upcoming pleasure. The demon prince himself seemed to be struggling with conflicting thoughts.

"Yes, I wanted her in my own way, but this...it feels wrong," he mumbled, his gaze fixed on you. Suddenly, his eyes widened with a predatory glint as he saw something that made his mouth water. "She's a virgin," he exclaimed, drooling, and licking his lips. "I cannot force myself upon her. It goes against everything I stand for."

The atmosphere grew thick with tension as Barbatos and Diavolo contemplated their next move. The fate of the innocent young woman lay in their hands, and they had all the power to decide her demise. For a brief moment, hope blooms in your chest. With an intense gaze that seemed to pierce through your very being, Diavolo's eyes remained fixated on your exposed sex. There was an unsettling aura of dominance and desire emanating from him, leaving you chained to the spot with a mix of fear and anticipation. You couldn't help but shiver at the thought of what he might do next, with his unwavering stare holding you captive in a moment of intense vulnerability.

"My lord, wait until she is fully prepared. I comprehend your desire. It has been an eternity since you have indulged in such a luscious prize. Humans are no more than mere rabbits in this age. A virgin, my dear lord, is an exquisite and scarce delicacy," Barbatos purrs seductively into his ear. A sly grin spread across his face. "Do not deny yourself the pleasure of savoring every last drop of her innocence and submission." Diavolo's eyes darken with a lustful hunger as he bears his fangs, ready to claim you as his own. "Patience, my lord, for the ultimate reward will be worth the wait."

The anticipation builds as Diavolo's dominant aura fills the space between you, sending shivers down your spine. Your body trembles with both fear and desire, knowing that you are at the mercy of this powerful demon lord. Time stands still as you wait, your body aching for his touch. The air fills with an electric tension as Diavolo's hand slowly reaches out to claim you as his possession. The moment has finally arrived, and there is no turning back.

"There are other ways to punish her for her sins. There are countless avenues to exact vengeance upon her for her grave transgressions," Diavolo chuckled darkly, his predatory instincts taking over. His thirst for justice consumed him. "We shall leave no option unexplored. For it is my birthright. My duty as the merciless enforcer of punishment," he snarled, his gaze smoldering with fiery intent. "She shall suffer for her insolence, and I shall revel in my dominance over her. She shall witness the consequences of daring to trespass into our realm with wickedness in her heart, attempting to disrupt the balance by divulging our sacred secrets."

You trembled at the thought of what they had in store for you. Your blood ran cold at the mere thought of what lay ahead. The powerful demons, their dark intentions hidden beneath their deceptive beauty, had you entirely under their control. As they whispered amongst themselves, a sense of terror consumed you, battling with the enticing rush of arousal surging through your body. You had never intended to sabotage the balance. You simply wanted answers for your own sake, but now you were at the mercy of their twisted desires. Dread knotted in your stomach as you recalled your foolish mistake of meddling with their affairs. You had only sought answers, but now you were at their mercy, a mere plaything for their sadistic desires.

Barbatos, the cruelest of them all, leaned in close, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. Barbatos leaned in close to you, his voice dripping with malice. "You should have known better than to meddle in our affairs," he sneered. "Now, you will face the consequences for your curiosity." With a swift movement, his clawed hand gripped your neck, his grip tight and unyielding. Your heart raced as you watched his demon eyes glint with sadistic pleasure. You couldn't even find the strength to speak as he grabbed you, his claws digging into your flesh. Yaal's laughter echoed in your ears as they reveled in your fear. In that moment, you knew that you were truly at the mercy of these creatures from the depths of hell.

"I am about to break the crippling silence spell, for my master relishes in the sound of his lover's voice – be it pained screams or blissful moans. Do not dare to be a nuisance and attempt to rationalize your way out, for I warn you, I shall invoke a most unpleasant consequence," Barbatos murmured coolly, his voice dripping with a menacing undertone.Diavolo, the most feared demon in all of devildom, stepped closer with a sinister grin on his handsome face. Yaal's long, slimy tentacles encircled you, holding you in place as Diavolo's deep, rumbling voice filled the room.

"You see, my dear, your fear is a delicacy for us demons. And I assure you, Yaal here knows exactly how to prepare it perfectly." His hot breath tickled your ear, and you could feel the heat of his body radiating towards you. Your heart raced as you realized the true extent of your situation. A cold chill ran down your spine as Diavolo ran his sharp claws across your exposed neck. The only thing keeping you from falling to the ground was Yaal's firm hold on your body. You were entirely at their mercy, and there was no escape.

"This is just the beginning of your punishment," he growled, his voice laced with a dark promise. "Consider this a taste of what's to come until I fully decide how to make you pay." As his fingers trailed down your exposed body, you couldn't help but shudder at their menacing touch. You could do nothing but shake at their intimidating presence, trapped in a forbidden world with no escape. You knew this would be a night you would never forget. A night of sin and punishment, of forbidden and dark desires. An innocent soul drawn into the dangerous world of demons.

Yaal bent you to expose your pussy to Diavolo, who pressed his body to yours. Gripping your ass, he parts you wide. You scream in terror that he is going to eat you. But as he chomps down, you realize he is not eating you as you had expected.

A wicked smile spread across Yaal's face as he was ordered to reveal your exposed pussy to the powerful demon, Diavolo. Your heart pounded as Yaal bent your legs, exposing a tantalizing sliver of your delicate folds. Your calves were spread apart, one on each side of Diavolo's massive body, as he pressed himself against you. The intensity of his presence made you tremble with fear and desire. With one hand gripping your ass, Diavolo spread you open, baring you completely to his hungry gaze. A bloodcurdling scream escaped your lips as you imagined the imminent attack on your vulnerable body. But to your shock, Diavolo's sharp teeth did not pierce your skin. Instead, he devoured your fear and pleasure with a savage hunger, leaving you trembling with a mixture of terror and intense ecstasy.

As Diavolo ravished your body, every nerve in your body was on fire with pleasure. His tongue and fingers explored every inch of your tight hole, igniting sensations you had never experienced before. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you surrendered to the overpowering pleasure, a mix of surrender and desire filling your mind. At that moment, you knew that you would never be the same after this encounter with the Devil himself. As he ravished your body, you were overcome with wild desire, moaning and begging for more of his merciless devouring. His tongue and fingers delve into your tight hole.

With a gasp, you felt Diavolo's horns digging into your hips, the rough edges adding to the intensity of his touch. His face was pressed against your hot dripping pussy, his moan filled with longing and desire. The throbbing heat of his cock rubbed against your face, making your heart race and your body ache with need. "It's been too long," he groaned, his voice laced with desperation. Your blood rushed through your veins, heat pooling between your legs as you felt the overwhelming desire for him coursing through you. His hot throbbing cock is in your face as you feel all your blood rushing to your head and cunt. With each gasp and moan, your body trembled with excitement as Diavolo continued to ravish you with his tongue. His hands gripped your ass possessively, his horned head bobbing with each movement, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"Put that mouth to use. Open wide and suck your Master," Barbatos says, shoving Diavolo's cock in your mouth. It's hard to breathe with his large length stuffing down your throat. Your cheeks are hollow, and your eyes water, but you can only moan in response as Barbatos uses you for his and Diavolo’s pleasure. You are nothing but a mere plaything, helplessly at his mercy, and you embrace it with unbridled fervor. Every touch, every command, ignites a chaotic desire within you, leaving you trembling with a thirst to be claimed by him. It's inexplicable, this unwavering pull towards him and the conflicting emotions it stirs. Despite knowing the danger, you can't resist the allure of being his possession. It incites a burning inquiry in your mind - how can something so devastating also be so irresistible? You should despise this captivity, but instead, you crave what it brings.

"Submit to your Master's desires," Barbato's demands, thrusting Diavolo's cock even deeper into your mouth. You can feel the overwhelming power and dominance radiating from him as your senses are consumed by his taste and smell. You try to pull back, but Barbatos holds your head firmly in place, making you feel completely helpless. The pain and pleasure mix together as you are forced to take in every inch of Diavolo's throbbing length. Just when you think you can't take anymore, Barbatos releases the hold on your head, and you gasp for air, only to have another explosion of Diavolo's hot juices hit the back of your throat. You can't help but moan in ecstasy as your Master marks you as his own. But just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he pulled away, leaving you aching and unsatisfied.

"You're not done yet," he growled, his intense eyes daring you to deny him. And like a flame igniting, all the pent-up desire and longing exploded within you. His voice was a low rumble, his piercing gaze holding you captive. But instead of fear, all you felt was a fire igniting deep within you. It was as if his words were a trigger, unleashing all the repressed desire and longing that had been simmering beneath the surface. Yaal pushes you back onto the bed of writhing flesh, Diavolo's hand grazing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. Diavolo strode towards you, his aura radiating danger and temptation. You couldn't resist the pull, lurching towards him and wrapping your arms around his neck, craving his touch like a drug.

"Why do I feel so drawn to you?" You couldn't help but ask, your voice trembling with want. But Yaal just chuckled wickedly, his eyes gleaming with mischief and knowing.

"Oh, she still hasn't learned her lesson," he smirked, reveling in the dangerous game unfolding before him. And you couldn't deny it because, at that moment, you were willing to play with the Devil himself, consumed by an insatiable hunger for more.

With a wicked smirk on his face, Diavolo stands before you, a demon who has cunningly prepared you for your impending punishment. Your heart races in fear as he pounces on you, his body pulsing with dark desire. He thrusts himself into you with brutal force, violating your innocence as he revels in the feeling of your tight and raw walls clenching around him. The pain is intense, and you can't help but gasp in shock and pain, raking your nails down his flesh in protest. But Diavolo only moans in pleasure, his eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy at the power he holds over you.

"Behold, little human," he purrs, his voice dripping with malice. "This is what happens to those who dare to threaten the balance in my kingdom." He uses you to satisfy his urges, reveling in the control he exerts over your body. He believes this is for the best, for it keeps his darker desires in check. But for you, it is a nightmare as you realize the true monstrous nature of the demon before you.

Your bodies moved in a primal rhythm, a dance of passion and need, as you both gave in to the overwhelming desire that consumed you. In that moment, nothing else mattered. The world could have burned around you, and you wouldn't have cared as long as you were lost in this fiery embrace with the powerful and seductive demon before you. It was a passionate and intense moment, a battle of wills and desire that left you breathless and fulfilled.

"But why?" your mind questions. But you pushed those thoughts aside as Diavolo finally claimed you as his own, his possessive growls and desperate thrusts filling the room as he finally allowed himself to indulge in the pleasure he so desperately craved.

Despite the overwhelming pull towards his ultimate goal, Diavolo couldn't resist the alluring temptation of your body. Every touch, every kiss, every thrust was a fleeting taste of bliss that he couldn't get enough of. With a lustful desperation, he surrendered to the pleasure, his body and soul consumed by the insatiable hunger for you. At that moment, nothing else mattered but the intoxicating sensation of your body against him, driving him to the brink of ecstasy. As he surrendered to the raw and carnal urges, Diavolo couldn't help but wonder if this was what true desire felt like, a primal force that could bring even the most powerful demon to his knees. He needs to temper his urges.

The depth of Diavolo's wickedness knows no bounds, as his most nefarious impulses are rooted in a twisted desire for power and domination. Like a puppet master pulling the strings of his unsuspecting victims, Diavolo thrives on instilling fear and using intimidation tactics to manipulate those around him. His tyrannical reign is further fueled by his disdain for humanity and its perceived weaknesses. With a merciless gaze, he reveals the differences between species, relishing his power over them. But harnessing fear as a means of control is a treacherous game that consumes even the most diabolical of minds. It is a trait that speaks volumes of his depravity and lack of empathy, a dangerous combination that threatens all who dare to cross his path.

"Ah! Oh, oh, oh, please. Why?" you moaned.

