#Drag Race ES

[gagmedrag]

Venedita von Dash, 2022

I hate the torero and bullfighting tradition, but I love this look.

[fuckyeahbananafreak]

gurl, same

[tyriq-edits]

No one:

My stupid ass watching this: OMG DIVERSITY WIN! This giant Robot is a Drag Queen!

[losjavis]

los javis invented making out

[myspacelolit4]

are they the cutest or what

[pedropascallme]

☆Kinktober 2024☆

Day 3: Breeding

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) p in v sex, breeding kink/creampie, dirty talk, Joel cannot shut the fuck up, spanking, if I missed anything please let me know!

“Keep your legs up, ‘round my waist—there y’go,” Joel mumbled his words into your ear, the scruff of his beard scratching the side of your face as he spoke.

He hadn’t said a word to you when he’d gotten home, riled up and pissed off at yet another ill-prepared patrolman who had nearly let it all go to hell. He’d opted instead to shuck off his jacket, leaving a trail of shoes and socks in the front hall before using his whole body to pull you into a bruising, much needed kiss.

You didn’t mind. You liked when he used you to blow off some steam, especially after being gone for so long.

So there you lay, spread out on the kitchen table for him, your hands in his hair. You planted your lips on him wherever they could reach when he leaned over you to admire the way your expression changed when he moved.

“Joel, Jesus Christ—so deep,” your moans were chesty, thick with the desire you’d been waiting all week to share with him.

And by god, was he delivering.

“Just gotta whip this pussy back into proper shape,” his hands caressed your sides, and when he reached your hips he dug his fingers into your skin so harshly that they’d be sure to leave bruises. He used his grip as leverage to drag you over his cock. “Only been a week and she almost forgot me.”

“Never—oh,” you whimpered when he moved one hand off of you before using it to deliver a sharp smack against your thigh, “Never forget about you, Joel—oh, fuck—feel so good, I nev—never forget about it.”

“Gonna have to make sure,” he moaned at your praise. Pressing his hips firm against you, he deepened his strokes and increased his pace ever so slightly.

You whined, head falling back against the table as your eyes closed, heightening the pleasure of the position he had you in and the way he spoke.

“Sound good?” He continued, landing another spank on your thigh, “Look at me—is that what you want?” He grabbed you by the calves, pushing your legs to your chest and bending forward to capture you in a kiss. “You want me to make sure you remember? Make sure you know who you belong to? Who this perfect fuckin’ body belongs to?”

You had to battle with yourself to keep your eyes open, lost in the joy of being full of him. The nudge of his cock on your cervix and the way he pressed against your clit with every thrust kept you dangling over the edge, almost ready to fall completely into ecstasy.

“Y—es,” you hiccupped through the haze of arousal, “Keep me full like this—keep me open all the time, Joel, please.”

“Do you one better,” he looked smug, the smirk he wore nearly morphing into a sneer as he situated himself on his forearms above you. “Gonna fill you up nice and deep, put a fuckin’ brat in there—‘nd every time you look in the mirror, every time you look down, you get to remind yourself what you’re carryin’.”

“Joel—!” You were so close, and the promise of being pumped full of him, the way he delivered the promise, and the notion of him actually and purposefully attempting to get you pregnant all worked in tandem to make your toes curl and your eyes roll back.

“Yeah, s’a good idea, right?” He was smiling, babbling on as he watched you approach your high, racing towards his own. “Breed this greedy fuckin’ hole, that’ll show everybody whose you are—show you.”

“Yes—yes, fuck, please,” you were close to tears, desperately trying to move your hips to match his pace and speed up the process of what he was vowing to do. “Joel, please, cum in me.”

“Oh, I’ll cum in you,” he took a moment to really admire you, nose pressing against your own, gaze piercing into you, “Cum in you as many times as it takes to make it stick.”

And with one final shove of his hips, you were floating. You let out a strangled moan, something that came from low in your abdomen and exited your lips in a whiny, breathless cry. He relished it, pressing his face into your neck as he continued his ministrations, letting the sounds and signs of your pleasure coat him, body and mind.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he sucked marks into your skin, feeling your pulse, quick and jumpy, against his mouth. “Good girl—you want it?”

“Yes…” You were spent, body trembling and eyelids heavy, but you needed to see this through, aching for the warmth of him deep in your stomach. “Please—as many times as it takes…cum in me.”

“Fuck, that’s right,” Joel’s eyes were screwed shut, his mouth falling open when his hips began to stutter against you. He pushed himself deep, grinding himself against your cunt. “Shit—goddammit, I’m—yeah, yeah, sweetheart—fuck!” He came with a groan, and you moaned at the way his cock twitched inside of you.

You were both panting, sticky with sweat and exhausted. He stayed on top of you, nosing your neck and pressing dainty kisses into your skin.

Joel found it in himself to pull out after a few moments, still trying to savor the feeling of your cunt wrapped around him. But when you tried to lift yourself up, a calloused palm pressed into your chest.

“Stay like that, darlin’. Legs up.” He walked around the table, coming to stand where your head nearly dangled off the edge. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll be ready again in ‘bout an hour.” He grinned, leaning over you to catch your lips with his.

With the way his tongue dove into your mouth, hungry to explore, capturing your whines, you could tell you wouldn’t have to wait a full hour if you played your cards right.

“How about you—mm—how about you carry me up to bed?” You purred, sliding a hand up to toy with the curls on the nape of his neck.

“Can’t risk lettin’ all’at leak out of you,” he muttered against your lips, “As pretty a sight it may be…”

“So slide back in and carry me like that,” you batted your lashes, and he let out a groan. “And if any of it drips, you can just do it all over again.”

“You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart,” he shook his head, but he took your advice.

[pupuseriazag]

Something about my dad not understanding the social cue of "If Im watching something with my mom, dont try to make us watch your thing, no matter how much you move your phone so we can "watch""

[jungwnies]

wrong time, right person - carlos sainz (1/4)

୨ৎ : pairing : carlos sainz x fem!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : years after a bitter breakup, you and carlos sainz reunite unexpectedly. old wounds resurface, but so does undeniable love. will history repeat itself?

୨ৎ : genre : romance, angst, humor, drama ୨ৎ : tws : mild language, arguing, friendships ending, bantering, suggestive humor, mentions of alcohol consumption. ୨ৎ : wc : 952

part one | part two | part three | part four

Spain was never supposed to feel like home.

You were just an exchange student, a stranger in a country where the language tripped you up, where conversations flowed around you like a current you couldn’t quite swim in. The other students were nice, polite even, but distant. They smiled, but no one really saw you.

Except for him.

Carlos Sainz wasn’t just friendly; he was relentless. He talked to you like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he had made it his personal mission to make you feel at home. The first time he sat next to you at lunch, he didn’t ask the usual "Where are you from?" or "How do you like Spain?" Instead, he stole a fry from your plate and smirked.

“You always eat this little?”

It took you a second to process what he said, your brain scrambling for the right words. When you did, you narrowed your eyes and stole a fry right back.

“Mind your business.”

He laughed, loud, unapologetic. And just like that, best friends.

He made Spain feel like home. He dragged you to local karting tracks, shoved a helmet on your head, and laughed until he was breathless as you struggled to drive at half his speed. You sat on the asphalt after his races, drinking cheap sodas and listening to him talk about his dreams; Formula 1, podiums, championships. You still remember the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his father, the legendary Carlos Sainz Sr., how he wanted to make him proud.

“You think I can do it?” he asked once, voice quieter than usual.

You scoffed, nudging his shoulder. “I think you’re already doing it.”

And you were right.

He climbed the ranks, and you were right there beside him, just like he was there for you. Modeling started small, with local gigs, small shoots. but soon after, your face was showing up in magazines, whispered about in the industry. The first time you booked an international job, Carlos picked you up and spun you around like it was his victory too.

“You’re gonna be famous,” he said, grinning. “I’m gonna see your face on billboards, aren’t I?”

It was fun, easy, and natural, until it wasn’t.

The higher he climbed, the further away he felt. The more you succeeded, the less you seemed to talk. At first, it didn’t feel like a big deal. You still sent texts, still FaceTimed when you could. But slowly, the missed calls turned into silence, and suddenly, you were watching each other’s successes through headlines instead of in person.

Then, he made it to Formula 1.

And you? You were stepping into high-fashion modeling.

The night it all fell apart wasn’t supposed to be anything special. Just another call that went unanswered. Just another missed "good luck" before a race. But this time, Carlos called back, and he called back angry.

“You don’t even care anymore.” His voice was sharp, cutting straight through your exhaustion.

You blinked, phone pressed to your ear, the weight of his words settling deep into your chest. “What?”

“You heard me,” he snapped. “You missed my race. Again.”

Your stomach twisted. “Carlos, I had a show. You knew that.”

“Right, right,” he said bitterly. “Another shoot, another runway, another excuse. Siempre tienes una razón, ¿verdad?” (You always have a reason, right?)

Heat flared in your cheeks. “Excuse me? Don’t you dare act like you’re the only one with a career! I support you, Carlos, but I have my own dreams too.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t the kind that made your heart feel light, it was sharp, hollow, cold. “Support? ¿Eso es lo que llamas esto?” (Is that what you call this?) “Because it feels a lot like you just don’t give a damn anymore.”

Anger burned hot in your chest. “That’s not fair.”

“No?” His voice dropped, quieter, but somehow even more dangerous. “Entonces dime, when was the last time you actually showed up for me? When was the last time you watched me race, not through a screen, but actually there?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because the answer was obvious. And it wasn’t one you wanted to say out loud.

Carlos exhaled sharply, like he had been hoping, hell, borderline begging, for you to fight him on it. But you couldn’t.

He scoffed. “Eso pensé.” (That’s what I thought.)

Tears burned behind your eyes. “This isn’t fair, Carlos. You’re always traveling, I’m always traveling! What the hell do you expect me to do?”

“I expected you to care.” His voice cracked. Just slightly. But it was enough to break you.

Your breath hitched. “You think I don’t?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and that hurt worse than anything else.

Because Carlos always knew. He always understood you, always read between the lines, always saw you even when you felt invisible to everyone else. But now? Now he wasn’t even sure.

The silence stretched between you like an open wound.

And then he said it.

“Quizás sea más fácil así.” (Maybe it’s just easier this way.)

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. “What?”

His voice was flat, emotionless. Like he had already given up. “Maybe we’ve just been holding on to something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

You felt something inside you shatter.

Carlos had been your best friend. Your person. Your safe place. But now he was just...just nothing.

“I don’t have time for this.” Your voice was quiet, raw, aching. “I have an early flight.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Por supuesto que sí.” (Of course you do.)

Neither of you apologized.

Neither of you fought for it.

Neither of you said goodbye.

Carlos left for another race. You left for another shoot.

Neither of you looked back.

Until you were given no choice...

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[mywritersmind]

pookieeee how are youuu 💗 I'm in NEED of a Franco fic where the reader is João Félix's little sister...

So she obvi speaks Portuguese and English (maybe some Italian in there too) butttt unlike her brother her Spanish is rusty. So when reader drags her brother (and of course some of the guys from the team) to support her best friend at a race, he's listening in to every little comment Franco makes about her in Spanish and trying to subtly give hints to reader that he likes her, and of course some good brother teasing! Just hardcore fluff, friend pining and good old family banter!

HE CAN UNDERSTAND - FC43

listen up : i used google translate don’t come for me. not proofread! super cute and fluffy! loved this request sorry if i didng execute it well😭

word count : 2281

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Franco!” I jump into my best friends arms as he laughs. The moment I asked for three Grand Prix tickets, he sent them over immediately and went on a rant of how excited he was to see me.

“Y/n!” He grins widely at me, “I’m so happy you’re here!” He's in his race suit, his hair messy and extra wavy. I run my hand through it, fixing it a bit.

“You’re a mess.” I laugh as he pushes my hand away and rolls his eyes, “Oh!” I suddenly remember that my brother is standing behind me. “This is my brother, João! I can’t believe you two haven’t met!” I smile at both of them as my brother shakes Franco’s hand.

Oddly professional for someone he knows I love. “Nice to finally meet you. Y/n never shuts up about you.” I slightly blush at his words as Franco lets out a laugh.

“Good to know…” Franco gives us a mini tour. I'm so beyond happy for him. This has been his dream since forever, the first time I met him he even jokingly flirted and said I could be a WAG.

