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[buildmyplaceweb]

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[m0nswoon]

OMG what if we kissed under the SANSI LED Security Motion Sensor Outdoor Lights, 36W (250W Incandescent Equivalent) 3600lm, 5000K Daylight, Dusk to Dawn Waterproof Flood Light, ETL Listed, White It would be so romantic to be under the glow of the SANSI LED Security Motion Sensor Outdoor Lights, 36W (250W Incandescent Equivalent) 3600lm, 5000K Daylight, Dusk to Dawn Waterproof Flood Light, ETL Listed, White

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 28 - Forced Intox

pairing: Mob boss!WandaNat x sub!Reader

summary: You drink, and keep drinking. All courtesy of your girlfriends, of course. They have some fun with you, and you just bask in the feeling of being utterly drunk while they command your body however they please.

content warnings: reader has a penis, alcohol, very dubious consent, cunnilingus

word count: 1.4k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

A/N: Any scene or kink with dubious consent should be discussed before actually participating in the kink or scene.

People. All you could see, feel, or touch were people. They were packed in around you as soon as you entered the door, the low lighting of the club causing you to squint your eyes as you tried to focus. 

Fuck, you shouldn’t have used the main entrance.

You can barely see, the scent of alcohol and weed hitting you as music thrums strongly in the air. The floor is slightly sticky, and you grimace as you make your way towards the second floor, where you were meeting your girlfriends.

They took good care of you, truly. But the only thing you hated about their job was the ridiculously lavish and crowded parties they threw. You understood why they threw them, of course, but you still didn’t like them. 

“Right this way,” a man says, and you turn to see one of the security team next to you. You feel your body relax as relief floods you, your girlfriends only employed the best and most trusted individuals they knew. The training process alone only let the most qualified candidates through, so you allowed the man to gently grab your elbow as a team of security surrounded you. 

Slowly, you made your way towards the staircase, avoiding the stumbling drunk people around you. God, you needed a shot, it was stifling to be in this environment sober. 

As you ascend the stairs, you search for the signature hair color of your girlfriends. Wanda liked her hair more auburn, while Natasha preferred a darker red, and you smiled when you saw them next to each other, engaged in a conversation. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, the team of security dispersing as the man gently led you over to where your girlfriends were waiting. 

Two pairs of green eyes meet yours, and you smile as they turn their full attention to you. God, you’d been looking forward to seeing them all day. The only thing you wanted was their hands around you and a beer to sip on. 

“Darling,” Wanda greets you, pulling you in by the belt and kissing you firmly. You feel yourself harden slightly at the action, and you know that she can feel it as she presses her body against you.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Natasha says, and you feel Wanda break the kiss to chuckle against your neck, her hands hot around your waist. You smile at her, your hand reaching past Wanda to bring her in for a slight hug. 

“Missed you.” The words are whispered, but your girlfriends hear them. 

Natasha smirks, pulling away slightly to wave her hand at someone you can’t see. Wanda remains wrapped around you, her hands grabbing your waist tightly as she kisses your neck. You hold her, your body relaxing as you watch a bartender hand Natasha a tray. 

Smiling, you take in the three shots and your favorite beer on the tray. 

“Vodka,” Natasha says, gently touching Wanda’s shoulder and pulling her away from you.

“Are we taking these together?” 

Wanda laughs at your question, holding one of the shots as Natasha holds the other two. You smile as you take the offered shot, confusion growing when Wanda simply looks at you, tilting her head as she glances at the shot in your hand.

“No,” Natasha says, moving closer to wrap her hand around the back of your neck. It’s possessive, and you feel yourself grow even harder, your hands moving to cover your bulge slightly. “These are all for you, pet.”

Your eyes widen at the name, and you feel Wanda’s hand on yours. She moves the shot towards your lips, leaning in to whisper in your ear. 

“Be good for us, darling. Take the shot, we want you fuzzy tonight.”

At her command, you take the shot. Before you can set the glass down, Natasha is pressing the next one in your hand, her eyes dark as she watches you gulp it down. 

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter, wiping your lips. Vodka burns, your throat feeling warm as Wanda presses the final shot into your hand. 

“Come on, pet,” Natasha says, smirking at you as she opens your beer for you. “One more shot, you know you want it.”

Well, you can’t argue with that logic. You feel yourself twitching in your pants at her commanding tone, and down the shot while ignoring the way Wanda glances down at your crotch. 

“Good job,” Wanda murmurs, her lips returning to your neck. 

You accept the beer that Natasha gives you, wrapping your fingers around the cold bottle as you feel your face heat up from the alcohol. The room is already growing hazier, and you feel yourself relax as a grin spreads on your face. 

Without protest, you allow yourself to be pulled into the VIP section of the club, the atmosphere quieter but no less intense than the general club area. 

At some point, you find yourself on a couch. Natasha and Wanda are next to you, her hands wandering as you groan and feel yourself grow harder. They don’t seem to mind, Wanda’s leg thrown over yours as her thigh presses lightly against your bulge. 

It’s pleasant, the room blurry as your eyes begin to glaze over. Your head is fuzzy, and your ears ring slightly as another bottle is placed in your hands. How many drinks have you had now?

You can’t remember, but Wanda’s fingers are tipping the bottle against your lips and you swallow, blushing at the praises that drop from Natasha’s lips as you do. There are hands all over you, and you can feel yourself straining in your boxers, your need obvious to everyone in the room. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, pet,” Natasha says, her voice playful as you turn to look at her with bleary eyes. Your face is flushed, your lips parted slightly as she presses another shot into your hands. “This is what you wanted, remember?”

Of course you wanted this. That’s right, Natasha would never lie to you. 

“Keep drinking,” Wanda mumbles, her hand guiding yours as you down the shot, grimacing at the taste and sipping your beer to mask the burn. You can feel yourself slipping further, the edges of your vision fading as you bask in the attention and closeness of your two favorite people. 

At some point, you confess your love to them both. You barely remember it, your words quiet and your eyes shining as Wanda giggles while Natasha smiles at you and places another beer in your hand. Your tongue doesn’t even process the taste anymore, but you somehow manage to keep drinking. 

By the end of the night, you’ve been pulled into a dark room. You think it’s an office of some sort, most likely Wanda’s. It’s hard to tell though, as you’re focused on how fuzzy and pliant you feel, your body pressed against the couch cushions while Natasha and Wanda shower you with affection. Wanda is on top of you, kissing you softly as you moan into her mouth, her lips tasting like cherries and vodka. Natasha is near your waist, her mouth eagerly sucking on your hard length, pleasure thrumming through your veins. 

You barely register your orgasm, the pleasure blurring and mixing with the weightless feeling in your limbs, your mind fuzzy as you buck your hips and bask in the feeling of Wanda’s mouth moving against yours. You remember moaning, your eyes closing slightly as the room begins to sway and spin. 

Fuck. Wanda is on top of you, fucking herself on your hard length. You can smell her arousal as she does, Natasha’s fingers resting in your mouth as you suck on them. You moan at the feeling of Natasha’s lips against your neck, your hips pinned to the couch by Wanda’s thighs as she grabs your waist for support and grinds with your cock inside her. 

It’s perfect, and you let the pleasure consume you. 

The next thing you remember is Natasha pouring another shot into your mouth, your eyes blurry as you try and focus on something. Somebody is saying something, but you can’t quite hear it, the ringing in your ears too loud. 

Pleasure. 

Your throat burns, your cock hard and tired at the same time. Someone’s arousal is smeared on your lips, and you smile stupidly. A shower? You’re nude, being held up by strong arms as a heavily accented voice speaks to you. Not that you can understand it, but you nod along anyway. 

It’s perfect, and exactly what you need. It’s everything you asked for.

—

You wake up the next morning, your head pounding as you snuggle more into the two warm bodies wrapped around you. Your voice is weak as you thank them, a wave of tiredness washing over you as Wanda’s fingers card through your hair. Natasha praises you, her voice low and her hands strong as they rub your back. 

You wouldn’t trade this for anything.

[lovemouche]

lovesick all over my bed ౨ৎ

satoru x fem reader

18+ / mdni

It was never meant to end up like this.

Satoru had stated the boundary of no strings attached prior to entangling himself with you — metaphorically and, quite literally too. The relationship was meant to start and end with physicality only. That was the one rule he made sure to implement for himself. That was where he drew the line. 

"Y-yes. right there. Please."

And yet, these days, he's been finding himself caught in the cavern of a predicament, worn down to the point where he can't think of much, besides tangled limbs and open mouthed kisses, hot and wet as he'd breathe heavily against your form. Worn down to the point where he can't think of anything else besides you. 

Even now, as you lay underneath him, needy and bare, shaped like a deity, challenging the outline of divinity, he's still thinking of you. Always.

And it's driving him crazy, consuming every waking thought of his. Because he just doesn't know how it all led up to this. Satoru can't fathom how an inkling of affection he dismissed as nothing more than a momentary impulse burgeoned into something more profound. Into something so alarming. Into—

No. 

No. No. No.

No. He doesn't want to name the emotion just yet. He can't. Labelling it just solidifies his fear into truth, and the prospect that the feeling blossoming inside his chest aligns with what he’d dreaded feeling the most crosses every boundary he had set for himself. 

Love, the most twisted curse of all. 

"Ah, Satoru—"

The call of his name drags him out of his reverie. It's whispered softly against his skin, flushed as he clings to you desperately, secure enough to hold you in place, but never too much to hurt you. 

"Yeah?" he asks tentatively, his movements being put to a pause. After loosening his grip around your body, he shifts the bend of legs on the mattress to keep his weight from overwhelming you. "You okay, princess?" 

His hand travels from the curve of your waist to trace the outline of your jaw, carefully and, much too lovingly for someone who's only meant to use you for emotional release. "Does anything hurt?" he asks, thumbing the apple of your cheek with gentle strokes, noticing how you shiver under the touch. 

You shake your head, but it's not enough to convince him otherwise; the lack of a verbal response only has his mind flooding with concern even more, especially because you've never stopped him mid-sex. Not once in the entire seven months of your arrangement. 

"Talk to me," he encourages. 

Instinctively, you lay your hand on top of the one toying with your cheek, your fingertips lightly rubbing at his knuckles in an attempt to calm him down. Satoru feels his chest constrict. It's not a big gesture, he knows. But it feels so intimate—so sweet. 

Anyone would assume he would've gotten used to it by now, but even with familiarity and time, everything you do only seems to make his heart race even more. 

He's grateful the dim lights don't manage to catch the flush beginning to spread throughout his features, but he's certain you can feel the way his cock hardens inside you, even if you don't comment on it—which he's also grateful for.

God, he's hopeless. 

The control you have over him is dangerous, he realizes. Part of him wants to pull away before any damage can be done. But the other, bigger part welcomes the peril with open arms. 

"It's just..." you trail off, letting out a sigh of frustration as you try to find the right words. 

"Should I pull out?" 

"No," you huff, tone authoritative. Out of reflex, your legs tighten around him, thighs caging his waist to keep him in place—because you definitely don't want him to pull out. Not with how good he's filling you up right now. "Just... shut up for now." 

Satoru acquiesces to your request. Despite his reservations, he nods, albeit a bit reluctantly, and makes a testament to his obedience by pretending to zip his mouth up with pinched fingers. 

"You just... seem a little out of it nowadays, like you're distracted. So I wanted to know if you were okay."

You take a brief pause. Satoru waits with bated breath. 

"We're friends too, you know? You can talk to me about these things. It doesn't always have to be sex," you add softly, probing gently to gauge the situation while making sure to leave enough room for him to make the decision to open up. Because really, he doesn't owe you any explanation. 

He doesn't owe you anything at all.

Satoru feels his heart swell, pressing up against his sternum, too big for his chest—everything he feels for you is too much for him to carry. 

I know, he thinks bitterly to himself. That's the problem. I don't want to be your friend anymore. 

But he doesn't want to lose you either, and he knows that if he let the dam break, if he let loose every emotion he's been struggling to keep at bay, he'd only ruin everything. 

He'd lose you. And he'd lose himself in the process.

So Satoru parries your question with ease, because honesty isn't his forte—both towards you and himself. 

"Nothing's wrong," he insists, raising an arm to pin your hand up against the bedsheet, intertwining your fingers with his. "Don't worry." 

Resting his forehead on top of your sweat kissed one, he resumes his movements languidly. "Just...just focus on how good I'm making you feel, o—oh—okay?" 

He trips on his words at the sensation of being sucked in and out of your sweet cunt, and he prays—god, he prays—that the feeling of being inside you is enough to compensate for not having you entirely, even if just for a moment. 

But it's not enough, and Satoru can't help but feel that it never will be. 

He slides in and out of you, his desire heavy. And you moan in response, chest rising from the laboured breaths that follow each sinful thrust, hips gyrating automatically to match his pace. 

And it feels good. It feels so fucking good. But the pleasure isn't enough to cloud his senses and dispel his anxiety. Because he's looking at you and his heart is already tugging at its seams. And Satoru feels helpless. 

And he's not sure what it is—if it's the high that ensues being wrapped around your tight walls, or the way you fit so perfectly against him, as if you were made to be held by him, as if he was made just to hold you—but something about tonight has him desperate for more than just late night messages that lead to loveless fucking. 

Something about tonight has him desperate for all of you. Mind and body, heart and soul. 

The notion is heady, and the revelation steals his breath. It roots itself inside his chest and demands his attention, aching to be acknowledged. 

He's so caught up in his head, so lost in thought that he doesn't even register the fact that his movements have been put to a halt and his cock has stilled inside you. Not until you press a shaky palm to his chest in worry.

"Hey," you breathe out. "What's wrong?"

Satoru has to bite his tongue to refrain from telling you that: everything is. There are so many things he wants to tell you, but he's scared it'll poison every next moment. He's scared he'll lose you in the only way he knows he can have you. 

Everything is wrong, he wants to say.

Instead, he stays quiet. 

There an ugly feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach. He wants, so badly, to say something—anything. But he can't. The only reaction he can offer you is the widening of eyes, and his mouth parting in shock before his lips purse into a disappointed frown.

Being in... fuck he'll name it. Being in love shouldn't indemnify him from acting like an idiot, but love has a way of blurring all reason, all rationality. 

He waits for you to speak again, unwilling to break the silence himself—too afraid of what might follow, too afraid that you've already seen right through him.

And he feels pathetic, of course, for being reduced to such a scattered mess, because he's supposed to be the strongest. And for the most part, he is. He really is. But when it comes to you, he can't seem to live up to that title. When it comes to you, he can't seem to be anything else but yours. 

The yearning—to mean something more to you, to be everything to you—settles in his bones. It's draining his soul. He's standing on the edge of a cliff, left to teeter somewhere in between unbridled emotion and self restraint. It's a precarious position to be placed in, and he's hanging by a mere thread. 

Seconds stretch into what feels like an eternity. The air feels like it's heavy with impending demise, and the silence engulfs him like black tar. It's suffocating, to say the least. Satoru isn't sure if he wants to prolong the moment or get it over with. He feels his heart pound against his chest—that treacherous thing.

So when you finally say something, he breaks.

"Satoru, what's wrong?" 

He falls apart. 

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, voice timid and exceptionally apologetic, head hanging low in refusal to meet your eyes. The sight of him is pitiful; you can't, for the life of you, understand why.

It's strange seeing Satoru in such a vulnerable state. Not because you don't assume he doesn't have his own baggage to carry, but because you never thought he'd be willing to expose this side of himself to you.

It's everything out of the ordinary, like witnessing god crumble at your feet, or having an executioner beg to be pardoned for all his killings.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. Only this time, it feels more resigned, like he's admitting defeat. It almost feels like he's apologising to you. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

But how could that be? and why would it ever be?

"What? Sat—ah."

Satoru falls slack on top of you, pressing the weight of his body against yours. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, chin moving to rest on your shoulder as he evades your gaze. You feel his hands travel south as he continues whispering a mantra of apologies into your skin.

It's a vain endeavour, trying to lift yourself up to get him to talk to you properly. The grip on your hip keeps you anchored, leaving you no room for anything other than compliance; it's as if he's scared you'll leave if he lets go even for a second.

And honestly, he is. 

"Satoru. Don't be like this please."

"I'm sorry," is all he says. 

"Satoru, look at—"

"No."

"Look at me." 

"I'm an idiot."

"No," you interject. "You are not."

"But I am." It's muffled, his voice. A Little shaky too. "I know I'm an idiot, so don't," he pleads. "Don't look at me. I don't want you to see me right now. I can't." 

"You need to tell me what's wrong."

"You're going to hate me. I'm going to ruin everything."

"How?" 

"I'm sorry."

"Satoru."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his grip on you tightening, fingernails digging soft crescents into your skin. "I'm sorry; I got too greedy." 

Your eyebrows pinch. 

Satoru can practically feel your confusion, and he wants to die, because you don't get it. You just don't get it. Not at all. Not one bit. Not until he whispers five words that knock all the air out of your lungs:

I love you. I'm sorry.

There's a pregnant pause, hesitant, unsure. And then:

"Wha—what? No. You—you're lying." 

Satoru shakes his head in disagreement, vehemently refusing your claim. 

Lying? How could he ever lie about such a thing? He could feign indifference at most, try to brush past it and let the feeling linger until it subsides. But he can't, and it hasn't, and he's tired of pretending that he doesn't love you anymore. Because he does. He loves you too much to push those feelings away. 

"It's true," he admits. "I—I tried not to... you know? I tried not to—fuck, I'm sorry." 

The confession should have lifted the burden, or at the very least, eased it. But his lips struggle to form words, and his heart ricochets against his ribcage. 

"Look at me," you implore.

"No."

He's certain you must hate him now. That by tomorrow, or tonight even, he'll leave the place—the person—he's associated with home as nothing more than a stranger. 

Even worse, a mistake. 

"Please?" 

But your arms crawl to wrap around his torso, and your legs squeeze around his own in silent reassurance, like you're trying to convey to him that you're not going anywhere. And if that isn't enough to convince him to listen, Satoru doesn't know what is. 

When he finally raises his head, your eyes linger on the contours of his face, studying his crestfallen expression. He's anguished, that's for sure. You just can't wrap your head around the fact that it's probably you who's causing his misery. 

Because Satoru is... well, Satoru—he's the strongest.

So who are you to be able to wreck him this much?

"Do you..." you swallow, still unconvinced, words quieting down to a whisper. "Do you really love me?" 

Without looking at you, Satoru nods. it's not enough of an answer, though. 

"Tell me, please." 

He lets out a slow, shuddering exhale, chest stuttering on his next breath. He's silent for a few seconds, thinking. Until finally, with a slight crack to his voice, he says. "I do." very tremulously. "I love you." 

Which is painful to admit, because he doesn't even know what to do now that it's been said. Satoru's not sure how he can give you something he's never been shown. He's not even sure if he deserves it, or if you'll even want his affection. 

But there's so much of it, so much love growing in his chest that he fears it'll crack his ribs. So he's willing to try, even if it might ruin him in the process, 

He's willing to do anything, so long as it's for you. 

It's as simple as that, really. 

"You're lying. I—you can't be serious."

Well, maybe not really.

"I am." Satoru nods pathetically, like a wounded puppy, like his heart is in tatters because you can't believe him even after he's laid himself so embarrassingly bare like this. "I love you." 

"But you said—"

"I know," Satoru interrupts, and his lips are bowed. "I know. I'm a hypocrite. I got too selfish. But I can't help it anymore, I'm sorry. I love you too much to push these feelings away." 

Satoru feels every muscle in your body go stiff at the admission. You're rendered speechless, once again; hesitant in your words, even more so in your actions. And he feels like he's made a grave mistake, that right then and there, he's ruined everything—he's lost you.

But then the right corner of your mouth quirks, hinting at the faintest of smiles, and an obtrusive feeling of hope sparks within him, fizzling out his nerves like cheap soda. 

"Why would you be sorry?" you scold, flicking his forehead. "The only thing you should be sorry about is worrying me. Do you know how scared I was seeing you go MIA while you were still inside me?"

"I'm still inside," he reminds you. 

You groan. "this is not the time." 

"I know." He frowns, but the tension from earlier is nowhere to be found, and Satoru feels even more at ease now that you've begun playing with his hair, twirling the strands between your fingers. "I'm sorry. I don't really know what else to say." 

"You don't need to say anything else."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You aren't upset or anything?"

"Why would I be?"

"I don't know." He lowers his head to rest on top of your chest, all watery and emotional, pressing his cheek just above where your heart lies to find solace in the rhythmic pitter patter of beats. "I just expected you'd be mad or... disappointed, you know?" 

"Well I'm not, so don't worry about anything, okay?"

"Okay," he hums.

You don't say anything after that. Neither does he. It's quiet for a while, and you take the time to think while basking in the afterglow of such a raw moment. 

It's all still so surreal. 

You feel like the universe is playing a prank on you, like Satoru's orchestrating a sick, cruel joke to mess with your system. But you're cradling his head in your hand, lovingly tracing arbitrary shapes on his scalp, and you swear you can hear how fast his heart is racing. 

It's in tandem with yours.

And perhaps, that's all that matters. 

Maybe you were an idiot not to have realised it sooner. Maybe you were just in denial too. But it's as clear as day now, and you really can't deny the fact that it has always felt like you and Satoru were made for each other. Because when you take his hand into yours, and it feels like the spaces between your fingers were shaped just to hold him like this, you're certain that it's always been more than just sex. 

"Satoru?"

"Yeah?"

"Me too."

He gives you a quizzical look. You smile.

"I love you too."