"Barbatos. I can still see some defiant questioning in her eyes. I like her other cute noises better. I have some questions myself. Do you know what will look cute? I think Barbato's cock in your mouth might be cute? What do you think, Barbatos?" Diavolo asked looking to Barbatos. Barbatos nodded slightly, clearly understanding the unspoken threat in Diavolo's words. Fear and intimidation were Diavolo's favorite weapons, and he reveled in seeing the terror in others' eyes. His judgmental attitude towards humans only fueled his desire to control and manipulate them, relishing his power over their lives. And as you lay there, trembling with terror, you couldn't help but wonder if there was any humanity left in this diabolical creature.

As you watched Diavolo's cheerful expression morph into a cruel sneer, a sense of unease washed over you. Despite his charming persona and love for fun, it was clear that there was darkness lingering beneath the surface. With a commanding voice, he barked at you to obey his every command without hesitation. He saw himself as a superior being and expected others to bow down to him. You couldn't help but feel a chill run down your spine as you were suddenly thrown to the ground, your hands forced behind your back. Tenacles wrapping around your throat and upper body, lifting your front.

Diavolo towered over you, his rich crimson eyes burning with a menacing glint. It was then that you realized how terrifying he could genuinely be. His carefree nature was just a facade, masking a ruler's dangerous and calculating mind. Your heart pounded in your chest as Diavolo leaned in close, his hot breath on your neck as he hissed, "How dare you question me, mortal."

His grip on your wrists tightened, and you winced in pain as he snarled, "I have no tolerance for insolence. You are nothing but a mere toy in my game, and I will not hesitate to dispose of toys that do not obey." The fear in his voice sent shivers down your spine, and you knew that you were at the mercy of a powerful and unpredictable ruler. At that moment, your innocent curiosity about Diavolo gave way to a deep-seated fear and realization of the true extent of his power. You were just a player in his grand scheme, and you could only hope to survive as a plaything in a game controlled by a dictator.

 He exuded an aura of dominance and superiority, his very presence commanding obedience and submission. You couldn't help but feel a chill run down your spine as you watched him mercilessly exert his power over those around him. There was no denying that Diavolo had a thirst for control, and he wielded fear and intimidation as his weapons. You could see the traces of his tyrannical tendencies lurking beneath his charming facade. It was a dangerous combination that could bring about destruction and chaos at any moment. Desperate for guidance and salvation, you turned to Barbatos, hoping for some glimmer of humanity in this cruel realm. But all you received was a blank, emotionless stare mirroring Diavolo's coldness. Even his most loyal advisor seemed to share the same heartlessness and lack of mercy. And as you reluctantly opened your mouth to do as you were told, you couldn't help but fear for your future in this dark and twisted world.

"YaalNaGroth," Diavolo's voice boomed through the dark. The demon lord's golden eyes gleamed with admiration as he gazed upon you, his loyal follower, kneeling before him. The flickering light of the torches cast shadows across your face, contrasting with the wicked smile that played upon Diavolo's lips.

"You have proven your loyalty to me time and time again," he continued, his voice dripping with admiration. "And for that, I shall grant you a most exquisite treat." A wave of anticipation washed over you at his words, your heart racing in anticipation of what would come.

"As a reward for your unwavering loyalty, I offer you the ultimate pleasure," he purred, his hand trailing down to grip your chin and tilt your head up to meet Barbato's smoldering gaze. He grips your jaw to open your mouth wider for the Butler. "Unleash your wicked tentacles upon this pure and innocent maiden's untouched flesh." A wicked grin spread across his face as he gestured to your trembling form, your eyes wide with fear and your delicate features twisted in terror. Your mouth went dry as you realized the true extent of Diavolo's intentions. Gripping your chin tighter, Diavolo leaned in to whisper in your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"Her virgin asshole," he murmured, his thumb circling the tight ring of muscle. You gasped, both in fear and arousal, at the thought of what was to come. Diavolo's hand slid down to your hips, holding you in place as he roughly thrusts his cock back into your sore and bruised pussy. The combination of pain and pleasure sent shocks of arousal through your body, your blood boiling with a heady mix of emotions. But amidst the chaos, Diavolo's following words gave Yaal pause.

"Listen carefully, YaalNaGroth," Diavolo's voice was filled with amusement as he leaned in closer to you, spitting on your ass and causing you to flinch from the warm liquid trickling down your crack. "This particular one is not to be broken like the others. She is a special plaything for me," he continued, gleaming of mischief in his eyes. He gestured towards you, his thumb still inside your tight asshole, as he spoke.

"Once you finish, I intend to have fun with her. But do not mistake my words. I will not tolerate any excessive cruelty towards her. If she proves unworthy, I reserve the right to punish her severely." Diavolo's lips curved into a wicked smile as he watched the anticipation and desire flicker across your face.

"But do not let that discourage you from using all your tentacles to fully ravish this innocent creature," he added with a playful chuckle, thrusting his thumb in and out of your ass for emphasis.

 Without a moment's hesitation, Yaal summoned his tentacles. These sinister appendages were seemingly alive and eager to explore the depths of your body. With a sadistic smirk, he watched as your body trembled in fear and pleasure. His dark eyes were filled with a hunger that could not be satiated. This lust could only be satisfied by indulging in his most twisted desires.

Meanwhile, Barbatos thrust himself between your swollen lips, his leaking cock easily sliding down your throat. You gagged and choked, but he paid no heed. His mind solely focused on dominating and claiming his pleasurable reward.

"She does look cute with my cock in her mouth," He panted as if he was pondering the aesthetics seriously. His hands held your head in place, forcing you to take every inch of him until your mouth was overflowing with him. As Barbatos ravaged your mouth, Yaal's tentacles began their merciless assault on your body. They slithered and coiled around your limbs, wrapping tightly and leaving red marks in their wake. They moved with a purpose, seeking out every sensitive spot on your body and causing you to cry out in both pleasure and pain.

But it was not just your limbs that Yaal's tentacles explored. They also delve deep into your most intimate areas, finding and stimulating every hidden nerve. Your moans and cries only spurred them on, urging them to push harder and deeper until you were writhing and begging for more. The two demons continued to pleasure you. You could feel Diavolo's eyes on you. His amusement at your predicament was evident in the wicked smile on his face, and his approval only fueled the demons' desires. With every thrust of Barbatos and every squeeze of Yaal's tentacles, you were brought closer to the edge of ecstasy. Your body was a playground for their twisted desires, entirely at the mercy of their insatiable hunger. And when the combined efforts of the two demons finally pushed you over the edge, you were overcome with a mind-shattering climax, your body spasming uncontrollably as you surrendered to their wicked desires.

Diavolo's thrusts were forceful and unrelenting, his hips slamming into yours with a primal need. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air as his fingers dug into your hips, holding you tightly in place. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, building up an intense heat within you. But it was Yaal's tentacles that indeed drove you over the edge. The slimy appendages wrapped around your body, trailing over every inch of your skin with precise and calculated movements. Their slippery touch sent shivers down your spine as they toyed with your sensitive flesh, amplifying every sensation and heightening your pleasure to unbearable levels, consumed by their insatiable lust and twisted desires. The mixture of Diavolo's powerful thrusts and Yaal's relentless tentacles was overwhelming, taking you to the brink of ecstasy with each passing moment.

As the onslaught continued, your body was pushed to its limits. The pleasure was almost unbearable, but you couldn't bring yourself to ask for mercy. Asking questions can lead to more punishment. You wanted more, needed more of this intense and forbidden pleasure. And then, just as you thought you couldn't take anymore, Yaal's tentacles tightened around you, focusing their attention on your most sensitive areas. The pleasure was too much to bear, and with one final thrust from Diavolo, you were overcome by a mind-shattering climax.

Your body convulsed in pleasure, writhing and quivering as the waves of ecstasy washed over you. Your moans and cries filled the air as you surrendered utterly to the delight these wicked creatures had brought upon you. You were nothing but a vessel for their insatiable desires, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure that they bestowed upon you. And as the tremors of your climax subsided, you were left spent and panting, these demons who had taken you to heights of pleasure you never knew existed.

The night was consumed by unbridled lust, your tentacles ravaging every inch of the mortal woman's body until you were shaking and completely spent. You could feel a sense of pride and satisfaction at having pleased your powerful Master, Diavolo, to such an extent. But even as you lay panting and dripping with sweat and cum before him, you were not done. Three insatiable demons descended upon you, their relentless desires tearing through you in an intoxicating frenzy of pleasure and sin.

When it was all over, you were left as a convulsive, exhausted heap, filled to the brim with the remnants of their lustful desires. But even then, your Master's attention did not wane as Barbatos swooped in to care for you, treating you like the most precious of Diavolo's treasures.

He created a prison of comfort for you, manipulating time itself so that you would not even know how much had passed. As Diavolo indulged in his human concubine, you were kept safe and cared for by Barbatos, ensuring that you would never escape or feel neglected. Barbatos' words echoed in your mind as he stroked your hair gently, soothing you after your intense ordeal.

You are a human concubine chosen by the Prince of Devildom himself. You were subjected to unimaginable pleasures and pains every night, all at the mercy of Diavolo and his servants. With each passing night, you found yourself becoming more and more lost in the frenzy of passion and debauchery, unable to resist the temptations and pleasures that surrounded you. Under the guidance of Diavolo and his experienced demons, you were trained to become the ultimate pleasure object, fulfilling every desire and whim of the prince's insatiable appetite.

But this night was different. As exhaustion finally overtook you, you were overwhelmed with pride and fulfillment. You had pleased your Master, and that was all that mattered. And as you lay trembling and covered in their cum, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at being able to bring such pleasure to powerful demons. But the night was far from over. As if sensing your heightened state, Diavolo signaled for his two companions, the powerful demons Lucifer and Mammon, to join in. You were mercilessly ravaged by the three of them, unable to resist their commanding presence and insatiable lust. Amidst the frenzy, Barbatos remained by your side, his gentle touch comforting you as he watched over you.

A prized possession of Diavolo and his trusted servant, and as you drifted off to sleep, fatigue and contentment washing over you, you couldn't help but wonder what pleasures awaited you in the coming nights.

Barbatos reported, a hint of a sly smirk on his lips as he looked down at you, satisfied with his work. Diavolo was grateful for Barbatos' efforts to make sure you were well taken care of in your captivity. Diavolo chuckled, a dark and possessive gleam in his eyes as he ran a hand through your hair, his touch sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

"She looks so beautiful, completely ruined, and yet still begging for more. I knew she was the perfect choice, Barbatos. I could never tire of such a devoted and insatiable lover. She keeps the others in line waiting for a taste."

You couldn't help but moan at Diavolo's words, feeling a renewed surge of arousal at his possessive hold on you. As he claimed you once again, you couldn't help but feel grateful to be at the mercy of such powerful and passionate beings. When the night finally ended, you were left exhausted and covered in marks and bruises but also fulfilled and satisfied in a way you never thought possible.

"Yes, Master. There is a reason we make sure all the humans have no family looking for them," Barbatos agreed. As you fell into a deep and contented sleep, you knew that you had found your true purpose and pleasure in serving your Master and his demons, willing to do whatever it took to please them and be by their side. They both held you with love and care.

[dearhargrove]

Hi 🤍 I'm the anon that requested the previous fic. I absolutely loved it. I felt much calmer after reading it, thank you. 🤍 Could I request another one with the prompts 1, 16 and 24 from the same promptlist ? Thank you so much ♥️♥️♥️ Please take care of yourself.

hugs & pizza

Billy Hargrove x f!reader (gender not specified though I think)

summary you had a shitty day, but what are boyfriends there for if not cheering you up (and getting you pizza)?

word count 993

prompts (from @urfriendlywriter) used hugs first kinda love. seeing each other after work? hugs. and being picked up during hugs, brushes of lips with shaky breaths and a tired smile after a long day, little teasing pecks after kissing passionately

warnings some swear words, nothing else :)

a/n tysm for requesting again!! Appreciate it a lot. However this is very similar to the previous oneshot I posted lol

masterlist

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Another long day filled with exams, annoying teachers and not seeing your boyfriend once. You guessed he had either skipped school or just skipped the few classes that would usually allow you to see each other in the hallways. Whatever it was, you were slightly pissed especially as he hadn't even joined you during lunch break; something he always did.