Franco is charming and hilarious so my brother likes him instantly. We end up in the William’s garage, everyone scrambling around and talking in languages I can’t understand.

Since it’s race day, i’m genuinely surprised Franco had the time to see us. Especially since Qualifying was earlier today.

But my best friend works in magical ways.

⋆༺

FRANCO

I watch Y/n talk to Alex’s girlfriend. I watch as her hair flows down her back and her hand covers her mouth as she laughs. “So,” João turns to me, sort of intimidating for his height but so far I think he approves of me. “You’ve known Y/n for a while, huh?”

I nod, “Yeah, she hasn't been able to shake me yet.” He laughs, nodding his head.

“You care about her?” Why do I feel like i’m getting interrogated?

I nod, “Of course. She’s my best friend.”

“I mean as more than a friend.”

I laugh uncomfortably, joking with him, “Are you asking me my intentions?” He does not find this funny. I clear my throat and breathe out, “We’re just friends.”

Y/n comes skipping back over to us. I’ve always been taught to not lie, but i’m not about to confess that I like her to fucking brother.

“J, you’ve got to see his car!” She takes his arm and pulls him away, “You coming, Fran?”

I’m about to follow after them but my engineer taps my shoulder, “Gimmie one second! Don't touch anything, Y/n, I know how you are!”

She gives me one of her signature smiles, making my pulse quicken and my smile falter. I catch her brother giving me an odd look before I sit up and wave.

I turn to my engineer who’s smiling, big, “Dios mío, te estás sonrojando.” (My god, you’re blushing.) I roll my eyes at him, turning to see Y/n point to my car and start asking questions to someone in blue.

“¡Cállate por favor!” (Shut up please!) Her Spanish is more than rusty. I've tried to teach her some but she gets distracted and she always ends up persuading me into something different. Still, it’s weird talking about her when she’s right there.

“Vamos, ¡te gusta! Es la forma en que la miras... como si fuera el sol.” (Come on, you like her! It’s the way you look at her… like she’s the sun.) I push his shoulder at his words. Christ, is it that obvious?

“Actúas como si fuera un cachorrito enamorado.” (You act like i’m some lovesick puppy)

“¡Porque lo eres! Siempre hablas de ella, tu pantalla de bloqueo es ella, ¡siempre le estás enviando mensajes de texto! Admítelo.” (Because you are! You always talk about her, your lock screen is her, you are always texting her! Just admit it.)

I cross my arms at him, not daring to glance back at her. “No voy a arruinar mi relación con ella…” I shake my head and tease him, “¡Ahora vuelve a trabajar!” (I’m not ruining my relationship with her… now get back to work!)

I join Y/n and João again, smiling and doing my duty as a tour guide. João gives me another weird look and i’m hoping it’s not because i’m losing his trust. I know i’m not her boyfriend, but I still want him to like me.

They are soon asked to step into the visitors area as I warm up for the race. Y/n kisses my cheek before she goes, “Good luck, Fran. Be careful!” I know my cheeks are red but all I can focus on is her so close to me, her lips on my cheek.

I nod, “Thank you. Have fun watching.” I wink at her and turn, getting ready.

⋆༺

YOU

“I’m so nervous! It’s so rainy!” I bite my lip as the cars go out on track in a second formation lap. The race hasn’t even started and someone’s already out!

My brother eyes me, he’s been acting weird all day and I hate it. He suddenly turns to me, “You don’t like Franco?”

It catches me off guard, “Uh… of course I do?” He rolls his eyes.

“I mean can you see yourself with him? I think you’d be cute.” I laugh out loud.

“João, when have you ever wanted me to date someone?” Especially Franco. I mean, maybe i’ve thought about it.

Okay maybe I've fantasized about it… a lot.

But what am I supposed to do? Confess to my best friend who’s always been there for me that I think he’s irresistible and criminally hot? No.

“I just think if you’re gonna date anyone… He’s a good option.” My cheeks heat as I shake my head, “You’re blushing! Come on, Y/n, why not?”

“Just shut up, the race is starting!”

The next time he brings it up is at a yellow flag, “He’s definitely nicer than your ex.” I give him a death glare and attempt to tune him out, “And who did you go crying to after he broke your heart….?” Franco. The answer is Franco because he’s always there.

It’s been hard recently because of his races, but he’s constantly texting or calling me. I think he just wants someone to gossip with.

“Again, he’s my friend. Just because you have a girlfriend now doesn’t mean you know everything!”

“No but I know everything about you, and you don’t look at your other friends like that.” I hate that stupid smug smile on his face. And I hate that he’s right.

My stomach drops when Franco goes into the wall. I grab onto my brother's arm who doesn’t look concerned at all and more happy that i’m so worried! I slap his arm, “You have no empathy!”

I cross my arms, biting my lip as I watch him exit the car. Thank god he’s okay.

Franco gives me a small thumbs up when he’s back in the garage. I can tell he’s absolutely gutted, the air is awkward and thick with tension since Franco’s crash meant that the whole team's weekend is over.

The race is long and honestly scary. Still, all I can think about is Franco.

Maybe this weekend, his attention to me, my brothers comments, and how Franco’s been looking at me, has finally sealed what I've been dreading.

I’ve known I like him for a while, but I don’t want to ruin us. I can’t be embarrassed by my closest friend!

I’m not an idiot, I see how he flirts with interviewers or even fans. Part of me wants to believe that’s just his personality, but the other part is screaming at me that he doesn’t like me.

His eyes though, he looks at me so deeply that sometimes I feel like I'm apart of some big trick.

“Hey,” My brother nudges me, “Race is over.” I snap out of whatever daze I was in and nod, “I gotta pee, go talk to Franco!”

When I look to where he points, Franco’s already looking at me. His race suit is unzipped and he looks so tired. “Hi.” He smiles softly but I can tell it’s forced.

“Sorry your first race with me sucked.” He frowns, leaning against the little barrier from the garage and friends and family.

“Hey…” I touch his arm briefly, “It did not suck! And It’s not your fault. It was scary though…”

His eyes look sad and I know it’s not just because he crashed. Franco feels so deeply and this weekend has been especially hard for him. I can tell he sees the worry on my face, “I'm really really happy you’re here. We’re getting dinner later, right?”

I go to the hotel with João first. We change and meet back at the restaurant. “I’m so hungry!” I groan as we sit down, Franco said he would be here soon but I am not above ordering early.

João sits across from me, “Gotta wait for your boyfriend.”

I eye him, “You better not say anything in front of Franco. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.” He laughs a bit.

“I really don’t think I will.” He’s so ominous today. “I can tell i’m making you uncomfortable though. My only question is… why?”

“Why?”

“Why can’t you accept that you like him? He’s obviously not going to turn you down. He’s practically got hearts in his eyes when he talks to you.” The waiter brings water which I gulp down immediately.

“I- No! I can’t like him. He’s my friend.”

“So you’ve said… but the best relationships start out that way.” Why is he pushing this so much?

“I just… I don’t want to ruin our relationship.”.

“Funny…” he mumbles something, “That's what he said too.” but I can’t hear him because Franco sits and starts saying hello.

Our dinner is amazing, the food is perfect and I can’t stop laughing at Franco and João. “You’ve gotta come to a match sometime!” My brother laughs, “The team would love you.”

Franco grins, “I would be honored! Y/n always talks about your games, you’re pretty good apparently.” This boosts my brother's ego far too much and we end the night while talking about football and childhood stories.

“He always teased me with his friends!” I roll my eyes at the memory, “They were all learning Spanish in highschool so I never understood them!”

Franco laughs as João shakes his head, “Why didn’t you take spanish in highschool?”

“I did! I just never caught on. Plus João became fluent after school anyway so his schooling barely helped.” I shrug as Franco’s expression turns odd.

He blinks, looking to João, “You’re fluent?”

“Si.” He looks almost smug about it as Franco nods slowly, swallowing.

“Así que escuchaste…” (So you heard…)

“Todo.” (Everything) Franco’s smile drops completely at my brothers words. But my brother still carries on with a smile, “Eres muy obvio, pero lo apoyo.” (You’re very obvious, but I support it.)

I frown at their communication that I can’t understand, “Okay, can you two stop gossiping? I’m ready to leave.” Franco smiles at me, nodding slowly as we stand.

Our walk back to the hotel is short and luckily no fans interrupt it. The warmth of the inside makes me smile and the ding of the elevator makes me yearn for my bed.

“Uh, Y/n?” I look back at Franco as he talks, “Could I speak to you for a moment…” I look at my brother who nods, a smile still on his face as he disappears behind the elevator doors. “Let’s go outside.”

It’s no longer raining so we venture out into the hotel's garden. It’s beautiful with tall plants and trees, a small path that we walk on, and flowers that I've never seen before.

“What did you walk to talk to me about?” I turn to him, he looks oddly scared and a bit chilly. He starts to speak but then closes his mouth and thinks, “Franco…?”

“I like you.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, I freeze, “I really like you and not just as a friend… like way more than that.”

I blink, “You’re kidding?”

The panic on his face is immediate, “No?”

“Shit. Okay!” I realize i’m so caught up in my own world that he probably thinks I don’t like him, “I feel the same.”

He breathes out, stepping closer, “You fucking scared me.”

I smile, not believing this is even real, “You really like me? Because my brother has been making me feel delusional all day!” He takes my hand in his and I swear my heart skips a beat.

“He heard me talking about you in spanish…” I raise a brow, “My engineer was teasing me and I didn’t know he spoke it!” I laugh, shaking my head at his story, “But I'm glad he did. I probably would be sitting in my room all alone if he hadn't.”

I grip his hand tighter, stepping closer, “I’m really glad too. I didn’t want to ruin anything but fuck I really like you.”

He grins and leans in, He paused before I nod. Franco presses a kiss to my lips softly, “I can’t believe you have a crush on me.” I whisper as groans and rolls his eyes, trying to walk away.

“No! No taking it back now!” I laugh, pulling him back to me, my hand going to his neck and my lips meeting his, “You’re stuck with me now.”

[moviestarmartini]

flores amarillas. — franco colapinto x gf!reader

él la estaba esperando con una flor amarilla / ella lo estaba soñando con la luz en su pupila / y el amarillo del sol iluminaba la esquina / lo sentía tan cercano, lo sentía desde niña.

summary: franco surprised you at the airport on a special saturday.

wc: 800

warnings: none! just fluff, conversations in spanish, idiots in love and a established relationship.

A/N: feliz día internacional (latino mostly) de las flores amarillas hehehehe i added the context in the fic so i won't give it here !

now playing... flores amarillas from floricienta

The only way your trajectory to Singapore could get worse was if the plane exploded mid-air like in Final Destination. 

It was humiliating; you were supposed to arrive Friday, and by the time you took your last connection, the estimated time of arrival was for early Saturday morning. The bags under your eyes were bigger than the ones sitting in the compartment underneath the passengers, you went from lack of sleep due to excitement to hibernation, ignoring the flight attendants who attempted to wake you up. 

You only rose from your slumber while the destination edged nearer, to freshen up and half heartedly have breakfast. You did your best to look presentable, flushing away in the sink the despair from both the missed connections and long customs lines. This involved changing out of the designated airport lounging outfit into something more fresh, having prepared the outfit in your personal bag, feeling the humidity already crawl up your bones even when you hadn’t descended. 

After his excellent work in Baku, Franco was eager to finally fly you out to see him race live in the top category, only having experienced him in the feeder series. The nerves ate you up, walking the paddock with your boyfriend was something you had fantasized about, but never expected to become a reality even when he reached Formula One. 

But there you were, praying for your bag to come out and not have gotten lost, leaving a big sigh of relief upon spotting it, untampered with. It wasn’t that heavy, and it was that moment of strength that took over you whenever your boyfriend wasn’t there to carry everything. 

As soon as your roaming plan kicked in you contacted him, letting him know you were there. He told you he hired a chauffeur to pick you up and take you back to the hotel, excusing himself due to the need to rest before paddock duties, which you completely understood. 

Imagine the surprise to see him standing at the arrivals gate holding a bouquet of yellow flowers. 

His face lit up in joy at the same time yours lit up in surprise, a delicate hand flying over to cover the O your mouth had turned into. 