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Nightshifter | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ;) )

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, hostage situation

Word Count: 5149

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

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You eyed Dean angrily as he flirted with the attractive woman in front of him dressed as an FBI agent. You knew he was teasing you, and it was pissing you off. You had long since finished your interrogation of the store’s manager. Helena had apparently been a patron of the store for years. Then, one day, she went crazy; the police caught her clearing out the jewelry store’s cases and the safe before shooting someone in the face and killing herself in her bathtub after the crime. You had a sneaking suspicion you were dealing with a shapeshifter; a monster that you were quite over dealing with.

Dean approached you, triumphantly waving the piece of paper with the phone number he’d gotten from the woman he was interviewing.

You snatched it out of his hands. 

“Aw, you jealous?” he teased, leaning into you.

You deadpanned, “Keep it professional, Agent Hetfield, wouldn’t want the bureau to hear about this, right?” You ripped the paper up and shoved its tatters into your blazer pocket.

He deflated slightly, but still smirked at you. “I’m gonna make you crack, sweetheart, just wait.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, turning away from him and heading out to the Impala. Admittedly, you were strutting a little bit to tease him.

Sam met you at the car, and the three of you drove to the home of the man whose police statement had been a mix of sci-fi nerd gibberish and the only eye-witness account of the incident.

As you approached the small house, Sam began talking about another piece of the case. “Uh, Milwaukee National Trust. It was hit about a month ago.”

Dean raised a brow. “Same M.O. as the jewelry store?”

“Yep, inside job, longtime employee, the never-in-a-million-years type. Dude robs the bank, then goes home and supposedly commits suicide.”

“The guy, Resnick, he was the security guard on duty?” Dean questioned.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. He was actually beaten unconscious by the teller who heisted the place.”

“Jesus,” you grimaced.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. He knocked on the screen door. “Mr. Resnick?” A bright flood light turned on, momentarily blinding you.

You raised a hand in front of your eyes. “Holy—”

Sam was apparently unfazed. “FBI, Mr. Resnick.”

Through the screen door, a chubby, nerdy-looking man in his late twenties approached. “Let me see the badge.”

You slapped your badge against the screen next to Sam’s and Dean’s. 

Mr. Resnick, whose first name was Ronald, squinted at them carefully. “I already gave my statement to the police.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, listen, Ronald, um… just some things about your statement we wanted to get some clarification on.”

“You read it?” He seemed surprised. “You come to listen to what I've got to say?”

“Well, that’s why we’re here,” Dean said.

“Well, come on in.” He opened the door and led you through a narrow hallway to a room cluttered with conspiracy theory paraphernalia.

“None of the cops ever called me back. Not after I told them what was really going on. Uh, they all thought I was crazy,” he rushed out. You were beginning to think the same. “First off, Juan Morales never robbed the Milwaukee National Trust, okay? That, I guarantee. See, me and Juan were friends. He used to come back to the bank on my night shifts, and we'd play cards.”

“So you let him into the bank that night, after hours,” Sam noted.

“The thing I let into the bank…” Ronald trailed off, “wasn't Juan. I mean, it had his face, but it wasn't his face. Uh, every detail was perfect, but too perfect, you know, like if a dollmaker made it, like I was talking to a big Juan-doll.”

You nearly choked on a laugh. “A Juan-doll?”

“Look, this wasn't the only time this happened, okay?” He scrambled through papers on his messy desk and handed you a folder. “There was this jewelry store, too. And the cops, a-and you guys, you just won't see it!” You flipped through the folder; it almost looked like a hunter’s profile of the case. You were half impressed. “Both crimes were pulled by the same thing,” Ronald finished. 

Sam pressed, saying, “What's that, Mr. Resnick?”

He picked up a copy of a magazine labeled “Fortean Times” and held it out to you. The headline read, “Birth of the Cybermen.”

‘Jesus Christ,’ you thought, suppressing a grimace.

“Chinese 've been working on 'em for years,” the man explained. “And the Russians before that. Part men, part machine. Like the Terminator. But the kind that can change itself, make itself look like other people.”

Dean smirked. “Like the one from T2.”

“Exactly! See, so not just a robot, more of a- a- a- a— Mandroid," he said finally, a bizarre twinkle in his eye.

“A Mandroid,” you deadpanned. “And what makes you so sure about this, Ronald?”

He held up a finger at you, smiling a little wildly. Your eyes flicked to Dean’s in concern, and he just wiggled his eyebrows at you. 

The man returned a moment later holding a VHS tape labeled “M.N.T. Camera 4— Juan.” He inserted it into a player, saying, “See, I made copies of all the security tapes. I knew once the cops got them they'd be buried. Here.” He fast-forwarded a bit in the tape. “Now watch. Watch. Watch him, watch, watch! See, look! Th- th- there it is!” He paused it on a clip of the man with a silver in his eyes. “You see? He's got the laser eyes.”

You gave Sam a knowing look that he returned.

“Cops said it was some kind of reflected light. Some kind of ‘camera flare’. Okay? Ain't no damn camera flare. They say I'm a post-trauma case. So what? Bank goes and fires me, it don't matter!” You eyed Ronald uncomfortably as he continued to pace around and rant. “The Mandroid is— is still out there. The law won't hunt this thing down— I'll do it myself.

"You see, this thing, it- it- it kills the real person, makes it look like a suicide, then it sorta, like, morphs into that person. Cases the job for a while until it knows the take is fat, and then it finds its opening. Now, these robberies, they're, they're grouped together.” He pointed at the map on the wall. “So I figure the Mandroid is holed up somewhere in the middle, underground, maybe. I dunno, maybe that's where it recharges its, uh, Mandroid batteries.”

Dean nodded, seeming impressed. You just looked between Ronald and Dean in confusion. 

“Okay. I want you to listen very carefully. Because I'm about to tell you the god's honest truth about all of this,” Sam began.

Your head whipped to him, confused as to where he was going with this.

“There's no such thing as Mandroids. There's nothing evil or inhuman going on out there. Just people. Nothing else, you understand?”

You kept a straight face, but were startled. 

“The laser eyes,” Ronald tried desperately.

“Just a camera flare, Mr. Resnick. See, I know you don't want to believe this. But your friend Juan robbed the bank, and that's it,” Sam mollified.

Ronald immediately became angry. “Get out of my house! Now!”

***

You and the brothers found another tacky, cheap motel to stay in for the time being. You lounged on Dean’s bed in a pair of comfortable sweatpants and an oversized band t-shirt. 

Dean paced around the room, chuckling. “Man, that has got to be the kicker, straight up. I mean, you tell that poor son of a bitch that— what did you say, remand the tapes that he copied? Classified evidence of an ongoing investigation?” He laughed harder. “That's messed up.”

Sam sat on the foot of the bed and inserted the tape into the television’s player. “What are you, pissed at me or something?”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, I just think it's a little creepy how good of a Fed you are. I mean, come on, we could have at least thrown the guy a bone. He did some pretty good legwork here.”

“Mandroid?” you deadpanned.

“Except for the Mandroid part,” Dean added. “I liked him. He's not that different from you or me. People think we're crazy.”

“He’s not a hunter, though, Dean,” you challenged. “He ran into something real and let his conspiracy-theory-brain-rot get the best of him.”

“Better to stay in the dark, and stay alive,” Sam finished.

Dean shrugged, “Yeah, I guess.” He put a paper down on the map on the table and began marking it with a red pen. 

You shuffled forward to Sam and hit the pause button on the remote just as the man’s eyes flashed at the camera.

“Shapeshifter. Just like back in St. Louis. Same retinal reaction to video,” Sam informed.

“Eyes flare at the camera. I hate those fuckin’ things,” Dean grunted.

“You think we don’t?” you scoffed.

“Yeah, well, one didn't turn into you and frame you for murder.”

You shrugged. “Well, look, if this shifter's anything like the one we killed in Missouri—”

“Then Ronald was right. Alright, they like to layer up underground, preferably the sewer. And all the robberies have been connected so far, right?”

Sam nodded.

“With the, uh, sewer main layout. There's one more bank lined up on that same sewer main,” Dean continued.

“Awesome,” you grumbled.

***

Later that evening, you and the brothers headed to the bank Dean referenced, the City Bank of Milwaukee, to see if the shapeshifter would be hitting that one next. You posed as Sam and Dean’s boss, and the two boys wore security camera technician outfits. 

The guard of the bank informed you as you walked along, “Well, we haven't had any flags go up on our system yet.”

You shook your head. “No, sir, this is a glitch in the overall grid. I just need to cover all my bases and make sure the branch monitors are okay.”

“Well, better to be safe than sorry, I guess,” the guard shrugged.

“That’s the plan,” you nodded.

He opened the door to an observation room flooded with monitors for you, saying, “Alrighty. You guys need anything else?”

“Nope,” you replied. “We’ll be in and out before you know it. Just a routine check.”

“Okie-dokie,” he said, leaving the room.

Dean chuckled. “I like him. He says ‘Okie-dokie.’ “

“What if he's the shifter?” worried Sam.

“Well, then we follow him home, put a silver bullet through his chestplate,” the older brother replied simply.

You sat down in one of the desk chairs to watch the screens. You kicked your high-heeled feet up on the desk in front of you, leaning back in your seat. “Anybody got popcorn?” you yawned, preparing for the hours of work ahead of you.

***

You and the Winchester boys were beginning to go cross-eyed after searching for the monster for so long.

“Well, it looks like Mr. Okie-Dokie is… okie-dokie,” Dean commented upon seeing his eyes appear normal in the camera screens.

“Maybe we jumped the gun on this, guys,” sighed Sam. “I mean, we don't even know it's here.”

Something caught your eye. “Wait a minute.” A middle-aged man turned toward the camera, and his eyes flared. “Got him.”

“Hello, freak,” Dean growled.

Sam immediately jumped up, as did you, but Dean lingered behind. “Guys, wait!”

“What?” you and Sam spun around.

You then saw Ronald scurrying up to the door of the bank with a chain and a padlock, chaining it shut.

Dean scoffed. “Hello, Ronald.”

You immediately began running down the hall, ignoring the protesting of the soles of your feet as your heels clacked against the floor. As you approached the main lobby of the bank, you heard Ronald screaming for everyone to get on the ground. And then, gunshots.

“Fuck!” you cursed.

“And you said we shouldn't bring guns,” Dean scolded Sam, nearly bumping into someone fleeing past him.

“I didn't know this was gonna happen, Dean,” Sam replied.

“Just let me do the talking,” the older brother commanded. “I don't think he likes you very much, Agent Johnson.”

You saw Ronald standing in front of a group of people huddled together on the floor. “Now, there's only one way in or out of here, and I chained it up. So nobody's leaving, do you understand?”

Your eyes flicked to Dean concernedly as he stepped forward. “Hey, buddy. Calm down. Just calm down—”

Ronald wheeled around. “What the— You! Get on the floor, now.”

Dean began to crouch to the floor, as did you and Sam. “Okay, we're doing that. Just don't shoot anybody, especially us.”

“I knew it. As soon as you two left. You ain't FBI. Who are you? Who are you working for, huh? The men in black? You working for the Mandroid?”

“We’re not working for the Mandroid!” Sam exclaimed.

Ronald shakily aimed his gun at Sam. “You, shut up! I ain't talking to you. I don't like you.”

“Fair enough,” the brunet mumbled.

“Get on 'em. Frisk them down, make sure they got no weapons on them. Go!” Ronald commanded one of the hostages.

“Oh, hell, no, you’re not fucking touching me,” you struggled against the man as he tried to feel you up. 

“(Y/N), (Y/N), stop, stop,” Sam pleaded.

You shoved the man off yourself. Your struggle was strategic, though, as it kept him from finding the knives you had planted on yourself; one in your sleeve and one alongside your thigh.

The man moved over to Dean and found a knife stashed in his boot.

“Now what have we here?” Ronald’s question was meant to sound intimidating, but his wavering voice gave him away.

Sam shot Dean a look.

“I'm not just gonna walk in here naked!” Dean hissed back.

“Get back there,” Ronald ordered. You did so, following his pointing of the gun to the group of people behind him. He dropped Dean’s knife in the deposit box, and Dean winced.

“We know you don't want to hurt anybody,” he said. “That's exactly what's gonna happen if you keep waving that cannon around, and why don't you let these people go?”

“No!” Ronald shrieked. “I already told you. If nobody's gonna stop this thing, then I've got to do it myself.”

“Hey, we believe you! That's why we're here,” Dean replied.

“You don't believe me. Nobody believes me! How could they?” he cried.

“Come here,” Dean said.

Ronald scoffed. “What? No.”

“You're holding the gun, boss; you're calling the shots. I just want to tell you something. Come here.”

Ronald approached cautiously and leaned into Dean. You assumed he was telling him who the shifter was.

“Why do you think we've got these getups, huh? We've been monitoring the cameras in the back. We saw the bank manager. We saw his eyes,” Dean whispered.

The shorter man’s eyes widened. “His laser eyes?”

“Yes.” Dean seemed to realize what he’d said. “No. No! No, look, we're running out of time, okay? We've got to find him before he changes into someone else.”

“Like I'm gonna listen to you. You're a damn liar,” Ronald grumbled.

Dean stood cautiously, hands out.

“Dean, no!” you said.

“I'll shoot you! Get down!” Ronald ordered, pointing his rifle at Dean.

“Take me. Okay? Take me with you; take me as a hostage. But we've gotta act fast , because the longer we just sit here, the more time he has to change.” Dean paused. “Look at me, man. I believe you. You're not crazy. There really is something inside this bank.”

Ronald finally nodded. “Alright, you come with me. But everyone else gets in the vault!”

You stood on shaky legs as the people around you gasped and cried. You helped Sam herd everyone into the vault, and Dean tried to calm everyone down when Ronald ordered him to shut the door.

“It's okay, everyone. Just stay cool.” He threw a lingering glance to you before locking the vault completely.

A young redhead stared after Dean. “Who is that man?” she asked breathlessly.

“He's my brother,” Sam replied; you could hear the worry in his voice.

“He is so brave,” she practically moaned.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

The redhead went silent for a few minutes, and you took some time to thoroughly think your situation over. ‘Cops are gonna be all over this place by now. Dean’s been accused of murder, and the three of us have already been arrested once. Dean’s on the FBI’s radar. Surely, after our escape on the danashulps case, the feds are on us again. Now, we’re smack dab in the middle of a full-on hostage situation. And who are they likely to blame? Us!’ Your anxiety was beginning to get away with you as your thoughts began to swirl in your head. You were then acutely aware of how hot the room was, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt to keep some circulation moving. 

The woman next to you who seemed infatuated with Dean introduced herself to you.

“ ‘Scuse me, sorry. Uh, hi, I’m Sherry,” she said. “You’re, uh, with those guys, too, right?”

You nodded. 

“You known them a while?”

You nodded again.

She grinned. “Oh, gosh. What’s it like being around him?”

You snorted. “ ‘Him’ who?”

“That guy! The one who saved our lives!” she beamed. “What’s he like?”

“To tell you the truth, he’s a pain in my ass most of the time,” you giggled, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Oh, really?” She deflated a bit before her floaty, trancelike inflection in her voice came back. “He just… He seems so wonderful to be around. I mean, staring down that gun. And, you know, the way— he played right into that psycho's crazy head, telling him what he wanted to hear, I mean—” She trailed off, turning her attention back to you. “He's like, a real hero or, or something.” She tucked a hair behind her ear as she continued to gush.

You nodded again, feeling weirded out. 

“Sorry, I just,” she sing-songed, “I’ve never met anyone like him.” She paused, seeming to consider her next question carefully. “You ever… done anything with him?”

You nearly choked at her statement, uncomfortable with the objectification of Dean. “What?”

“Y’know,” she drawled, “How good is he in the—”

You were grateful to hear the vault door unlocking, revealing Dean holding a handgun.

“Oh my god, you saved us! You saved us!” Sherry cheered.

“Actually, I just found a few more. Come on, everybody, let's go. Let's go.” Dean ushered the guard from earlier and a few other people inside the vault.

“What are you doing?” Sherry questioned.

“Sam, (Y/N), look, uh, Ronald and I need to talk to you,” Dean said.

You shot Sam a confused look, and Dean shut the vault door behind him, shrugging apologetically.

“It's shed its skin again,” Dean explained. “We don't know when— it could be in the halls, it could be in the vault.”

“Great,” you sighed. “Y’know, Dean, you are wanted by the police.”

He nodded.

Sam seemed to catch onto where you were headed with this. “So even if we do find this damn thing, how the hell are we gonna get out of here?”

“Well, one problem at a time,” the older brother replied. “Alright, I'm gonna do a sweep of the whole place; see if we can find any stragglers. Once we get everyone together we've got to play a little game of find-the-freak, so… here.” He handed Sam a silver letter opener. “Found another one of these for you. (Y/N), I know you have weapons on you. Best use ‘em.”

You grinned at how well he knew you. You slipped your silver-bladed knife out of your sleeve.

Dean turned to Sam. “Now, stay here, make sure Ronald doesn't hurt anybody, okay? Help him manage the situation.” He turned to you. “C’mon.”

Sam’s voice began rising in outrage. “Help him manage? Are you insane?”

You turned your head to Ronald who seemed shaken, attention caught by Sam’s voice.

“Look, I know this isn't going the way we wanted—”

Dean was cut off by his brother nearly shouting, “Understatement!”

“But if we invite the cops in right now, Ronald gets arrested, we get arrested, the shifter gets away, probably never find it again, okay?” Dean finished.

Ronald peered out of the window in plain view of whoever was down below. You snapped, “Ronald! Out of the light!”

Sam scoffed at his brother, “Seriously?!”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, Ron's game plan was a bad plan, I mean, it was a bit of a crazy plan, but right now, crazy's the only game in town, okay?”

Dean slapped Sam on the shoulder and grabbed your hand, bringing you along with him. ‘If only Sherry could see us now,’ you thought bitterly.

Dean looked over his shoulder at you. “What’s that face about?” he questioned.

“Nothin’,” you replied, still grinning in self-satisfaction, scanning the hallway ahead for anyone or anything.

He just hummed at you, turning his head forward again.

“I hate this case,” you whispered after a few minutes of tense walking.

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, still scanning the ceiling. He seemed to notice something, and you followed his gaze upward. A panel in the ceiling had been left askew. You eyed Dean curiously and took the gun from him, pointing it at the panel while Dean dislodged it with a coat rack from nearby. Suddenly, a naked body fell to the floor. Dean turned the body over with the end of the rack.

“Wait, Dean, wasn’t that?—”

“Yeah, I just let that guy in the vault.”

***

You and Dean hurried as inconspicuously as possible to inform Sam of what had just happened. Sam told you that man had been trying to get the front door unlocked and helping Mr. Okie-Dokie who may have been going into cardiac arrest when you and Dean found the body. 

You turned to Ronald and his cocked rifle. “You know what, Ronald? He's right, we've got to get this man outside. Come on. I've got you.”

The shifter tried to help, too. “Yeah, yeah, let me help you.”

“Oh, we got him, it's, it's cool. Thanks,” you replied. You helped the guard out of the way, and Sam took the man’s other side.

“Thank you. Thank you,” the guard told you between labored breaths.

“Sure,” you smiled politely.

You could hear Dean talking to the shifter and a sudden crash behind you. You turned with the guard still on your shoulders at Ronald yelling, “Stop! Come back here!” You noticed a red laser pointed on his back, and your breath caught.

“Get down! Now!” you screamed, but you were too late. 

The bullet from the sniper rifle hit Ronald squarely in the chest. You watched in horror as he fell to his knees before hitting the floor dead.

You took in a sharp breath at the sight, forcing yourself to keep your composure for the sake of everyone else in the room with you.

It was bedlam at that minute. All of the hostages began running out of the vault toward the door. You put Mr. Okie-Dokie on the ground next to you and just kept him talking until something could be done to help him. You weren’t quite sure what Sam or Dean were doing, but you made it your priority to keep this man from going into cardiac arrest.

Dean suddenly came over to you, holding a rifle.

“Dean, what are you doing?” you questioned.

“(Y/N), trust me on this—” he pleaded before helping the guard stand.

“Dean! I can help him, don’t bring him outside—”

“I’m not taking that chance, (Y/N). C’mon,” he told the guard. “I gotcha.” He held the man out in front of him and pushed him out the front door with the rifle at the guard’s back. You stayed out of the light, back pressed against the pillar next to the heavy door. 

“No, don't shoot! Don't shoot! Please!” you heard the guard yell.

Dean commanded, “Don't even think about it! I said get back! Now!” He paused a moment before you heard his voice again. “Okay, go, go!” The older Winchester slipped back inside, shutting the door and latching it.

“We are so fucked,” he mumbled to you, helping you up from the floor. 

“Fuck, why?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “There’s about, I don’t know, eight thousand cops out there. Helicopters and search lights and everything. We are fucked, (Y/N).”

You dropped your head back, groaning, “Great.”

Dean’s phone rang, and you assumed it was Sam. “Yeah?” he answered. “What?... God, it's like playing the shell game. It could be anybody. Again… Alright, you search every inch of this place, we’re gonna go round everybody up.” He hung up the phone.

“I think this is the most stressed I’ve been on a job,” you said as you and Dean began searching for the hostages. 

“Yeah? Even more so than the demons in New York?”

“Oh, definitely. That was just a sad one; not super stressful,” you replied. You noticed a herd of people toward the end of the hall. You gripped the handle of your knife, knowing the shifter would likely be in the mix of all the hostages. 

You and Dean rounded them up; Dean pointing the rifle he picked up from Ronald at the group. You guided them back to the vault.