It was almost 8 PM, your homework and several essays were strewn all over your desk and some other school books lay discarded on your bed. You weren't in a good mood. You miss your boyfriend, you're stressed and your day has been utter shit.

You groan at another question you had no clue how to answer - another thirty minutes of research looming over your head. You're contemplating just giving up and crying instead when the door to your room opens and your mother calls your name gently.

"Hm?" You groan, not even looking at her as you've buried your head in your arms. You hear her chuckle and shuffle in her place before the smell of your favorite pizza wafts into your room. That makes your perk your head up, however there's not just pizza as a surprise but also your boyfriend.

Billy stands next to your mom, leaning against the frame of your door. His red dress shirt is almost halfway unbuttoned and his denim jacket is slung over his arm. He smirks lazily at you and turns to your mother to say something you can't make out. Whatever he says makes her nod understandingly and hand him the pizza carton (which you're still eyeing with a grumbling stomach) before she leaves, closing the door behind her.

Now it's just you and him (and the pizza and your mountain of unfinished work you're choosing to actively ignore).

"How're you doing, baby?" He greets with his raspy voice and sets the carton containing the unhealthy but delicious food down on your dresser. You watch him as he starts gathering the books and folders from your bed, stacking them up and putting them on your desk so neatly it surprises you.

You sigh at his inquiry and pout, stretching your arms out. He gets the message and leans down to where you're sitting and wraps his arms around you, pulling you off the desk chair and into his arms.

"Bad day?" He guesses, one hand stroking along your back and the other hand simply resting on your hip. "Horrible day," you correct.

He huffs amusedly at your obvious disdain at the memory of today, but presses a loving kiss to your temple.

"Want me to make it better?" He asks cockily - fully knowing he had the ability to do so and that you would agree. Before agreeing you pull back and slap his shoulder, remembering how awfully alone he had dared to leave you.

"Where were you today? I was waiting at our spot the whole lunch period."

He winces and pulls a minimal grimace before schooling his expression and moving the hand that had rested on your hip to your cheek, gently cupping it and stroking his thumb over your puffy under eyes. "I know, I'm sorry. Max is sick and as much as she pisses me off I didn't want to leave her by herself."

That changes your mood from annoyed to worried, a frown appearing on your face. "How sick is she? Just a cold?" He nods and absentmindedly presses another few kisses to your forehead - whether that was to calm himself or you wasn't clear to you.

"You should've called me! I would've come over with some soup or something," you huff. "No, love. You do enough for us," he denies, effortlessly lifting you with his hands under your thighs, making your legs wrap around his waist to hold yourself up.

"Not gonna argue about that again," you simply say, knowing no matter how often you'd tell him you wanted to help whenever you could he wouldn't accept it without feeling guilty.

He smiles and agrees, though his mind is seemingly elsewhere as he leans in to passionately kiss you.

You welcome it, the stress of the day leaving your body as he hums against your lips. This goes on for at least another minute and then you pull back, eyes falling on the forgotten pizza box.

You try to get out of his hold but he just keeps you there, pressing kisses to your lips.

"Billy-!" You try to stop him but he just ignores you. It makes you laugh, his teeth clanking against yours as he continues with the pecking. "Stop," you finally manage to say between the presses of his lips to yours.

He huffs unhappily and has a deadpan stare as he looks at you again, "What? You don't want my love anymore?"

You roll your eyes and mumble 'dramatic' under your breath (which he definitely hears) before half-wrestling yourself out of his grip. He unhappily lets you and scoffs in surprise as you head straight for the greasy, oily food that slowly overpowers the smell of your scented candle, making your room smell heavenly.

"Ditching me for pizza. I see," he comments, dramatically falling back on your bed. You ignore him and start eating it, almost moaning at the taste. "This is so fucking good," you say before taking another bite.

He shakes his head with a laugh and scoots up to the headboard, shoes discarded somewhere around your bed. "At least sit with me," he beckons you over and you do; pizza carton held in your hands as you seat yourself sideways on his thighs.

He grabs a slice for himself, pausing in between bites to hold it out for you to take bites as you search for a TV program you could watch.

When you find one you lean into his chest, still munching on the food. "Love you," you mumble and he smiles, leaning his head against yours and reciprocating the statement.

[beeandheroddobsessions]

Inappropriate

Pairing: Elvis x f!reader

Summary: Elvis teaches you a thing or two

Warings: MDNI!! SMUT!! Not a plot in sight fr. Oral (m.recieving). Spanking. Mean!Elvis. Manipulation. Coercion(?) Iressponsible parents fr Elvis is kind of a creep. Innocence kink?

A/N: The shit, in-fact, did not fit. I’m not as upset because i had a good stopping point. Anywho, I’m testing the waters with my smut writings but real talk, i kinda like this one. Let me hush though, Happy reading! - Bee 💕

Trembling. You were trembling.

Sex was a taboo in your world, even at eighteen. Asking about such “an egregious thing for a young lady” would garner harsh looks and curt responses. But you're a growing girl; curiosity couldn’t stay at bay forever. You’d pester about the things you’d hear around the schoolyard in an attempt to ‘keep up’ with your peers, yet those burning questions would garner the same response, “That’s not an appropriate question for you to be askin’.”

After no luck at home and barley any innvitation into a conversation at school, you let the question die off in the cold. Being left in the dark about the act led to you forgetting about it all together.

So how you ended up underneath this handsome devil is a mystery. Well, not entirely; He found you in a tailor shop, picking up a dress that needed hemming. His eyes raked over your form, deciding he’d have you before even knowing your name. You kept your head down while walking, meek and quiet. He liked how you stumbled over your words and apologized for every move you made. He liked that you were timid.

What he really liked was the way your face flustered when the clerk threw a less than tasteful remark your way. Innocence was practically oozing out of the pores on your pretty face, and he intended to drain it dry. The man couldn’t help himself, his conviction didn’t concern him. Shamelessly, he stepped in line with the door as you made your way to the exit. The thud of your body into his made him shiver.

The profuse apologies escaping those soft lips of yours made his pants tighten. He thought of how you’d sound in his bed, wondering if you’d whimper and plead with him. Elvis let you rattle on for a bit, busy studying, looking for something to draw you in. Your hair, or rather the tiny pin holding the style together gave it away.

A music note? Oh, he had it in the bag for sure. The brunett stopped you and introduced himself As if he hadn’t had eyes on you from the start. When you spoke your name, fate was sealed. He gave you a smirk, asking what type of music you liked. Blues was your answer. Hearing this had Elvis wondering what he did to get so lucky. He could work with the blues. An invite for a private performance was all it took.

One thing led to another, and you find yourself wedged between the soft bed and a charming adonis. Though his body hovers over yours, clothes have yet to be shared, a kiss yet to be shed. The intimacy of this scenario would be awkward had it been with anyone else. You’re nervous, and he knows it. How his eyes wander over your features with a knowing look makes you hot—burning with desire. Elvis hasn’t made a move past this; even so, you feel a warmth pool in your belly.

Is this normal? Is this a good thing? Why can’t you look away? The questions you have, accompanied by the position, are overwhelming.

Elvis can see the panic in those big doe eyes and decides to have a little fun.“what’s the matter, honey? Never been up close n’ personal with a man before?”

You can’t lie to save your life, so the shame of inexperience looms over your head. Retreating into yourself and avoiding the inquiry all together seems like the saftest option. Brining your hands to your face as if they’d save you makes Elvis chuckle.

“Oh now, none of that. I asked you a question, little one. I expect an answer.” He says, while removing the makeshift barrier. You open your mouth to speak, hoping that if you oblige, he’ll let up. Before a sound is made, Elvis lowers his head to the crook of your neck. Breath fanning against your skin, raising goosebumps over your body. A small gasp is all you can manage.

The handsome devil squeezes your waist, grip firm as he peppers kisses down your neck and chest, lanidng just above your clevage.

“What’d I say? Hm, sweet baby? Give me an answer.” He demands, peering up to find your gaze.

Ohh this…this was intense. Should there be a pulse down there? You have no clue. What you do know is that you aren’t about to look this man in the eye if you don't have to. His effect on your body is something you can’t explain, even if you wanted to. The hand on your waist travels to your thigh. Dangerously close to the hem of your dangerously short dress. His expression is calm, but the words that leave his mouth are serious.

“Honeybee, m’not gon ask ya again. Ya ignore me one more time, m’gon bend you over my knee.”

Though curious to discover what he means, the fear of being unprepared for something like that has you scrambling for an answer. You don’t even remember the question? ‘Have you ever’…what the hell was it? Panic sets in as you realize he’d distracted you on purpose.

The silence is enough for Elvis to start moving. You blink and are suddenly hoisted off of the bed that offered you some sense of security. Elvis is amused, eager to see how you’d handle this. He slides to the edge of the bed, planting his feet and, just as promised, bends you over his knee. He feels your breasts flush against his lap and shudders. This was going to be fun.

“you can count can’t ya?” He asks, eyebrow raised.

You can’t do much but nod, hoping he isn’t serious about this. The sting against your ass proves you wrong; a yelp escapes your throat. Remembering his initial demand, you sputter out the number as best you can.

“O-one”

Elvis tsks at you, taunting further. His hand soothes the burn as he shakes his head. “No, no, baby. That one don’t count. I told ya when I ask a question, ya answer it. Startin to think there ain’t much up in that pretty little head of yours.”

You can practically feel the smug look on his face. “M’sorry Elvis-” THWACK.

That one hurt worse than the first. He’s got you right where he wants you. Unsure of what to do, looking to him for guidence. It shakes him up real good, seeing you plead for help with your eyes; truly a thrilling experience for him. he likes playing with your psyche. Should you count to two? Or was that the new number oned? You were helpless.

His cool rings matched with the breeze rolling over your now warm backside leaves you in a spiral, adding to the already intese wave of desire. He is the escense of perfection right now. Something primal has you dripping, wanting more.

Much like any other time you feel this way, mother’s words float through your head. Inappropriate. To crave more of whatever this was, to feel this way. It was a sin. Urges were a temtation, same as the man who has you hunched over.

If your mother could see you now, “Unladylike,” she’d say. “Whorish,” your father would sneer. the guilt was beginning set in. You couldn’t do this. what would everyone think? If she found out, mama wuld surley tell the entire congregation of your sin. Daddy would surley disown you for even looking at a man like this. little by little, the lust you’re feeling starts to disapate.

Another delicious sting pulls you from the confines of your mind. Slick begins to leak through the white lace adorning your lower half. “Ya like this. Dontcha, baby? Like havin’ me discipline ya? Teachin’ ya some manners?”

You try to resist his accusation, shaking your head as if you hadn’t already been caught.

“No? Ya don’t like it?” He presses further, smirk everlasting as he continues to caress your ass. “No, I—um, I d-dont.” You sputter, attempting to sound as convincing as possible. Elvis nods but doesn’t say much “Mm, mhm.”

Without warning, he runs two fingers over your panties, stopping right above that little bundle of nerves, doing nothing more than adding a little pressure.

The moan that escapes you teeters on pornographic. Never in your eighteen years on this earth have you made a sound like that. You have one thought bouncing around. Inappropriate, my ass; this is magic.

Just as quickly as he gave you a taste of bliss, he rips it away. You keen and wiggle your hips, needing a sliver of friction. Elvis is tickled pink; his laughs do nothing to quell the fire he’s lit.