Gifting yellow flowers on September 21st was used to celebrate the beginning of spring in the southern hemisphere, and the phenomenon just spread all throughout Hispanic countries. You’d dropped hints here and there, but with the stress from your flight… situations you’d completely forgotten about everything else. 

Your suitcase made noise against the floor as you dragged it along your sprint, letting it go— but making sure it stayed put— before hugging him tight. His laughter replenished all the energy the trouble had taken away from you, nuzzling into his shirt to breathe in his scent. 

Yeah, it was your Franco. 

“¡Me mentiste!” You proclaimed, hitting him in the chest. He ignored the subject of the yellow flowers and supposedly arranged for a third party to pick you up. 

“Buen día princesa hermosa, feliz de verte.” He blatantly ignored your claims, leaning in to smooch your cheek, hanging the bouquet of sunflowers with fresh eucalyptus mixed in for some greenery. You didn’t know if your ears felt warm because of the high temperatures or the flattery. 

“¿Cómo es que iba la canción? Ella sabía que el sabía que sabía que algún día pasaría—“ You interrupted his annoying high pitched sing along while you took a picture of the plants, heart thumping in your chest. 

“No, no. Que él sabía que algún día pasaría a buscarla—“ Now it was his turn for him to interrupt you, putting a finger over your lips. 

“—con sus flores amarillas!” Though you would regularly be offended at him interrupting you, you almost giggled at his antics. 

You stood there for a second, unable to tear your eyes away from the warm toned bouquet, still in the best type of disbelief. You didn’t notice it was you who he couldn’t tear his eyes away from. 

The second you told him you were asking for all the permissions to get a vacation sorted to see him race, he knew he had to make it special. And by your reaction, he knew it was a mission accomplished. Besides, it warmed his heart to see you so happy. 

“Let’s go get you freshen up and head to the paddock, if I’m any later than the hour I have left, they’re going to replace me.” Now the idea didn’t terrify you just as much, you were too busy gawking about the surprise to your mom and your friends, following him to the car knowing you had no time to lose nor spare. 

He took both your weekender and the medium sized suitcase, letting you to only carry the weight of having the best boyfriend ever. 

[gagmedrag]

Hornella Gongora, 2023

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut (f*ngering, oral sex (f receiving), male masturbation, mentions of BDSM, mentions of org*es), dark romance, angst, manipulation, possessiveness/obsessiveness, mentions of Arson, mentions of violence, mentions of blood

word count: 12,535

a/n: y'all...Y'ALL!! I'm so so sorry for missing these last two weeks 😭😭 life been a lil overwhelming recently ngl, so I've been real distracted lately. But, I should be good going forward! Hope y'all like this chapter :) Also, also, thank you to all the kind people who reached out 🥹 thanks for checking in and leaving words of encouragement. And I'm editing this with like four days of sleep deprivation, so sorry for any mistakes!

Terry's song: All I Want is You-Miguel, J. Cole | Camille's song: Honesty-Pink Sweat$

Pt. Eight

Terry

Terry watched as Aston thrashed around as the security guards dragged him away, a man he assumed to be his father and Mr. DeWaterson following close behind. Onlookers watched in horror as they tried to make sense of what happened. The most senior partners of the firm began to pace around the venue frantically, trying to console potential donors and industry friends. But as everyone tried to return to normal, Aston’s screams reverberated off the walls, raw and frantic. As entertaining as his meltdown was, Terry couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. Aston’s thrashing, manic behavior was enough to make anyone uncomfortable, but what struck Terry most was the complete absence of control in Aston’s eyes—a wild, feral desperation that seemed beyond anything natural. It was so odd, Terry couldn’t even focus on the fact that he outed his true nature. Granted, it didn’t matter that he just told everyone in shouting distance that he was a vampire. His ramblings were so incoherent and all over the place, no one would assume that they were more than the delirious outbursts of someone unhinged. Aston sounded too deranged, too far gone for anyone to take him seriously. But as Terry watched him disappear down a hall, he knew, deep down, that the truth was far more complicated than simple drunkenness or madness.

Aston’s erratic behavior was much more than a random drunken episode. Sure, the sulfur he had ingested might have played a part in his frenzied state, but there was something more sinister at play. No, this was something deeper, something far more potent. This incident mirrored other times in Terry’s life where supernatural workings went wrong. Aston wasn’t merely intoxicated or out of control. He was under the intense, suffocating grip of a love spell. And not just any love spell. A spell powerful enough to bring even a supernatural creature to its knees. The thought made Terry’s stomach tighten, and a sharp exhale escaped his lips as his mind raced, locking onto the only person who could be arrogant and reckless enough to cast such a dangerous charm.

Stephanie. Of course, it had to be her. A thorn in his side since he stepped into Watkins & Grant. She was supposed to be a pawn, a temporary diversion, someone to give him easy access to Camille. In return, Terry would give her the attention she desperately craved, keep her entertained and satisfied—enough to keep her useful, but never to get too attached. That was the plan. But Stephanie, like plenty of other women in his past, had become consumed by him. She had become obsessed, her infatuation growing to an unhealthy intensity that was difficult for Terry to control. That obsession was more of a headache than it was worth, so Terry had created a plan that would get her out of his life once and for all. His generosity that week, his outward kindness towards her, had only been a means to an end, a carefully calculated move to draw her into a situation where she would be fired.

But Stephanie had used this night as an opportunity too. A spell, one potent enough for a vampire. And now, the aftermath was unfolding in front of him. Terry never imagined he would find himself thinking something like this, but in that moment, Terry was strangely grateful for Aston. Aston’s foolish attempt to poison him, as reckless and poorly executed as it was, had saved him from falling under Stephanie’s influence. Terry wouldn’t be making an ass of himself like Aston was since he was the intended target of the spell, but he would’ve lost control of himself and Stephanie would’ve been his sun, moon, and stars.

The idea of submitting to her demands, becoming obsessed with her like some lovesick puppy, made Terry’s jaw clench. But how did she get her hands on something like that? How did she know she would need something that powerful? Terry knew she was no witch, so she couldn’t have made it herself. So whoever did her work, did they know about him? Or did Stephanie know too? He needed to find out fast. And he needed to deal with her for even trying some shit like that on him. But, as always, there was someone far more important he needed to focus on. 

His eyes drifted to Camille, who looked to be in a state of horrified dissociation as she leaned against her mother’s shoulder. He licked his lips in a desperate attempt to taste any residual of her lips, of her mouth. His whole body seemed to buzz from their exchange on the patio. He had to force himself to concentrate to keep his mind from dwelling on how she so easily melted into him. How sweet she sounded moaning into his mouth. She had kissed him… she had actually kissed him. He wanted to feel triumphant. At least, more than he did. But he could tell that the night for her was overshadowed by the psychotic episode they just witnessed. But episode be damned. Terry wasn’t going to let this night slip away like it was nothing. After the breakthrough they had experienced tonight, there was no way he was going to let her out of his sight, not without some sort of resolution. He couldn’t bear the idea of letting her leave without a conversation, without clearing the air. Slowly, he pushed himself away from the balcony and crossed the short distance to where Camille stood.

Her mother, ever watchful, stiffened slightly at his approach, her eyes narrowing with wariness. But Terry wasn’t going to be deterred. Not tonight. Not after everything.

He gently grasped Camille’s elbow, the contact light but firm enough to draw her attention away from the place where Aston was just standing. “Camille,” he called out. She startled, a tiny gasp escaping her lips, as if she’d been lost in thought, unaware of the world around her. Her eyes blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over.

“Oh, Terry,” she murmured, her voice quivering as she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his torso in a sudden, almost desperate gesture. The action was unexpected, but Terry didn’t hesitate. He welcomed her, pulling her close, instinctively guiding her to rest her head against his chest.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered, her breath hitching as she pulled away just slightly, looking up at him through watery eyes. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him. All of those strange things he said about you. I just don’t know. I think he’s just a little…sick,” she hiccupped, her form trembling as she pressed herself tighter into him, seeking comfort.

He shushed her softly, a comforting hand stroking the back of her head, his thumb brushing against her hair in gently. “Camille, there’s no need to apologize. This isn’t your fault. None of this is your burden to carry.”

As she pulled back slightly, their eyes locked for a moment, the raw emotion in her gaze leaving him momentarily breathless. He fought the urge to lean in and kiss her again. He knew there would be plenty of time for that later. Instead, he forced himself to continue, his voice low and steady, “Do you want me to take you home?”

He heard a sharp intake of breath from behind them. Camille’s mother closed the distance between them and latched onto Camille’s arms, beginning to pull her away. Camille just wrapped herself tighter around him and Terry held onto her tighter. Camille’s mother glared up at him.

“That’s very thoughtful, sir, but I think you two have had enough time alone,” Camille’s mother chimed in, her voice dripping with disapproval. She looked to Camille, who refused to meet her gaze. “Come on Camille… let’s check and see if Aston is alright,” she added, her tone much more gentle.

Terry’s grip tightened even more, his expression hardening with quiet resolve. His eyes narrowed at the gesture, the tension in the air thickening. With a calm yet undeniable force, he responded, “Mrs. DeWaterson, Camille’s comfort is my priority. Don’t you think seeing him right now would be too much for her?” His words were laced with power, the Veil weaving through his tone like an invisible thread, an undercurrent of power that would not be ignored. Terry knew that she wouldn’t be able to refuse his suggestion.

The woman blinked a few times, as if momentarily stunned by the lack of control over her mind as it scrambled to process his suggestion. The brief hesitation passed, and then, as if the words were her own natural response, she spoke. “You…you have a point.” She removed her hands from Camille and took a few steps back, still blinking with confusion. Terry felt a flicker of satisfaction, his body relaxing slightly. Good. Now, leave us be.

He watched as her eye twitched, fighting against his command. “Camille, please just remember everything at stake,” her voice quivered. Terry narrowed his eyes, doubling down on his influence over her. She stopped talking and turned sharply, her heels clicking against the floor with a speed and posture that seemed forced. Camille’s eyes tracked her slowly, her brow furrowing in confusion at her mother’s retreating form. But she didn’t voice any objection, didn’t make any move to stop her.

Terry gently cupped her chin in his hand, his touch tender but firm. He guided her face back to him, forcing her gaze to meet his again. Her eyes, still clouded with discomfort and exhaustion, softened as he spoke, his voice low and soothing. “You wanna go now? Get some rest?” His thumb brushed over her soft skin before he released his hold to let her move freely again.

She nodded as she unwound herself from his embrace. He noticed the way her shoulders drooped slightly, the weight of the night still pressing down on her, but there was a flicker of relief in her eyes.

Terry stepped forward, taking her arm gently but with purpose, guiding her away from the scene, towards a quieter, less crowded exit. Most people still lingered near where Aston had been, and the space ahead of them was mostly empty, allowing them some privacy.

He slipped a hand into his suit jacket pocket and retrieved his phone. His fingers danced over the screen as he typed a quick message to his driver:

Leaving now. Be ready for two stops. 

Just as he hit send, a message from Jabari flickered across his screen: 

It’s done. 

His lips curled into a slight smirk as he tucked his phone back into his jacket pocket.

He glanced down at Camille, her fingers still lightly gripping his forearm, the warmth of her touch a stark contrast to the cold, calculated thoughts racing through his mind. That same far away, worried look she had before had returned to her face. He gently placed his hand over hers, a subtle but deliberate action to bring her mind out of her worries and back to reality. Back to him. 

“You not shutting down on me, are you Camille?” He asked as he pushed the door that led them to the rounded driveway of the venue. She softly chuckled, shooting him a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. “No Terry,” she said quietly. “Just thinking, that’s all.”

He sighed inwardly. He could feel the tension radiating from Camille, the way her mind was undoubtedly consumed with worry for Aston. She was probably replaying the scene in her head, trying to make sense of it all, wondering what could have pushed him to act the way he did. And then there was the question of Stephanie. Why he attacked her of all people. He could almost see the gears turning behind her eyes, the attempts to piece everything together, the deep concern, all wrapped in layers of confusion and helplessness.He shook his head lightly, trying to push his anger away. He could feel her thoughts swirling, even without her saying a word, and it made his stomach tighten. He placed his hand gently on the small of her back as they neared his private black car, his driver Lorenzo already propping the door open. The contact was meant to ground her, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside him.