“And I thought you were one of the good guys,” Sherry, who held up the back of the group, told Dean, who was trailing behind her.

“What's your name?” he asked.

“Why would you care?” she scoffed.

“My name's Dean,” he said. Your heart melted a bit at his gentleness with her.

She hesitated but still answered. “I'm Sherry.”

“Hi, Sherry. Everything's gonna be alright. This will all be over soon, okay?” He assured her, shutting the vault door and spinning the lock shut. The landline of the bank rang and you picked it up. You didn’t say anything when you answered the phone.

“This is Special Agent Victor Henriksen,” a commanding voice stated through the phone. “Is this Dean? Sam?”

You didn’t respond once more.

Dean mouthed to you, “Who is that?”

You shook your head, holding up a finger to gesture for him to wait.

“Oh, or is it that pretty girl? Our very own criminal Jane Doe. Some people have been calling her Ghost since no one can seem to find any record of her existence.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, but you still didn’t say anything.

“Well, whether you’ve got the Bonnie to your Clydes with you or not, it’s my job to bring you boys in. Alive's a bonus, but not necessary. I want you Winchesters out here, unarmed, or we come in.”

You still didn’t say anything.

“I know you’re still there,” he said, almost taunting. “I know everything about you two. I've been looking for you for weeks now. I know about the murder in St. Louis; I know about the Houdini act you pulled in Baltimore. I know about the desecrations and the thefts. I know about your dad.” 

Dean was trying to get close to the phone, but you kept pushing him away because you knew he’d explode at the mention of his father.

“Ex-marine, raised his kids on the road,” the agent continued, “cheap motels, backwood cabins. Real paramilitary survivalist type. I just can't get a handle on what type of whacko he was. White supremacist, Timmy McVeigh, to-may-to, to-mah-to. You have one hour to make a decision, or we come through those doors fully automatic.” With that, he hung up the phone.

You slammed the phone down, cursing in frustration.

“What? Who was that?” Dean asked.

“The fucking FBI agent who’s been tailing us since Missouri,” you replied, beginning to pace anxiously. “He knows everything about you guys, man. Even about your dad. That’s why I didn’t let you talk to him; I knew you would’ve ripped his head off.”

“Damn right,” the man growled. “They have a positive ID on you yet?” 

“No, actually,” you said. “Ironically, some of the feds labeled me ‘Ghost’ cause they can’t find anything on me. Which makes me even more nervous. Anyway, we’ve got an hour till they come in here and pump us full of lead,” you informed him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Moments later, Sam appeared at the entrance of the vault room.

“Hey. We've got a bit of a problem outside,” Dean said.

Sam snorted. “We got a problem in here.”

“What?” you questioned.

Sam hushed his voice. “The girl that was gushing over Dean in the vault? It’s her,” he told you. 

“Who, Sherry?” you questioned.

He nodded. “Just found her body.”

Barely needing to flick a glance at the boys, you unlocked the vault.

“Sherry? We're gonna let you go,” Dean called as the door swung open.

“What? Why me?” she questioned.

“Uh, as a show of good faith to the feds, come on,” he replied.

The woman hesitated. “Uh... I think I'd— I'd rather stay here, with the others.”

Dean approached her intimidatingly. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist.”

You clutched your blade at your side. After a tense moment, she approached you. Sam and Dean pushed her back to the hallway.

“I thought you were letting me go,” the woman you thought was the shifter said.

Dean shoved her forward, holding her head and forcing her to look at the body of Sherry Sam had brought back with him. She began screaming hysterically.

“Is that community theater, or are you just naturally that good?” Dean gruffly questioned.

“This is the last time you become anybody. Ever,” Sam added.

“No! Oh god!” she cried. She fainted almost immediately.

You stared at the two Sherrys in disbelief. One of the bodies was dressed, the other, half-naked. ‘Poor lady,’ you thought. You took off your blazer and laid it over the woman’s body, trying to spare her dignity. 

“Wait, why did it do that?” you questioned. You leaned over the undressed body of Sherry covered only by your blazer and put your finger on her neck, trying to find a pulse. The body immediately jolted up, grabbing you by the throat. You struggled, stabbing at it frantically. You got a lick in at its upper arm with the knife before it kneed you in the chin and bolted.

You coughed when it released your throat, clutching at your neck and coughing.

“(Y/N)!” Dean cried.

“Dean, no, I’m fine! Follow it!”

He nodded, taking your knife from your outstretched hand and running after it. You kicked off your heels and took another moment before standing and going to follow Dean. Sam had taken off somewhere with the real Sherry. 

You didn’t know what else to do besides stay with the vault and Dean’s discarded handgun, prowling in front of it with the gun at the ready. 

***

You had no idea how long it had been. You just continued to pace in front of the vault, tension overtaking your body and anxiety keeping your eyes flickering across the room rapidly. You suddenly heard approaching footsteps and dove on the ground behind a desk— unsure if it was Dean, Sam, the shifter, a cop— and were panicked at the sight of S.W.A.T. sniper rifle lasers and flashlights on the wall in front of you. Your breath quickened as the footsteps continued approaching you. Then, a masked man ducked under the desk in front of you.

You shrieked.

“Here’s Johnny!” he yelped.

“Dean! Fuck you!” You shoved his shoulder harshly when you recognized his face. He and Sam were donned in S.W.A.T. outfits that they had definitely taken off some poor bastards hidden in a broom closet somewhere. 

“C’mon, we gotta get outta here, now,” Dean told you. You grabbed your heels and followed the boys out of the building and to the Impala. Dean and Sam had their stolen guns at the ready as you sprinted up to the third floor of the parking garage. 

The three of you sat in the Impala, completely breathless, as you grappled with the reality of your situation.

“We are so fucked,” Dean murmured.

You and Sam nodded minutely.

You looked out of the window at the rising morning sun. Exhausted, you let the rumble of the Impala soothe you into a restless sleep as Dean drove you away from the bank. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[mazikeenhyde]

Oh Baby, Pain is Pleasure FINALE - Part 1

I have had to split the Finale into two parts as it was just getting too long to post altogether, and I enjoy making you all wait…. 

POLY JUDGMENT DAY X READER (WRESTLER) 

Y/W/N – Your Wrestling Name 

Y/W/N/F – Your Wrestling Name Finisher

WARNING – THESE WARNINGS COVER ALL PARTS OF THIS FICTION/ IMAGINE STORY- THEY MAY NOT BE SPECIFIC TO THIS PARTICULAR PART! - 

SERIOUS SMUT,  GIRL X GIRL, MAN X MAN, POLY RELATIONSHIPS/SEXUAL, BDSM, BLOOD, PANIC ATTACKS, SPANKING, VIOLENT REFRENCES, INJURY, ABUSE (CONSENTUAL) CHEATING, STALKERS/ STALKING, SMOKING/ CIGARETTES 

Part 1 Word Count - 4.5k (Hence why its in 2 parts!)

Tag List - @babybatlover @p0is0nl0ve @babiidee28 @darlingnikkisixx @commandershepardofthedas gooses-pond  rhiamaymay  scaraskzzs  (SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE, IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED OR I MISSED YOU LET ME KNOW BELOW)

Oh Baby…Pain is Pleasure – Finale Part 1  

The stadium erupted into an overwhelming flood of cheering and chants from the many thousands of fans surrounding the ring. The barricades holding them back shook as they lept to their feet, signs which had been discarded in the air from excitement now lay on the floor amongst hundreds of sets of trainers, boots, high heels and the younger bare footed audience members. The once loved handmade card treasures, plastered with slogans and beloved wrestler’s names now trampled upon by wet footprints and washed out by the rain. 

The thunderstorm was now in full force, rain hammered down into the arena as thunder shook throughout, echoing inside that hellish cage. All hell had broken out inside the ring with every member from the opposing families in an absolute free for all brawl out with each other. 

Damian had Rowan up against the ring post as the two continued to trade blows with each other, their faces both semi blinded by the rain and fuelled with an anger which bestowed a look of utter discontent for any form of peace. These men were in it for pride, for love and for honour. Damian, who had now got one up and over a certain ramblin rabbit had climbed onto the second rope, pinning Erik against the post as he continued to hammer blow after blow to the head of the monstrous man. 

Finn and Dexter had somehow made their way out of the ring and into the gap between the steel framed cage as each of them were scrambling to pin the other one down long enough to secure any kind of balance. Dexter, who had made it back to his feet, grabbed Finn by the trouser cuff and launched him back into the ring whilst Dominik and Huskus were fighting tooth and nail across the mat, exchanging blows, kicks and punches. Again, neither one had quite managed to one up the other in such a well-balanced fight until I had run past in an effort to lock back up with Uncle Howdy, kneeing Huskus in the face and allowing Dominik to climb on top of him. 

Rhea and Abby meanwhile were tearing each other apart, feral and fearless as neither woman would let up or give in to their pain. 

With no referee inside and not one person willing to step back in line, it hadn’t taken long for management to act accordingly. Because if this war was ever going to settled, and they knew it needed to be, some form of control needed to be restored. 

The lighting colour scheme was quick to change, black and green lights flashed up across all the LED boards, glowing lettering plastered across each barricade…

‘ITS TIME TO PLAY THE GAME!!!’ 

Smoke bellowed through the doorways and down the entrance ramp as Triple H made his way into centre stage, shouting at the top of his lungs in an attempt to bring about some order of control. 

“ENOUGH!!!!” Paul’s voice was loud with a strong sense of authority, demanding his entitlement for respect. 

“CUT THE MUSIC! CUT THE LIGHTS! CUT THE GOD DAMN DRAMA FOR A MOMENT AND LISTENNN!!!!” 

The audience’s heads turned between the stage and then back to ring as not one person stopped fighting and not one person from either side of the battle was willing to listen or stand down. 

“STOP!!!!” He screamed out again before his voice shallowed out, trying to control the fury that was making his blood boil. His emphasis on specific words made his statements land in the dark parts of the soul that could recognise fear… and when someone meant every word they said. 

“The next PERSON to move from where they are standing! The next PERSON to throw a punch or lay their HANDS on another will be SUSPENDED!” 

We all froze, eyes deadlocked onto each other, with barley the ability or willingness to blink, body parts shaking in anger and fury as we all listened for the next ‘commandment’. Rhea’s hand was wrapped tightly around Abby the witch’s neck with her opposing fist raised in the air, while the witch’s knee was inches from being lodged into Ripley’s rib cage. 

Damian and Finn were being held against adjoining ropes by Dexter and Rowan as the two monsters had only just gotten the advantage before Triple H had come out to ruin our revenge. 

Dominik and Husk had managed to brawl and in turn fall out of the ring to the floor, they were now trapped in between the gap of the cage and the ring post like Finn had been before with Dex, exchanging blows to each other before the interruption. Dom’s hand now pushing Husk’s face further into the ground as he allowed his body weight to ease onto him, building pressure. That clever boy knew he had him pinned and that he wasn’t going to be able move anytime soon. He smirked down to the feeble weakling under his grasp, enjoying the dominance he rarely got to feel. 

Meanwhile I had already retrieved a beloved Kendo stick that had been secured above from the top of the cage and I had climbed my way back to the top of the ring post, gripping the top of the frame while howdy had been in pursuit. I was ready to use an aerial advantage and take this fucker out but after stopping my grip on the steel frame was starting to slip out from underneath me. My desire to drive the weapon straight across the back of Uncle Howdy felt like a dream come true. Shame I hadn’t been able to finish the job…yet. 

“Back. Away. From. Each. Other” Triple H’s words were blunt and begrudgingly we did as we were told, though admittedly I was relieved to finally let go of the cage that I had been slipping out from. Damian and Finn squared up to Rowan & Dexter as they were released from their grasp before making their way over to our side of the ring. 

Rhea had released Abby and tossed her to the side before reaching down to offer a hand to Dominik and help him back into the ring, though the boy wasn’t quite ready to allow Huskus back to his feet. But he did eventually do as he was told after Rhea gave him one of her stern looks and upon doing as he was told, a sultry wink after as a reward. She leaned into his ear, covering her lips and whispered…

“Enjoying being the dominant one I see Dom Dom, you make Mami very… very proud”  

Dominik grinned, licking his teeth and wiping the blood away from a busted lip before placing a hand over his crotch, jiggling around his package to try and calm down the ever-growing tension between his legs. 

I however, standing strong, stood face to face with the prick before me. Uncle Howdy looked down at me, his height towered mine to a degree and his demeanour was infuriating. It felt like he genuinely believed he was better than all those around him, as if he was far better than I could ever be.  He laughed as he stepped to the side and returned back to his family with open arms. Their celebrations glinted at the idea they had won the first battle, like they had gotten one over on us. It felt almost rude, it felt offensive to see him walk away from me, and it made my blood boil, my skin began to heat up, my heat raced, so I spun around on the spot to react the only way I knew how, with violence! But a strong set of arms wrapped around me before I could take another step forward and pulled me back, whispering in my ear. 

“Easy baby, easy” Rhea’s breath was warm, I could smell the sweat on her tattooed skin, the blood from scrapes and scratches from the pre-war fight. Her scent radiated throughout my senses, and it was addictive. Goosebumps took over my entire skin as she pulled me back in line with the others, still keeping her grip tight across my body as we now stood together. The Judgment Day vs The Wyatt Sicks. 

“I feel like there must be some… confusion in the air? There must be some misunderstanding between you all as to who is in charge around here? Some people clearly don’t understand their role in this company. Some people… seem to believe they have the… Authority? To do as they please…when in fact they don’t have any. You all have decided to start a war that, whether you like it or not, is NOT going to end the way YOU ALL want it to” Paul’s voice was clear and precise, but he sounded calm, and that was the most concerning part… Until he wasn’t. 

“Your roles within this company are clear, they are set out. You do as you are told; you go where I tell you to go. You behave like the good little puppets on a string you were designed for, and you DO NOT DISOBEY” 

Each of us turned for a moment to face Triple H, breaking the death glares we had locked on to our opponents. A sense of concern and confusion as to what Paul was going to do next hung in the air, all I wanted was to get my hands back on Howdy, claim my championship and go home to rather unwholesomely fuck my lovers into next week.

“This war will be fought, and this war will end here at WrestleMania…” Triple H turned to the crowd as they all began to cheer and chant. “But… Y/N, you will not be in this cage, you will not be a part of it” 

My Heart ran cold as I threw Rheas hands off me and raced toward the front of the cage in shock, gripping onto the steel frame. The rest of Judgment days reactions, very similar to my own followed behind me as the Wyatts laughed hysterically behind us. We all began shouting our frustrations towards Paul, questioning what possible reason he had to kick me out of this Championship match I had trained so long for, worked so hard to get to?! 

Triple H raised his hand up to silence us and the crowd as the entire arena chimed in with the deafening booing and shouts of discontent. 

“SILENCE!” Paul demanded, turning his attention back to my direction. 

“Because…y/n… “ Paul smirked before raising the Women’s World Championship up from behind him, having secured it from a security guard to his right. 

“As Dakota Kai has now retired injured… YOU, will instead be fighting for THIS, against Abby the Witch, in an adjoining cage. I am declaring RIGHT NOW, that this match, is a Ten Man-Grand Slam all in one, no disqualifications, no count out, no holds barred, all is fair in love and war double caged firefly street fight. Abby the Witch & Y/W/N will be locked inside one cage, whilst Rhea, Damian, Dominik and Finn will be locked in the other with Erik Rowan, Dexter Lumis, Joe Gacy and Uncle Howdy. This match will run for 1 hour and to secure victory Y/W/N, Abby, you must PIN your opponent. Your families in the opposing cage must also pin their opponents one by one to secure victory. Once pinned, you will be removed. Once the championship has been claimed, once one team comes out on top over the other, only then will this war end. Now, if the hour runs out and the championship has not been claimed, you forfeit your right to it. No arguments, no complaints, those are the rules. Suck it up and move on. I am the puppet master, I am the boss, I am THE AUTHORITY!” Triple H commanded to us all. 

“Now a referee will now come down and unlock the cage. You will all return backstage, the battle commences in 20 minutes… Good Luck.” With the rain now finally clearing, Triple H bowed his head and looked up to the heavens, in respect for the loss of Bray Wyatt before moving to exit the stage.

The lighting returned to normal, and the standard WrestleMania music played out as we began to exit the ring one by one, security keeping a lengthy distance between the Wyatts and the Judgment Day. Fans desperate to get their favourites attention were scrambling over the barricades, leaning their body weights over in an attempt for a high five, but we were all far too distracted. 

Suddenly, Uncle Howdy halted and turned on his heels grabbing a microphone and smirking down at us from the other end of the ramp. 

“Y/N, I do wish you the very best of luck, you know as well as I… I am just the ghost of the man who saved this world but, who are you? You cannot hide from it; you cannot hide from me? The truth will set you free y/n…did you tell them?” Howdy’s words were playful and taunting as he pointed to each of my lovers standing just behind me. 

“I told them! I told them everything!!!” I screamed back up at Howdy. 

He chuckled and turned his back on me, whispering into the microphone before disappearing backstage, “but did you tell, the world?” 

---------------------

THE JUDGMENT DAY CLUBHOUSE 

Swinging the door open I rushed through and began pacing the centre of the room, nervous, anxious and fearful of what could happen if the world ever found out about my past. 

Social media had gone crazy, fans and viewers speculating and debating over whether this had become the greatest WrestleMania of all time, whether Abby the Witch or Y/W/N would become the new Women’s World Champion, how brilliant it was that Rhea would be fighting against a team of all men and that they knew she would beat their asses. But alongside all this there was also the debates over what my secrets were, how they could find out, and with these debates’ rumours had started to spread, like wildfire. Unbeknown to me, Liv Morgan was backstage hiding out, and she was fuelling that fire. 

I was in full panic mode as the others also piled in through the door, Finn entering last locked the door behind him and turned to face me. He took a brisk walk forward before grabbing me by my shoulders and slapping me straight across the face to break my panic. I stood in shock, as did the others, what the actual fuck was he playing at. 

Then, not more than a second later he pulled me in tight, wrapping his hands around my face, my neck, then one hand on my back as he locked his lips in against mine. A full make out session had my hormones come flooding in and my body temperature spiked. My inner core heating up as I felt an all too familiar tingle rise up between my legs. Finn pulled himself off me for a second and looked me dead in the eyes.

“We are going to win this war y/n. You will become champion. There will be absolutely no distractions in that ring, do you hear me!” His Irish accent purred across each syllable, even if he meant to be stern it just sounded beyond sexy to me. I nodded in response to his questions. 

“Good. Because no distractions works both ways and you being in this new gear well, it reminded me that I have been waiting to fuck you for far too long.” The other members of Judgment Day nodded in agreement, Rhea ran her tounge along her teeth, her tounge piercing clinking across each tooth. She turned to Damian who was smirking down at her. Dominik stood running his hand across a growing bulge in his tight black and white printed leggings and watched as Finn tugged at my black and pink leather strapped top, locking his lips back onto mine as he pushed me back onto the wall. His hand quick to prevent my head from hitting the wall before kneeling down and throwing my left leg over his shoulder, Finn began planting kisses up my inner thigh towards my panties, the heartbeat inside growing stronger with every inch he covered. 

I reached out and motioned a grabby hand towards Dominick who didn’t hesitate to race forward and takeover where Finns lips had been. Our tongue’s entwined in a deep desperation for each other as his hands began exploring over my chest, pulling down the front of my top to expose one of my breasts. Dom twisted and tugged at my nipple as Rhea came over to join, swiftly followed by Damian. 

She turned his hips, so his back was against the wall as Dom and I continued to kiss and Rhea pulled down on his pants, exposing his dick to the cold air. It bounced for a moment in its solid form but before it could react to the fresh air she began running her tounge along it and took it in its whole form to the back of her throat. Beginning to bob her head up and down Dominik’s knees became weak and Finn grabbed onto one of his thighs to support him, pressing him back against the wall. 

Finn tugged at my wrestling gear shorts, knowing full well time was not on our side to be able to fully undress. Instead, he tugged at the fabric pulling it to the side, exposing the mini black laced thong I had worn, hoping to finish off a championship winning night with a trip to our sex pit of a bedroom back home. 

Finns warm tounge moved its way up between my folds, the man clearly enjoying the fact I was already soaked down there as he began playing with my clit, his tounge reaching its peak before motioning backwards and repeating the movement over and over. My breath hitched in my throat as I broke the kiss off from Dominik, riding out the pleasure of my Irish lover between my thighs, desperate moans escaped my lips which only drove him to speed up. 

Damian reached out both his strong arms and positioned himself between me and Dominik, his strong legs fitting in the gap between Rhea & Finn who were both on their knees already, busy enjoying themselves. Lowering his black ripped jeans Damian took our hands and placed them on his dick as he leant back to the wall, exchanging make out sessions between myself and Dom as we both tugged, rubbed and fondled his cock together. Damian’s cock was something to behold, the sheer size and girth that man wielded made anyone’s insides turn to jelly. To this day I still say a prayer and thank the sex lords from above and below that I get to call him mine. 

It wasn’t long before the knot in between my stomach began to build, and my thighs began to shake as Finn bought me towards my climax. My grip on Damian loosening and Dom now taking over in full as Finn pinned both my wrists against the wall by my sides. His grip so tight on me small bruises had begun to form, but this only drove my inner sex goddess wild as she was dancing in the awash of my orgasm as Finn drove his fingers deep inside me, pounding three at a time with the inward curl that drove every inch of my body crazy, while his tounge punished my clit. 