“See honey, ya do like it. S’okay, mama, I’ll break ya in real nice.” With that, he sits you up and admires his work. Pride swells in his chest as he takes it all in. Your begging eyes, reddened face, slick thighs, twiddling thumbs, it’s got him hot, real hot. you feel small under his stare. He flashes a crooked smile and spreads his legs a bit. “Ya wanna meet little Elvis, honey? Ya might wanna get to know him before we start havin’ fun.”

Your response flies out of your mouth before you can even think “Like…Like sex?”

Elvis nods his head, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And it might’ve been, for any other soul, but not for y/n.

Still, you take this as an opportunity to find out what you’re working with; your eyes shift to his pants. Again, fear washes over your body, ‘little,’ he says.

“Elvis, I don’t think-” you choke on your words, feeling like the room is spinning. Guilt nips at you again, but you're a big girl now. He looks at you expectantly, waiting for the second half of that sentence.

“i—yes, I do. I’m—M’jus scared. Ain’t never seen a man before.”

When he hears ‘scared,’ Elvis’s features soften, and he sits up, fumbling over his words, same as you, “Honey, I ain’t gon hurt ya if that’s what your thinkin’, I know—I k-know I jus’ t-tanned ya up bu-but I wasn’t a-actually hurtin’ ya was I? If I d-did m’sor-”

You giggle at his change in demeanour and shake your head. “No, Elvis it ain’t that. Jus.. well my mama says that what we’re fixin’ to do ain’t appropriate. says it ain’t ladylike. This is what whores-”

Elvis is quick to shut you up with a hungry kiss. It’s far from graceful, teeth clashing, tounges fumbling, but it’s enough to shoo away the last bit of doubt. When you pull back for air, he begins to reassure you.

“You ain’t gon be a whore for nobody but me. Alright? Put that pile of horseshit outta your mind.” You nod your head, and he mimics you.

With that out of the way, Elvis starts to undo his belt. You’re on the edge of your seat; this would be the first time you’d ever seen a man in his most natural state. It’s riveting. He shimmies out of his trousers, letting them pool around his ankles before kicking them off completely. You’re shocked to find he isn’t wearing underwear.

His cock slaps against his stomach, earning a mewl from you. There was no doubt that Elvis was blessed; the print in those pants left little to the imaginatiou, but the display before you is mouthwatering. He’s Uncut, thick, veins that run along the lenght, an angry red tip, with balls heavy, and ready to spill. There’s hair, but it’s neatly kept.

Elvis lazily strokes himself, watching you burn the image into your memory. You didn’t think this is what it would be like. Schoolyard talk had you stuck with the image of a worm between every mans legs.

“Can…can I touch it?” you ask, wanting to explore this new territory. Elvis gives you a cheeky grin and nods, taking your hand in his, replacing it with his own. He lets out a groan when your fingers wrap around him. He’s heavy in your hands, never mind how he’d feel inside you. Elvis begins to guide you, growing more impatient by the second. “Move your hand jus like that, baby.”

You do as told, afraid of making any moves without help. Elvis’s hands glide down your spine as he watches you, concentration never breaking. “Go on and wrap your pretty lips round the tip, like ya would a sucker. No teeth though, darlin’.”

Hesitantly, you lean down. Uncertain of what to expect, your tongue swipes over the small hole, testing the waters. Elvis takes a sharp breath; scared to have done something wrong, you quickly pull away.

“I—m’sorry, I jus-”

Elvis pulls you into him, giving you a gentle kiss. “Felt good, mama. Real good. Keep goin’,” he reassures, wanting nothing more than your mouth on his aching cock. With a nod, you resume your ministrations. You swirl your tongue around his tip before wrapping around him entirely. The taste of pre-cum sends your eyes to the back of your head.

“That’s a good girl, I knew ya knew how to listen.”

Too focused on the task at hand, the teasing goes unnoticed. How much of him could you take? Elvis is taken by surprise when you attempt to find out. His head lulls back. Hands tangle in your tresses as you gag around him. “Fuck, honey. Ya learn quick.”

On your way back up, Elvis tightens his grip on your hair, sending you back down. “Stay right there, babydoll. G-Goddamnit, that’s a good girl!”

Looking up through your lashes, you find him with lips parted, eyes closed, and chest beginning to rise and fall a little faster. The sight makes you shift to create a bit of friction. As he holds you in that same spot, air becomes scarce. Tears well in your eyes; you tap his thigh, hoping he’ll give you a breather. Elvis’s eyes open, and his features set in a pout.

“Ya need air, baby?” He asks, seeming genuine.

Nodding frantically, you move to pull off, but he keeps you locked in place. “Then breath through your nose. Gotta be able to suck me good n’ proper. Can’t do that if youre runnin’ for air all the time.”

Realizing he’s serious, you have no choice but to redirect your breathing. When you finally get the hang of it, Elvis wastes no time moving. Your head bobbing just wasn’t enough, his hips buck up, speed increasing as he focuses on his release. The sound of you choking only spurs the musician on further. Obsceneites leave his mouth with little shame.

“Come on honey, shit, I know ya got it in ya.”

“Feels so damn good, princess.”

“Gonna taste me for days, sweetheart.”

You whine around his cock, sending a pleasant shock through his body. Pants and grunts escape the star above you, leaving your underwear far past the point of no return. Elvis can’t help but use you to chase his high. Having someone so innocent, so malleable, so willing, sends him careening toward that ledge much quicker than he had intended.

His core tightens, and his thrusts lose their rhythmic pace. Elvis is more than vocal as he abuses your poor throat. His thighs clench, and his toes curl; he’s so close. Bliss brings him to the moon, the only word leaving his mouth is your name. Wondering what the effect would be, you graze your fingertips over his balls. That does it. With a yelp, Elvis stills and spills down your throat, the option to spit taken away.

He pulls you off with a ‘pop.’ He sees a fucking mess. Your hair’s disheveled, drool is everywhere, mascara cascading down your cheeks. You do indeed look like a whore, and Elvis loves every second of it. He pulls you onto his lap, arms snaking around your waist.

“Your mama’s a goddamn liar. That was the most ladylike thing I’ve ever seen. Now, s’time for me to show ya how a man takes care of his lady.”

Taglist: @powerofelvis @prayerstopresley

[deepspaceafterdark]

Deals with the Devil

Chapter 2 : Just Friends

MC/Zayne, MC/Sylus pairings 🖤

Tags/Content Warning ‼️: 18+, smut and descriptive sexual content.

🪐🖤✨

It’s the day of the fundraiser for the Akso hospital, and after a few hours of volunteer work I find myself taking a break on the tables outside. I scroll aimlessly on my phone when I get a text from Sylus. It’s a photo of a popular hotel in downtown Linkon with a short message.

The presidential suite is ours, meet me tonight.

I smile to myself, and while I’m deep in thought imagining what Sylus has planned, a shadow looms from behind me.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

“Dr. Zayne?” I say, locking my phone and turning in my seat.

His white lab coat nearly blinds me in the late afternoon sun, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Taking a break already?” He extends a hand to me and I take it, his cool fingers lingering on my wrist as he pulls me to my feet.

“I haven’t been sleeping much lately.” I say, the light crescents under my eyes all too visible.

“Defying my orders once again.” He says. “You work too hard to ignore your health, sleep is important for a hunter you know.”

He brushes a strand of my hair from my cheek and tucks it behind my ear.

“Yeah, I’ve heard.” I say, images of my late night escapades flashing through my mind until glowing red eyes take hold of my memories.

“I’m done for the day, care to take a walk with me?” He asks.

We walk around the city chatting about the charity event and it’s massive success to raise funds for the Akso hospital research department as the sky turns from brilliant hues of orange and magenta to a calming deep azure, the stars twinkling overhead.

“You know, you never told me where you went the other day.” Zayne says, his inquiry posed as a statement.

“I had to meet a friend.” I swing our intertwined hands with each languid step.

“Your friend who owns that strange bird, I take it.” Another question that he’s too proud to ask.

I stop in front of an alley and turn my chin towards him, but before I can answer the sound of my hunter’s watch breaks up the busy white noise of the city.

“Metaflux?” Zayne asks, scanning the street for danger.

“It’s getting stronger. Over there!” I point to the alleyway beside us.

“A wanderer.” Zayne���s voice is cold as he drops my hand and steps in front of me . “Stay behind me.”

The wanderer is stronger than we expected. Caught off guard, we barely make it out alive. I’m knocked to the ground so swiftly my lungs empty as my back hits the pavement, and in a flash of vivid blue and a hail of ice the wanderer is defeated while Zayne shields my struggling body.

“Zayne.” I choke out, my hands clutching my bruised and bloody chest.

“Are you alright?” He drops to his knees beside me and surveys my wounds.

“I think so.” My vision shakes as I look into his eyes, and I notice the blood running down his arm as it soaks through his white coat. “You’re hurt.” My brow furrows as I reach out to touch him.

“Ah.” He winces, deep creases forming on his forehead.

“We can’t stay here, come on.” I pull myself up against the wall of the alleyway and link my arm through his.

“We should go back to the hospital.” He says, but I pull him the opposite way down the street.

“I know somewhere closer, do you trust me? We can’t stay here in case more wanderers appear. We’re no use to anyone in this state.”

The hotel is only one block away, and within minutes we are standing in the lobby as the other guests gasp upon seeing our injuries.

The young woman behind the front desk is too busy flirting with the bell boy to notice the state of our appearance.

“Good evening, do you have a reservation?”

“Yes.” My chest rising heavily with each breath. I realize that it might have been a bad idea to come here with Zayne, but he’s bleeding too much and needs help. “The presidential suite.” I announce.

The girl looks at us, her eyes widening as she reaches down and hands me the key. “Have a nice evening.” She says as we stumble towards the elevators.

“Wait!” We hear a voice call out, it’s the bell boy running towards us with a first aid kit.

“Thank you.” Zayne grunts from beside me. “We might need more than just some bandages.”

I can feel my phone ringing in my pocket as we approach the tall double doors of the presidential suite. My hand shakes under the weight of my own body and Zayne’s larger frame leaning on me for support as I reach towards the door handle.

“What is this?” Sylus’s voice booms in front of me, and I look up into agitated blood red eyes. He stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he looks Zayne up and down.

“I’m impressed, sweetie. Did you do this to him?” He grins down at us.

“We were attacked by wanderers.” Zayne says, thick drops of blood running down his hand hit the hallway’s carpet.

“He needs stitches.” My eyes plead with Sylus, and after a heavy moment passes, he rolls his eyes and gestures for us to come inside, a deep sigh escaping his throat.

“Are you hurt?” He asks as he helps Zayne down onto the black velvet lounge chair in the living room.

“I’m just a little bruised, maybe some minor cuts.” I look myself up and down, the angry claw marks throbbing across my chest.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight.” Sylus takes the first aid kit from my hand, his impatient eyes warning me not to push my luck. I wince and silently mouth the words ‘I’m sorry’. To my surprise, Sylus just winks before turning away to assist Zayne.

“Caw! Caw!” Mephisto cries from his perch above the television set while I settle down at Zayne’s side and help him wriggle free of his coat.

“This looks really bad.” I trace along his limp and bleeding arm. He forces a pained grin and catches my hand in his. “It looks worse than it is. I’ll be alright.”

“I can’t say the same for your clothes, Doctor. I’ll retrieve something of mine for you to wear. MC, get him out of that shirt so I can look at his arm.” Sylus stalks to the bedroom leaving Zayne and I alone under the prying robotic eyes of Mephisto.

The fireplace crackles from the other side of the room as I work on the small pearlescent buttons of his shirt.

“Who is he?” Zayne asks.