His jaw tightened, the muscles in his face clenching momentarily as a surge of possessive jealousy rose in his chest. The thought of her mind occupied by Aston, of her attention lingering on someone else, ignited something dark and primal inside him. I should’ve fucking killed him. A long time ago. His thoughts twisted.

But he forced himself to breathe. This wasn’t about Aston. This was about Camille, this was just her normal reaction. She was compassionate, too deeply at times, and her concern for others was part of who she was. It didn’t mean anything beyond that. It didn’t change the undeniable truth of what they had shared, what was still between them. The kiss, the connection they had, it was real. The feelings she had for him hadn’t disappeared just because she was worried about someone else, even if it stung.

He gently assisted her as she stepped into the Suburban, making sure her flowing gown didn’t snag or catch on anything as she moved. Once she was settled, he slid into the seat beside her. The driver swiftly closed the door with a quiet click, then hurried back to his seat, the hum of the engine coming to life with a soft roar.

Terry leaned forward, his fingers lightly brushing the blacked-out divider that separated the front of the vehicle from the back. With a soft click, he raised it, the sound of the mechanism muffled in the otherwise quiet car. As soon as the barrier was in place, sealing them away from the rest of the world, the silence between them was broken by soft, shaky sniffles. Terry turned his gaze to Camille, watching her struggle to hold back the tears that had already started to spill over. Her face was a mask of effort, but it was clear the floodgates were ready to burst.

Without saying a word, he reached out and gently pulled her into him, settling her into his lap. She stiffened for the briefest moment, caught off guard by his sudden movement, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her body sagged into his, and she let go. Her sobs hit him like a wave, deep and wracking, her shoulders trembling with the force of each breath she gasped for. Terry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer, trying to offer her whatever comfort he could. He pressed soft kisses to the top of her head, his hands tracing slow, soothing circles on her back, willing her to feel safe in his arms. Her cries soaked into his chest, her tears staining the fabric of his shirt, but he didn’t mind.

His eyes closed, and he let out a deep sigh, pushing down the ache that rose in his own chest. It was unbearable to see her like this, so broken and upset. But at the same time, something inside him swelled with gratitude, because in this raw moment, she was trusting him enough to fall apart. She had found a space with him where she didn’t have to hold back.

As the sobs began to subside, Camille wiped her face with trembling hands, her movements hurried and self-conscious, as if she was trying to hide the emotions she couldn’t control. Her voice came out thick with emotion, a broken whisper. “I’m… I-I’m so sorry, Terry,” she choked out, the words trembling as she forced herself to calm down. “This is so inappropriate of me–”

Before she could continue, Terry gently cupped her face, his fingers brushing away the last of her tears. “Camille, baby,” he murmured softly, cutting her off, “please don’t apologize. Just let it all out. I don’t mind at all.” His voice was firm but tender, his eyes locking onto hers to add to his sincerity.

Camille

She wanted to feel embarrassed. She wanted to feel ashamed, to shrink into herself. But when she gazed up at Terry, his expression soft and free of judgment, only filled with genuine concern, she couldn’t shake the sense that there was nowhere else in the world she’d feel safer. His gaze felt like a quiet promise, one that made her feel sheltered, protected, even in her most vulnerable state. His words, gentle and soothing, wrapped around her like the warmest, most comforting blanket, filling the aching spaces within her.

But as much as she wanted to let herself be comforted by him, her mind couldn’t hold onto that peace for long. The tears kept coming, falling faster now, a steady stream that she couldn’t stop. She dropped her head, unable to look at him anymore, as though the simple act of hiding her face could somehow make her disappear. She just wanted to be invisible. She couldn’t bear the idea of him seeing her like this. Not her boss. Not the man she loved.

I can’t believe I’m crying like this in front of him, she thought, her heart aching at the vulnerability she was forced to reveal. He probably thinks I’m so dramatic...

The shame swelled as she imagined how Terry might be viewing her now. He already had to witness her fiancé’s ridiculous outbursts about him, absurd accusations thrown in front of his colleagues. He had seen her mother treat her like a stubborn child, dragging her and bossing her around like she owned her. He must think I’m just as dysfunctional as everything around me, she mused bitterly. A mess, just like everything else in my life.

Her humiliation grew. Camille tried to push herself off his lap, to get away from the intense vulnerability she was drowning in. But Terry’s grip didn’t falter. His hold on her was firm, steady, unyielding. Even as she tried to pull away, pulled her chin to face him. The movement was soft but insistent, coaxing her to meet his eyes despite her desperate urge to look away.

She shut her eyes tightly, fighting the pull of his gaze, afraid of what she might see reflected in them. His eyes felt like they could strip her bare, unravel her even more. She couldn’t look. She couldn’t bear to be seen. But still, she could feel him, his presence, drawing her in, not letting her hide from him.

“I’m sorr–” Camille started to speak, but her words were cut off by a kiss. Deep, tender, and so unexpected that her eyes flew open in surprise. But as Terry’s lips pressed against hers with gentle insistence, her eyelids fluttered, and the kiss deepened. A wave of heat pooled in the pit of her stomach, radiating outward to every part of her body. Her intimate areas throbbed with a sudden, overwhelming need, a sharp pang of anticipation that made it hard to think. Every nerve seemed to hum with the connection, her pulse quickening as his kiss lingered, soft but searing with unspoken desire.

After what felt like an eternity, Terry slowly pulled back, his lips leaving hers with a quiet reluctance. He rested his forehead against hers, breathing softly, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. It was as if time had momentarily stopped, and they were the only two people in the world.

“Camille, please don’t apologize,” Terry murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His hand reached up to caress her cheek, the warmth of his touch sending a tremor through her body. “I deeply care about you. I’m drawn to you in ways I can’t fully explain.” His words were sincere.

His thumb stroked the delicate skin of her jaw, and she felt a shiver of warmth spread through her. “I know tonight’s been heavy for you, and I don’t want to brush past that, but…” He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing hers. “Nothing that happened tonight was your fault.”

Everything fell away and they simply looked into each other’s eyes, as if speaking without words. But Camille couldn’t hold his gaze for long. Her eyes flickered away, finding the window, her thoughts spiraling.

“Still…” she began, her voice shaking with self-doubt. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. That was unaccepta–”

But Terry’s deep chuckle interrupted her, full of warmth and amusement. Her eyes returned to his. “I kissed you back, didn’t I?” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “I told you how I really feel about you, right?”

Camille opened her mouth to rebuttal but the words never came. And they didn’t need to because Terry continued.

“Like I said, I know tonight’s been a lot for you. But don’t beat yourself up about anything that happened. Especially not kissing me. I’m grateful that you did,” he said. He gave her a sheepish smile, his eyes soft but filled with something deeper, something she couldn’t quite name. She just stared back at him, her expression a mix of surprise and confusion, her mind struggling to process everything. 

“But… what about Stephanie?” Camille asked, her voice soft but laced with disbelief. She felt him tense beneath her. His eyes narrowed, and she could feel the shift in the energy around them as his expression turned more serious.

“Why would she tell me she’s your girlfriend if that’s not true?” she pressed, her gaze searching his, trying to find something—anything.

Terry’s face hardened, and he dropped his hand from her face, the softness of his earlier touch vanishing. He turned her to face him, as much as the confines of her dress allowed, her body shifting in his lap. 

“Stephanie is not, and never was, my girlfriend,” he said, each word deliberate, his tone unwavering. “She misunderstood our previous arrangement. It’s been over for months. She probably told you that out of jealousy.”

His words were firm, leaving no room for ambiguity, but still, Camille’s mind couldn't help but race. She nodded, as if to convince herself, knowing he had no reason to lie. Yet, a faint stir of doubt lingered in the back of her mind, a feeling that there was more to the story than he was revealing. But how could she blame him for that? He was a single man, and she… well, she wasn’t single herself.

Her thoughts immediately turned to Aston. The guilt crept in like a shadow, darkening her heart. I’m cheating on him, she thought, her stomach twisting. Yes, he deserves it, but… it still feels wrong.

The sharp edge of her guilt faded as she felt Terry’s soft lips brush against her forehead sweetly. “Come on,” he whispered, his voice soothing, “let’s not let you worry about anything else tonight.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and held it out to her, the screen lit up with Apple Maps. “Let’s get you home.”

Camille bit her lip, taking the phone from him, and typed in Kali’s address, her fingers trembling slightly. She pressed ‘Go,’ and the directions began to echo through the car’s speakers, the driver easing the vehicle into motion.

For a few minutes, the only sound was the low hum of the engine and the soothing rhythm of Terry’s hand rubbing gentle circles into her thighs. Camille tried to let herself relax, but her mind wouldn’t stop churning. Am I being stupid? she wondered, her thoughts tumbling over one another. Is Terry lying about Stephanie? Is Aston going to be okay? The questions gnawed at her, biting into the fragile peace she’d momentarily found. Is this wrong? Her heart felt like it was being pulled in two directions.

“Camille.”

The sound of Terry’s voice sliced through her racing thoughts, his words grounding her once again. She looked back at him and what she saw made her heart skip. His eyes were serious, intense, but there was something soft in them too, something that made her breath catch.

“I’m serious about you,” he said sincerely. “I want you to be mine. And I want to be yours.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, her mind momentarily frozen by the intensity of his confession. His gaze never wavered.

“Now, you don’t have to give me an answer right now,” he continued, his voice calm yet filled with purpose. “But we will be having a conversation about this. Sooner than later. Okay?”

Camille felt a flutter in her chest. She took a moment, letting the words sink in, before giving a small, almost imperceptible nod. 

“Okay–” As soon as the words left her mouth, his lips were on hers. She moaned as she lost herself in him. He kissed her with so much passion, so much fervor. And she returned his eagerness. He pulled away from her lips, moving down to her jaw and her neck.

“Terry,” she moaned, her eyes fluttering as his lips touched the most sensitive parts of her skin. He hummed softly in response, placing another kiss on her collarbone. He shifted her in his lap, his growing bulge pushing against her ass. She gasped as his tongue ran up the side of her neck. Her head fell back, giving him better access to her and making him smile against her skin. 

His kisses on her neck and shoulders turned into slurps and bites. Camille had no doubt that his actions would leave behind hickies in some areas. But she couldn’t care less. She felt like she was in heaven.

She moaned a mixture of curses and his name as he moved lower down, going towards her cleavage. Terry let out a deep growl as he tugged down the top of her dress, exposing her full chest. In one swift motion, he pulled her off his lap and laid her back down against the cool leather seats. He hovered over her as he tugged the rest of the heavy gown down her body, casting it somewhere behind them as soon as it was past her heels. 

He pulled back slightly, kneeling over her to take her in fully. She was almost completely naked, wearing nothing but black lace bikini-style underwear. He stared down at her, his eyes looking her up and down as they swirled with intensity. And it made her self-conscious. She moved to cover herself with her arms, but Terry grabbed them before she could. 

“Don’t hide yourself from me. You’re too fucking beautiful for that,” he muttered, pulling her wrists together and pinning them above her. He kept them gripped in his left hand while his right hand traced her body lightly, making her breath hitch. He chuckled, leaning down to plant another deep kiss on her lips. But then he trailed light pecks down her chest, gripping her breast in his large hand, guiding her nipple into his mouth.

“Ooooh, fuck,” Camille cried out, arching into him. He chuckled, the sensation sending vibrations through her. His tongue dragged against the sensitive puff, his hand releasing her heavy tit. It slid down to her panties, tugging the material to the side. His fingers played with her slick folds as he leaned back to look down at her again.

“Damn,” he breathed, his thumb circling her clit in slow, teasing circles. “I got you this wet already, baby?” She just whined in response, her eyes rolling back as he slowly slipped a digit into her weeping hole. Once he was knuckle deep, he pulled back slightly before plunging back deeper into her depths, adding another finger to stretch her out.

“So fucking tight,” he muttered. “Can’t wait to feel this pretty ass pussy around me.” Moans tumbled past her lips as he continued to fuck her with his fingers as his thumb circled her clit. After a few moments, stars began to form behind Camille’s vision. “T-Terry,” she stuttered, feeling herself clenching around him. 

“Just let go baby,” he purred. “Cum for me.” His fingers curled in a come hither motion, hitting a spot she didn’t even know she had. “Terry!” she shouted as her orgasm rippled through her. She writhed and twisted as her high stole her breath.