“Oh shi..Oh sh..Finn, Finn, shh…shhii” My words were loud and broken as I took quick rapid deep breaths, riding out an all-time high that I had waited so long for it seemed like my body wasn’t quite ready for this flood of pure hormonal ecstasy. 

Rhea, Damian and Dominik all turned their heads to watch as I reached my orgasm, face fully flushed and legs trembling. Dominick followed quickly behind as my summit had driven Rhea to a desperation of her own and a few deep throated swallows later saw her lapping up the delicious cum shot Dom had gracefully given her. 

Finn was quick to drop my leg and rush to his feet, taking a fist full of my hair and dragging me over to the arm of the sofa. He threw me across and pulled at my hips raising my arse higher in the air for a better access point. He was quick to lower his wrestling gear leggings too as he didn’t hesitate to forcefully ram his rock-solid cock deep inside me, I was now wet enough he could easily bury himself. He began thrusting aggressively, pounding his cock deep inside of me as Damian ditched his hand job from Dominik, planting a final kiss on the boy’s lips and then moved to position himself in front of me, opening my mouth and easing in his cock to touch my tonsils. 

Surprisingly, something had clicked inside of Dom who had pulled Rhea up to her feet and had attempted to throw her over the foldup chair in the corner of the room, not far from where Finn and Damian were fucking me front to back. Rhea had smirked at his attempt and wagged her finger in his face before pulling him into a deep kiss and whispering in his ear, “Aye Papi, look at you being the dominant one.” She smirked and winked before finishing her sentence; “Beg me baby boy”. 

Dom grinned and got down on one knee, peppering her thigh with sweet intensive kisses as he began his pleas. Taking a handful of his hair she pulled the boy up to his feet and walked them both over, kicking the stool over and having Dom take a seat. Then Rhea placed one hand on Damian’s shoulder and had him remove his cock from my mouth before Rhea climbed on the sofa cushion in front of me and pulled me into a deep sensual kiss. Damian didn’t hesitate to lower Rheas black leather gear shorts and bury his cock inside of her. 

Dominick sat watching his four partners in front of him, his two girls being fucked intensely by his two dominant daddies. His dick was quick to harden up again as he reached a hand inside his crotch and palmed at himself, ever so loving the view. 

Between the four of us our moans and groans were loud, desperate and full of passion. They echoed throughout our clubhouse, through the hallways and out of the locker room. It was obvious to passersby what was going on, but no one dared comment. It had become common knowledge regarding the relationship between us all, whether people agreed or not, they were instinctively too afraid of Rhea, Damian and Finn to dare comment. 

 Both men now thrusting in unison, groaned deeply and reached out mirroring each other, taking a handful of their girl’s hair to arch our backs as they reached their penultimate high. A warm sensation filling our cores before releasing their grip on our hair and letting us go. A hard slap on my ass from Finn gave me the go ahead to stand up, Damian knew better with Rhea and stepped back allowing Mami to return to her feet on her own accord. 

“Fuck...” I said, turning my head and stretching out my back as I looked in the mirror to see my now full after sex appearance before noticing the clock which stated we had less than 5 minutes until we needed to be at gorilla. 

“Oh Fuck! Shit, look at me!” I stated trying not to laugh, Rhea was quick to grab my hand and pull me over to the dressing table stationed in the corner where she was fast in fixing my make-up, followed by her own. 

The boys all took a seat on the couch, fist bumping each other for a ‘job well done’ while we girls just laughed. 

Once Rhea had given me the all clear I stood up and began stretching out my arms and neck, readjusting my gear and doing all the final checks. 

“Hermosa, I would have thought Finn had stretched you out enough already, no?” Damian chuckled as Finn looked up and winked in my direction, biting his tounge. 

“Very funny…” I said, looking over to them as we all began to make our way out of the clubhouse. 

---------------

We briskly raced our way to Gorilla, as each member of the judgment day walked behind me, psyching up for the match ahead. One way or another, I would be walking out of WrestleMania as the new women’s world champion! They all believed in me, heck I believed in me, and I knew I could do this. 

But it was short lived as when we reached the backstage section with the rest of production team, everyone seemed to be looking over in hushed voices or concerned looks. 

Pushing past them all I followed behind Rhea and Damian, holding on tight to Dominik’s hand as Finn closed in behind us. Security were quick to cut us off as they blocked the entrance to the ramp. 

“What the hell? What’s going on?!” Damian was furious at their actions as he came face to face with one of the security guards, Rhea in a stand-off with the other. 

“I’ll tell you what’s going on…” Hunters voice boomed out from behind us as we all turned, Finn now leading our group as my grip on Dom’s hands became tighter with anxiety and he pulled me in close to his side. Behind him, lurked Liv Morgan who was wearing a devilish grin. 

“You four…” Hunter pointed to Rhea, Damian, Dominik and Finn, “are late, get to the ring now! The match is starting in less than one minute! Liv Morgan will be joining you; she will go 1-1 against Abby the Witch for the Women’s world championship”. 

“The Fuck man?!” Rhea shouted, pushing Dom, Myself and Finn out of the way. She stood head on from Hunter, the fire in her eyes burnt with fury. 

“The Hell she will!” Damian’s voice was loud as his voice filled the room. Finn stood staring down the boss in front of him. Triple H held up a hand in Rhea’s face, his persona calm and collected as he turned to face me, smiling. 

“And you y/w/n ...........” 

His words were blunt, cold and full of the authority he loved to push in everyone’s faces. 

...

...

...

“You're fired.” 

[poorlywrittenbutentertaining]

Consultant

Gibbs x Fem!oc

Warnings: light swearing, canon typical warnings

Summary: sometimes you just need a fresh set of eyes.

Gibbs leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head as he looked over the screens in front of him. He had examined and re-examined the evidence several times and yet he felt stuck. A dead Navy officer whose circumstances and crime scene pointed to murder but death implied natural causes. All roads led to a dead end. Gibbs let out a frustrated sigh and sat up, deciding a coffee would be a good way to clear his mind. He grabbed his coat and threw it over his shoulder as he exited the building. The sun felt refreshing as he walked out of the navy yard, flashing security his badge and ID as he passed.

The streets were surprisingly quiet for noon, but he couldn’t argue. After years living alone he’d come to appreciate quiet. A brief walk later and he stepped into his favorite coffee shop, the one he frequented often enough that the entire staff had memorized his order. Not that it was difficult, large black coffee, Jamaican blend. The barista behind the counter simply nodded and him and rang up the coffee as Gibbs provided his card to pay.

The bell over the door chimed behind him as a voice flooded through the small shop, “-Well I know that, but he’s not stable enough. His wound is volatile enough as is, if he leaves the hospital the risk of infection is too high… don’t tell me that, tell him that!… ugh, push 100 Ml.s until I get back and can handle this myself. Don’t let him out of your sight.” Gibbs peeked over his shoulder to see a somewhat familiar face, however she looked disgruntled and minutely irritated. He stepped out of the way as he listened to her order. Her drink order was complex and (he assumed) would be very very sweet by the end.

“Lotta sugar for a doctor to be drinking,” Gibbs said casually. The girl looked over at him and he managed a half smile, “Dr. Wright.”

Elaine’s face broke out into a wide grin as she turned to him, still dressed in her work scrubs, her badge clipped to her lapel. On her lunch break, he assumed.

“Agent Gibbs,” her voice was surprised, but pleasant, “I don’t think you should come after my sugar consumption. I’ve heard just how high your caffeine intake is.”

Gibbs chuckled, “fair enough. Tough patient?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Elaine stood next to him, “tough case?”

Gibbs nodded and mimicked her words, “yeah… you could say that.” He looked down at her. Her flaming red curls were stuffed into a tight bun on the back of her head. A few stray curls bounced around her head, free from the elastics holding everything else in place.

“Tell me about it,” Elaine glanced up at him, “Consider me a… consultant. Y’know like those psychics on TV.”

“Are you a psychic, Elaine?” Gibbs asked.

“No, but I’m a doctor,” Elaine said, “and a little birdie told me that cause of death looks natural, but you’re investigating murder. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes is what you need?”

Gibbs stopped a moment and considered. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes was what he needed. Ducky had gone over the body several times and all of the evidence had been scoured for forensics. A different perspective could be enlightening.

“Gibbs!” The barista called. Gibbs grabbed his coffee and took a sip.

“You free today?” Gibbs asked.

“For the case? Or… something else?” Elaine cheekily smiled. Gibbs rolled his eyes. Elaine laughed, “What time do you want me there?

“1700 hours,” Gibbs said.