“Mephisto. You two have already met when he crashed into your window.” I say.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I mean.” A low hiss emanates from his mouth as I slide the torn fabric from his body, his toned chest gleaming with sticky wet blood. I drop the shirt on the floor and start cleaning his wounds. “Can you move it at all?”

Zayne wriggles his shaky fingers, rolling his wrist slowly. “It appears it isn’t as damaged as I had assumed.” His tone is cold and indifferent.

“Promise me you won’t jump in front of me like that again? I can’t stand seeing you hurt.” Tears prick in my eyes as the adrenaline begins to dissipate and the fear of nearly losing him hits me like a runaway train.

“No.” He says.

“Zayne, look at you. You could have been killed tonight.” My fingers brush his stomach as I lean into him, my imploring eyes searching his face for connection, for a sign that he understands.

“I’ll always protect you, and correct me if I’m wrong but you are in no position to tell me what I can and cannot do. That wanderer would have killed you, I won’t let you put yourself in danger around me. Ever.” His fierce olive eyes hold me in my place until I hear Sylus clear his throat.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“No, I was just telling Dr. Zayne how reckless his actions tonight were.” I move back onto my knees while Sylus throws down a stack of clothes onto the table. He sits down next to Zayne and begins stitching up his arm.

“This is quite deep, Doctor.” He says.

“I’m aware of that.” Zayne squeezes my hand as the thick surgical needle pierces his marred skin.

Sylus meets my gaze from opposite ends of the chaise lounge, a characteristic sly grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“This isn’t quite how I pictured our date going, princess. Generally my dates don’t bring a friend along.” He teases.

“And generally mine don’t take me to an obvious criminal’s hotel room.” Zayne grumbles.

I move closer to his side. “So you do know who he is? Why would you pretend you didn’t?” I ask.

“You are free to do as you please, I’ve never said otherwise. When that bird interrupted our time together I asked around about its origins.” Zayne says.

“And? What did your sources reveal? Don’t tell me that my reputation precedes me even in Linkon City.” Sylus asks.

Zayne smirks and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his uninjured hand. “That bird possesses technology only found in the N109 zone, Onychinus to be exact.”

I look to Sylus with a panicked glance, but he’s entirely unbothered. He takes a small vial from his breast pocket and screws the black cap from the glass. “Drink. Both of you.”

Zayne looks at the vial, and then up at Sylus. “I don’t think so.”

“What is it?” I ask.

“A healing sedative that my chemist produced yesterday. It uses protocore energy to heal even the most grave wounds. I strongly suggest you drink.” He pushes the bottle into Zayne’s hands, nodding in encouragement.

“If it heals wounds like you say it does, then why go through the trouble of stitching my arm?” Zayne asks.

Mephisto caws and flies towards Sylus who stretches a long muscular arm to catch the bird. He chuckles as he pets the crow. “I’m allowed a little entertainment for the derailment of my night.”

Zayne tries to stand but the pain of his wounds pushes him back down into the seat. With a hesitant glance in my direction, he tips the bottle to his lips and drinks half of its contents before handing it to me.

“I don’t need it I’m fine.” I push it away, my body aching from the motion.

“You could have internal bleeding, sweetie. I would never give you something harmful. Do you trust me?” Sylus reaches out and grazes my shoulder with his long fingers.

The truth is that I’m in quite a bit of pain and it would be nice to sleep without a dull ache pulling at my muscles.

I exhale and bring the bottle to lips. The black liquid burns down my throat, warming my chest as it spills into my system. The tang of metal and something indescribable leaves a thick film on my tongue.

“You must be hungry.” Sylus snaps his fingers and the door opens, a shuffle of footsteps approach us.

“Yes, Mr. Sylus?” Luke and Kieran chirp in unison.

“Wake the chef and have a full meal prepared. Five courses with wine pairings.” Sylus demands.

“Right away.”

My mouth waters as a plate of beef tenderloin in red wine reduction is set down in front of me. “I’m so hungry.” My stomach growls embarrassingly loud.

“This looks good.” Zayne comments from across the table. His mood is lifting after drinking the sedative, even his wounds seem to be closing up.

“Yes well, that’s what having a black card and being the leader of Onychinus entails. The best food, the best wine, and ultimately the most exquisite company.” Sylus’s eyes are smoldering when he meets mine. His shameless suggestive comments fall on deaf ears, Zayne is engrossed in his meal and for a moment it feels like Sylus and I are alone in the room.

I take a few sips of my wine, my head beginning to spin in a euphoric haze. “I feel strange, my body is so light. That sedative is amazing, Sylus.” A lazy smile spreads across my face.

Zayne laughs. “You’ve only had one glass of wine, are you drunk already? This meat is so tender, why am I so thirsty?” He rambles, setting his knife and fork down next to his plate. He leans back in his chair and pushes his hair from his forehead.

Sylus looks back and forth between me and Dr. Zayne, a knowing smile on his chiseled face.

“Oh my god, you drugged us.” I accuse, scowling in his direction. For some reason I can’t seem to force myself to care as my brain floats around in my head.

“Amazing.” Sylus mumbles. “I was warned the sedative could elicit… strange reactions, aside from pain relief and wound healing. Tell me, what are you two experiencing?” He rests his elbows on the table and surveys us like lab experiments.

A holographic aura swirls around Sylus’s form as my eyes struggle to focus. I hear a melodic giggle echoing in my head and realize it’s me.

Zayne laughs and looks at his hands, turning them over and stares at his open palms. “I feel like the first snow of winter. Serene, drifting silently into the darkness of space.” He whispers.

Sylus produces another vial from his pocket and dumps the contents into his wine glass, and with a wink he downs his drink in one swift move.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m leveling the playing field. I can’t accidentally dose you without seeing for myself, sweetie. It’s only fair.” He waves his hand and two waiters appear, clearing our plates from the table.

“I need to lie down.” I reach out to Sylus, and in a moment he’s behind me. He lifts me up into his arms and walks me to the couch in the living room. He lays me down on my back and rests my head on his warm lap. My head spins as Sylus gently grazes his fingers through my hair, and all of a sudden I feel the warmth of Zayne’s thighs under my legs. “Zayne.” I whisper, my eyes adjusting to the dim light of the fireplace.

“I’m right here.” His heavy hands weigh down my thighs as he traces circles across my leg with his thumb. We lounge across the couch until the haze of the sedative starts to wear off, but instead of my body returning to its usual alert state the euphoria is mixed with a certain type of hunger that grips my insides with such force that my legs press together. A soft moan escapes my lips while I nuzzle my face deeper into the silky fabric of Sylus’s pants.

“Are you alright, princess?” His heavy breaths make his chest rise and fall quickly, and I turn to look up at his face. His eyes fall closed before he lets his head lean on the back of the couch. Need pulses in my core, and I can’t help but to reach out and touch his bare chest between his unbuttoned shirt.

“Mmm.” Sylus moans, his hand finding its way to the sliver of exposed skin above the waistband of my black leather pants.

I feel Zayne shift under me, his hands traveling from my knee up to my inner thighs, his touch growing stronger and more needy as his nails scrape the stiff fabric.

“You let all your friends touch you like that?” Sylus leans down and growls in my ear, his eyes locked on Zayne’s exploring hands.

“Me?” Zayne asks. “I was under the assumption that you were the friend. What did you say, MC? He’s ’just someone you’ve worked with?” Zayne teases as he takes his glasses off and sets them down on the couch next to him.

I giggle to myself as I grab Sylus’s hand and tangle it into the hair closest to my scalp. “You’re both my friends.” I gasp as the pressure increases on my scalp and clench my thighs together. I feel my skin slick with sweat and have the sudden urge to throw the unbreathable fabric clinging to my body into the crackling fireplace.

“We have worked together.” Sylus drawls. “Amongst other things.”

My feet are too warm. I try to kick my shoes off but they’re not budging. Zayne sees my efforts and slowly removes them and tosses them to the rug. Sylus shifts and lowers his face to mine, his warm tongue flicking across my lips. My mouth parts, inviting him deeper inside.

“Sylus.” I moan into his lips. “It’s the sedative that’s doing this, right?”

“I regret to inform you that it can only amplify whatever desires and needs already existed, kitten. And by the way your body is reacting, it’s clear what you think about us. Or better yet.” His fingers travel to the button on my pants, and I hear a small snap as he tears it off and tosses it aside. “What you need from us.”

“Who said anything about need?” I challenge, his red eyes igniting with fire. He exchanges a mischievous glance with Zayne, and for a moment I thought at least he would have the good sense to end whatever this was, but when Zayne moves closer and pulls at the zipper of my pants I know I’m in deep, deep trouble.

“Just say the word and I’ll take you home, MC.” Zayne offers.

The thought of leaving this warm soft couch and these two beautiful men makes my chest hurt. “No.” I say. “I want to stay. I want you both to stay.” I reach my hand out to each of them, and without another word they take my hands and trail kisses along my palm. Zayne’s fingers slip into the front of my pants and pull them from my hips while Sylus stops to bite on the fleshy part of my palm beneath my thumb.

“Please.” I say, my back arches and my head falls back onto Sylus’s lap. My knee brushes against the bulge in Zayne’s pants. “Take it off.” I plead, my hands pawing at my blouse. I hear the unmistakable tear of silk as Sylus’s hands strip the tattered shirt from my chest. Two sets of hands trail across my exposed skin, my eyes roll back into my head when I’m pulled upright and onto Zayne’s lap.

“Come here.” Zayne demands, slipping the straps of my bra from my shoulders. I can feel my thighs slick with moisture as I grind my hips over the thick length in his pants.

Sylus rips the back of my bra from its small metal hooks, the warm air brushing my bare breasts.

“Fuck.” I hear him moan in my ear while he kisses my neck.

I can barely breathe when I hear the door to the suite open.

“Boss, there’s a problem.” Luke says before spotting the scene in progress on the couch.

“Get out!” Sylus snaps.

“Oh shit.” Kieran says as hurried footsteps travel back out into the hallway.

“Unless you’d like them to stay and watch, kitten?” Sylus asks.

“No.” Zayne says, kissing my breast before taking my nipple between his teeth and biting down.

“Ah!” My core clenches and I feel myself soak through my lace underwear.

“They don’t need to see what I’m going to do to you.” Zayne’s voice is ragged and deep as he rips the seam of my panties and pulls them from my hips. I hear the sound of clothes hitting the floor before the warmth of Sylus’s hands are all over my body, caressing my skin and taking my breasts into his large palms.

“Show me what you do with him.” Sylus pants into my ear, demanding and controlled I hear him settle down into the armchair facing the couch.

“Come back.” I beg, my words caught in my throat as Zayne unzips his pants and I feel his thick tip pry at my entrance.

“Good girls get rewards. Now, be a good girl and show me what you let him do to you when I’m not around.”

I dig my nails into Zayne’s shoulders, feeling him stretch me as he pushes inside. “So wet.” He moans into my neck.

I turn my head over my shoulder to look at Sylus through half lidded eyes. With his legs stretched in front of him and his tall form leaning back in the chair he looks like a king watching his subjects entertain him. Only a pair of black underwear conceals him, and my legs shake thinking about all the nights he made me scream his name.

“Show me what made you so sore last week that I had to be gentle with you all night.”

I hear a sharp scoff from Zayne before he grips my hips so hard I can feel finger shaped bruises form. He bucks his hips up into me and stretches me out until I bury my face into his neck.

“Is this where you disappear to at night? After spending the afternoon in my bed, MC? Both of us in one day, that’s quite the accomplishment.” I feel myself drip down his thighs as he fucks me hard, each thrusts feels like both a punishment and a reward for my secrecy.

Sylus’s underwear hits my back, and my core aches with desperate need while I grind myself down onto Zayne. Knowing that Sylus is watching, touching himself and getting off to me fucking another man makes the air leave my lungs. I need more.

“Come here.” I say, reaching backwards to Sylus.

“Not yet, sweetie. Be patient.” He says.