But Terry’s fingers continued to pump in and out of her at the same pace, making a squelching sound fill the air. She squirmed at the overstimulation, looking up at him with a pleading look. He gave her a smirk, slowly pulling the two thick fingers from her sex, bringing them to his mouth. She watched as he erotically licked his fingers clean, never breaking eye contact with her.

“Fucking delicious,” he growled, pulling at her panties lightly before snatching them off completely and tossing the fabric next to them. “Too sexy for your own good…” he trailed off as he released his grip on her wrists. But before Camille could reorient herself, he pulled her thighs farther apart, giving him easy access to her pussy. He licked his lips as he stared at her soaked folds, gently pushing her to the farthest end of the seat, lining her pussy up with his face. She closed her eyes in anticipation as she felt his breath hover above her quivering heat. 

“Look at me,” he demanded, forcing her to meet his gaze again. She propped herself up slightly, watching as the ocean colored orbs stared back at her. Without another word, his tongue took a long drag across her pussy, making her shout as her toes curled. He groaned, the sensation making her legs shake and setting every nerve in her body on fire. His tongue flicked rapidly, his lips sucked furiously, and his mouth slurped expertly. She attempted to run from him, but his strong hands held her on place, forcing her to succumb to sweet torture. He would alternate between slow, deliberate licks that pulled low moans from her to quick slurps that made her mind buzz. And in between, his tongue would plunge into her hole, making her feel stuffed. It didn’t take long for her to come all over his tongue, making him grip her even harder.

But he didn’t stop. He pushed her past overstimulation, her cries becoming gasps as her third orgasm crashed over her. Only then did he finally show her some mercy. “That’s it princess,” he chuckled, placing sloppy kisses on her inner thighs. “Wet these seats up.”

She attempted to catch her breath, her mind too jumbled to do anything but let him do whatever he wanted to her. 

But, something shifted.

He pulled back suddenly, as though jolted from a trance, his body flinching as he recoiled from her touch. It was as if an invisible force had snapped him out of a deep, intense daze. His movements were jerky as he quickly scooted back, distancing himself further, avoiding any form of eye contact. Camille sat up on her elbows, her brow furrowed in confusion. A cold knot of unease formed in her stomach as she looked at him. “Is everything alright?” she asked softly, her voice betraying a hint of concern as he shifted even further away.

He gave a quick nod, but his gaze never met hers. For a split second, Camille could have sworn his eyes flickered a different color. Was it red? But when she blinked, they were back to that familiar blue shade. She shook the thought away, convinced that she had imagined it.

“D-Did I do something wrong?” she asked, her voice catching in her throat, anxiety tightening around her chest like a vice. His eyes finally met hers again.

“No, baby, not at all,” he replied, his voice quiet but heavy with something she couldn’t place. “I just need to get you home,” he breathed, his words barely more than a whisper. Camille's mind raced, her instincts telling her that something was off, but she didn’t want to press him too hard. She decided, instead, to push forward, to be bold in the face of his retreat.

“I don’t have to go home…” she said, her voice trailing off into a teasing suggestion, a playful offer hanging in the air.

His eyes flickered over her body in a way that sent a chill down her spine, lust and hunger obvious in his expression. His chest rose and fell with deep, shaky breaths.

“We’re almost at your place,” he murmured, his voice tight, strained. “Come here.”

Camille, disappointed, slid towards him, her eyes searching his face for any hint of what was really going on. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and guided her naked body into it, pulling it around her shoulders with a gentleness that didn’t quite match the turmoil she felt radiating off of him.

“Terry,” she pleaded, her voice laced with worry and longing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Camille. I promise,” he said, the words smooth but hollow. There was an unmistakable strain in his voice and it made her heart drop into her stomach. Something was terribly wrong. She could feel it, even as he tried to convince her otherwise.

He bent down to help her slip into her shoes, which must’ve fallen off as he had her legs spread wide, just as the car rolled to a stop. Camille’s gaze drifted toward the window, her eyes momentarily resting on the familiar shops lining the street outside of Kali’s apartment building. As the car door opened with a soft click, the driver stepped aside, allowing Terry to guide her out, his hand gently brushing against hers as they both stepped onto the curb.

“Can I walk you up?” he asked, his voice warm yet tight. He placed his hand on the small of her back, a touch meant to comfort, but Camille couldn’t ignore the tension in the air. She gave him a shy smile, trying to mask her disappointment.

“Sure, if you want,” she answered, her voice light but hesitant. She didn’t want to appear too eager, didn’t want to seem desperate. But the truth was, she didn’t want to leave his side, not just yet.

He flashed her a slight, reassuring smile, the kind that almost made her forget her unease. “Yes, ma’am. Lead the way.”

As they walked together through the lobby, Camille couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Terry wanted to spend more time with her at her place. The thought flickered through her mind, only to be dashed by the reality of the situation. Too bad this isn’t my place, she thought as they stepped into the elevator.

Her finger pressed the button to Kali’s floor as she sighed softly. What went wrong? They were enjoying themselves, weren’t they? At least, she thought they were. Her heart felt heavy, her mind racing to see if she had missed something. Missed a cue. But she couldn’t think of anything. She slumped a little as the elevator doors slid shut.

As they ascended, Camille couldn’t help but notice Terry’s foot tapping impatiently against the elevator floor, the sound almost too loud in the otherwise quiet space. He must be eager to get away from me, she thought, a pang of insecurity hitting her like a cold wave. She wrapped her fingers tighter around the fabric of his suit jacket, trying to steady herself.

The elevator’s chime rang out, breaking the silence. She quickly guided them out, her steps hurried as she led him toward Kali’s door, her pulse quickening with every step. Her embarrassment was crawling up her neck and into her cheeks. Getting inside was the only thing that she felt could make her feelings go away. She knocked a few times and prayed that Kali wasn’t wearing her headphones and drowning in her music.

Just as Camille’s heart began to sink with the fear of an unanswered door, it swung open with a swift motion.

“Cammieeee!” Kali’s voice rang out, bright and full of her signature infectious energy. “Oh, hi Terry…?” Her voice trailed off as if she asked a question.

“Hey, Kali,” Terry responded, his voice even more strained than before. Camille barely registered Kali’s excited chatter as she tried to slip past them, eager to retreat from the overwhelming moment. But before she could get any farther, Terry’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist with surprising force.

He pulled her back toward him, making her pulse race. He gripped the back of her neck and shamelessly plunged his tongue into her mouth. Her gasp was muffled by his tongue twisting against hers. She clenched her thighs together as she tasted herself on him, her mind drifting to what they had shared in the car. But the moment wasn’t long. He pulled away quickly, leaving her dazed.

“Goodnight, baby. We’ll talk later,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of sweetness and finality, before he turned abruptly, making his way back toward the elevators. His steps were longer, quicker than usual, as though something was pressing him to leave in a hurry. Camille watched him, her heart still thudding, until he disappeared around the corner.

A moment of silence lingered between Camille and Kali as they turned to face each other. Kali’s eyes were wide in surprise, her gaze flickering over Camille’s form as a soft pink hue spread across her caramel-toned cheeks. Kali’s eyes swept over Camille from head to toe, taking in her new attire. The elegant blue gown Camille had worn earlier was now nowhere to be found. Instead, she was swaddled in a men’s suit jacket, the fabric oversized and hanging off her shoulder. 

Camille gave Kali an embarrassed smile. She’s going to want to hear everything, Camille thought. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide the flush creeping up her neck. “After you,” Kali said softly. 

Camille stepped inside, the sound of the door clicking shut behind her feeling louder than it should have. She could feel Kali's gaze on her. Sharp, observant, like a hawk. But Camille pretended not to notice her best friend’s scrutiny. Instead, she caught her own reflection in the mirror near the entrance, and the sight made her freeze.

Her hairstyle was a chaotic mess, strands of hair falling loose and wild from where they had once been perfectly styled. Her lips were swollen and red, and most of her makeup had been smeared, leaving dark smudges under her eyes and across her cheeks. Her neck and collarbone were dotted with hickies, dark purple and unmistakable. The sight of them made her throat tighten and she quickly turned away, the image of herself only deepening her self-consciousness.

“Bitch,” Kali started, her voice intense but laced with amusement. “Are you really about to walk in here and not tell me what the hell happened tonight?”

Camille barely registered Kali’s words as they passed through one ear and out the other. Her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t help herself, her feet carrying her over to the window that faced the street. The timing was almost cruelly perfect. She saw Terry’s silhouette just as he hopped back into the car, his movements hurried as the driver closed the door behind him. Her chest tightened as she watched the car pull away.

A deep, heavy sigh escaped her lips as she stared out the window. Was I too forward? The question gnawed at her. Did I say the wrong thing? She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to silence the doubts that swirled inside her. Did I do something that made him change his mind?

With a resigned breath, she stepped away from the window, her feet dragging as she turned back to face the living room. Kali stood there, her arms crossed. The silence between them was suffocating as she gave Camille a look that seemed to say, I know something happened. Now, spill. But Camille hesitated momentarily.

“Girl, did you hear me? What the hell happened?” Kali asked, settling into a plush chair. “You look like you’ve been thoroughly fucked. You got this whole walk of shame look going on.” 

Camille let out a soft chuckle at her friend’s bluntness but it quickly faded as she thought about how heavy tonight was. She sank into the seat across from Kali. For a moment, she stared at the floor, then sighed, looking up to meet Kali’s eager eyes.

“Tonight was… crazy,” Camille said, the words escaping her lips like a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She felt like she was still processing it all, the events spinning in her mind, impossible to organize.

Kali, never one to hold back, let out a giggle. “Obviously, babe!” Her voice was filled with mock surprise, but the sparkle in her eyes showed she was genuinely intrigued. “That man tonguing you down in front of me? And called you baby? I have to know how we got to this point.”

With a deep sigh, Camille began, recounting every detail of the chaotic night. She told Kali how she and Terry had shared that intense kiss on the balcony. She explained how Aston had exploded and lost control in front of everyone, his fury turning the night upside down. Camille’s words slowed as she described the moments with Terry in the car, how their conversation grew increasingly intimate, how vulnerable he seemed, how vulnerable she had felt, allowing him into spaces she hadn’t planned on sharing.

As she spoke, Kali was hanging onto every word, her gaze never wavering. She leaned forward, eyebrows raised, eyes wide with a mix of awe and curiosity. It was clear from her body language that Kali was fully invested in the story, living each moment with Camille.

“I mean, like I said, tonight was crazy,” Camille said, her voice trailing off at the end, the words almost lost in the haze of her thoughts. Her mind briefly wandered back to the car ride with Terry and how he practically devoured her. How his eyes watched her as she came on his tongue. Her pussy throbbed at the thought. The intensity of it left her breathless, her heart still thumping a little faster at the memory.

“But…” Camille faltered, her voice dropping to a quieter, almost hesitant tone. She wrung her hands nervously in her lap as the embarrassment crept up her neck. “I think I might have been too eager,” she murmured, her face flushing as the memory of her boldness with Terry hit her again. The way she had practically invited herself to his place, desperately trying to cling to the moment they were sharing. Her chest tightened at the thought, a knot of shame curling inside her.

Kali tilted her head to the side in confusion, a flicker of amusement passing through her expression before it shifted into genuine curiosity. “Huhh?” she asked, her voice soft, almost incredulous. 

Camille sighed, sinking deeper into the chair’s cushion. “He probably thinks I’m a slut,” she muttered. She dropped her head into her hands. “I ruined what we had before it even got anywhere.” 

Kali’s eyes widened in dramatic disbelief as she gasped. “Okay, wait. I love you, Cam, but you sound ridiculous right now,” she said, the words tumbling out with a mix of affection and exasperation. She threw her hands up, letting out an exaggerated sigh before rising from her seat in one fluid motion, her body language speaking volumes of her frustration.

With a confident stride, Kali made her way to the kitchen, the sound of her footsteps echoing lightly on the floor as she moved with purpose. She reached for a bottle of wine, her fingers curling around the neck of the dark glass like it was an extension of her own energy. With a sharp twist of her wrist, she popped the cork with a satisfying thwip before pouring the wine into two glasses, the deep red liquid swirling in the light. Her movements were quick, almost theatrical, as she spoke.