“Copy that, gunny.”

~~~

The elevator dinged and Elaine ran her hands down the front of her shirt, smoothing it out after taking a deep breath. The last time she was here, she had held a bomb for four hours, and then developed a slight crush on the leading investigator, who also happened to be her godfather’s best friend. She had woken up in his home, after receiving a serious concussion where he had monitored her for the full day.

Elaine had changed out of her scrubs into more office-appropriate attire. As the elevator doors slowly opened in front of her she was greeted by the familiar sight of the orange squad room. She stepped out and quickly made her way to the bullpen.

“Dr. Wright,” DiNozzo stood and moved to her side, “how can I help you?”

“I’m looking for agent Gibbs, he asked me to be here.”

“For what?”

“Elaine,” Gibbs rounded the dividers. Elaine smiled and walked to him, “with me.”

“Yes, sir,” Elaine fell into step with him as he guided her to the second elevator, “so read me in.”

“Navy officer, 35, house was trashed and raided, there was a significant amount of deer blood on the body but when the body was examined, all roads lead to a heart attack,” Gibbs said, “but the officer was perfectly healthy when we pulled his medical records.”

“Huh,” Elaine rolled her lips, “I might have an idea.”

When the elevator opened Elaine was greeted by the sight of a serile autopsy room, and her godfather.

“Hello dear,” Ducky smiled and walked over to her, embracing her tight.

“Hi dad,” Elaine smiled and returned the hug, “i’m here as a fresh pair of eyes.”

“Yes Jethro told me,” Ducky pulled away and retrieved her a fresh set of protective equipment, “our dear officer is right here.” Elaine pulled the PPE over her clothing and approached the body. He looked healthy, for a dead guy who had been autopsied. Nothing immediately struck her as strange. Elaine rolled the body’s arm out and inspected its veins.

“Did this man go to the hospital before he died?” elaine asked, grabbing a magnifying glass to zoom the area.

“No,” Ducky said. Elaine pulled away from the glass, and showed Ducky. He hummed, “Looks like an IV. But there were no drugs in his blood.”

“No, there wasnt,” Elaine said, “They didnt inject medication. They injected air. Of course you wouldn’t see it on a tox screen. An injection of air can cause what looks like a heart attack. The air bubbles block the flow of blood, it’s the reason we watch so close for air bubbles in shots, and IV drips.”

It was that moment that Gibbs realized just how smart this woman was, “The injection was professional. Straight into the vein. You’re looking for someone who works in a hospital or medical testing lab. A phlebotomist maybe, or a nurse.”

A nurse, that was it. Gibbs nodded and began walking off.

“Say thank you, Jethro!” Ducky called. Gibbs halted and turned, approaching Elaine as she took her gloves off with her back turned to him. When she turned she froze to see he was mere inches from her. She looked up at him with a small blush dusting her cheeks.

“Good work, doctor,” Gibbs’ voice was low. Elaine swallowed and smiled at him.

“Told you, you needed fresh eyes,” She smiled slightly. Gibbs turned and walked away and Elaine took a deep breath, leaning against the sinks.

“You’re swooning, Elaine,” Ducky said. Elaine laughed slightly.

“That man is worth swooning for,” She answered.

[alice-after-dark]

Wavelength

Inspired by this art from @hiemaldesirae, this art from @ectochoir, and this post by @liulith

Might become an AU or a fic but this is such a fun concept

TW for mild blood and gore.

Vox first starts noticing something is wrong when he begins losing chunks of time.

It's little moments at first. A conversation here and there. Then entire meetings, movie nights, dates. A whole afternoon just...gone.

He chalks it up to exhaustion. Velvette is always saying he's overworking himself. That's it. That's all it is. He just needs to take care of himself a bit better and he'll be fine.

Vox really begins to worry when he wakes up on the floor of his bathroom covered in blood.

He can taste it in his mouth, the flesh in his teeth. He doesn't recognize the Sinner's corpse in the bathtub, flayed open and organs gone. He throws up.

The security footage is clear. He watches himself leave the tower, leaping into the power lines from the privacy of his bedroom. Hours pass before he finally returns, dragging the corpse along behind him as he heads towards the bathroom.

He remembers none of it.

It takes him the rest of the night to clean up the mess. He can't risk anyone seeing. This would destroy his image. How can the people trust someone who just plucks Sinners off the street for a midnight snack?

He disposes of the corpse and his ruined clothes. How would he explain this to Val and Vel? He can't. He can't explain any of it.

Things come to a head when he almost kills a Sinner on live television.

It's his usual talk show. He's interviewing an actor about his latest movie (produced by VoxTek, of course) when he hears it, like static in his mind.

Kill him

He shakes it off and continues the interview, ignoring the way his heart beat kicks up a notch.

Kill him

The stage lights seem so bright, so hot. They're blinding.

Kill him

He can hear the rush of blood through the actor's veins, see the pulse of his jugular. His claws twitch. He wants to rip it out.

KILL HIM

The actor is still speaking, but Vox can't make out what he's saying anymore. His head is filled with static and the sound of rushing blood-

Ǩ̶̨̮̾͠I̷̧̩̋̂͋Ḽ̴̀L̵͎͇̟̔͝ ̷͙̯͝H̶̫̤̿͂I̷̭͚̎͌̕Ḿ̶̤̑

Vox runs off the set without explanation. He cuts the broadcast remotely and does not stop moving until he reaches him dressing room. He slams the door. His heart is pounding. He is shaking. Sparks crackle around him wildly and he struggles to reign them in. Someone is pounding on the door. Velvette is shouting his name. He presses his hands over his receivers.

"Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!"

And everything goes silent.

When Vox opens his eyes again, darkness has descended upon his dressing room, the LEDs around the mirror flickering. And from the darkest corner of the room, a figure emerges. Vox glares.

"You."

"Good evening, darling!" Alastor cackles. "How is your broadcast going?"

Vox staggers to his feet. "What the fuck do you want?! How did you even get in here?"

Alastor's answering grin sends an icy chill down Vox's spine. "Why, you let me in."

"Bullshit! Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Look for yourself."

Vox does, mentally searching out every camera feed for what the Radio Demon might be talking about...and he finds it. Wide-eyed, he watches his own image enter the security office, slitting the guard's throat and tapping a few keys on the blood-splattered keyboard. He recognizes the motion enough to know it's the access code and within seconds, the V Tower is completely exposed. Vox kills the feed and looks at Alastor is shock.

"I told you," the deer says.

Vox shakes his head. "How, I...I don't remember doing that! Why would I do that?!"

"Because I wanted you to. Just like I wanted you to kill that Sinner you found in your bathtub. The actor...while annoying, I didn't truly want you to kill him. No. What I really wanted was to get you alone."

There a rush of static again and Vox's jaw snaps shut, body rigid. He can't move. He can't speak. Panic floods him. Alastor steps closer.

"I've been controlling you for weeks now. It's a splendid little trick, don't you think?" He points to the floor with his cane and Vox kneels. The microphone tips up his screen. "Imagine what I can make you do. Though you don't really have to, do you? I think I made the...possibilities very clear tonight. Of course, we could always make a deal."

Vox feels his jaw come free and he stares up at Alastor's Cheshire smile.

"You want my soul."

"Ah, so there is a brain in that flat head of yours! Marvelous! That will make this all so much easier." Alastor twirls his cane, grinning down at Vox. "So here's the deal: you can either sign your soul over to me or watch as I slowly drive your empire into ruin. I'll even leave you the souls you've collected. You can maintain your Overlord status. No one needs to know about any of this. You come when I call you. You leave when I dismiss you. You follow my commands. So..." Vox feels the control lift completely. "D̴̪͈̃o̷̹̜̎̓͘ ̸͇͙̒̌w̸͕̹̐͘e̵͈͙͆͌͝ ̸̪̜͆h̵͎̫͒á̷̠̂͆v̷͍͒̀e̴̋ͅ ̶̬́ā̸͔̻̉̈́ ̷̤̾͛̓d̴͈͖̈́̈́͝ê̵̗̈́̕a̸͈͚͉̋l̷̜͈̭̈?̶̝́̄"

[dewdrop-writes]

Blood of Ambition - Chapter 2: Reflections in Ash

Dio Brando x (f) Reader

I feel odd writing specifically fem readers but for this specific storyline it made most sense so idk

cw: canon-typical violence, Dio still very much committing atrocities

<<Previous || Next>>

Dio’s life had taken a drastic turn. After a long journey in a carriage—the first time he had ever travelled in one—he arrived to a truly remarkable sight. The manor stood grand and sturdy, with intricate, towering windows that allowed light to flood in from every angle, capped with a glimmering deep-green roof. It didn’t seem real. He knew that the upper class enjoyed the finer things in life, but not a single townhouse or hovel from his old neighbourhood could compare to the Joestar estate.

He quickly steeled his expression. He had to play his cards right, and appearing as a wide-eyed street rat in awe of the Joestar fortune was not an option. With a deliberate, arrogant stride, he exited the carriage, eager to close the chapter of his life that had led him here—and tear it from his story entirely.

Dio was not fond of the Joestar brat. The boy stood in the way of his ambitions merely by existing. Born into wealth and privilege, yet awkward and unpolished, Jonathan was a paradox Dio despised. He, himself, had learned to harden his heart long ago, so he felt no qualms about unleashing his cruelty.

With startling ease, he found he could toy with the boy however he pleased, facing no consequences. It took only a few sweet words, a carefully crafted look, and the old man was won over. Dio relished how his own charm outshone Jonathan’s in every way, from speech to manner. The twisted pleasure he felt when Lord Joestar scolded his son for his lacklustre performance was something he had grown to nurture.

Of course, usurping Jonathan’s place as heir wouldn’t be so easy. Dio had to pull out every stop, and he did so with calculated precision. He humiliated the boy in front of his friends, slowly isolated him, and made every move with the skill of a seasoned chess master. He gathered a new flock of followers, more refined than those he’d manipulated in London, though they were still nothing more than sheep in his eyes.

But it wasn’t enough. His thirst for cruelty only grew, as did his hunger for control. He supposed his resilience and willingness to dirty his hands was the one gift from his father that he appreciated. To secure his place, he knew he had to break Jonathan completely. He had thought he’d succeeded in crushing the boy’s spirit by ridding him of that infernal dog, but Jonathan’s resilience surprised him. Now, he had somehow even acquired a female companion.

Dio hadn’t completely forgotten you—the one person he might’ve once dared to call a friend. Occasionally, his thoughts would drift away from his ambitions, back to the streets of London.

How were you doing?

There was little he could do to satisfy his curiosity; your world was days away, with not even an address to tether it to his own. He had been deliberate, ruthless in shedding the remnants of his past, moulding himself into something that could pass for nobility. Yet, some part of him was concerned. Were you still stealing? Begging for scraps? Had you been caught by the Yard without his guidance to shield you?

Then there was Erina, entering Jonathan’s life with her soft kindness, her eyes filled with that same warmth that you once showed him. A subtle jealousy mingled with resentment. He found himself wondering: what would you think if you saw him now, standing in the shadow of the Joestar fortune?

Dio felt nothing but distaste for the girl. She was from an acceptable family, dressed in fine silks, her hair neat and tidy. But her carefully sculpted gentleness couldn’t hold a candle to you—the fire and spirit that had shaped you, that fierce resilience he had admired. Erina’s pure, sheltered demeanour only highlighted her naivety, and it stung all the more for how easily her kindness lifted Jonathan’s spirits.

But Dio supposed he could remedy that. She was honourable and unguarded, an open book, and he knew it would be no challenge to drive her away from Jojo’s side. A single, stolen kiss would serve his purpose—a simple, calculated move, nothing more than a checkmate in a game he intended to win.

Yet the moment his lips forced against her soft ones, a rush of images seared through his mind: he could almost see you in her place, your eyes blazing with a mix of hatred and panic as you wiped your mouth furiously, disgusted by him. The thought sent a wave of anger through him, surprising him with its intensity.

Would you look at him with those same accusing eyes if you saw him now?

Though Jonathan’s burst of righteous fury had been an unexpected and humiliating blow, it ultimately sharpened Dio’s focus, allowing him to reconfigure his plans with greater subtlety. Jonathan was clearly stronger and more resolute than he’d first appeared, a fact that required more finesse from Dio’s scheming hand.

Suspicion lingered in Jonathan’s eyes, but over time, a tentative illusion of trust began to form between them. Jonathan, it seemed, had finally stepped onto the chessboard, stepping up to the rivalry Dio had initiated. And as the years passed, they grew into civil young men, appearing as brothers bound by fate and upbringing.

At least, that’s how it seemed to an outside observer. Dio had no qualms about slipping into the role of the perfect brother and dutiful son. It was almost effortless—another mask, another performance.

At seventeen, Dio returned to the bustling streets of London. Four years had passed since he’d left, yet everything still felt so familiar. Lord Joestar had errands in the city and had encouraged his “boys” to join him. Jonathan had accepted readily, and despite his own hesitation to revisit his roots, Dio had followed suit.

The streets they now strolled through were cleaner and finer than the ones he had known in his youth. After all, it wouldn’t do for two young noblemen to be caught lingering in the capital’s filthy slums. Dio walked leisurely behind Jonathan, his crimson gaze sweeping lazily over the surroundings. It felt strangely surreal to parade through the city clad in clothes tailored from the finest fabrics, his pockets now heavy with coin. He noted the stares of awe and curiosity from the common passersby, who easily recognized the wealth radiating from both their manner and attire.

Suddenly, Jonathan came to a halt. Dio frowned, a teasing remark on the tip of his tongue as he followed his gaze. They stood before a modest bakery, unremarkable at first glance, yet the sweet aroma drifting through the air was undeniably enticing. But it wasn’t the pastries in the window that caught Dio’s attention—it was the young woman carefully arranging them.

You.

Your hair was no longer a tangled and dirty mess, now neatly tucked beneath the kerchief covering it. A dark brown woollen dress draped modestly over your figure, simple but clean. An apron shielded your clothing from flour as you gently arranged a new selection in the display. You looked healthier, no longer bearing the ashen, malnourished pallor of your past. Despite your plain attire, there was a glow about you.

Dio’s heart stalled, skipping a beat in surprise at the sight.

“How about we grab a couple pastries, Dio?” Jonathan asked, breaking the blonde out of his momentary trance. “It smells wonderful! I’m certain father would appreciate some too.”

Dio was ready to protest, but before he could even mutter out a single word, Jonathan was already heading towards the building. Ice flooded his veins as he followed suit cautiously.

Would you recognize him?

The bell above the door chimed, alerting you of new customers. Quickly, you brushed the flour from your hands onto your apron and hurried to the counter, a warm smile on your lips. You were momentarily taken aback by the tall young man before you, his frame towering over you. Despite his imposing size, his expression was gentle.

Your gaze swept over him, noting the fine quality of his attire. He was clearly wealthier than most of your usual customers. You offered him your brightest smile.

"Welcome, sir! How can I be of assistance?"

At the sound of the bell once more, your eyes shifted — and your breath caught. Another young man had entered, dressed just as finely, shorter than his companion by just a touch. His golden hair shimmered in the light, and his piercing crimson gaze held you, pinned in place.

A jolt shot through you at the uncanny sight before you. The young man differed so much from the feisty boy you had grown up with. Gone were the baggy rags, the days of swiping bread from bakers, or brawling with the other boys in the neighbourhood. Now, he looked polished, finely dressed, carrying himself with the poise of someone born to this life. Only his captivating eyes and those unmistakable birthmarks hinted at his past.

Your breath caught, your smile faltering for a moment before you tore your gaze from him, returning your attention to the man before you. The man gave you a warm smile, his gaze flickering over your selection with curiosity.

"I think I’d like to try an Eccles cake… perhaps a scone?" he glanced at you sheepishly. "What would you recommend?"

Your eyes flicked briefly to the blonde approaching the two of you. “I just baked a fresh batch of gingerbread, if you’re interested. Would you like to try one? I set a couple aside just for that.” You offered him your sweetest service smile. His eyes lit up with excitement.

“Yes! That would be wonderful, miss!”

You stifled a laugh and reached for the basket you’d stowed away behind the counter, its bite-sized treats nestled neatly inside. You held it out, your smile growing ever so slightly as the young man eagerly took one and bit into it.

“This is delicious, miss!” he said, turning to his companion with enthusiasm. “Come and try these, Dio!”

After a moment’s hesitation, Dio stepped closer. You could barely conceal your awe at what a refined man he had grown into.

Would he even recognize you now?

You hadn’t spoken in years, so you could hardly hold it against him. He had moved up in the world, and his days of associating with a lowly girl like you were far behind him. Still, though you hated to admit it, you had sometimes wished he’d at least tried to contact you in some form.

Reaching his hand into the basket, your eyes met. His cold expression of indifference shifted ever so slightly, hesitance in his lingering gaze. You could tell from the subtle twitch of his brow and flicker of his eyes: he did recognize you.

Dio bit into the gingerbread, his gaze never leaving you. There was something different about him since your shared childhood—something complex, almost sinister, simmered beneath the surface.

All he offered in reaction to the treat was a noncommittal hum. If this indifference was uncharacteristic of him, his companion didn’t seem to notice. Despite Dio’s magnetic pull, you forced yourself to focus on the other young man before you. He was much kinder than you’d expected of nobility, open and friendly in a way that surprised you. If your intuition was correct, this had to be none other than Lord Joestar’s heir.

“I almost forgot!” Jonathan exclaimed, turning to Dio after paying for his selection. “I need to send this letter for Father! Would you like to accompany me?”

Dio cast you a veiled glance.

“No. I’ll… stay here a moment longer. I think I’ll get a couple of treats for myself.” His voice was steady, but beneath the smooth indifference, conflicting emotions flickered in his gaze.

You stood in tense silence as Jonathan dashed out, leaving you alone with Dio. You swallowed thickly, sneaking a glance at him. His expression was unreadable now, a far cry from the boy whose thoughts you once understood with a single look.

“(Name),” his deep, commanding voice jolted you from your thoughts, and you jumped.

“Dio,” you replied evenly, keeping your tone as neutral as you could. Your younger self was screaming to rush forward, to sweep him into a tight embrace, but the older, wiser part of you held that urge firmly in check.

You studied him warily, noticing his gaze sweep over you with a detached, almost clinical interest.

“How did you end up… here?” he asked at last, his brows twitching ever so slightly. To most, the movement would have gone unnoticed, but you caught it, picking up on the faint curiosity behind his guarded demeanour.

“Here?” you replied, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter.

“Well,” he paused, observing you with a touch more interest, “you look… nicer than I recall.”

His words held a cutting edge, and while you might have taken offence were this anyone else, coming from Dio, they stung differently.

“Nicer? As in, not begging and stealing? Wearing clothes that actually fit?” you tried to keep your tone light, but you lacked Dio’s practised skill in hiding emotion. A trace of bitterness crept into your voice despite your efforts.

Dio’s lips curved into a faint smirk that never quite reached his eyes.

“Yes, that’s one way to put it.”

You couldn’t decide what hurt more: his words or the cold indifference behind them. You cast a desperate glance out the window, almost hoping for a customer to save you from the thick tension settling between you. No such luck.

Clearing your throat, you fidgeted with the broom, sweeping at the fine layer of flour on the floor just to occupy yourself. His intense gaze trailed your every movement.

“The baker here, Mr. Haverford, caught me stealing a few years back. I thought he’d turn me in on the spot, but…he offered me a job instead.” Despite yourself, a small, fond smile slipped onto your lips as you recalled that day.

You had been so terrified then, barely fifteen, clutching the stolen pastry in your trembling hands. Mr. Haverford had stood over you, his large hand resting heavily on your shoulder. Yet he hadn’t struck you, hadn’t dragged you to the authorities, hadn’t even raised his voice.

Instead, he’d smiled—a gentle, compassionate smile.

“I’ve lived and worked here since,” you murmured, sneaking a glance at Dio. For just a moment, you thought you caught a flicker of something in his expression: his brows lifting slightly, his lips parting as though to speak. But the moment was fleeting, leaving you wondering if you’d seen it at all.

Taking a hesitant breath, you forced a faint smirk onto your face.

“You look well too, Dio. I trust you’ve been doing all right?” Your voice was soft, but a hint of teasing laced your words. You felt breathless, waiting for his reply.

This time, there was no mistaking it. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“I suppose I have. The Joestars have been…kind to me.”

Despite the seemingly gracious words, a familiar unease stirred within you. It felt as though there was something he wasn’t saying, a part of him hidden beneath the surface. But after four years apart, the connection you’d once shared had faded, leaving fragments of familiarity in its place.

“Who was that young man with you?” you asked, catching your lip between your teeth.

Dio’s hands tightened at your question. He’d noticed the easy way you and Jonathan had conversed, and it unsettled him.

“Jonathan. Lord Joestar’s son. His son by birth, that is.” His voice chilled, his eyes narrowing as he studied you.

"Ah." You nodded, finally setting the broom aside as another tense silence settled between you. 

Had you offended him?

Your gaze darted around the room, and you lit up with relief as the bell above the door chimed again. Your expression softened, melting into familiarity as a regular stepped inside.

“Hello, Charles! What’ll it be today?” you asked, flashing him a genuine, easy smile. For a moment, you could almost forget Dio’s stifling presence behind you.

But Dio’s demeanour only grew frostier. The young man who had entered looked about your age, plain in every conceivable way, though not poorly off. And yet, you smiled at him with a fondness Dio remembered all too well, one that had once been his.

"Some apple tart, please! It’s my mother’s favourite," Charles replied cheerily, paying Dio no mind, his gaze fixed solely on you.

A laugh bubbled out of you, light and genuine—a giggle.

“You’re in luck! Mr. Haverford took the day off, so all of today’s treats were baked by yours truly.” You flashed a toothy grin at Charles, whose face lit up with excitement.

Dio’s eye twitched as he watched the fool’s eagerness grow, the blush of his cheeks and ears a tell-tale sign.

“Fantastic news! I can always tell when it’s you behind the baking.” Charles leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Don’t let Mr. Haverford hear, but yours are better!”

You giggled, a warm pink hue spreading across your face as you rolled your eyes. “I’m not giving you a discount for flattery, you know!”

Dio tuned out the rest, his gaze flicking between you and Charles, his hardened expression barely concealing the simmering irritation. Had you truly replaced him with some common, insipid fool?

By the time Charles finally left, Dio had stewed long enough. Thoughts churned and frustrations swelled within him with every shared laugh or casual glance between you and that nobody. Yet he forced himself to keep his composure.

“Who was that?” he asked, cocking a brow at you, his voice smooth but lacking its usual restraint. There was a crack in his perfect mask, just the slightest slip that told you he wasn’t as detached as he appeared.

“Charles is a regular,” you explained, your smile fading slightly as you watched him exit. “He often gets treats for his siblings or mother.”

Dio’s brow twitched, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “He likes you, you know.”

You stammered, wide-eyed, heat rising to your cheeks. That earned a chuckle from Dio, a real, genuine sound you hadn’t heard from him in years.

“That’s—Dio!” You struggled for a response, attempting to glare at him through your embarrassment.

This felt strangely familiar, almost nostalgic.

Dio merely shrugged, his smirk widening. “I can read people like him easily.”

You frowned, unsettled by his choice of words. People like him? You felt the urge to snap at his snobbish tone but managed to bite back the impulse. “Whatever, Dio. Even if he did, it’s hardly any of your business.”

There it was again—something swirling beneath that composed exterior of his.

Before the tension could mount any further, Dio’s tall companion, Jonathan, re-entered, gaze flickering between the two of you. He seemed to sense the charged atmosphere lingering in the room, his expression softening as he turned to Dio.

“Let’s go. Father’s expecting us for dinner.”

Dio narrowed his eyes slightly, but he gave no argument, stepping toward the door. Jonathan cast you a quick, concerned look before the two disappeared through the exit, leaving you with only the quiet echo of their departure.

You assumed that this chance encounter would be nothing more than that. 

But it appeared as though fate held other plans for you.

[perfectly-m1saligned]

(Late) K!nktober day 1

Following @dreamlandcreations prompt list. Day one: lingerie; first time; degradation. I couldn't decide on one so I simply decided to integrate all three :) You can find all the stories on my Wattpad as well. Toodles!

(NFSW: MDNI!! Reader's discretion is advised)

Simon Riley x reader

(virgin!Simon x experienced!reader) (college!au)

Halloween, the one night of the year where all deeds are excused, for it’s our only chance to let loose, shadows and masks protecting us from the inevitable shame. Or as the Romans said: semel in anno licet insanire. Of course, you were no exception to the cravings of the flesh, putting on the slutties outfit you could produce with the items in your closet, a black and gold mask covering the upper side of your face.

The party was already in full swing when you arrived, thumping bass reverberating through your ribcage and hammering in your ears, the flashing lights installed throughout the room creating a hypnotising succession of dancing limbs on the dance floor. All the people you knew were at the warehouse tonight, an abandoned place - possibly a safety hazard - the youth of your city had basically full control over for Halloween, close to the forest. After a few rounds of greetings and small talk, entirely out of formality, you decided to go to the bar to get the night started. The drink was purple and sparkly, you had no idea what was in it, but the vampire bartender was cute and it tasted like straight up rubbing alcohol when you took a sip out of the straw, so it was perfect.

You walked towards the dance floor, squeezing yourself between the bodies that flooded the room, girls shaking their ass and boys with their hands creeping under their short little dresses; in about five to ten minutes, you would’ve been in their same situation. Drink in hand, you closed your eyes and started to feel the music, and it wasn’t long before a pair of large, strong hands found your waist, coaxing your backside against his front. You didn’t even turn to look who it was. You didn’t care. You started moving your hips, your free hand finding the side of his thigh as you pressed your ass against the growing bulge in his jeans. You felt his fingers curl more firmly around your waist, chest puffing out as if he’d sucked in a sharp breath, the feeling of power swelling in your own chest making you grin.