Zayne shifts under me and thrusts harder, hitting a spot deep inside me that makes my body shake and my eyes roll back.

“Oh god.” I moan, throwing my head back and letting my lips fall open.

“Remember this the next time you choose to ignore my directions, MC.” Zayne grips my jaw, slipping two fingers into my mouth. “We could have gone back to the hospital, and now look at you. Coming apart on my cock while a crime lord watches me destroy you.”

My hands fly to his head, twisting into the roots of his stark black hair and holding on for dear life. Zayne groans and pushes me onto my back, pinning my wrists down with one hand while he throws my legs up and over his shoulders.

Sylus silently rises from the chair and kneels next to the couch, his hand caressing my cheek. “I need you.” I say. “I need both of you, now.”

“Did he make you come, kitten?” Sylus rolls my hardened nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, a primal shudder wracking up my spine. “Mmmm.” My core pulses and I feel hot liquid splash across my thighs onto Zayne’s stomach.

“Just a little more.” Zayne moans as I pulse and tighten around his cock. “You’re almost there, I can feel it.” He says, his voice steady as he encourages me to come apart for him.

I can feel him harden inside of me. “Wait.” I say, but my words are cut off as I implode. “Good girl.” Sylus purrs in my ear as my back arches off the couch and I squeeze my eyes shut so hard that fractal patterns appear behind my eyelids. My body shakes as wave after wave of pleasure floods my nervous system, my fingers locking up from my death grip on the couch.

“Fuck!” I hear Zayne curse before his cock pulses inside of me, thick hot liquid filling me up until it spills out of me and onto the couch.

Sylus pushes my sweat slicked hair from my forehead and places my hand around his length. “Look how hard you make me, kitten.”

As I float back down into my body, I know that I need more. I’m insatiable, and with Zayne’s cum still dripping down my body I pump my fist around Sylus until I hear him shudder and moan. “You wanted both of us, right, sweetie?” I hear the sadistic edge to his voice as Zayne strokes his tip across my entrance. All of a sudden I’m pulled forward onto Zayne before he pushes back inside of me, and I feel Sylus settle against my back.

“Lie down on him.” He demands. I do as I’m told. “Now, relax and let me give you what you begged for.”

“Ah!” I wince as a sharp pain shoots through my core. Sylus pushes his tip into my entrance and holds my hips in place while Zayne moans into my ear. After a few moments the pain subsides and Sylus’s thrusts become deeper, more fervent. I arch my back and push into him, my body aching for more.

“So greedy.” Zayne says while he moves slowly under me. “Taking us both in one hole. Such a needy girl.”

I can feel them pressed against each other inside of me, their moans growing deeper with each thrust. My abdomen tightens and winds so tight I’m worried I’ll explode. Zayne pushes his fingers into my mouth while Sylus circles the tight exposed hole above my entrance before slowly pushing it inside.

“Look at you, all filled up.” Sylus says, lust permeating the air as thick as poison gas.

“Please.” I beg, but my voice is muffled by Zayne’s hand.

“Come again.” Sylus demands, his other hand reaching down to circle my clit. With soft gentle strokes he plays with me until I feel another splash of liquid run down my thighs, coating Zayne’s core and dripping onto Sylus’s hand. He brings his fingers to his mouth and licks up the taste of me like he’s sampling the most divine meal of his life.

“So fucking sweet.”

I grab Zayne’s wrist and force his hand around my throat, beckoning him to squeeze harder. “Mmm, you’re determined to be punished, aren’t you MC? Tell me, are you going to let him cum inside of you? You’re truly an overachiever, letting two men breed your tight little pussy in one night.”

And at that, I lose all control over myself. I bite down onto Zayne’s fingers as he squeezes my neck until I almost lose consciousness. I let my trembling body collapse onto him as I pulse uncontrollably around both of their cocks.

“Godamn.” Sylus breathes onto my neck, and I feel him harden and release the hot liquid he’d saved for me deep inside.

A few minutes pass before I’m able to move, or even register where my body is in space as I come down from the single most intense orgasm of my life.

Zayne cups my cheeks with his hands, looking deep into my eyes with a playful gratitude. “Are you satisfied now?” He asks.

Slowly, Sylus pulls out of me and gently pulls me up and back into his chest, kissing my forehead and hugging me close. “Was that everything you wanted and more, Princess?”

I laugh, the sound of my own voice echoing in my ears. “Yes. To both of your questions, friends.” I emphasize my last word with lighthearted sarcasm, prompting a groan from Zayne and an eye roll from Sylus.

“I’m so tired.” I yawn, letting my body sink down into the couch between both men.

“Then get some sleep, you need it.” Sylus kisses me softly.

“You might need more of that sedative. After all, I think you’d have been less sore from the wanderer attack than what we’ve done to you.” Zayne says.

Once again the door opens to the sound of hurried footsteps.

“Boss, it’s really important.” The twins grumble in unison.

“I told you both that now isn’t a good time. Remove yourselves from my suite this instant and if you come back and make me repeat myself you can expect a bullet in each one of your knees.” Sylus reaches toward the pile of clothes on the floor and produces a black handgun, waving it through the air with a nonchalant motion.

They scuttle away and leave us to the sounds of the dying fire once again.

“Apparently being obeyed is too much to ask these days.” Sylus grumbles.

“I don’t know about that, if you recall I did everything you asked.” I say, a teasing smile on my face as my eyes close and I begin to drift off to sleep.

“Get some rest, both of you. Your injuries are almost healed. I have some business to attend to, but I’ll be back to drive you home when you wake up.”

My heart is glowing like the embers flickering in the fireplace, and with heavy eyelids I drift off into a dream of Sylus and Zayne, the two men I can proudly call my friends.

[spacemilkies]

fractured confections, bittersweet absence (2/?)

pairing: Earth—42!Miles Morales x Spider!Reader wc: 4k+ rating: teen a/n: i plan to make a few changes to part one just to help the flow and clear up some points. but i'm glad everyone has been enjoying it thus far! synopsis: Miguel relies on you to discover a potential anomaly  and somehow you become it Or the one where world 42 never had a Spider-Man but then they do

previous part

Driven by curiosity, you find yourself sitting before the glowing screen of your computer, fingers dancing across the keyboard as you run the algorithm in a desperate attempt to locate him once more. The soft hum of the machine fills the room, an orchestral accompaniment to your quest. Yet, despite your efforts, the results remain elusive, leaving you with nothing but a void of anonymity.

Perhaps you are but a novice in the realm of digital sleuthing, struggling to navigate the labyrinthine pathways of cyberspace. LYLA, your ever-present companion and guide, proves to be of little assistance in this particular endeavor. Frustration laces your thoughts as you realize that the nameless void prevents you from unraveling the mystery that haunts your thoughts.

Returning from your heroic escapades, the weight of your recent exploits still fresh upon your shoulders, you find solace in the fact that Miguel was absent during your return. His absence spared you from the confrontation that lingered in the shadows, a confrontation that LYLA had deftly avoided by transporting you through the portal. LYLA, though not entirely willing, had reluctantly complied, mindful of the repercussions that loomed over her artificial consciousness as your accomplice.

In a brief moment of respite, you recall the flurry of questions that bombarded you after your impromptu rescue, LYLA’s relentless assault threatening to unravel the delicate threads of your deed. Faced with LYLA's impatience and the implicit threat of Miguel's simmering anger, you were propelled through the portal, leaving behind the tumultuous inquiries.

Yet, as the truth of the matter settles upon your thoughts, you find a glimmer of relief. Miguel remains blissfully unaware of the short visit. 

The room around you seems to hold its breath, the air heavy with unspoken revelations. The flickering glow of the screen casts an ethereal light upon your face, illuminating the myriad thoughts that swirl within your mind. The pulsing rhythm of the computer's hum intertwines with the rhythm of your heartbeat, the synchrony of technology and humanity creating a symphony of anticipation.

The visual feeds of Brooklyn flicker into the spaces of your screen. The search may have yielded no answers, but the hunger for knowledge still burns within you. In the depths of your soul, a yearning to unravel the enigma that shrouds Earth-42, a flickering flame that refuses to be extinguished. 

In the midst of chaos, where the clamor of the city merges with the cacophony of everyday life. A masked rescue, while a remarkable feat, remains concealed within the vast sea of unremarkable events. You purposefully keep your abilities subdued, a subtle dance of power restrained. After all, Earth 42, with its multifarious wonders and enigmatic mysteries, remains an disconcerting realm in Miguel's consciousness. For now it is your little secret, a fragment of existence hidden from prying eyes.

But secrets, like Pandora's box, possess a relentless allure that tugs at your resolve. The forbidden knowledge within beckons you, a siren song that echoes in the recesses of your mind. Locked away, safely out of reach, it should have remained untouched—a relic of the past, a fleeting memory of curiosity. Yet, here you stand, time and again, on the precipice of temptation, ready to open the box that holds the answers you seek.

Each time you surrender to the pull, the lid creaks open, revealing glimpses of the cityscape that sprawls before you. It begins with vagueness, fleeting glances that yearn to see beyond the surface. The absence of names and DNA samples renders your search a daunting task, a labyrinthine puzzle without a clear path to follow. The spider venom, a potent trigger for your web of connections, remains absent, leaving you grasping at ethereal threads.

In your quest to track down a twin-braided teen, your efforts yield little but frustration. Minutes turn into hours, slipping through your grasp like sand through an open hand. The lack of results becomes your alibi, the justification for the time spent in this fruitless pursuit. And yet, the yearning persists, an insatiable hunger that gnaws at your soul.

Amidst this stolen respite, Miguel breezes into the office, his presence like a gust of wind that stirs suspicion. With him, any sudden movement is enough to rouse his keen instincts, leaving you treading carefully, maintaining an air of routine as you mutter a greeting. He settles at his desk, a late lunch in hand, but his gaze, like a compass needle, is drawn magnetically to your screens. His voice, laced with a hint of concern, breaks the silence, pulling you back to the present.

"Is there a problem?" he inquires, his eyes scanning the displays, searching for any sign of discord or trouble. From the corner of your vision, LYLA materializes, her digital form assuming the guise of anxiety with uncanny realism. In moments like these, you curse the intricacies of her programming, for her expressions add an air of authenticity to the situation.

"No, just browsing," you reply, your words tinged with dryness, an attempt to dismiss any suspicion. But fate has conspired against you today, for Miguel, granted ample time, succumbs to the tendrils of curiosity. His query pierces the air, shattering the fragile tranquility that enveloped the room.

"Which Earth?" he asks, his attention fixated on the signature code embedded in each Earth feed. It serves as a swift reference point, a means to identify the known spider heroes traversing the multiverse. In this stage of your escapades, LYLA possesses the ability to discern the vast majority of them without direct intervention. Your fingers dance upon the keyboard, a silent symphony of keystrokes, while your voice mumbles an indistinct response.

"42," you finally manage to articulate, your voice infused with uncertainty. Miguel, ever inquisitive, approaches from behind, his hand gently curling around the back of your chair as he leans in, his presence almost palpable. Proximity amplifies the intensity of the moment, as if the secrets hidden within the Earth 42's web of existence are about to unravel.

"The one without a Spider-Man?" he questions, a subtle crease forming upon his brow. You can sense his curiosity, a tempestuous storm brewing within his mind, yearning for answers to questions he has yet to fully articulate. You shift uncomfortably, aware that the truth may soon confront you, testing the delicate balance of trust and the choices you've made.

"Uh, yeah," you mutter, the words escaping like an elusive whisper.

Together, you and Miguel stand side by side, engrossed in the digital dance of indicators that pop up on the map before you. Their appearance lacks any discernible pattern or rhythm, scattered like shards of shattered glass across the screen. Each blip represents a discordant note, a disturbance in the harmonious fabric of the city. The map becomes a tapestry of chaos, a visual testament to the turmoil that seeps through the streets.