“That man,” Kali continued, her voice rising slightly, the words rolling off her tongue like a lecture she couldn’t wait to deliver, “not only got you back here, but he walked you all the way up and french kissed you to hell and back right in front of me! That’s not casual, Camille. That seems like he’s pretty damn interested to me.”

Camille’s eyes followed Kali as she carried the glasses back into the living room, her heart still fluttering. “You think so?” Camille asked, her voice soft, the words feeling like a tentative offering. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Kali, watching as her friend set the glasses down, the dark wine shimmering in the low light.

Kali raised an eyebrow. She slid one of the glasses toward Camille, the stem of the glass cool and delicate between her fingers. “Cam, if that doesn’t scream interested, then I don’t know what does,” she said, her voice laced with a teasing certainty.

“And even if you came across too eager, tonight was a rough night, right? Terry likes you, he would give you some grace. And maybe you should be a little slutty. You deserve some dick, and you need to make that clear to him.”

Camille blinked, her mind slowly processing Kali’s words. Maybe I am being too hard on myself, she thought. Maybe I need to be clearer about what I want. She frowned as she absently reached for her clutch. But as her hand swept across the space beside her, her fingers met nothing but air.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and for a moment, she simply stared at the space where her clutch should have been. The feeling of something missing gnawed at her, unsettling in its suddenness. She sat up straighter, her mind flicking back through the events of the evening.

Wait a minute. Her heart skipped as the realization slowly crept in. She never placed her clutch next to her. In fact, she hadn’t brought it inside at all.

Camille’s mind raced, her thoughts spinning faster as she tried to piece together the fragments of the night. She could clearly picture the last time she saw it, lying innocently on the backseat floor of the black Suburban as her thighs sat on Terry’s shoulders. Its contents neatly arranged inside: her phone, her ID, her credit cards. Everything she needed to keep in sight.She leaned her head back as she realized her mistake. Fuck.

Terry

Terry’s voice cut through the silence of the car like a blade, low and menacing. “Lorenzo, if you don’t speed up this car, I will fucking eat you. No hesitation,” The growl in his words sent a shiver down the young supernatural’s spine, his fingers instinctively tightening around the steering wheel as he stole a quick, fearful glance at Terry through the rearview mirror. With trembling hands, he pressed his foot harder on the gas pedal, sending the car surging forward toward the destination Terry demanded as soon as he returned to the car.

The road and passing buildings blurred, but it wasn’t the journey that consumed Terry’s focus. It was the gnawing, insatiable hunger that clawed at him, burning like a fire that threatened to swallow him whole. His stomach churned painfully as the dark, overwhelming need for human blood swirled in his veins, a primal hunger writhing beneath his skin. Every second was a battle. Terry’s vision flickered as his eye color shifted back and forth. He could feel madness tugging at the edges of his consciousness, the urge to sink his fangs, and his cock, into the woman he had just dropped off pulling at his sanity. But he couldn’t go back. He wouldn’t go back.

His grip on his seat tightened, his claws ripping away the leather as he fought to keep himself in check, but his resolve was starting to fray at the edges. He had been fighting for what felt like eternity, but he couldn’t risk losing his composure. I’ve held on for this long, he thought, his breath coming out in shallow gasps. The thought of Camille flashed in his mind, a vivid image of her warmth, her scent, her pulse beneath his fingertips. Her naked body that she so willingly offered to him. The hunger intensified, his mouth pooling with saliva. 

He shook his head, trying to reason with himself. I can’t feed from Camille again. Not now, he thought. There won’t be an excuse that I could use.

He continued to soothe himself as he thought back to the moment where everything had shifted. He was eating her pussy like it was his last fucking meal. She smelled divine and tasted even sweeter. And her moans? It was the most satisfying thing he ever heard in his life. And the way she came on his tongue… it nearly made him feral. He was tempted to take her straight to his penthouse and claim every inch of her until the sun rose. But he contained himself, pulling away to kiss the inside of her thighs to calm himself before he lost all control. But then, it happened. His canine nicked her flesh ever so slightly, and a drop of blood landed on his tongue. It didn’t take more than a second for him to realize he got a taste of her nectar. Smooth as the finest wine and sweet and rich like molasses. He knew he had to get her away from him. And fast.

He hated how confused and dejected she had looked. He knew she felt like he was casting her aside. And he despised how he had to turn her down when she suggestively asked to stay the night at his place. 

Just as Terry was about to snap at Lorenzo, the car finally pulled in front of the destination. Red Rum. An exclusive BDSM playground in the heart of Houston that doubled as a space to supply vampires with Indulgences. The human members were aware of the existence of his kind and got off on being available for their consumption. The space was perfect for lust and bloodlust to intermingle. Although less popular than Crimson, and Terry didn’t have any ownership in it, Red Rum was useful to Terry during rare occasions like this.

Terry didn’t wait for Lorenzo to come to a complete stop. With a growl of impatience, he threw open the door, and stepped out of the vehicle, his dress shoes hitting the pavement with a solid thud as he strode toward the entrance with a predatory grace.

The bouncers at the door shifted, their eyes narrowing as they assessed him. But the moment recognition flickered across their faces, their expressions turned fearful. They stepped aside, clearing the path for him with the ease of men who knew better than to challenge someone like Terry.

He barely acknowledged them as he moved past, his gaze fixed on the door ahead. The hallway stretched out in front of him, long and brightly lit, the deep red of the lights casting an almost sinister glow.

His footsteps echoed off the polished floors, reverberating down the corridor.

At the end of the hall, a set of imposing double doors loomed. With a swift, violent motion, Terry pushed through them, the sound of the heavy wood slamming against the frame loud enough to be heard over the low hum from within.

The air was thick with the smell of sex and alcohol, moans of pleasure and screams of delight mingling with the sound of flogging and other types of play. But Terry didn’t even blink as his eyes swooped over the orgy unfolding before him. Instead, his eyes scanned for any stray wanderers. He felt a small hand grasp his bicep and he glanced down, his eyes meeting a short, fairly attractive woman wearing nothing but a collar with a leash who stared up at him with a warm, eager smile. 

She will do, he thought to himself.

Lorenzo

Lorenzo paced outside of the car as he waited patiently for his terrifying but well paying client. Although he didn’t drive him often, Lorenzo knew the ins and outs of Terry Richmond’s reputation. And from that reputation, he learned three things. One, don’t waste his time. Two, don’t try to fuck him over. And three, keep your eyes off his women. Up until tonight, Lorenzo followed those three principles to the tee. 

But when he saw the Indulgence that he brought back with him when he left his event… he couldn’t help but stare. She was gorgeous, and just his type. Dark skin, big titties, little waist. He would do anything to have someone like her to come home to every night. But he made sure Terry never caught his wandering eye. It’s not like he got to look at her long anyway. He kept the privacy barrier in the car closed. But he still got to enjoy her in his own way. 

From the way she was moaning, Terry was tearing that ass up in the backseat. Lorenzo’s imagination ran wild as he beat himself off with one hand and drove with the other. He couldn’t help but think about how her face looked when she came. How she looked right before she hit her peak.

And when Terry dropped her off at her place, she looked like an angel who the devil fucked just right. Skin flushed, hair messy, wearing nothing but Terry’s suit jacket and some heels that perfectly complimented her long, shapely legs. He had fallen in love. Lorenzo’s heart raced as his thoughts circled back to her, the image of her lingering in his mind like a haunting melody he couldn’t shake. He paced in front of the luxury car, the cool night air nipping at his skin, but it did nothing to distract him. He knew it was wrong to keep thinking about her, especially after such a brief encounter. But it didn’t matter. His mind kept returning to her.

Suddenly, a soft trill cut through the silence. Lorenzo froze mid-step, his body tensing, and cocked his head to the side, trying to make sense of the sound. It came again, more insistent this time, drawing his attention to the backseat of the car. His eyes narrowed as he peered into the dimly lit interior, scanning the floor. There, partially obscured by the plush seats, was a small blue purse, its clasp slightly undone, and the corner of a cell phone peeking through. It had to be hers, he thought. She must’ve left it behind.

Lorenzo couldn’t resist. He opened the car door with a quiet click, sliding inside just enough to retrieve the bag. The phone had stopped ringing by the time he pulled it out, but the screen was still lit, showing several missed calls. His brows furrowed as he noticed the repeated name flashing on the screen: Houston Fire Department. A strange knot twisted in his gut, a flicker of concern mixed with confusion, but he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he placed the phone back in the bag, his curiosity now burning hotter.

As his fingers brushed over the contents of the purse, they landed on something hard and plastic. His eyes flickered down to see a driver’s license. Glancing around quickly to make sure Terry hadn’t yet returned, Lorenzo pulled it out, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he read the name that appeared in bold, printed letters: Camille DeWaterson.

The name rolled off his tongue as he stared at the photo on the ID, tracing its edges with a light touch. Her face stared back at him, soft, serene, and strikingly beautiful, captured in the flat simplicity of a driver’s license photo. For a moment, it felt as though she was there with him, her presence tangible in his hands as he caressed the thin plastic like it was the real thing. His breath caught in his throat, and he found himself lost in the simplicity of her face.

But before he could linger any longer, he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. His heart skipped, and panic surged through him. In a rush, he shoved the ID back into the purse, his hands shaking as he closed the bag with a quiet snap.

“What are you doing?” Terry’s voice cut through the air, sharp and accusing, making Lorenzo’s heart leap in his chest. He whipped around quickly, the adrenaline surging in his veins, his eyes wide with surprise and guilt.

Terry stood there, towering over him, his expression one of thinly veiled suspicion.

“Oh, sorry about that, sir,” Lorenzo stammered, his voice polite, the words tumbling out in a rush to cover his flustered state. He gestured toward the blue purse, which he still held in his hands, not having had time to set it down. “I... I heard something in the backseat and found this.”

Terry’s eyes dropped to the purse, and Lorenzo saw the brief flicker of recognition flash across Terry’s face. His posture stiffened. “Shit,” he muttered, grabbing it from him. He pulled out the phone and checked the notifications before his eyes met Lorenzo’s again. “Thanks for finding this. Let’s go, I got another stop to make.”

Lorenzo nodded, hurrying out of his way so Terry could slide into the car. But as he jogged back to the driver’s seat, Lorenzo wondered if Terry would really mind if his eyes lingered just a bit more on Ms. Camille.

Terry

Terry leaned his head against the headrest as his body hummed with satisfaction. His thirst was quenched and his balls were empty. Sure, it wasn’t under the most ideal circumstances, but it kept him from doing something he would regret. And maybe that slip up was for the best.

Although he didn’t want anything more than Camille in his bed tonight, Terry knew that his apartment wasn’t exactly “human-proof” at the moment. His love-drawing altar sat prominently in front of his bed, adorned with pictures of Camille. Pictures he had no business having.

And then there was his fridge, stocked full of blood bags courtesy of Elijah. He couldn’t risk Camille stumbling upon any of that. Sure, he could keep the bedroom activities in his living room. But there was no way he was going to make her leave right after. And her sharp eyes, too observant for her own good, might’ve caught a glimpse of something that would send her spiraling into confusion or fear. So dropping her at Kali’s place was for the best. Especially since it was the only place he could drop her too. 

Terry’s mind lingered on the message from Jabari, the one he had received over an hour ago. The simple confirmation that Camille’s old apartment was gone, consumed by flames.

Since he had her phone, he hoped she wouldn’t find out about the fire right away. The thought of her being burdened with the knowledge of her past being lost was something he wanted to delay, at least for a little while. She deserved the peace of knowing nothing was wrong, even if it was a fragile illusion. She deserved to sleep through the night without the weight of a seemingly tragic fire pressing down on her. He would make sure of that, even if it meant shielding her from the truth for a few more days.

When the news finally broke, he would be ready. He would be there to hold her, to offer comfort, to tell her everything would be okay. He would be the rock she could lean on, her knight in shining armor, sweeping in with solutions for every problem she had. Problems that he had carefully orchestrated.

But right now, his thoughts shifted. He had something far more immediate to think about. The events of the gala replayed in his mind, twisting and turning, and he knew he had to get to the bottom of it. As Lorenzo drove him back toward the venue, Terry’s mind worked over the best way to approach it. Aston was irrelevant to him, justice for that nigga wasn’t worth his time. But Stephania’s actions? Now that was something Terry couldn’t overlook. How had she managed to slip that love potion into his drink without anyone noticing?