You eventually turned around, hand snaking around his neck to guide his head level with yours. He was wearing a Ghostface mask, covering the entirety of his face, but the majority of the people around you preferred anonymity. Your lips found his ear: “Let’s get somewhere more private, yeah?” your booze-laced breath proposed, a smirk in your voice. He didn’t answer, simply following your lead when you took his hand in yours. You led him towards the stairs, since the warehouse had an upper floor with some vacant rooms, and hoped you weren’t too late. Couples littered the space, some making out, some not really caring about privacy as a girl was not-so-subtly bouncing up and down on some guy’s dick, his hands secured under her thighs as he held her up and against the wall.

Luckily, you saw two people come out of a room, and you immediately ushered the stranger inside. The full moon outside the large, metal grate-covered window provided the only source of light. You didn’t waste any time, pressing the boy’s back against the wooden door. You hastily pulled his mask up, eyes already shut as your lips met his in a feverish kiss, not giving yourself the time to take a look at his face. Your hands were on his chest, feeling the muscles growing taut under your touch, his fingers settling themselves back on your waist. With a soft, impatient huff, you guided his hand down to the curve your ass, and you felt him stiffen.

“C’mon, what’s wrong with you?” You groaned. “You can’t even-” The words died in your mouth. “Simon?” A pair of sheepish brown eyes looked down at you in sheepish confirmation. “y/n, I’m-” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, I knew you would’ve never even looked my way in any other context, so when I saw you on the dance floor-”

Your best friend, Simon Riley. He’d told you he would’ve stayed at home, since he wasn’t feeling well, but there he was. You had danced with him, and now you had just made out with him. You were aware of his attraction towards you, yet you’d never acknowledge it, and he’d never come forward, as to not ruin your friendship.

“Hush.” You whispered, shutting him up with a quick peck on the lips. “It’s Halloween, Simon, we can do whatever we want for tonight.” You put emphasis on ‘tonight’, reinforcing the finality of your statement; you wouldn’t have talked about it ever again. You grabbed Simon’s hand again, guiding him towards the couch on the far end of the room. You didn’t want to think about the various fluids coating the leather surface, and thankfully you were intoxicated enough to not let your thoughts spiral.

After Simon sat down, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him. Your lips were back on his in an instant, his hands now more confident as they settled back on your ass, making your already short dress hike up. With a long finger, he felt the string of your thong between your asscheeks, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. “God, y/n…” he panted out, breaking the kiss, only for his lips to latch onto the sensitive flesh of your neck. “y/n”, he whispered against your skin, nervousness lacing his voice. “You know that I’ve never…you know, done this.” Right. Simon was a virgin. You simply smiled, hooking a finger under his chin to force him to meet your gaze. “Don’t worry, baby,” you whispered, your mouth only a breath above his. “I’ll teach you.”

Climbing off his lap, you took a step back, starting to peel off the strap of your dress at a torturously slow pace, your eyes never leaving his. As fabric gave way to creamy skin and the black lace of your lingerie, you saw Simon squirm, shifting on the couch every other second to soothe the aching erection in his pants. His chest heaved with increasingly ragged breaths, nails digging into the material of his pants, itching to put his hands on you, or himself.

“Touch yourself, Simon.” You suddenly ordered, making his eyes snap wide. “I want to see how much you like me. Come on, touch yourself.” Simon gulped noticeably, but eventually caved. Trembling hands reached the buckle of his belt, subsequently unzipping his jeans and pulling them down with his boxer briefs, granting his cock some much needed freedom. The tip was already dripping precum, and Simon collected some of it with his thumb, using it as lubricant as he started to move his hand up and down his length with deliberate strokes. You let your dress pool down at your feet, left in nothing but the sheer lingerie, barely covering you, and the mask on your face. He grunted at the sight, lips parting as he fisted his cock more vigorously. “y/n…” he groaned, a pleading look in his brown eyes. “God, p-please…come here.”

You grinned, stopping in between his spread legs. “I need to touch you,” he murmured, still fisting his cock. He leaned forward, nose grazing your lower abdomen, enough to catch a whiff of your scent. “I’m begging you. Fuck, please let me touch you.” You looked down at him, satisfaction and power coursing through your veins. “Give me your hand, Simon.” He gave you his free hand, the one around his shaft momentarily wrapped loosely, too focused on your actions. You pulled your thong to the side, the flimsy triangle of lace easily giving way to your already soaking cunt. The moment you brought Simon’s index finger to collect the slick arousal between your folds, you were sure he was close to cumming all over his hand already.

“Shit, baby, you’re so fucking wet.” He said quietly, his warm breath fanning over your bare heat. He lifted his face to meet your gaze, a puppy dog look in those onyx pools of his. “Tell me where you want me to touch you, baby. I want to make you feel good.” A shuddered breath left your lips, a whimper getting choked in your throat when Simon’s thumb brushed over your clit. “Fuck,” you hissed. “Right there.” A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips, slowly inserting a finger inside your drenched entrance, coaxing out the sweetest moan. “That’s it, such a pretty little slut. You’re so tight and wet, y/n.” He withdrew his fingers, a wolfish grin on his face at your frustrated whimper. “Come sit on me, pretty girl,” he patted his thigh, dick still hard and ready. “I want to feel your tight pussy around me.” You climbed back on his lap, lifting your hips and putting a hand under yourself to line him up with your centre. “Sure you can handle it, Riley? You’re being a little too smug for my liking.” He obliterated the attitude out of you in one motion, burying himself so deep inside of you, you couldn’t help but cry out. An animalistic growl rumbled in his chest, face buried in the crook of your neck as he shuddered slightly, feeling your warm walls enveloping and squeezing him.

“Ride me, y/n,” he commanded with a raspy whisper. “Be a good slut and milk my cock.” You began moving your hips, his length reaching all the delicious spots inside of you that made your eyes roll back into your skull, coaxing the sexiest moans from your lips. His hands were firmly set on your ass, guiding your movements as you bounced on his dick. Simon lowered his head between your breasts, lips latching onto the soft, sensitive skin and leaving purple marks, as more groans rumbled in his throat.

He moved your hips faster, your motions more frantic and sloppy, purely driven by lust and the need for release. You felt the pleasure starting to coil in your lower belly, the knot getting increasingly tighter, ready to snap. “Fuck, Simon!” You cried out, hands on his shoulders and head tipped back, eyes shut. “That’s it,” he grunted. “Cum with me, y/n.” With a few last, powerful thrusts, you felt your orgasm wreck through your body, making you shudder uncontrollably, screaming out Simon’s name as you creamed all over his cock. He held your waist with a vice-like grip, overwhelmed by his own release, shooting a warm load of cum deep inside you.

There were a few silent minutes in which neither of you spoke a single word, feeling him going soft as he was still inside of you, your ragged breaths and the distant music the only sounds filling the room. Once you came back to your senses, you climbed out of his lap, finding an abandoned box of tissues on the ground to clean yourself up. Pulling your underwear back in place, you retrieved your dress from the ground and put it back on.

“So…this is it, huh?” You heard Simon call out from his spot on the couch. Fixing the strap of your dress, you looked over your shoulder, cocking your head to the side with a sympathetic look in your eyes. “Happy Halloween, Simon.” You simply replied, your heels clicking over the floor as you walked out of the door.

•This is an original work of fiction, please do not copy, steal or upload to this or other platforms without credit•

[buildmyplaceweb]

What are outdoor LED flood light fixtures?

Outdoor lighting plays a crucial role in enhancing the safety, security, and aesthetics of our surroundings. Among the various lighting options available, outdoor LED flood light fixtures stand out due to their efficiency, durability, and versatility. In this article, we’ll dive deep into what outdoor LED flood light fixtures are, their types, key features, benefits, applications, and tips for…

[suugarbabe]

[Chapter 3]

Word count: ~3.3k

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence

You grasped at the object your arm was slung around, expecting the warmth and hardness of Mattheo’s chest. Instead you grasped onto the silk of a pillowcase. Your eyes slowly fluttered opened, your mind trying to organize your thoughts and figure out if last night really happened or not.

Laying your head on the pillow in your grasp, you were hit with the unmistakable scent of Mattheo. The mix of sandalwood and amber mixed with fire whiskey and smoke flooded your senses. You tried to remember the feeling of his arms wrapped around you as you drifted off into your first peaceful sleep in months, but all you could remember was the light ghosting of his fingertips on your skin.

You sat up in bed, taking in the room around you again. Beyond his scent on your pillow, there was no trace of Mattheo in your room whatsoever. Climbing down from the bed you walked over to your barren closet, choosing something simple for the day before you decided to explore the manor. Grabbing your tea from Gimball from the nightstand, you slid your feet into your slippers and headed towards the door. You’d have to ask Gimball for his tea recipe, it was perfect.

Stepping in to the hall you take notice of how much more elegant the hall looks with the sunlight peeking in. You stared at the double doors next to yours, wondering if Mattheo was inside, wondering what time he left you alone in your bed. Did he wait until you were just asleep? Did he stay there and hold you for hours before finally retreating to his own room, or did he leave in the morning just before you woke? Your hand hovered above the door knob, contemplating the risks and rewards of trying to enter Mattheo’s room.

“He’s not here,” Pansy’s voice cut through your internal thoughts, making you whip around and grab your mug with both hands. “Oh, erm, yeah, that’s fine. I was just, ehm, where is he, do you know?” Pansy narrowed her eyes, walking towards you with her arms crossed, “He and Enzo left pretty early this morning on…business.” You sipped your tea, responding with a short hum, “Mattheo said you would give me a tour of the manor today?”

Pansy nodded, turning towards the stairs, “Yes, and we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so do try and keep up.” She started quickly down the stairs, you hustling behind her. Pansy led you down the stair case and through a set of double doors, “This is the kitchen, I don’t really know why you’d need to come down here as Gimball will bring you anything and everything you need with just a simple call and ask.” You nodded, setting your mug in the sink as you passed by.

Passing through the same doors Pansy turned down a new hall, similarly looking to the one upstairs with all of the bedrooms, “Down this hall is the security room, if you’re ever looking for Blaise or Theo they’ll likely be holed up in here doing work. This door is Draco’s office, don’t go in there unless you want a fight,” Pansy eyed you over her shoulder, “which you might want, but just be careful. Remember he’s on the team for a reason, not just because he and Mattheo are family.”

Pansy stopped at a set of double doors at the end of the hall, “These doors-” You cut her off, finishing her sentence, “lead to Mattheo’s office. The man really loves french doors, doesn’t he?” Pansy shrugged her shoulders, “What can I say, the man loves a grand entrance.” You laughed, easily agreeing with the statement.

You were led further to the outside of the house, presented with a larger in ground pool the size of a tennis court. Beyond the pool Pansy showed you the vineyard, thanks to Theo’s family, and the large and expansive garden. She led you to the front entrance of the garden, telling you of all the different flowers and plants that were growing inside, “We basically have the garden enchanted like a greenhouse, allowing us access to essentially any ingredients we would need for any potion we would need. Would you believe me if I told you the one we make the most are healing concoctions.”

A light laugh escaped your lips, “Surprisingly yes, I do believe that.” You walked side by side back towards the manor, you gnawing at your lip deciding if you should ask the question that was beating at your brain. You couldn’t see it but Pansy was smirking, “Ask your question, I can tell you’re dying to.” You let out a huff, “Am I that easy to read? Mattheo certainly won’t like that.”

Pansy’s eyes sparkled with something you couldn’t quite read, “I’m sure he likes you just fine.” You opened your mouth to protest when she cut you off, “Question, Birdie, what was it?” You frowned slightly, “Everyone just going to call me Birdie now instead of my real name? You know what, whatever. Right, so this morning you said Mattheo and Enzo left on business.” Pansy nodded, confirming she was on track with you so far, “I was just wondering…what exactly is the business. Unless they’re doing club business early in the morning.”

The smirk on Pansy’s face was telling, but you weren’t exactly sure what it was telling you. “You’re a smart witch, I’m sure you’ve gathered that there’s more than just the club when it comes to business with these boys.” You nodded, following Pansy back into the manner and towards the foyer. “Grab my arm, Birdie.” You did as told, then were instantly transported to what looked like a muggle artillery room.

“Wha-Where are we?” Pansy simply smirked, walking towards the glass door in front of you, “Believe it or not were right below the foyer. Only way to get here is through apparition and only the six of us- well I guess seven now - have the ability to do so. Theo looks daft but he’s actually fantastic at protection spells.”

Reaching her hand as far as it would go, then dragging her finger all the way down the glass. As she did so, you noticed a series of different light charges shift within the door frame before hearing a clicking sound, signifying an unlocking. “This,” Pansy opened the door, signaling for you to follow her, “is your first glimpse into the business.”

You marveled at the room around you, never seeing muggle weapons in person. They were shinier than you expected, in an array of grays, silvers and blacks. You were surprised at all the different shapes and sizes they seemed to come in, confused further why a band of wizards would see a purpose in them. “Muggle weapons are the business? That doesn’t make any sense, Pans.”

The black haired girl simply shook her head, “Weapons are the way in to the bigger picture, Birdie.” You walked up to a wall fingers dancing over what looked like a long black gun with an attached barrel to the end, “Which is what?” Pansy walked up behind you, “Power. Mattheo is building an empire, love. Not just in the wizarding world, but the muggle one as well. If there’s ever another war, he doesn’t want to make the same mistakes that his father did.”

The last sentence gave you the little bit of detail to connect the dots that you needed to better understand Mattheo and his ways, his demeanor. You felt stupid for not making the connection earlier, but you blamed Mattheo and his charm for distracting you from thinking clearly. “Mattheo is Voldemort’s son,” it left your lips in almost a whisper. Pansy nodded, “I wouldn’t bring it up, though. He’s got quite a distaste for his father. But you can’t blame him. Not after how he grew up, everything he had to deal with.”

You turned to Pansy, “How does no one know that Voldemort had a son?” Pansy held out her arm, you took it without hesitation. In a whirl you were back in the foyer, following Pansy to the sitting room watching as she collapsed on one of the couches by the fireplace. You gave her an incredulous look. She huffed, sitting up straighter and rolling her eyes, “If you sit, Birdie, I’ll tell you, but not everything. That’s for Mattheo to do. If he wants to.”

You sat on the couch across from her, not being able to help but sink into the plush cushions and relaxing slightly. Pansy let out a long sigh before starting, “Mattheo hides his past very well, better than you even and you seem like almost an expert at it. Mattheo didn’t attend school with the rest of us, his mother choosing to homeschool him, teaching him what she thought was important and what he would need to be a real leader. Guess she was right about that part.”

“How are he and Draco related? I know that the Malfoy’s were loyal death eaters but I didn’t think they were related to the Dark Lord himself.” Pansy shook her head, “You’re right there, they’re not related through him. Their mother’s are sisters, Draco’s actually almost a year older than Mattheo but you couldn’t tell by how timid and scared he acts around him.” You both laughed at this, even in the few days you had been around the group you recognize everyone cowering away from Mattheo if his voice was raised even slightly.

A popping sound signaled the arrival of someone near the foyer. “Must be the boys,” Pansy stood from the sofa, you following quickly behind her. You gasped at the sight before you. Mattheo’s white dress shirt was ripped like someone has pressed him against a shredder, cuts and new bruising evident behind the tears. He had blood splattered across his cheek, though it did not seem to be of his own. His knuckles were dripping, from what you were sure was a mix of his own blood and whoever he had seemed to beat.

Enzo was leaning most of his weight on his slightly shorter friend, eyes fluttering between awareness and close to losing consciousness. His arm that was not slung over Mattheo’s shoulders was pressed against his side where he was bleeding…badly. The gash in his side did not seem to be from anything muggle or an object, but from magic as you could see the black rim of the edges of his skin. “What the fuck happened?” You voice was the first to break the silence beyond Enzo’s moaning.

“Pansy grab the others, and some healing potions,” Matteo barked the order out like he’d said it a hundred times, which at his calmness of this situation made you think he had. You quickly conjured a table and helped Mattheo place Enzo on it. You looked over Enzo completely, seeing a few more cuts on his legs, the gash on his stomach, going up further he had a few defensive wounds on his forearms and a couple of cuts on his face.

When your face was level with Enzo’s eyesight, he smiled slightly, “Well, hey there, Angel.” You ran your thumb along his cheek bone, “Hey, Enzie. I’m gonna fix you up, but it’s gonna hurt. Try not to move, and try not to be mad at me after, okay?” Enzo did his best to nod before his eyes fluttered closed again. You grabbed your wand from your pocket, knowing where you’d have to start first when Mattheo seized your wrist, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m trying to help now if you would just let…go of me,” Mattheo’s grip only tightened as you tried to pull away. “Do you even know what you’re doing, Princess? You don’t even know what happened or what he was hit with. Pansy’s getting the healing potions, I don’t need you fucking up my best defense.”

You scoffed at his skepticism, “Well by the discoloration around his wound I can tell you he was hit with dark magic. And those healing potions, I looked at them today when Pansy gave me my little grand tour, it’ll take your best defense a week to heal with those, while if you would just let me get to work he’ll be mostly healed by the morning. Now, if you excuse me,” you yanked your wrist again, harder this time. You know the only reason you were able to was because Mattheo let go, but you got straight to work anyway.

Placing your wand between your teeth briefly you used both hands to rip Enzo’s shirt open, fully exposing the depths of what you were dealing with. The open wound went diagonally from his right hip to almost the center of his abdomen. You waved your wand over the length of his body, mending all of the small cuts quickly. Mattheo watched as you worked, standing across from you in a worried stance, one hand over his mouth while his elbow rested on the arm over his chest.

Pansy and the others came barreling down the hall, several different healing potions in hand, “What does she think she’s doing?” Malfoy shouted, your previous impression still leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “Leave her, cousin, we’re going to see how truly valuable she is to us.” Mattheo’s instruction left everyone standing, watching as you worked.

You mumbled an incantation under your breath, beginning to pull the darkness from around the edges of Enzo’s wound. But the pain was too much for him, his eyes shooting open and back immediately arching off the table, “BLOODY FUCKING HELL!” Your frown deepened, “I know, Enz, I’m so sorry, but you’ve got to stay still.” He shook his head, “C-can’t…can’t do it, hurts t-to much, Angel.”

You looked at Mattheo, eyes pleading. He understood what you were thinking immediately, turning towards the others, eyebrows raised. You turned back towards Enzo, leaning close to his face, “The boys are gonna help, okay? They’re gonna hold you down. I need to get it out of you before you can heal properly, okay, Enz? It’s gonna hurt, but you gotta try and stay still. Just try, the boys will help.”

You made eye contact with Mattheo, nodding. He glanced over at the rest of the boys, who each grabbed hold of a limb on Enzo. “I’m so sorry, Enz,” you whispered before hovering your hands over the gash. “Just do it Angel, m’bout to pass out, I can feel it.” You nodded, circling your wand and mumbling the same incantation from before. Your twirled the tip of your wand, pulling up slowly as what looked like shimmering black liquid began to lift from Enzo’s wound.

“What the fuck is that…” Theo gasped as he watched as the string got thicker and longer. When the tail end of the black liquid flicked out you grabbed hold of it with your free hand, holding your wand high above your head to keep as much distance between Enzo and the liquid as you could. “Pansy, a vial, please,” you looked over at her. Pansy stood frozen, eyes stuck on the struggling presence in your hand. “PANSY!” Mattheo’s booming voice snapped her out of whatever trance she was in.

Pansy rushed to your side, empty vial in hand as you guided the contents of your wand and palm inside. As she clogged the top Theo tried to get someone to pay attention to him again, “Is no one going to tell me what that fucking thing was that she just pulled out of Enzo? Was that his fucking soul?”

Blaise rolled his eyes, “You’re a fucking moron, Nott, you know that?” You elbowed Blaise in the side, causing a low groan to emit from the man, “It was dark magic. It gets attached to you when you’re hit with certain spells. It makes it harder for you to heal and is extremely difficult to remove. But once you do you can usually heal the person like normal.”

You held your wand hand over Enzo’s abdomen again, mumbling another healing spell and watching as ribbons of white began connecting the opposite edges of his wound. “Do you have any gauze?” You looked up at Mattheo. He flipped his hand around, summoning a first aid kid and digging around until he found what you had asked for. You wrapped the gauze around Enzo’s middle, the rest of the boys helping lift him in order to wrap it all the way around and secure it properly.

When you were finished, you let out an exasperated sigh, “He’s gonna be out of it for the rest of the night, but he should be basically back to his old self by morning, maybe a little sore but nothing like if he’d only taken the potion. You could probably give him that as well, help with the pain.” You looked over at Blaise and Theo, “You can take him to his room, just dont push on his side. Have Gimball give him something to drink in an hour, I’d watch him for the next three just to make sure he doesn’t get any worse.”

The two boys nodded, hauling Enzo up under his shoulders and walking up the stairs. You shoved your wand back in your pocket with intentions of heading back toward the sitting room when you felt a strong grip on your arm. You turned to see Mattheo, expression unreadable. Before you could protest he was dragging you down the hall, “Mattheo, what the fuck? Let go!” Mattheo said nothing in response and he dragged you further down the hall until you were standing in front of his office doors.

He mumbled reverse protection spells before opening the doors and throwing you inside. You luckily had the wherewithal to catch yourself on his large desk before turning around to face him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” You were practically screaming in his face yet he stood stoic. Except for his eyes. When you looked into his eyes they were darker than you’d ever seen them, like you were staring into an abyss and you were about to be sucked in. You wanted to challenge him, push him into showing you some emotion. You took a step closer, your chest nearly flush to his while you shoved a finger against one of his pecs, “Are you gonna answer me, boss?”

“Are you finished?” Mattheo peered down at you. You scowled at him, taking a step back and leaning against his desk, crossing your arms, “For now.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, “I knew you were going to be difficult but I didn’t expect you to be a brat.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. He grabbed hold of your chin, fingers squeezing your face, “Just like that. You gonna tell me how you pulled that little stunt in the foyer just now? How you managed to pull that shite from Berkshire?”

You pushed his hand from your face, “My mother taught me. I never had to use it growing up. But after the war I got more practice.” Mattheo closed his eyes at the mention of his father’s previous doings. “He’s going to be fine, you know,” your voice was soft, assuming Mattheo was worried about Enzo. Mattheo shook his head, “I know,” a small smile appeared on his face, “I just can’t believe how much I underestimated how useful you would be to us.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What?” Mattheo opened his eyes, a low laugh emitting from his throat, “Oh, Princess.” He reached out, cupping your cheek, “I knew you were special that first time you walked into my office. I know Pansy told you what we do, what I’m working towards.” You nodded, still not understanding what he was getting at. He leaned in close, nose nearly touching yours, “Then you know it can get dangerous, hell today was a perfect example.”

“Mattheo I still don’t unders-” Mattheo pressed his thumb to your lips, “You’re mine now, Princess.” Your heart was thundering in your chest, it felt like he had a hold of it and was squeezing. You were sure he could feel your pulse beneath his fingertips as he leaned in closer, lips ghosting against your ear as he whispered, “And you’re never going to leave.”

[nayziiz]

Speed | CS55

Summary: In a chance encounter at a gas station, a mysterious woman on a Yamaha YZF R6 catches the attention of Carlos, a charming Ferrari driver. Little did they know the journey they would both go on.

Warning: Smut, fluff

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC (Lola)

Masterlist

Chapter 12 - final chapter

The driver pulled up in front of massive industrial steel gates as a security guard approached the vehicle.

“Sainz for a plant tour,” the driver advised the security guard, who scanned his licence before proceeding to open the gates. Lola looked around, her curiosity piqued.

“Where are we?” she asked, turning to Carlos.

“You’ll see,” He just smiled, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

As the car drove through the gates, Lola noticed the sprawling complex ahead, a blend of sleek modern architecture and industrial design. The driver navigated through the winding roads until they reached a parking area. Carlos and Lola stepped out, and she took in the sight of the massive facility.

“You’re not going to murder me in an abandoned warehouse in Japan, right?” Lola wondered, her voice tinged with mock suspicion.

“No, mon amor, I would never,” Carlos chuckled, shaking his head as they drove toward the reception area. He pointed at the Yamaha sign above the aluminium doors. “We’re visiting the Yamaha factory today.”

Lola’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“You’re joking, right?” she gasped as the realisation hit her. “This can’t be real.”

“It’s real. I wanted to surprise you with something special,” Carlos grinned, enjoying her reaction.

Carlos’s smile widened as he watched the excitement grow in Lola’s eyes, her body shifting closer to the window to catch every glimpse of the factory. The anticipation was palpable, and he couldn’t wait to see her reaction unfold.

When the vehicle finally parked, they stepped out and were greeted by several executives, all eager to take the couple on their tour. As they walked through the factory, Lola’s amazement was evident. She observed each process intently, from the initial assembly lines to the final touches on the motorcycles. The efficiency and precision of the operation left her in awe.