In this moment of shared observation, silence stretches between you, pregnant with unspoken thoughts. Miguel's gaze lingers on the map, his expression contemplative, as if he is deciphering the hidden messages embedded within the scattered incidents. Time suspends, creating a brief pause in the symphony of life that surrounds you.

Abruptly, he pulls away, his hands clapping lightly to disperse the crumbs that have collected on his fingertips. The sound reverberates like a fleeting applause, a signal of transition. His own computer springs to life, its mechanical hum blending with the soft hum of algorithms more intricate than your own. His movements are precise, calculated, as he navigates through the sea of data, seeking patterns and connections that elude the untrained eye.

A moment passes, and then he delivers his verdict with an air of finality. "Without a canon event to lead the dialogue, there is no saving how the cards will fall." His words, though enigmatic, resonate with a hint of resignation. The complexity of the situation, the fragmented nature of the incidents, has left you both with an unsettling uncertainty, a realization that the future is veiled in an unpredictable haze.

His final comment hangs in the air, an unspoken assurance that even if he is not able to decipher the enigma that shrouds Earth 42, he will not relent in his pursuit of answers. The weight of the unknown bears down upon your shoulders, intertwining with a lingering sense of responsibility.

As you observe the vibrant chaos of the map before you, a flicker of determination ignites within your being. In this tangled web of uncertainty, you know that your choices and actions will shape the course of events, determining the fate of this realm that remains without its Spider-Man.

“Yeah, we know,” slips past your lips as a whisper, but you know it wasn’t missed. 

Miguel's final comment hangs in the air. It resonates with a solemn truth, a truth that reverberates through your very core. The world you once called home, the world that fell victim to Miguel's unintended actions, now lies in ruins, a haunting reminder of the consequences that come with interfering in the fragile tapestry of reality. The warning lingers, an ethereal specter of caution that reminds you of the delicate balance that must be maintained.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

In a way, the conversation came with some advantages. Like a father trying to smooth over a fight with sweets before dinner,  Miguel takes it upon himself to assign you more frequent missions. A smooth way to bury the memories that have been unearthed, to seek redemption for the irreversible damage caused. Yet, even as you jump from one world to the next, traversing the vast expanse of the multiverse, your thoughts always return to that fateful event that altered the trajectory of your existence.

For a fleeting moment, you managed to accept the truth—that you were an outsider, detached from the intricate web of connections and destinies that bind the inhabitants of each world. The triggers that once tied you to the web of timelines remained dormant, dormant like the embers of a forgotten flame. It should have been enough to sever the ties that bound you to the remnants of that world, to shield you from the pain of loss and the burden of responsibility.

But a challenging thought takes root within your mind, sprouting like an enigmatic seed in a barren garden. What if, as the foreign spider hero, you are not bound by the chains of a canon event? What if your purpose transcends the usual narratives of heroism, and instead, you become a mere visitor, a wandering soul lending aid without being entangled in the intricate affairs of those you encounter? The idea tugs at the edges of your consciousness, beckoning you towards the open portal that stands before you, a gateway to untold possibilities.

All the facts lineup, logic aligns, but they fail to hold enough weight to anchor you in place. The allure of the unknown, the desire to forge your own path, calls to you with an irresistible melody. It whispers promises of freedom and liberation, of a life unfettered by the burdens that haunt your every step. Uncertainty lingers in the air, mingling with the scent of possibility, as you stand before the open portal, caught between the remnants of a past life and the infinite horizons of the multiverse.

In this pivotal moment, the choice is yours to make. Will you heed the warning, clinging to the cautionary tales of ruination, or will you surrender to the pull of the unknown, venturing forth into uncharted realms where the lines between hero and visitor blur into obscurity? The decision hangs delicately, poised upon the precipice of your soul, as you gaze into the swirling portal, awaiting the path that will shape your destiny.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

As the surprise assignment lands in your lap, whisking you away to Earth-138, a realm where the enigmatic and unpredictable Hobie Brown donned the mantle of the resident spider-man.. The very fabric of this world seems tinged with a touch of chaos, an energy that pulses through the streets and alleys. Here, Hobie rarely seeks assistance, but the occasional nudge can coax him into accepting a hand, though he often reminds you that his aid is not a necessity but rather a choice born from the depths of his own heart.

The dialogue between you and Hobie dances upon the air, their words charged with a playful banter that betrays an underlying camaraderie.

 "You know I don't actually need your help, right?" Hobie's voice lingers with a hint of amusement, his words intertwining with the gentle rhythm of the surroundings.

 "Yes, Hobie," you reply, your voice infused with a knowing tone, a silent acknowledgement of his independent spirit.

 "Meaning that this is a gesture out of the goodness of my heart." Hobie's words cascade forth, painting a vivid picture of his convictions. 

"Naturally, Hobie," you affirm, your response adorned with a dry undertone of appreciation for his individuality.

 "See, I hear you agreeing, but I don't feel the agreeance," he playfully remarks, attuned to your distracted state.

In a moment of keen perception, Hobie notices the subtle shift in your attention, an indication that your thoughts wander towards other matters. A sly grin tugs at the corners of his lips, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. 

It takes you a mere second to crumble, clinging to the one soul who would feast upon the chaos rather than whistleblow it from the highest building. Hobie is unsurprisingly a great listener in the presence of anarchy.

Curling an arm around you shoulder, he drags you in. “See now you’re speaking my language, little spider. I knew you weren’t a goody-two shoes.” 

Sensing an opportunity to indulge in some delinquency, he suggests the need for a decoy, an ingenious solution to ensure your escapade remains undetected. 

You hesitate momentarily, knowing all too well that removing your watch would only invite Miguel's scrutiny.

 But Hobie's mind, sharp as a blade, spins its web of ingenuity. "What if you had two watches?" he proposes, his voice laced with a sense of triumph. "Same signal, new watch transmits without alerting the code." 

His intellect shines through, painting him as a mastermind of subterfuge. The corners of his lips curl into a knowing grin as he revels in the art of deception. "You're downright diabolical," you remark, marveling at his cleverness.

"I know," he confesses, reveling in the playful artistry of his scheme.

A spark of delight flickers in Hobie's eyes as he basks in your recognition. His grin widens, a testament to his satisfaction. He’s all to willing to play host spider as he draws you into a local pub, already scheming the intricacies of the proposed plan. 

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

Within the confines of the headquarters, the air hums with anticipation, a symphony of bustling activity. The scent of metallic tang lingers, a reminder of the intricate machinery that powers the operation. As spider heroes from various dimensions flock in and out, their presence a testament to the ever-growing ranks. The demand for dimensional watches, those essential gateways to traverse realms, remains insatiable, fueling the constant flow of activity.

Amidst the whirlwind of preparations, you find solace in the familiarity of your room, a sanctuary within the bustling hive. Here, the walls are adorned with sketches and blueprints, the remnants of countless tinkering sessions. Your nimble fingers dance across the tools, coaxing and adjusting, as you delve into the realm of technology. The soft glow of monitors bathes the room in a mesmerizing light, casting elongated shadows across the cluttered surfaces.

Feeds from Earth-42 flicker and float in mid-air, a hypnotic tableau of visual snippets. The chaos that unfolds across the dimensions, a swirling vortex of battles and adversaries, feels overwhelming. Criminals materialize, wreak havoc, and disappear into the ever-shifting tapestry of realities, making it challenging to pinpoint any one nemesis.

As you tinker, your mind meanders through the labyrinthine corridors of your thoughts. The intricate nature of the technology in your hands mirrors the complexity of the challenges that lie ahead. It's a delicate dance of understanding, a balancing act between harnessing the power within and navigating the treacherous terrain of heroic duties. The weight of responsibility settles upon your shoulders, and you find solace in the familiar touch of the tools, the familiarity of your craft.

In this quiet haven, away from the clamor and chaos, you seek refuge in your ability to navigate the technological realm without the constant presence of LYLA, your ever-watchful guardian. Here, in this private enclave, you are the conductor of your own symphony, weaving webs of innovation and possibility.

As you carefully piece together the final component of the mimicry watch. The metallic fragments interlock, each click resonating with significance. The weight of the watch rests in your hands, a tangible embodiment of the choices that now lie before you. Its presence is a constant reminder of the burden of contemplation that you carry, a weight that settles upon your soul.

In this pivotal moment, you find yourself standing at the precipice of destiny, poised on the edge of a decision that will ripple across the fabric of existence. The immensity of the multiverse stretches out before you, an infinite expanse of possibilities and diverging paths. Every step forward holds the potential to alter your own canon, to weave a narrative thread that will forever change the tapestry of your life.

The weight of responsibility settles upon your shoulders, pressing down upon your being. The burden of choice weighs heavy, for there is no going back once you cross this threshold. You stand on the threshold of a new reality, aware that the consequences of your actions will reverberate far beyond the confines of your own existence.

In this vast sea of infinite universes, where realms intertwine and narratives intertwine, the concept of immersion is malleable, ever-shifting. Spider heroes, in their relentless pursuit of justice, have shattered the boundaries of what is considered canonical time and time again. The rules of engagement blur, and you find solace in the knowledge that you are not alone in the realm of breaking immersion.

Yet, even as you draw strength from the precedent set by those who came before, you cannot ignore the stark reality that this journey is different. It surpasses the confines of mere disruption and event bending. You are a new entity, a force of change that transcends the boundaries of what has come before. The weight of this realization is both exhilarating and daunting, a symphony of conflicting emotions that reverberates within your very core.

The weight of the watch serves as a constant reminder that the time for hesitation has passed. It is now time to step forward, to embrace the unknown, and to redefine the very essence of your existence as a spider hero.

With a resolute determination, you press the sleek, fabricated decoy device against the watch encircling your wrist. The two devices make contact, their surfaces touching in a moment of connection. As the transmission begins, a surge of energy courses through the air, sparking a current of anticipation that electrifies your very being.

The link between the devices is established almost instantly, a symphony of technological marvel unfolding before your eyes. The small blinking light embedded within the watch's mechanism illuminates the darkness, flickering once before radiating a brilliant emerald glow. In that fleeting moment, the weight of your decision lingers, suspended in time and space.

Every fiber of your being quivers with a sense of suspense, each passing second feeling like an eternity. You brace yourself, prepared for the imminent arrival of Miguel, his footsteps echoing through the corridors of your sanctuary. The overlay you meticulously coded pulsates with hidden power, cloaking the presence of the transmitters when activated simultaneously.

However, even with your calculated precautions, a lingering doubt remains. The possibility exists that, with the right kind of investigation, your cleverly constructed concealment could be unveiled. 

Yet, as the moments stretch into eternity, a profound silence settles upon your surroundings. No thunderous footsteps break the tranquility, no alarms wail their warning. Not even LYLA, the ever-vigilant guardian of your domain, stirs from her digital slumber. The tension that had coiled within you, constricting your every breath, dissipates like a phantom fog.

A deep, relieved sigh escapes your lips, carrying with it the weight of an ache that had settled within your soul. A wave of accomplishment washes over you, mingling with the lingering sense of vulnerability. In this delicate balance, you find solace, knowing that, for now, you have successfully navigated the treacherous waters of deception and secrecy.

With the watch and its decoy device in perfect harmony, their hidden purpose concealed from prying eyes, you bask in the glow of your accomplishment. 

The cloak of pseudo-freedom envelopes you, its tantalizing allure sweeping you up into a whirlwind of exhilaration. In the sanctuary of your normal nighttime respite, the vast expanse of untamed possibility stretches out before you, beckoning with its siren song. With a flicker of anticipation, you activate the portal, its ethereal glow casting a luminescent veil across the room.

Stepping through the threshold of the interdimensional gateway, you emerge into a world transformed, your senses acutely attuned to the vibrant pulse of Earth-138. Brooklyn, a tapestry of urban splendor, unfolds before your eyes. 