The venue had to be crawling with cameras, but the problem was that no one had likely paid attention to the footage yet. To them, it was just another night, another drunk man making a fool of himself. But Terry knew better. He knew there was something deeper at play here, and he was determined to find it.

Stephanie

Stephanie stood before the full-length mirror in her bedroom, scrutinizing every inch of her reflection. Her fingers traced the grooves of her lingerie, the red of the set complimenting her tan skin. She could still feel the lingering tremor of fear from the night before. Aston’s attack had been a brutal, terrifying experience that rattled her to the core. She just had never seen a man act like such a crazed animal before. But now, in the soft light of the morning, she allowed herself to focus on something else. There was a silver lining to the chaos.

Terry had reached out to her earlier, his message simple yet filled with a quiet urgency. He wanted to make sure she was okay. And he asked if he could come over. That simple question ignited something deep inside her, an unexpected spark of hope. He cares, she thought, buzzing with happiness. Maybe she didn’t need a love spell after all.

Of course, she had eagerly said yes. She’s been living for moments like this. Just times where she could be with him without her having to share his attention. She couldn’t afford to let any trace of yesterday’s pain show. Not when he was coming to see her. 

For the past two hours, she’d been meticulously preparing herself, her hands working with practiced precision as she applied layer after layer of makeup, ensuring every stroke of mascara and brush of powder was flawless. She adjusted the tie on her robe, making sure enough of her was peaking through to remain tasteful but still inviting. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, and she ran her fingers through it one last time, adding volume, making sure it looked effortlessly perfect.

As she took one last glance in the mirror, her breath caught in her throat as she studied her reflection. The woman staring back at her looked absolutely stunning. But of course she did. This was herself she was talking about. Terry wouldn’t be able to resist her. She would make sure that the memory of yesterday’s horrors was overshadowed by the undeniable pull between them.

She poured two glasses of wine, the rich, deep red liquid spilling smoothly. She lightly chastised herself, wishing she had some of the potion left. Just enough to add to his glass. But she quickly brushed off the thought. Tonight, if everything went according to plan, she’d have more than enough time to try again. The taste of success was already on the tip of her tongue.

Setting the wine glasses down on her kitchen table with careful precision, she looked around her living room. The atmosphere had to be just right. With a determined exhale, she moved to grab a lighter from the counter, her fingers steady as she flicked it and the flame burst to life. She moved from candle to candle, igniting them one by one. Soon, the room was bathed in soft, sultry light.

She shuddered as her mind conjured up all kinds of ways he might have his way with her. On her floor like last time? Or would it be her couch? What about the coffee table? She swooned as her mind went even further. Would he finally cum in her? Would he sink his fangs into her neck? Her panties grew damp with each passing thought.

Stephanie was jolted back to reality by a heavy knock on the door. A wave of excitement washed over her as she smiled to herself, the anticipation making her pulse quicken. She glanced at the mirror nearby, her reflection staring back at her as she subtly adjusted her hair, smoothing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She gave herself one last look, and then hurried to the door to swing it open.

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes locked with Terry’s. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his posture relaxed but exuding an effortless confidence. He was dressed simply. A white pullover that clung just enough to reveal the outline of his toned arms, gray sweatpants that hung loosely around his hips, and a subtle gold chain that caught the light with every small movement he made.

The combination of his casual attire and undeniable charisma left her momentarily speechless. But she quickly composed herself. 

“Come on in,” she giggled, tracing his form with her eyes. He smirked, pushing himself off the doorframe to walk into her space. His cologne trailed behind him, making her eyes flutter as she breathed him in. She quickly followed after him and guided him to her kitchen table. “Wine already?” he asked as he sat down. “On a Sunday?” Stephanie just playfully rolled her eyes. “Oh please, Terry. As if you’re some saint,” she said, her mind thinking about he had Camille in that parking lot. God, that was so fucking hot.

Terry just smirked, watching her intensely as she sat across from him. Stephanie felt confidence surge through her as she watched his reaction to her. She would be getting her way in no time. 

“So,” he began, pushing his wine glass to the side. Her eyebrows furrowed at the action, but she listened as he continued. “How are you feeling? Were you able to sleep off what happened yesterday?” he asked, his voice soft.

Stephanie fake sniffled, hoping it would get some sympathy from him. She took a long dramatic sip of her wine before she responded. “Oh, Terry… I-I’m trying my best to stay grounded and not let Aston consume me. But it’s so hard, baby. I just wish you were here to help me through everything.” Instead of a sympathetic look, Terry just tilted his head, his smirk growing wider. Almost to the point that it looked sinister. Stephanie’s confidence faltered as she watched him lean forward slightly, propping his chin up with his hand.

“You’re so fucking funny, Stephanie. Do you know that?” Stephanie’s stomach dropped, blinking rapidly as she tried to understand what he just said. “E-Excuse me?”

Terry let out a low chuckle, the sound rich and amused, vibrating through the air. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and something far darker as he leaned back with a casual ease, the lines of his body stretching in a way that seemed both effortless and intimidating. He raised his hands, slow and deliberate, and clapped them together three times, each clap sharp and resounding in the now-quiet room.

On the third clap, something almost otherworldly happened. The flames of every candle she had lit flickered violently, as if caught by an invisible gust of wind. And then, with a sudden, eerie finality, they were extinguished, leaving the room much darker. The once intimate space now felt suffocating.

Stephanie’s heart leapt into her throat, a wave of panic gripping her chest. She shot to her feet, her breath coming faster, her body instinctively tense as her eyes darted around the room. 

Terry’s smirk only deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her flustered reaction. His voice was cool, almost mocking, as he repeated himself with slow, deliberate precision, “I said, you’re so fucking funny.” His gaze never left her, and there was something unsettling in the way his eyes seemed to pierce through the dimness. “You’re really sitting there, trying to make yourself seem like a victim,” he added, his words laced with a bite that sent a chill crawling down her spine.

It was as if Terry knew exactly how to dismantle her, piece by piece, with nothing more than a glance and a subtle shift in his tone. She could almost feel the coldness of his words wrapping around her, tightening with each breath she took.

Her eyes widened, nearly bulging from their sockets as she stared at him, her mind struggling to catch up with what he was saying. Was he mad at her? Was he somehow blaming her for everything that had happened?

Her voice trembled as she finally found the strength to speak, the words coming out in a shaky, breathless whisper. “Are you saying that what happened was my fault?” The question felt foreign on her tongue, an accusation she couldn’t quite comprehend. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to hold herself together. What was going on with him? 

“Oh cut the bullshit, Stephanie. Whatever you tried to give me was passed on to Aston. Everything that happened was your fault,” Terry seethed, his expression darkening. Stephanie’s eye twitched. How the fuck did he figure that out? 

She giggled lightly. It was an attempt to defuse the thick tension in the room. “Okay, Terry,” she breathed out, her voice lighter than it should’ve been. She raised her hands innocently, the gesture as much an offering of peace as it was a shield. “Let’s just calm down, alright?”

Terry’s smile returned, though this time it didn’t reach his eyes. Without breaking his gaze, he slowly rose from his seat. Each step he took towards her was measured, predatory. “Oh, I’m very calm,” he replied, his voice smooth with a hint of something dark. “But let’s get some things straight.”

Stephanie instinctively took a step back, putting distance between them, but Terry matched her movements, his long stride closing the gap with unnerving precision.

“After today,” Terry continued, his voice low and dangerous, “I don’t ever want to see you again.” The words hit her like a slap to the face, cold and final. “So I suggest you leave the firm. Use whatever money Grant has given you over the years and disappear.”

Stephanie’s jaw went slack. He couldn’t be serious. She could feel the heat of anger rising in her chest. How dare he, how dare he, think he could control her, order her around? The nerve of him testing her in such a way. No matter how powerful he was, she wouldn’t stand for it.

Her body tensed, filling with fury. She lifted her chin, her voice steady. “Watch the way you talk to me, Terry,” she retorted. “I know more about you than you know.”

The words hung in the air, loaded with a threat that she hoped landed with the force she intended. She saw the flicker of something in Terry’s eyes, but whatever it was, he didn’t flinch. He just scoffed like he didn’t take her seriously at all.

“I don’t give a fuck that you know what I am,” he growled. Stephanie's confidence wavered. That was the only leverage she had left over him, and she could feel it slipping away. Her mind raced, scrambling to regain control of the situation before he saw the vulnerability in her eyes. She couldn’t afford to lose her footing now.

Terry leaned in slightly, his voice low and taunting. “Who are you gonna tell, huh? Who would believe you?” He chuckled darkly. 

But Stephanie wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter. A slow, dangerous smirk spread across her face as she met his gaze, her eyes glinting with the sharpness of someone who wasn’t willing to back down. She leaned forward slightly, her voice oozing with sweetness, but the threat behind it was unmistakable. “I don’t know,” she purred. “Maybe Camille.” Her smirk deepened, her eyes narrowing. “I’m sure she would love to know how she really fainted in that parking lot.”

Terry’s hand shot out and wrapped around Stephanie’s neck in a merciless grip. She gasped and sputtered as she attempted to pry his hands off of her. But nothing worked. Instead, he raised her slightly off her feet, dangling her in the air with one hand. She cried as she watched his appearance change. Eyes flickering to a deep red. Canines lengthening. Pupils narrowing. It frightened to the point that she closed her eyes tightly, wishing she could take back what she said. He pulled her dangling body closer to him, his lips nearly pressing against her ear.

“Don’t be fucking stupid Stephanie,” he whispered calmly. But the cadence of his voice wasn’t natural anymore. It sounded demonic. “I’m not particularly interested in killing women. But it’s not above me,” he growled, making her whimper.

“Take this as your one and only warning. Leave town and never look back. Or else.” With that, he dropped her, causing her to crumple to the ground. She clutched her neck as she gasped for breath. A few tears spilled from her eyes before she looked up at his towering form. He stared back down at her nonchalantly, shoving his hands in his pockets. Slowly, his appearance became human again. “And don’t you ever fucking speak of Camille again.” Terry turned on his heel and walked toward the door. With a final glance over his shoulder, he opened it and stepped out, leaving her alone in the dimly lit space. The door clicked slammed behind him, sealing off any hope of reconciliation.

Stephanie sat there for a moment, her breath still shallow from the intensity of what had just transpired. The sharp sting in her neck still pulsed with a dull ache. But as her fingers gently traced the soreness at her throat, it was not fear that consumed her, nor panic or regret. It was something far more dangerous.

Lust.

It crept through her veins, slow and insidious, taking root deep inside her. It was as though the intensity of the moment, the raw power he had wielded, had lit a fire inside her she couldn't extinguish. She had always been attracted to Terry—his strength, his confidence, his unyielding control. But now, after everything that had happened, it was no longer just attraction. It was an obsession, a fierce craving that clawed at her insides.

Her body hummed with the aftershocks of his presence, the memory of his touch still lingering on her skin, and her mind raced with images of what could come next. He was perfect. He was everything she had ever desired—the right mix of danger, power, and passion. He was toxic in the most intoxicating way. She had spent her whole life chasing something like him, and now that she had found it, there was no way in hell she was letting him slip through her fingers.

A sly grin tugged at her lips as she straightened, a new sense of purpose settling over her. She would lie low for now, give him space. But that didn’t mean she was done. Far from it. She would wait, she would plan, and when the time was right, she would make her move.

Stephanie had no intention of giving up on Terry Richmond. Not now. Not ever.

-------

@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @notapradagurl7 @23jammy @kaylaahisthebestest- @theogbadbitch @wabi-sabi1090 @hotgyalaroad @nubiagurllll @lovedlover @dimepiece09 @lavaniiii @simplyzeeka @susanhill @next-bex-bet @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @ranikyani @loveschrisbrown20 @daddyslittlevillain @blackchickinthedesert @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @hello-therree @solunaseira @hotebonynearby @key05marie @moebuttta @winorlosetogether @nohatingpplbczhtingpplr @alexinmotion @queencb2462 @kismet83 @bruleecream @playingaymes

[revelboo]

Is ES Bumblebee alive? I miss him...