"Seeing it all come together like this is just... wow," Lola murmured, her eyes darting from one workstation to the next. Carlos chuckled at her enthusiasm, happy to see her so engaged.

After the comprehensive tour of the manufacturing process, the executives led them to a sleek showroom filled with limited edition motorcycles. The range of bikes on display was impressive, each one more stunning than the last.

“These are some of our latest limited edition models,” one of the executives explained, pointing out the unique specs of each motorcycle. Lola absorbed every detail, her fingers tracing the lines of the bikes as she listened.

Carlos, though not as technically inclined, tried to keep up with the flood of information. He admired Lola’s ability to understand and appreciate the finer points of the machinery. Watching her excitement, he felt a sense of pride swell within him.

When they were left to study the machines on their own, Lola finally turned to Carlos, her eyes shining with gratitude and excitement.

“I cannot believe you did this for me,” she told him, her voice filled with emotion.

“Was it a good surprise?” he teased, pulling her into his arms, feeling her warmth against him.

“The absolute best, Carlos,” she assured him, her smile wide and genuine. Carlos grinned, clearly pleased with her reaction.

“There’s just one more surprise,” he started, taking her hand in his and leading her towards one of the motorcycles on display. The bike was a stunning, limited edition model, gleaming under the showroom lights.

It was a deep red R-series Pedigree, a motorcycle she had always dreamed of and he had seen pop up several times on her Instagram feed in the videos she watched over and over.

“This, mon amour, is a fully customised YZF-R7, but you already know that,” Carlos chuckled while Lola looked between him and the bike, standing firmly under his arm. “What makes this one so special is the colour. Its deep red matches what my Ferrari looked like under the lights in Bahrain earlier this year, the perfect scarlet red tone.”

“Please tell me you didn’t buy yourself a bike, Carlos. You scare me enough in that car of yours,” Lola quickly groaned, sensing where the conversation was headed.

“Hang on. There’s more to it than just the colour. It has my number right over here,” he told her, pointing out the ‘55’ behind the passenger seat. “It also has custom rims.”

Lola chuckled in disbelief. “Carlos, you’re too scared to ride my bike. How on earth are you going to ride this one?”

“Well, as a passenger,” he told her, his expression dead serious. Lola's eyes widened, and she burst into laughter.

“What?” she scoffed. “Carlos, no.”

“I had them put the number there so I know where my place is on this bike. And, you’ll have a piece of me when you go out on it,” Carlos nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. Touched by his thoughtfulness and amused by his logic, Lola shook her head.

“I… Carlos… this is, wow,” she was stunned and teary-eyed as he nudged her closer to the bike.

“They’ll ship it to your house next week, so expect a delivery,” he added.

“This is too much, Carlos. I can’t accept this, it must have cost you an arm and a leg,” she whispered, her voice too fragile to be any louder.

“And, of course, you need proper safety gear as you told me on our first date, so I have ordered you a custom red leather suit and a very beautiful red helmet to match the bike. I had them put your parent’s wedding anniversary on the back of the helmet, so you have them with you when you go out riding too. And, your brother's birthday as well. Kind of to have us all together,” Carlos continued.

“Baby…” she gulped, the tears finally cascading over her cheeks. He pulled her into a warm embrace, his arms enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth and safety.

“You’ve given me so much, Lola,” Carlos murmured into her hair. “This is just a small way to show you how much I appreciate you, how much I love you.”

Lola tightened her grip around him, burying her face in his chest. “No one has ever done anything like this for me. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Carlos reassured her, gently rubbing her back. “You lit a fire in me the second I saw you on that bike before I even got a look at your pretty face. It was either the biggest mistake of my life chasing after you or… the rest of my life zooming past me on two wheels. And, I am so happy it was the latter. And, If I have to sit on the back of your bike for the rest of my life, I would, because you’d be steering, guiding, leading.”

Her tears didn’t stop flowing as they drenched his shirt. Carlos was a fresh breeze in her life, a reminder that even after a long period of pain and unresolved trauma, she could find something blissfully wonderful, without conditions, without expectations, just pure affection and love.

The bike wasn’t just some valuable thing he shoved at her to assuage her doubts or erase her insecurities and pain; it was a memento to keep her grounded, to keep her wheels rolling forward, to keep her going even when life threw everything at her. He saw her for who she truly was and not just for what she did or how she looked—wholly her, even the things she hated most about herself.

Carlos held her tighter, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. She looked up at him, her eyes red but shining with gratitude and love.

“Carlos, I don't know how to thank you. Not just for this,” she gestured towards the bike, “but for seeing me, really seeing me.”

“Just keep being you, Lola. That's all I need,” He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears.

For a moment, they just stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world around them fading away. In that intimate bubble, there was no pain, no past, no future—just the present moment and the overwhelming love they shared.

“So, when do you think we can go for a ride together?” Lola finally pulled back, a small, genuine smile on her face.

“As soon as that beauty arrives at your house,” Carlos grinned, his eyes twinkling with excitement. 

“I can't wait,” She laughed, the sound light and full of hope.

-----------------------

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @notyouraveragemochii @heyheyheyggg @laneyspaulding19

[avastrasposts]

Not An Easy Man To Find

Hello!

🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈This my contribution to @romanarose Pride Event 🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈🏳‍🌈

It's the result of one of those "what if?" conversations that sometimes happen. I've never written m/m and I was curious to see if I could come up with a language to get across feelings and emotions between two characters that I love very much and still remain true to them. What would they express if they find themselves in a situation where they no longer need to deny the tension and attraction between them?

A/N - set after the events of Triple Frontier, mild spice, nothing too explicit.

The house was small, more of a cabin really, and set back from the small country road, right at the end of a narrow lane. The thick forest around the building had been cleared and the approach to the house was exposed. The second the man set foot on the property, flood lights lit up the yard. Even in the heavy rain he could see the cameras mounted on the porch, one aimed at the drive, the other at the front door. 

Frankie saw the lights go on in his yard, and he immediately reached for the gun on the coffee table but he remained on the couch, the book he was reading now face down beside him. Most likely it was just an animal crossing the yard, alarms wouldn't go off until someone tried to force entry. He waited for the lights to go off again, the knock on the door almost made him jump. Quietly he got up from the couch, moved through the house to the hallway and tapped the screen mounted on the wall. The man on the other side of the door was soaked through by the rain underneath his cap and he gave the camera a nod as if he knew Frankie was watching him. 

He should know Frankie was watching him. After all, he taught him how to set up the system. 

Pope heard the door unlock and couldn’t repress the smile creeping up as it swung open. 

“You’re not an easy man to find, Fish.” 

“Pendejo, where the fuck have you been?!” 

Frankie tossed Pope a towel after he peeled off his wet jacket, leaving it dripping onto the floor of the small hallway. The door was closed again, locked and bolted, and Pope nodded approvingly at the security system his friend had set up.  

“How did you find me?” Frankie asked as Pope toweled his wet hair, following him into the kitchen, “I’ve been staying off the radar as much as possible, Will told me a couple of guys came after you?” 

“Yeah, some of Lorea’s men. I got rid of them and I had to move location again. But Will had a hunch about where you might be so I checked it out and one thing led to another.” 

He hung the towel over a chair and sat down on one of the stools by the kitchen island as Frankie leaned against the counter. 

“Do I need to worry that someone else might find me that way?” he asked, raising his eyebrows but Pope shook his head.

“No, you’re good, Fish, I found you because I know you. How have you been?” 

“Shit.” 

Frankie spat the word, his eyebrows pulling together as he rubbed a large hand over his face. 

“Like absolute shit. I’m not sleeping, Tom’s death…it’s still….”

“Yeah, I know,” Pope said, “the nightmares have been brutal.”

“I keep reliving that fucking moment up on those rocks, when Tom…”

Frankie trailed off and Pope nodded. 

“Yeah, Tom, the heli crashing, Will getting shot, that fucking donkey…I have nightmares about that fucking donkey, you go over with it too, Fish, I keep dreaming the same sequence, seeing you tumble over the side, pulled down by it.” 

Pope glanced over at Frankie who was shaking his head with his eyes closed as if he was trying to shut something out.

“Don’t….” Frankie muttered, meeting Pope’s dark gaze. 

The two men fell silent for a few moments, eyes locked on each other,  the rain hammering against the shutters and a low rumble of thunder in the distance. Something made the lights flicker and Pope broke the stalemate, glancing up at the ceiling. 

“I’ve got a backup generator,” Frankie said, “and extra fuel. The power goes out pretty often when trees fall on the power lines.”

Pope nodded, “Always prepared, Fish.”

Frankie shrugged in response, seemingly waiting for the other man to say something else. Pope could feel the tension building in the small kitchen and he couldn’t face it, even if he was the only one who felt it. 

“You got a beer?” He motioned to the fridge but Frankie shook his head. 

“No, I’ve been staying sober, on all accounts, since we got back. I…I lost custody of the kids, after the divorce.” 

“I heard, man, I’m sorry. That’s fucked up,” Pope shook his head as Frankie shrugged again. 

“Shit was bad when I got home, she’d changed the locks, tossed my things, got the divorce papers ready. And I went on a bender, totalled the truck and then the court awarded her full custody,” Frankie shook his head, glancing down at his feet, “Can’t blame ‘em, and it was probably for the best. Some people were sniffing around the house a few months later but I’d already moved away. At least this way she and the kids aren’t in any danger.”

Frankie looked up at Pope, still damp, his shirt clinging to his shoulders as he leaned on his forearms on the wood countertop. His friend’s dark eyes looked apologetic as he listened to Frankie.

“Could’ve used your help, Pope.”  

“Fuck, Frankie, I’m sorry. I only just heard from Will that you got divorced, if I’d known I would’ve helped out, you know.”

“Yeah, well…” Frankie said, “It was my mess, I guess I had to deal with it.” 

“Yeah, but Fish, you’re family. Will and Benny have each other, Tom always had Molly and the girls, and then it’s you and me,” Pope said, getting off the stool and coming around to lean against the opposite counter, giving Frankie’s shoulder a clap. Frankie gave him a dismissive snort. 

“We’re family but you’ve stayed away for two years? Living off what’s her name's money? Not even a word to confirm that you were still alive?” 

“That…that didn’t work out,” Pope said, hesitating a little, “Turned out she wasn’t that interested when I’d already gotten her and her brother out of the country. And I always…” Pope trailed off and shrugged. He seemed to consider his next words, meeting Frankie’s questioning look for a few heartbeats before he continued, “Yeah…it didn’t work out. I came back to the States about eighteen months ago.”

Frankie’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline at Pope’s answer. 

“Eighteen months ago? And you only just now got in touch? What the fuck, Pope?” 

“Like I said, you’re not an easy man to find, Fish.” 

“Bullshit, Will always knew how to find me, I made sure, you just didn’t bother.” 

Frankie crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Pope who just shook his head, but still met his gaze. 

“I thought you were still married, Frankie, you had your own family. I didn’t wanna crash that.” 

“Still, could’ve used your help, even if I wasn’t divorced. If you really mean we’re family and-” 

“It was too hard, Frankie, you know that,” Pope interrupted, pushing himself off the counter and taking a step towards Frankie who stared back at him. Pope shoved a frustrated hand through his hair, “Seeing you with her, the kids, happy family life. You must’ve known how I felt, seeing you run back to her the second we were done in Columbia.” 

“Pope…” Frankie said in a low voice, his eyes dropping to his boots as his fingers twitched, he looked ready to crawl out of his skin. 

But Pope ignored him, tension dripping off him as he paced the small kitchen, “You know, right, Fish? This has always been here, this,” He pointed between the two of them, almost poking Frankie’s chest as he stopped by the counter again. “This…this friction, you and me, and now…you always just stand there and say nothing.” Pope shoved his hand through his hair again and slumped back against the counter, “Frankie, half the time I don’t know if I want to hit your or fuck you.”

Frankie suddenly exploded into action, two long strides and his fists grabbed Pope’s shirts, slamming their bodies together as his mouth found Pope’s. Pope grunted in surprise and took hold of Frankie’s sides as he stumbled back with the force of the other man’s kiss. Teeth and lips clashed as Frankie pulled Pope closer, tongues meeting and Frankie groaned, tasting rainwater on Pope’s lips. Pope wound his arms around Frankie’s waist and up his back, grabbing the shirt and pushing the other man into him as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. Panted breathes filled the silent kitchen, a low moan from Pope as Frankie wrapped his hand around the back of his head. 

“I fucking missed you,” Pope mumbled, still pressed against the other man’s lips, and Frankie’s soft tongue came out to taste Pope again. A mouthed fuck and Pope’s hand slid down and grabbed Frankie’s hip, his touch going soft as he let himself feel the outlines of his body properly for the first time. 

“How long?” Frankie asked, his voice low as he pulled back a little, meeting Pope’s eyes. 

“Since basic, I guess. But I denied it for years.” 

“Yeah,” Frankie breathed out, barely a whisper, his eyes on Pope’s mouth. Pope tightened his grip on Frankie’s hip again and pulled his friend close, the kiss softer, less rushed. Frankie’s body was tense under his grip, uncertain as he shifted his weight and opened his mouth to Pope’s tongue. Pope moved slowly, feeling his way around Frankie’s stiff muscles, caressing his back, leading the kisses as the other man slowly began to relax. 

When Frankie groaned into his mouth and pushed forward, almost bending Pope backwards over the counter, Pope took hold of Frankie’s hips again and pulled him along. Leading him backwards into the living room. When the back of his knees hit the couch, he sank down and Frankie toppled over, on top, his long body covering Pope’s, legs tangled together. 

A moan escaped Frankie when he felt the hard length of the other man against his thigh and he rolled his hips, seeking friction for himself, his body reacting faster than his mind, the primal urge to rut into the warm body underneath him almost taking over. Pope’s mouth was warm, heavy breaths panted into his own, as he squeezed his eyes shut. Pope’s hands were caressing his back, trailing down over his ass, grabbing and pressing them together, calloused fingers sliding inside his jeans and Frankie froze, pulling back an inch, panic flaring up in his throat. 

Pope’s dark eyes met his as Frankie pushed himself up, hovering over Pope on his forearms, not meeting his friend's look.  

“Have you done this before, Frankie?” he asked, his voice slightly breathless from the kisses, but calm, and Frankie wanted just to bury his face against Pope’s warm, flustered, neck, hide his face and not show the intensity he felt was written across it.

“Just a hookup, when I was drunk,” he mumbled in response, his hands suddenly felt too big, he didn’t know where to put them when all that was under him was Santiago. He shifted uneasily.  

“Cálmate, Francisco,” Pope mumbled, cupping his hand around Frankie’s head, his fingers finding damp, soft curls, “Relax.” 

Frankie nodded and dropped his head to Pope’s chest, exhaling deeply. The steady heartbeat under the shirt told him his friend was still calm, hadn’t lost his cool, wasn’t rushing into anything. Warm hands resumed their movements up and down his back but now they were slow, and didn’t touch his skin. He felt his nerves calm, this was just Santiago, Pope, his oldest friend, who knew the darkest things he’d done because he was right next to him when it all went down. If anyone would understand, could reach inside and soothe the panic in his chest, it was this man. 

He lifted his head from Pope’s chest and cupped his cheek, a slow, uncertain movement, running his thumb across the thick beard, shot through with more gray now than last time. The sensation was unfamiliar to his fingers, not used to touching him in this way, the texture of the beard different from his own scruffy patches. Pope parted his lips as Frankie’s thumb traced across them, pausing briefly to press into the bottom lip. Frankie watched as the soft skin gave in under his thumb, making Pope part his lips more. When he leaned forward and gave an experimental lick to the pink bottom lip, Pope hummed under him, his hands stilling on Frankie’s back. He let Frankie lead the way, taking it at his pace, meeting his tongue as Frankie opened his mouth and licked into Pope’s. 

This time it was Frankie who reached for Pope’s skin, sliding a hand in under his shirt, not even thinking about what he was doing, just needing to feel more. Pope shifted under him, letting the buttons come undone and the shirt slid open. The palms that skated across his skin were calloused and familiar, but never in this way, never with this soft touch, followed by a hot mouth and tongue lapping at his skin. 

He could help himself, “Frankie,” he moaned, the roll of Frankie’s hips grinding against his own hard length clouding his mind, “Frankie, are you sure?” 

A muffled Yes and a nod came from Frankie, his tongue exploring Pope’s skin with increasing fervor. When his hand cupped the hard length straining against the fabric of his jeans, Pope’s breath hitched and he groaned loudly. It egged Frankie on, suddenly he felt a desperate need rise inside him and he grabbed Pope’s hand, dragging him off the couch. 

“Bedroom,” he muttered, tugging the other man with him, the two of them stumbling the short distance to the small bedroom at the back of the cabin. 

Pope grabbed Frankie’s shirt and pulled it off, shrugging his own shirt on to the floor, and then Frankie’s hands were skimming up and down his sides as they climbed onto the bed, buttons being undone, jeans discarded. It wasn’t the first time they’d been naked in front of each other, far from it, but the new situation gave them cause to look at the other man in another way. Pope took in the trail of dark hair on Frankie’s soft belly, leading down to his achingly hard cock. Frankie couldn’t just look, his hand came out and closed around Pope’s stiff length, making him huff a strangled Frankie before he pulled him down over him. 

After, when their bodies were slick with sweat and the room reeked of cum, Pope cupped his hands around Frankie’s scruffy cheeks and kissed him firmly, holding the other man tight as their heart beats slowed down. 

“I should’ve come back much sooner, Francisco,” he mumbled, when he finally broke the kiss. 

“Should’ve done this much sooner,” Frankie muttered in reply, his hands wrapped around Pope’s shoulders, sharing his breath and still tasting the salty tang of his own spend on Pope’s lips. 

Pope nodded and closed his eyes, leaning back on the pillow with his fingers tangled in Frankie’s soft curls. He'd never known Frankie's hair was so soft, but he’d often thought about curling his fingers around the tufts that always stuck out from underneath that damn cap. Now he slowly ran his fingers through them, still damp from their exertion.

Frankie shifted his weight, resting his head against Pope’s shoulder, his leg hooked over the other man’s thigh. When the air in the room cooled, he reached over and tugged the comforter over both of them, rousing Pope from his light sleep. He shifted down, pulling Frankie into arms so that he could look him in the eyes. 

“What now, Francisco?” he asked, his voice already thick with sleep, and Frankie kissed him. The soft lips and rough voice now his to claim. 

“Nothing, just this, Santiago,” Frankie replied, “We sleep, we wake up, and then just this.” 

Tagging the lovely people who were excited to read this when I blabbed about writing it. @legendary-pink-dot @lady-bess @nerdieforpedro @i-own-loki @mysterious-moonstruck-musings and last but not least @for-a-longlongtime for beta reading and being incredibly supportive! Love you all!

[creative-caramel-coffee]

It’s me again, something similar happened to me yesterday when I was moving to school, and could really use the girls for comfort rn

R is stressed trying to quickly move things, perhaps moving into wandanat room? When she falls, to her it’s blank one minute she was standing the next she’s in pain on the floor? Obviously r is stubborn and tries to carry on not wanting to be seen as weak or lazy. But the girls notice and immediately go into caring mode where the see r is actually bleeding and hurt her ankle.

“Oh my sweet girl you could’ve come to us. We aren’t mad. Let’s clean you up”

“You can’t walk darling, you’ll make it worse”

“Lots of love for our love bug”

“Shhh no saying sorry. They are not necessary sweet girl, you can’t help it”

Any fluffy comfort dialogue 🥹

~ 🕯️ I would like this emoji like you suggested so you can see I’m the writer you’ve been on my page recently lmao

Moving in but with crutches

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.5K

Summary: Reader is super excited to move in with her girls but she’s a little clumsy and ends up needing some tlc

TW: light mentions of blood, sprain (implied), injury

A/n sorry this took so long to get done but I hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing it. Also I’m happy for you to be 🕯 anon :)

It was finally time. Ever since moving to the compound your gaze had trailed after them like a lost puppy. Them, being the power couple of the compound. Them, being Wanda and Natasha.

You were sure the mind reader and spy couldn’t have missed the light shades of pink that dusted your cheeks every time they spoke to you. Or maybe they just thought you weren’t very sun safe, either way it didn’t matter now because the three of you had been dating for four months now and despite all the milestones that are in a relationship this one was the one you were most excited for. Moving in with them.

Sure, you had been sleeping in their bed for like two weeks now, but it was never really officially your room. You still had all your stuff in the other smaller room tony had built for you when you joined the team. Wanda and Nat party because they were sharing a room and party because they had been on the team for far longer, had a much larger and your opinion much nicer room. Furnished with Wanda’s touches and Natasha’s tastes. There were enough plants, courtesy of Wanda, to compete with a forrest and it was just beautiful.

You had spent the morning packing your stuff into box’s, sure it was just across the hall, but your stuff was important to you, and you wanted the full experience.

You came to the tower with nothing but your name and the clothes on your back, so you wanted the full nine yards. Wanda and Nat were supportive and had been helping you pack. But as lunch neared all of you were getting hungry so nat and Wanda had gone out to pick up some takeaway. Claiming that the living alone lifestyle was about to change, and you should make the most of it. Of course, that statement led to an argument over who was more of a blanket hog which you did your best not to be roped into.

Once the two had secured their keys and left, still bickering however, you turned up your music and moved over to some of the heavier items.

Pulling the books off the bookshelf and placing them neatly in boxes you moved over to the lamp. But in your haste accidentally pulled on the chord.

One second you were upright and the next thing you knew you were on the floor. As your senses came back to you and you shifted into a sitting position, the pain flooded in. Your ankle was bleeding, the bulb must have smashed, and on top of that the joint hurt like all hades.

Despite the calming breathes you took your ankle was starting to look worse. A light blue bruise that you were sure was only going to darken began to form around the joint and you closed your eyes.

Thank God you had turned up the music or someone would have surely come in to see if you were ok. How embarrassing, being an avenger only to be taken down by a lamp. No. You were not lazy. You were not weak.

Sucking in a breath you carefully got to your feet trying to avoid the glass. Putting any pressure on the ankle made it feel like you were stepping on a thousand suns, but you simply pushed through. You were not weak. You were an avenger. You moved as fast as possible to clean up the mess, which let's be honest wasn’t very fast.

You swept the glass up and placed the seemingly undamaged corpse of a lamp into a box for later. However, it was now no longer welcome in your new room. No. You made a small pledge to hide that box for when your ankle was better and seek some revenge on the stupid piece of furniture.

You had just finished sealing off the box of nightmares with the packing tape when two short raps came from the open doorway. You turned around as smoothly as you could with the pain in your foot and smiled at Natasha.

“Hey baby, Wanda’s gone to start getting the food ready in the kitchen are you gonna join us?” She asked.

“Yeah sure. Like I’d ever say no to that.” You said trying your best to hide a wince as you took a step towards Nat. Her brow furrowed and eyebrows pinched together as she didn’t miss the action at all.

“Baby? are you ok?” She asked. You wavered but plastered on the fake smile you used for Tony’s galas.

“One hundred percent. Did you get pad Thai?” You asked and tried to change the subject. Nat knew something was wrong and looked you up and down doing a mental scan to find the problem. You knew you were screwed when her eyes zeroed in on your sock. You had slipped it on last minute to hide the cut on your foot and in your haste had managed to miss the fact it had bled through the pale fabric.

Nat was over by your side in an instant, she guided you by your shoulders to the bed and pressed down to make you sit.

“Sit” she said leaving zero room for questions. You simply nodded as she crouched down and placed your foot on her knee. Gently she peeled back the sock and sighed at the semi-deep cut that ran down your heel. Your ankle was swollen and looked angry, and Nat was surprised you were able to walk at all but suspected that the fading adrenaline may have something to do with it.

“Wanda!” She yelled and the two of you heard hurried footsteps and Wanda appeared in the doorway.

“Yes?! Whats the matter?” She asked looking panicked. When she saw the two of you were still alive and breathing, she sighed and placed a hand over her heart.

“Jesus don’t do that nat.” She said. Nat shrugged.

“Sorry baby. Can you grab the first aid kit in the bathroom Y/n/n here felt she could hide something from us.” She said gesturing to the ensuite and then your foot which was propped up in her lap. She was holding the destroyed sock to the cut to stop the bleeding which made you wince. Wanda nodded and disappeared before coming back with the kit and placing it down beside Nat.

Wanda gave the injury a proper look now and softened her gaze and took your hand, rubbing circles on your knuckles with her thumb.

"Oh, my sweet girl you could've come to us. We aren't mad. Let's clean you up" she said.

“I-its fine. Im fine. No problem.” You said and went to move your foot from Nat’s lap who had just finished bandaging the cut. She grabbed your calf gently but tightly and glared at you before softening at the sight of tears in your eyes.

"You can't walk darling; you'll make it worse" she said gently and you huffed.

Wanda stood and sat next to you on the bed and began pressing kisses to your cheek and arms.

“It just means lots of love for our love bug" she said and pulled you in for a hug. Nat nodded and joined the hug.

“Sorry.” You said in a small voice. But Nat hushed you with a kiss to the lips it was soft and tender. When she pulled away, she looked into your eyes.