As you gracefully swing through the labyrinthine streets, a sense of familiarity settles upon you, the symphony of your web-slinging movements blending seamlessly with the rhythm of this alternate reality. The night air embraces you, caressing your skin with a cool, refreshing kiss. The cityscape sprawls beneath you, an intricate mosaic of flickering lights and shadows.

With an instinct honed by countless encounters, your eyes scan the surroundings, seeking out signs of disturbance and discord. It doesn't take long for your keen senses to detect the telltale echoes of trouble. A group of figures materializes in your periphery, their intentions ominous and palpable. Like broken shards of shattered glass, they descend upon the unsuspecting vehicles, a symphony of chaos and destruction.

Your heart quickens its pace, a primal surge of adrenaline flooding your veins. The instincts of the spider hero awaken within you, compelling you to intervene, to restore order amidst the turmoil. The screeching of metal against glass reverberates through the night.

In a seamless motion, you descend upon the scene. Like a shadow materializing from the depths of night, you strike with precision and grace, ensnaring two figures against the side of the car. 

By the time the rest are alerted of your presence, you have the third swinging from the street light. 

And the fourth—

A dissonant note pierces through the air, and your shoulders sag with a sense of disbelief. The fourth figure, their retreating silhouette etched against the flickering city lights, abandons their compatriots without a second glance. 

“There is always the one.”

With a resolute sigh, you raise your watch to your face. Your fingertips tap against the cool glass surface and you send an anonymous tip to the local police department.

Will the police heed the call, or will their absence leave the captured criminals to languish in the bonds of their own misdeeds until the morning light? You would let fate swing that pendulum. 

The following encounters come too easily. 

A returned purse. 

A corner store robbery put to rest before it stops.

A few miscreant activities in between. 

And most recently, a pair of individuals trying to blow up a police car. 

Twin voices spew complaints as they fight against the bonds plastering them against the hood of the car. There would be no need to send off a top for this own.

Your attention, however, lingers on the webbing. In your escapades, you had left quite a bit of it lingering around the city. People would definitely talk if the evidence remained, and you were ready to give the gig up just yet. 

In most universes, the city typically cleans it up but you know you have solvent for it. 

You decide to bring some next time. 

Yes, next time. 

This was totally going to be a thing.

[cherrypie62666]

HFOBG Chapter 12 Sneak Peek

“I’d ask what it was you were thinking, but I find your actions have already spoken for themself and proven that you weren’t.”

Will sat across from where the General stood looming over him on the opposite side of the small table, head bowed in shame over what felt like a verbal lashing but was really just a few choice words that dug all the way down to the quick.

There was no obvious raising of the man’s voice.  No accusations or inquiries necessary.  Apollo didn’t need anything more than the sharp disapproval lacing his tone for the message to be received loud and clear.  Will had fucked up.  Big time.  The how or why didn’t matter in the least when it was clear the outcome would always yield the same exact results.

Crossing his arms over his chest, his father huffed a tired sigh out through his nose.  “No matter,” he drawled, and his tone remained just as icy as it had for the entirety of their short one-sided conversation thus far.  “It isn’t me that you need to convince your little stunt was all just some foolish misplaced trust in a stranger who could have endangered our very existence if you hadn’t been caught in the act of sneaking him inside our walls.”

At that, Will glanced up from where his hands had been folded neatly in his lap over to where those piercing blue eyes still pinned him down with their unrelenting force, blinking in slow surprise at the first indication given to him verbally of why it was he was being locked in that room in the first place.

Not that it surprised him all that much given the evidence.  Breaking a person in was arguably much worse than breaking them out—accompanied with a whole slew of new problems for him to find decent answers for—but for the first time since he’d heard the chaos erupt around them, Will felt the tiniest glimmer of hope bubbling in his gut.

Licking his lips, he opened his mouth in preparation of speech after what had likely been hours spent in defiant silence—only to abruptly snap it shut again at the withering stare shot at his person.

“I don’t want to hear anymore lies about your actions,” Apollo snapped, temper flaring so hot it wouldn’t have surprised him any if steam shot out of the man's ears in tandem.  Cracking his neck audibly first one direction and then the next, he reigned it back down to a duller simmer.  “The higher ups will have enough questions for you at the hearing tomorrow.  Ones that I expect will be given full transparency in order to minimize your punishment.

As for your little… ‘friend’.”  He dropped the word from his pursed lips as if it was a personal affront to everything he ever stood for and then some, nose wrinkling a bit in clear distaste.  “He will remain under observation until a decision is made on what to do with him from there.  The likelihood anyone will vouch for an outsider that attempted to slip past our borders untested and in blatant disregard of our rules is slim, at best, although I suppose that will depend on how well the two of you cooperate going forward.  I hope for your sake no one else knows about the tunnel entrance.”

------------------------------------------------------

Read the previous chapter here and stay tuned for this update in about four weeks!

[itgomyway]

I've been into Non-Dualism for a while now, though not extensively. Previously, I was deeply involved in the Law of Assumption community. Then, I stumbled upon ND. It felt like a breath of fresh air, so liberating. I've consumed all sorts of ND content, from every nook and cranny of the internet. It's been a bit of a rollercoaster, this journey of slowly "detaching from ego".

Recently, something happened that sent me on a over-consumption, while trying to convince myself that "hey, it's okay". Honestly, I'm tired of reading without a clear sense of what steps to take. I've tried all sorts of techniques to loosen the grip of ego, but my mind keeps circling back to these issues, almost like they're haunting me. I get it, it's ego at play, but the anxiety attacks still hit hard.

I hope I'm not coming across as too demanding, I'm just genuinely seeking guidance in the best way possible. What more can I do?

There's so much conflicting advice out there. Some say understanding isn't crucial, it's just the ego making a fuss. Others suggest a slow process of self-inquiry, questioning what the ego is asserting and coming back to our core. It's left me feeling a bit bewildered and frankly, drained. I'm at a loss, just wanting a reset that brings some peace.

I get that Non-Dualism is supposed to be about simplicity and shouldn't bring about these feelings. But right now, I feel like I've got a full plate. My mom's financial situation hasn't been great, and I'm really anxious about her having to bear too much of a burden. Letting go of the desire to change my current circumstances is terrifying. What if letting go only means things stay the same or get worse? The pressure to make a change feels like it's closing in.

When people say "let it be" or advise to step back from actively trying to fix things, I'm left scratching my head. How do you navigate challenges by just letting them be? I feel defeated and just want to feel free. I'm scared about what the end of the week, or worse, the end of the month, might look like if I'm still stuck in this uncertainty. I've got a decent grasp of these concepts on an intellectual level, but when the day passes and I whisper "I AM" to myself, I struggle to truly feel it. It's like I'm held back by the limitations of this physical form.

I'm on the edge of giving up on chasing after achievements. Ego sometimes feels like this looming, scary presence. What I really want is to shed all of this weight, be kinder to myself, and find a path that leads to genuine freedom. What's the next step? What should I do? I want to stop trying, or figuring out.

Thanks a ton for taking the time to read this through. I've been following your blog and I really appreciate the kindness you bring to your community. Wishing you a great day ahead.

love im afraid in all of that reading, you missed the entire point. the point of non dualism is to free you from the human condition. you dont use non dualism to navigate the human condition it doesnt exist in the first place.

remember everything is you. you are consciousness. everything else is fake and its only the ego that deems it as real.

ignore it. its not real. who cares?

that’s how i live “life”. i dont confirm nor deny anything real or fake whenever circumstances arise cuz its ALL FAKE. the only existing thing is me. even when i think about “me” its not even “me” doing it. its the ego. the ego answers the question of who you are while you as CONSCIOUSNESS know what you are. the ego cant really grasp this so i don’t see a reason in trying to make it

i picture it as inner child = ego “grown up” = consciousness. the inner child is scared and confused. just wants to be safe and do any and everything to be safe, even if they think they know what theyre doing or that theyre in control. its not. its fake. be the adult in the situation and take control. understanding the ego is probably throwing a temper tantrum so let it cry itself to sleep. everything they thought that was soooo important they’ll forget when they wake up. so its not real anyway. you can relax you got this <3

[kiealer]

( I saw a parallel and decided to jump for it. If it's too familiar, retreading ground already covered, or even if you're just not feeling it, feel free to ignore 💙 )

Drawn in from the conversation, Dek lingers. Their expression is difficult to place, though 'troubled' may begin to describe it.

When quiet comes, they approach Ninazu.

"I don't know you, or the one you've taken in by anything but reputation. I claim little knowledge of your critics, as well... but in you, and your quarry, I see something familiar."

Miles above, their home vessel drifted in Earth's orbit, aboard which a certain infamous insect awaited their return. They saw his progress; the subtle ways in which his interests shifted, and his personality evolved. Many others did not.

"You've taken on quite a responsibility. The effort alone is commendable... and I suspect you've already gathered that it will also be thankless. Those critics will not be your last, should your situation grow any more public. At times, it will be grueling. Maybe even hopeless."

"... I am not here to condescend you when I say this. I know the labor of working towards an outcome everyone else believes is impossible. I only ask because I believe it is the one question you must have an answer for, in a position like that which you've taken."

"If, despite everything you have done, your efforts come to nothing, and he threatens the world once more, do you have a plan... and the will to see it through to the end?"

Where she ought to be alarmed, she isn't. The unfamiliar ki should be a sign of danger, but she feels no urgency. Faced with by all means a stranger, she doesn't act -- merely listens. Her eyes widen upon their words, feeling a spark of what might be hope that someone understands. It takes all her willpower not to sob on the spot, the strain of this emotional weight far too much.

❝I know,❞ she speaks with great effort. ❝I knew this would happen from the moment I made the decision. I expected as much. I just… I guess I just didn't expect it to be so intense. I didn't think I'd have a hard time handling it. He truly has changed. Just… no one's seen it. No one wants to. I understand the bitterness and the cynicism, but… why throw away the progress of someone who's actually changed? Who's trying? Call me stupid, I don't care, but I… feel bad for him. I want to give him the best chance I can at becoming better.❞ She goes quiet, intent on hearing more of their spiel. They have an inquiry, it seems. For some reason, she finds herself tensing -- nervous. Her heart beats a little faster at the thought at what might leave their mouth.

The question causes her jaw to drop, whether to speak or because of shock, even she isn't sure. The possibility has always loomed over her, that everything she's built will be for nothing, and it will come crumbling down along with the rest of her hope. There's clear pain in her face as she contemplates. The thoughts that cross her mind, she doesn't wish to impart. Conflicts of all manner circle incessantly, but in truth, she does know her answer in an instant. Her once firm stare turns hesitant, and she withdraws that gaze. She carries a heavy burden, indeed. The weight of the world, and more.

❝I think if it came down to it… If nothing I did amounted to anything… I don't have a concise plan, but... ❞ Her fingers curl a little tighter into her palm, jaw clenching. ❝I'd want the final blow. Put an end to it all myself. Fight tooth and nail until it's all over.❞ Her voice wavers, indicative of the tears threatening to breach. ❝My ego isn't worth the lives of everyone else. I'm willing to admit when I'm wrong. If that were to happen, I'd accept the consequences, no matter what comes with them.❞ A solemn reply, but a necessary one, as much as her heart tugs her in another direction. She is soft by nature, to impose any other kind on her would be impossible. Though, she knows to be made of steel when the situation calls for it, no matter how it harms her.

She stares at the stranger for a long moment, but something has changed.

❝… Thank you,❞ she sighs, as if a ton of weight has left along with it. ❝I don't know who you are, either, but… I appreciate this. Let's both be a little bit of solace for each other, yeah? Believe that what we're doing isn't worthless.❞ Finally, she smiles. ❝I wish you nothing but the best in your endeavor.❞