He’s alive, but hurting

Not every fic is headed that route, but a few will

The Future Freaks Me Out Pt 2

Earthspark Bumblebee x Reader

• Jogging through the woods in the direction you’d been pointed in, you’re out of breath and not sure you’re actually still going in the right direction by the time you finally catch a glimpse of something big moving through the trees. “Hey! Wheeljack?!” Head turning to stare at you, the bot’s vocal indicators flash before he drops down into his alt mode as you break into a run. Because he’s about to bail and leave you in his dust. “Wait-Bumblebee! He’s hurt!”

• Drifting in and out of awareness, Bumblebee stirs at the sound of voices. One of them at least familiar. Head turning, he’s almost surprised to see you jogging to keep up with Wheeljack’s much longer strides. You’d actually gotten him help? He hasn’t really expected you to when he’d sent you in Wheeljack’s direction, so warmth spreads through him that he hasn’t been abandoned. Little face determined as you struggle to keep up as Wheeljack close the distance and kneels beside him. “Soundwave?” Wheeljack murmurs, so you’d filled him in. Grimacing as Wheeljack examines the damage with gentle servos, he groans when the other bot hooks an arm under him and hauls him to his peds. “Let’s get ya to the Malto’s. Don’t have the tools for this here.”

• Heart still racing as Wheeljack begins to lead Bumblebee away, you’re glad you could help. That you got to meet one of them even if it was only for a moment. And the yellow bot looks back at you, mouth opening as if to say something. Dragging Wheeljack to a stop, he stares at you with those blue optics. “Thank you,” he says after a moment of silence and you offer him a hesitant smile. Knowing no one’s going to believe that you met a Cybertronian, but not caring.

• You’re so small standing there in the trees just staring up at him. Just one little human, but you’d gone out of your way to get him help. Even after Wheeljack begins helping him walk, he feels those eyes on his back. Making him realize he’s likely never going to see you again and that bothers him. “What’s your name?” Head turning to ask, he hears Wheeljack vent at him. Knows the scientist wants to get him checked out and repaired, but this is important. Needs to know this.

• Surprised, you call out your name, arms wrapping around yourself as you’re left behind. Almost tempted to follow them. To not have the encounter be over so soon. But you resist and watch them go, disappearing into the trees until you only catch occasional flashes of yellow. And then he’s gone and you’re strangely sad about it. You’d done a good thing. The right thing. And no one will ever know and you’ll never see him again. That’s okay even as it makes you feel oddly empty to pretend it doesn’t bother you.

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[losjavis]

buenÍSIMOS DÍAS no me creo que por fin volvamos a tener las mascaritas en menos de una semana pfff estoy volando

[love-and-war-on-cybertron]

Since you mentioned dead dove request. 👉👈 Could it be possible to request Synthetic Energon!Ratchet? I feel like that mech would do unspeakable things when horny.

Maybe he has a crush on reader who is a mechanic helping him out, and he gets jealous when he sees reader bond with Knock Out now that he doesn't have the medbay and you to himself. Reader could casually offer to buff/polish Knock and that pushes Ratchet over the edge and just yanks you and takes you to his quarters after giving you the silent treatment all day. Highly doubt that mech would show any restrains.

"How's it Hummin'" Will forever be HOT. Like goddamn sleazy but HOT. Sorry It's being split into a two-parter XP

cw: Heavy Dub-con. Reader wants it, but maybe not quite like that.

It had been innocent. Or so you thought. Ratchet had been moody, especially ever since he tried that synthetic crap. Ignoring you all day, even when you came directly to him, asking if you could help with anything. The huff you received in return was enough to know you didn't want to deal with whatever he was upset about.

Knockout was better company today anyways.

The formerly Decepticon Medic had warmed up to you despite being human. You knew your stuff and didn't joke or distrust him for being a turn coat. You could even share a few laughs and talk about Movies. He offered to let you ride with him to see one at the drive in.

Ratchet mumbled something. You assumed it was annoyance at what ever project he was working on. After some chitchat, you and Knock Out get to work, snarking back and forth. It was a project you had been working on for awhile. Something Ratchet said you didn't need his help on.

A couple hours in, you're taking a break, sitting next to Knock out. He holds up an arm, sighing at a scuff.

"I miss Breakdown. He could get this out and polish it away like it never happened." He seemed lost in thought for a moment.

Knowing what happened to his friend, you felt a little bad, "Well maybe I can Buff that out for you later?" Ratchet drops a tool but you pay it no mind, "I got some tool in my truck if you're okay with human tools. I could-" You stop, seeing Knockout's face.

He isn't looking at you, but past you, Optics wide. Heavy footsteps rapidly approach and knockout backs away, servos held up. He speaks in Cybertronian. There is a sharp response behind you before you are snatched up.

The grip is a bight tight, but nothing damaging. You try to struggle out of it but you're brought up quickly to meet green Optics. "Quiet."

It's Ratchet. What was up his aft? You try to speak again, but he growls at you. The sound and vibration sending a shiver down your spine. He stomps through the base all the way to his quarters. Far in the back. He liked the quiet. You are none-too-gently dumped onto the slap of rock he made into a berth. The room is dark, save for the glow of his eyes. The green makes you uneasy. As does the way he leans close, servos flat on either side of you.

"What's up Ratchet?" You sit up on your elbows, heart racing, trying to keep your voice steady.

The Medic glares down at you, silent. Servos dragging off of the slab as he stands straight. Glowering down at you, he looked even more massive.

"Getting real fragging close to that Con." He spits the last word out.

"He's not a decepticon anymore. You know tha-'

A massive metal fist slams down beside you, his face close. You're bathed in that sick green light. Vision drowned in his optics. His voice, a tense whisper.

"Getting. Real. close."

You start shaking, unable to look away as the mechanics of his optics shift and focus on you. Who was this, cause it sure as hell wasn't Ratchet. All this change started with...

"Ratchet. Come on. You-" you take a shaky breath, "You haven't been yourself. Lets just-"

"No." His voice is firm as he grabs your ankle and drags you to the edge of the berth, "I have never felt more myself. Stronger. Faster. Better. Can't you see it? Can't you see I'm better than everyone else? Especially that scrap excuse for a doctor?"

Trying to scoot away only made his hold on you tighten enough to earn a grunt.

"The frag do you see in him, when I'm right in front of you?"

You had always suspected something, Ratchet was a bit softer with you compared to the other humans. Always excluding you from his complaints about humans. Taking time to talk to you, teaching you about Cybertronian physiology. But this...

"Ratchet, that shit is making you act weird." You say, reaching out to touch the servo that grips you. The large Metal thumb running up and down your leg. It sent another shiver down your spine.

"No, I'ts making me act just right. I'm not holding back anymore." His thumb slides under your shirt.

[f1orza]

Lucky girl part five

Summary: it's race time in Barcelona, the home of Lucky and she can't wait for the Spanish GP and what comes after.

Sorry for the wait but I had a lot going on and then I decided to just wait until after the race to see the results. So it can be a accurate to the weekend. This not proof read, so sorry if there's any mistakes.

This is the last one sadly. I honestly wasn't sure how to end this so it might not be that amazing 😓. Also there is likely to be little things that come out if I get inspired or tweets and stuff I didn't post so look out if that interests you but lucky girl is finished, thank you everyone who enjoyed this short series. I didn't expect many people to like it but I was surprised.

yourusername • stories

charles_leclerc I can't wait to see you mon chéri ❤

yourusername get here soon and you will 😘

Bestfriend1 OMG WE HAVE TO GET TOGETHER SOON

yourusername YES OF COURSE I'LL TEXT YOU

Bestfriend2 you're back home, sleepover soon ? 🤔

yourusername ohh yes, I have so much to tell you guys

Bestfriend2 about charles? 😏

yourusername 🤭

Username1 you are so beautiful 🥰

Username2 ¿Es usted de Barcelona? Are you from Barcelona?

yourusername Nací en Barcelona Fue mi primer amor ❤ I was born in Barcelona it was my first love

y/b/username tráeme algo de comida de camino a casa bring me some food on the way home

yourusername ¿Es así como se pide algo? 🤨 Is this how you ask for something?

y/b/username Me dejaste y me perdí a mi piloto favorito ganando su carrera en casa 😐 you left me and I missed my favorite driver winning his home race yourusername Estás alargando esto 🙄, ¿qué quieres? You're dragging this out, what do you want?

y/b/username Cualquier cosa está bien pero yo también quiero churros 😋 Anything is fine but I want churros too.

Username3 I want to visit there 😭

Scuderiaferrari we are ready to race in this beautiful city 🇪🇸

Username5 happy you're home

Username7 that fruit looks so good

1,457,987 likes

charles_leclerc Difficult weekend for the team. We have to do better in Austria. But first I will be spending time with loved ones and refresh my mind for the race next week.

yourusername Je suis si fière de toi, ma chérie, tu t'es si bien débrouillée. J'ai hâte de te montrer ma ville. I'm so proud of you, darling, you've done so well. I can't wait to show you my city.

* Liked by creator

Scuderiaferrari enjoy your time, we will come back stronger in Austria 💪🏼

Username19 what a....interesting race for Ferrari today 🤕😪

Username16 not charles posting a photo of max maxplaining 😭

charles_leclerc • stories

arthur_leclerc Je ne sais toujours pas pourquoi elle voudrait sortir avec toi 🤨 I still don't know why she would want to go out with you

Username12 omg they are so cute

Username29 looked at my man and sighed

Username17 congrats Charles for bagging the most gorgeous girl in the world

Liked by creator

yourusername • stories

Bestfriend1 Chica esto es una locura para publicar un 8 de la mañana 😭 Girl this is crazy to post on an 8 in the morning.

Friend2 oh...ok this is some despicable behavior for 8am 🤥

Y/b/username OMG WHY WOULD YPU POST THIS 🤮🤮🤢🤢

charles_leclerc ❤

yourusername 🥰

charles_leclerc • stories

yourusername 🤭

charles_leclerc Te quiero mi amor ❤ I love you my love

pierregasly Vous êtes bizarres de poster des pièges à soif les uns des autres à 8 heures du matin 😟 You guys are weird for posting thirst traps to each other at 8am.

Arthur_leclerc 😧

charles_leclerc how's that for rizz 😆

y/b/username AHHH MY EYEEEES 🤮

charles_leclerc sorry y/b/n 😅

Username3 AINT NO WAY LMAO 🤣

Username11 Ferrari is gonna put you in pr jail 😭

Username18 OH...oh wow....

yourusername and charles_leclerc I'm so lucky to have found a love like this in my life. Thank you to y/b/n for making this happen. I love you my love and I'm so lucky to receive your love in return.

y/b/username thank you for the shout out but no more pda🙅🏻‍♂️, I can't do it anymore 🤢

Username124 I love them so much

Bestfriend1 love you lucky and you too Charles 😒

arthur_leclerc congrats ig 😕

youusername you don't sound very happy?

arthur_leclerc why did you have to choose....him tho? 🙁

charles_leclerc you know I can see this comment right?

arthur_leclerc So? she's way out of your league

Username27 we about to get the girlfriend effect goodbye cloud pants

charles_leclerc what's wrong with my pants? 🙁

Username27 everything.

charles_leclerc @yourusername baby are my pants that bad ☹?

yourusername oh they aren't THAT bad Charlie 😅

Username27 but they ARE that bad 🤥

yourusername well don't tell him that 😓

charles_leclerc 😞

yourusername don't worry baby we will work on it okay 🥰

charles_leclerc okay 😍

Username1 what is this comment section 😭

Username16 silly season in full affect

Username3 Charles is a simp 🤣

Username6 I would be too if I was dating lucky

Username5 con😭grat😭u😭lat😭ions Charles

Username45 I can't believe uber boy got lucky 🙄😒

Username4 oh to be dating charles 😪

Username1 oh to be dating lucky

Username11 do you guys need a dog? I can bark 🐕🧎🏼‍♀️

charles_leclerc Already got one 😍

Username11 what do you mean by that 🤨

scuderiaferrari wow this totally sfw post is so lovely, congratulations to the new couple 😍

Username21 help 😭😭

Username8 admin what about charles and luckys' stories 🤣

scuderiaferrari admin has no idea what you're talking about 😆 I definitely have NOT seen post that could be considered nsfw AT ALL 😃 especially not at 8 IN THE MORNING HAHAH 🤣

Username37 IJBOL ferrari admin is freaking out 😭