"Shhh no saying sorry. That’s not necessary sweet girl, you can't help it" she said and rubbed her nose against yours in a gentle moment of pure love.

“Do you want me to bring the food here or Natty can carry you into the lounge so we can prop your foot up to eat? Either way you're getting ice and rest on the ankle.” Wanda said and you let a single tear fall at the tenderness of it all. Wanda was quick to wipe it away and press a kiss to the tear track.

“Baby don’t cry love. We’ve got you honey.” She said and you sniffled.

“The lounge maybe?” You said and Wanda chuckled.

“Of course, sweetheart. Nat?” She said and gestured to you who grinned like a feral animal and scooped you up with little to no warning. You squealed and clutched your arms around her. She laughed deeply and you swatted her chest. The three of you went to the lounge and Nat called Bruce to bring you some crutches for later and Wanda finished prepping the food.

After the three of you were cuddled up under a blanket with ice on your ankle and old movie reruns playing in the background. Soon you drifted to sleep as Wanda ran her hands through your hair and nat traced patterns on your exposed thigh. After all you were only in a large t-shirt and boxers. The rest of the team was away apart from Bruce, but he never left the lab anyway. You we’re content. Happy. Safe. And loved. Life couldn’t get any better.

MASTERLIST

[szariahwroteit]

All That Glitters • Chapter 44

18+ Minors DNI

If there was a positive to come from Jude's shoulder injury, it was that he was able to use his time away from football to support his younger brother's football career, something he hadn't been able to do in a while despite the deep love and admiration he had for his younger sibling.

"Baby, it's freezing. Stop." Naya giggled as Jude's hands went beneath her top, raising it slightly and exposing her skin to the cold evening air.

"It's not that cold," he laughed, turning her in his embrace so he could walk with her body pressed against his as he led her into the stadium where his younger brother Jobe's football match was being held.

The bright lights of the stadium illuminated the field, casting a warm glow over the excited crowd. Naya could hear the distant cheers and the rhythmic thud of the football being kicked. She shivered slightly, not just from the chill in the air but from the thrill of being so close to Jude.

"Are you sure you want to be here?" Jude asked, his breath warm against her ear. "I can get us hot chocolate if you'd rather stay in the car."

Naya shook her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "And miss watching my favourite Bellingham play?" she teased, playfully nudging him with her shoulder.

Jude chuckled, his grip tightening around her waist as they navigated through the crowd, following behind the security guard who had been tasked with getting him safely to his seat.

"If that's how you feel, this Bellingham is gonna stop making you cum," he murmured hotly into her ear, subtly pressing himself against her.

Naya felt her cheeks flush at his words, a mix of embarrassment and excitement coursing through her. She shot him a playful glare, but the smirk on her face betrayed her amusement. "You're the worst," she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady as they approached their seats.

"You love it," Jude replied, winking at her. He leaned down, brushing his lips against her temple, sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Since she'd known Jude it had always intrigued her to see his interactions with his fans, as one of the most talented players in football and easily one of the most handsome men in his sport it went without saying that he had a significant following.

Naya watched as they passed by a group of young fans who recognized him, their eyes lighting up with excitement. They called out his name, and Jude paused, flashing them a charming smile and waving.

"You're cute," Naya gushed as they neared their seats to find Jude's parents already settled in, chatting animatedly with family members of other players. Jude's mother Denise, a warm woman with a bright smile that often made Naya think about her mother, waved them over, her eyes sparkling with joy at seeing her son and his girlfriend.

"Hey, you two! Glad you made it on time!" she exclaimed, pulling Naya into a quick hug and making her blush wildly.

Although there was no insinuation in Denise's voice, Naya couldn't help but cast her mind back to the sex she and Jude had back at their hotel that almost made them late to Jobe's football match.

Her body still hummed with the memory of their passionate encounter, and she felt a rush of warmth flood her cheeks as she pulled away from Denise's embrace. Jude caught her eye, a knowing grin spreading across his face, and she shot him a mock glare, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to break free.

"Did you two have a good time before the match?" Denise asked, her tone light and teasing, oblivious to the thoughts racing through Naya's mind.

"Just a little pre-game warm-up," Jude replied, his voice dripping with playful innuendo. Naya felt her heart race at his words, and she shot him a warning look, but he only chuckled, clearly enjoying her embarrassment.

"Jude!" she hissed, trying to keep her voice low as they settled into their seats. "You can't just say things like that in front of your mom!"

Denise laughed, clearly entertained by her son's antics as he pulled Naya from her seat and into his lap. She enjoyed watching the way her eldest son made room for and navigated his relationship, the lovesick look in his eyes whenever Naya held his gaze.

Naya felt a mix of warmth and embarrassment as she settled into Jude's lap, his arms wrapping around her protectively. The closeness was comforting, and she couldn't help but lean back against him, her heart fluttering at the intimacy of the moment.

"You were so perfect back at the hotel," Jude whispered, his breath tickling her ear as he moved beneath her.

Naya felt her cheeks heat at his words, a rush of warmth flooding her body that had nothing to do with the chilly air around them. She turned her head slightly to meet his gaze, her heart racing at the intensity in his eyes. "Jude, we're in public," she whispered, half-laughing, half-serious.

"So," he replied, a playful smirk on his lips. "I'm just speaking my mind."

Naya rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile. "You're incorrigible," she said, shaking her head. But deep down, she loved this side of him—the way he could make her feel alive and exhilarated, even in the most mundane situations.

"You came so fucking hard for me," he continued, taunting her.

As Jude's fingers slid under her top, Naya felt a shiver run down her spine. She loved the way he touched her, his hands always seeming to find just the right spot to make her gasp and arch into him.

"Stop it," she giggled, trying to sound stern even as she leaned into his touch. The cold air of the stadium only heightened her awareness of his warmth against her skin.

Jude chuckled, nipping playfully at her earlobe before pulling back to meet her gaze with a smouldering look that made Naya's core clench with desire. "You're such a tease," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

Naya batted her lashes innocently, but there was no missing the heat in her eyes. "If I were a tease I'd do this," she said coyly, subtly rolling her hips in his lap.

Naya grinned, feeling a thrill run through her at Jude's reaction. "You love it when I tease you," she purred, pressing herself closer to him. The hardness of his arousal against her thigh was unmistakable, and she revelled in the knowledge that she could affect him so intensely.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "And you know I love how hard you make me cum." Naya couldn't help but shift subtly in his lap again, rubbing herself against him with deliberate slowness.

Jude groaned softly, his grip on her tightening as he fought to maintain control. But Naya knew better than anyone that once they got started like this, there was no going back. She wanted him needed him right here in the stadium seats amidst the cheering crowd.

Without warning, she stood up and turned around to face Jude fully.

"I think I'm going to get a hot drink," Naya lied needing an excuse to get her and Jude out of their seats without being questioned.

Jude raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "Oh really? Hot chocolate? Or something a little stronger?" he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Naya felt a rush of adrenaline at the thought of sneaking away with him. "How about both?" she replied, her heart racing at the idea of a little adventure.

Jude chuckled, standing up and taking her hand. "Lead the way, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

As they made their way through the crowd, Naya felt a thrill of excitement coursing through her. The stadium was alive with energy, but all she could focus on was Jude and the way he held her hand tightly as if he were afraid to let go.

They slipped out of the main seating area and into a quieter corridor that led to a private indoor box overlooking the stadium. Naya glanced back to make sure no one was watching before she turned to Jude, her heart pounding.

"Keep moving," he instructed gently nudging her towards a rather spacious powder room at the far side of the room.

Naya smiled slyly at Jude as they entered the private powder room, closing and locking the door behind them. "Alone at last," she purred, turning to face him with a seductive gaze.

Jude grinned, his eyes roving hungrily over her body. "Now we can get warm," he murmured, backing her against the wall and pressing himself close.

Naya felt a shiver run down her spine as Jude's hands skimmed up her thighs over her leggings, before slipping his hands inside. She gasped softly as he cupped her ass through the thin material of her panties, pulling her body flush against his so he could bow his head and kiss her lips.

Leaning into her, Jude moaned into Naya's mouth as she sucked on the tip of his tongue, her body melting into his as his hands caressed her.

Breaking their kiss, Jude pulled the baseball cap Naya wore from her head before turning her body around so they both stood facing the mirror.

"Put your hands on the counter," Jude instructed as he removed Naya's coat, placing it down before turning his attention back to her body.

Easing her leggings and panties down, Jude hummed in approval as she arched her back pressing herself against him.

Naya's breath hitched as she felt the cool air against her exposed skin, contrasting sharply with the heat radiating from Jude's body behind her. The thrill of being in such a private space, surrounded by the noise of the stadium just beyond the door, sent a rush of excitement through her.

"Jude," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she leaned forward, her palms resting on the cool countertop. The anticipation was electric, and she could feel his presence looming behind her, a mix of desire and urgency.

"Just trust me," he murmured, his voice low and sultry. He pressed himself against her, the hardness of his arousal evident as he ground against her. Naya shivered, her body responding instinctively to his touch.

With a deft movement, Jude slid his hands around her waist, fingers dancing over her skin, igniting a fire within her. "You're so beautiful," he breathed, his lips brushing against her ear, sending another wave of shivers down her spine.

Naya turned her head slightly, catching his gaze in the mirror. The intensity in his eyes made her heart race. "You're not too bad yourself," she teased, her voice playful despite the heat of the moment.

Jude chuckled softly, his hands exploring her body with a possessive urgency. "I want you to feel good," he said, his tone serious now. "I want to make you forget everything else."

Naya felt a rush of warmth at his words, her heart swelling with affection and desire. "You already do," she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

With that, Jude's hands moved lower, fingers teasingly brushing against her thighs before finding their way back up, exploring every inch of her. Naya gasped as he found the sensitive spot just above her core, his touch igniting a fire within her.

"Jude," she breathed, her body arching instinctively towards him, craving more of his touch.

"Shh," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. "Just enjoy it."

Naya closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensations coursing through her. Jude's hands were skilled, knowing exactly how to tease and please her. She could feel the tension building within her, a sweet pressure that made her pulse quicken.

"Please," she begged softly, her voice laced with need. "I need you."

Jude's breath hitched at her words, and he turned her around to face him, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. The world outside faded away as they lost themselves in each other, the taste of desire lingering on their tongues.

"Let's make this quick," he murmured against her lips, his hands gripping her waist as he backed her against the wall again. "I don't want anyone to find us here."

Naya nodded, her heart racing with excitement and urgency. She could feel the heat radiating off him, and the thrill of being caught only heightened her desire. "I don't care if we get caught," she whispered, her voice daring.

Jude's eyes darkened with lust at her words, and he wasted no time in lifting her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed her against the wall. Naya gasped, the sudden movement sending a rush of adrenaline through her.

"Hold on," he instructed, his voice low and commanding.

Naya complied, her arms wrapping around his neck as she felt him position himself at her entrance. The anticipation was almost unbearable, and she could feel her body responding to him, craving the connection they shared.

With one swift motion, Jude entered her, and Naya gasped at the sensation. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them in their private paradise.

"God, you feel amazing," Jude groaned, his voice thick with desire as he began to move, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through her.

Naya's head fell back against the wall, her breath coming in short gasps as she surrendered to the rhythm they created together. The thrill of being in such a public place only heightened her pleasure, and she could feel the tension building within her.

"Jude," she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders as she urged him on. "Don't stop."

He responded with a low growl, his pace quickening as he lost himself in her. The sounds of the stadium faded into the background, replaced by the sound of their bodies moving together, the heat between them palpable.

Naya could feel herself teetering on the edge, the pressure building to an almost unbearable point. "I'm so close," she gasped, her body arching towards him as she chased that sweet release.

"Me too," Jude replied, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. "Just a little more."

With one final thrust, Naya felt herself shatter, waves of pleasure crashing over her as she cried out his name. Jude followed closely behind, his body tensing as he found his release, burying his face in her neck as he held her tightly.

They stayed locked together for a moment, both of them breathing heavily, the reality of their surroundings slowly creeping back in. Naya could hear the distant cheers from the stadium, the noise a stark contrast to the intimacy they had just shared.

Jude pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers as a grin spread across his face. "That was... something," he said, his voice still thick with desire.

Naya laughed breathlessly, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration. "You think?" she replied, her heart still racing.

"Definitely," he said, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth.

Naya melted into the kiss, her heart racing as she tasted the remnants of their shared passion. Jude's lips were warm and inviting, and she could feel the lingering heat of their encounter radiating between them. The thrill of what they had just done sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins, and she couldn't help but smile against his mouth.

"Okay, we should probably get back before someone realizes we're missing," she said, her voice slightly breathless as she pulled away, though she didn't want to break the connection between them just yet.

Jude chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You're right, but I'm not ready to let you go just yet." He leaned in again, capturing her lips in another heated kiss, his hands roaming over her waist as if to memorize every curve.

Naya giggled against him, feeling a mix of exhilaration and nervousness. "Jude, we really can't stay here too long. What if someone comes in?"

"Let them," he replied, his voice low and teasing.

She rolled her eyes playfully, but the truth was, that the idea of being caught only added to the thrill. "You're a mess," she said, shaking her head, but she couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at her lips.

"Only for you," he replied, his expression softening as he looked into her eyes. "I love you, Naya."

Her heart swelled at his words, and she felt a warmth spread through her. "I love you more," she admitted, her voice sincere.

With a reluctant sigh, Jude stepped back, giving her a playful nudge. "Alright, let's get back before I change my mind and keep you in here."

Naya laughed, her cheeks still flushed as she adjusted her clothes, feeling the lingering warmth of their encounter. She opened the door cautiously, peeking out into the room to ensure it was clear before stepping out.

"After you, my lady," Jude said with a mock bow, his playful demeanour returning as he gestured for her to lead the way.

Naya couldn't help but giggle as she walked ahead, feeling his presence close behind her. They navigated through the quieter areas of the stadium, the sounds of the crowd growing louder as they approached the main seating area.

As they re-entered the bustling crowd, Naya felt a rush of excitement. The atmosphere was electric, filled with cheers and the sounds of the game. She glanced up at Jude, who was watching her with a playful grin.

"Ready to watch your favourite player?" he asked, his tone teasing.

"Yes," she replied, her heart still racing from their little escapade. "Although I'm not sure if he's my favourite Bellingham right now."

Jude chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they made their way back to their seats. "Good."

Naya rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. The excitement of the game mixed with the thrill of their secret made her feel alive in a way she hadn't expected.

As they settled back into their seats, Naya felt a sense of contentment wash over her. She leaned into Jude, resting her head on his shoulder as the game began. The cheers of the crowd surrounded them, but all she could focus on was the warmth of Jude beside her and the memory of their stolen moment together.

"Just so you know," Jude whispered, leaning down to speak into her ear, "I'm not satisfied, I need more later."

Naya felt her cheeks flush again, but she smiled, excitement bubbling within her. "You can count on it," she replied, her heart racing at the thought of what was to come.

As the game unfolded before them, Naya found herself lost in the moment, the thrill of the match and the warmth of Jude's presence wrapping around her like a cozy blanket.

As Jobe came into possession of the ball, Naya's attention shifted to the field, her heart swelling with pride as she watched Jude's younger brother skillfully manoeuvre the ball past defenders. The crowd erupted in cheers, and she couldn't help but join in, clapping and shouting encouragement.

Striking the ball towards the goal, Jobe's shot was powerful and precise, soaring past the outstretched hands of the goalkeeper and into the back of the net. The stadium erupted into a frenzy of cheers, and Jude tightened his arms around Naya, lifting her slightly off her seat in excitement.

By the end of the match, England's under-21 team had outscored their opponents by three goals to none and secured their place in the advancement of the tournament.

Jude held Naya's hand as they trailed behind his parents, making their way down to meet up with Jobe. As a former member of England's under-21s and a key player in their current senior squad, Naya couldn't help but tease him.

"Looks like your little brother is officially better than you," she teased, a playful glint in her eyes as they approached Jobe, who was surrounded by a group of ecstatic fans and journalists.

Jude feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "How dare you! I was the star of the show back in my day!" he exclaimed, laughter bubbling up from his chest.

Naya chuckled, nudging him playfully. "Oh please, you know it's true. Don't be a hater." She watched as Jobe beamed with pride, accepting congratulations from everyone around him.

"Hey, Naya! Jude!" Jobe called out, spotting them in the crowd. He rushed over, his face flushed with excitement. "Did you see that goal?"

"Of course, we saw it! You were amazing!" Naya exclaimed, her enthusiasm genuine.

Jude ruffled his younger brother's hair affectionately. "You've got it, little bro. Just don't let it get to your head, alright?" he said teasingly.

Jobe laughed, swatting Jude's hand away.

As they chatted, Naya felt a warmth in her heart watching the brothers interact. There was a bond between them that was palpable, filled with love and playful rivalry. It reminded her of her own family, and she felt grateful to be a part of this moment.

After a few pictures and congratulations from family members, they finally made their way out of the stadium, the excitement of the match still buzzing in the air. Naya felt a sense of fulfilment, not just from the game but from the connection she shared with Jude and his family.

As they walked towards the parking lot, Jude slipped his hand into hers, intertwining their fingers. "You were incredible tonight," he said softly, his gaze warm and sincere.

Naya smiled up at him, her heart fluttering. "I just cheered for your brother."

"Yeah, but you made it even more special," he replied, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "I love seeing you with my family. It means a lot to me."

Naya felt a swell of affection for him, her heart racing at the sincerity in his words. "I love being with you and your family. It feels like home."

As they reached the car, Jude opened the door for her, a charming smile on his face. "After all that, how about we grab some dinner?"

"Sounds perfect," Naya replied, sliding into the passenger seat of Jude's car as he walked around to the driver's side and got in.

"Do you have anything in mind or can we decide when we get to my parents' house?" Jude asked as the car engine roared to life.

"I'm not fussed," Naya blushed, as she thought about spending the next few days under the same roof as Jude's family.

She'd spent ample time around his mother back in Madrid, but there was something undeniably different about being in Jude's family home.

Although they'd have a night to themselves before his parents and Jobe returned home, it did nothing to calm her racing mind.

It felt like a milestone in their relationship and it made Naya feel both excited and a little nervous. She glanced over at Jude, who was focused on the road, a soft smile playing on his lips as he hummed along to the music playing in the background.

"Are you okay?" he asked, glancing at her briefly before returning his attention to the road.

Naya nodded, her heart fluttering at the concern in his voice. "Yeah, just thinking about how nice it is to be here with you and your family. It feels... special."

Jude's smile widened, and he reached over to squeeze her hand. "It is special. I want you to feel at home with us. You're a part of my life."

Her cheeks flushed at his words, and she felt a warmth spread through her. "You're making me blush," she said, trying to hide her smile.

"I like it when you blush," he replied, his tone playful.

"How long is the drive from here to your parents' house?" Naya asked.

"Around two hours, maybe less if there's no traffic," Jude explained ready to embark on a journey from London to the West Midlands.

Naya nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. The thought of spending the next couple of days with Jude and his family filled her with warmth. She loved how close-knit they were, and how welcoming they had always been to her.

As they drove, the city lights began to fade, replaced by the soft glow of street lamps and the occasional flicker of headlights from passing cars. Naya gazed out the window, watching the scenery change from urban to suburban, and then to the more rural landscapes as they left the city behind.

"I have to take you to Atlanta to meet my family one day," Naya smiled as she thought about her family back home in the States.

Jude glanced over at her, his expression curious. "Atlanta, huh? I'd love to see where you grew up. What's it like?"

Naya's eyes lit up as she began to describe her hometown. "It's vibrant and full of life. There's always something happening, whether it's music festivals, food markets, or just people hanging out in the parks. The Southern hospitality is real, too. Everyone is so friendly."

Jude chuckled, "Sounds like my kind of place."

Naya smiled, feeling a sense of pride as they spoke about her home.

"In the meantime, you should invite them over to Madrid," Jude suggested, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "I'd love to meet your family, and it would be great to show them around the city."

Naya felt her heart flutter at the thought. "That would be amazing! I know they'd love to visit. My mom has always wanted to see Spain, and my dad would be all about the food and culture."

"Then do it," Jude said, his tone playful yet sincere. "Unless you're still trying to hide me," he smirked thinking back to earlier on their relationship after her upset at Wimbledon when they stayed held up in her hotel room.

"You're making it sound really bad," Naya laughed shaking her head. "You were only there for the night and I wanted you to myself," she pouted playfully.

As they continued their drive, the conversation flowed easily between them, filled with laughter and playful banter. Naya felt a sense of comfort and familiarity with Jude that made her heart swell.

Before long, they were pulling into Jude's family home, a cozy house nestled in a quiet neighbourhood.

"We're here," Jude said, parking the car in the driveway. He turned to Naya, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Welcome to my family's home."

Naya stepped out of the car, taking in the charming exterior of the house. It was a two-story building with a well-kept garden.

As cold as the evening air was, Naya took her time admiring the details of the house, from the warm glow of the outdoor lights to the inviting front porch adorned with potted plants. It felt like a scene from a movie, and she couldn't help but smile at the thought of spending time here with Jude and his family.

"Are you ready?" Jude asked, grabbing their bags from the trunk of his car.

"Yes, I'm freezing," Naya said with a playful shiver, wrapping her arms around herself as she stepped closer to Jude.

He chuckled, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they walked toward the front door. "Don't worry, I'll keep you warm," he said, his voice low and teasing.

Naya felt her heart flutter at his words, and she leaned into him, enjoying the warmth of his body against the chill of the evening air. As they reached the door, Jude dipped his hand into the pocket of his coat to retrieve his key and open the door, allowing Naya into the empty house first.

The moment Naya stepped inside, she was enveloped by the warmth of the home. The inviting scent of baked goods wafted through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of wood and fresh linen. It felt cozy and lived-in, a stark contrast to the chilly night outside.

"Welcome," Jude said, closing the door behind them and leaning against it with a satisfied grin. "Madrid is home, this is home home."

Naya turned to face him, her heart swelling with affection. "It's beautiful," she said, taking in the decor—family photos lining the walls of the house's entryway.

"I have to give my mum all the credit even though she's barely here," Jude said, a hint of pride in his voice. "She has a knack for making everything feel warm and inviting. It's her touch that makes this place feel like home."

Naya smiled, feeling a sense of comfort wash over her as she stepped further inside. The living room was spacious, with a large couch and a coffee table adorned with magazines and a few family photos. A fireplace stood against one wall, and she could imagine how cozy it must be during the colder months.

"Let me show you around," Jude offered, taking her hand and leading her through the house.

As they walked through the living room, Naya noticed a large window that overlooked the backyard, where fairy lights twinkled in the trees, creating a magical atmosphere. "It's beautiful out there," she remarked, pointing toward the window.

After a quick tour of the kitchen and dining area, Jude led her upstairs to show her his bedroom where she would be staying.

The moment Naya stepped into Jude's room, she felt a rush of warmth and familiarity. The space was a reflection of him—comfortable yet stylish, with a hint of organized chaos. Sports memorabilia adorned the walls, from framed jerseys to action shots of Jude in various matches. A large bed dominated the room, covered in a navy blue comforter that matched the colour scheme of the room.

"Welcome to my sanctuary," Jude said with a playful grin, gesturing around the room. "It's not much, but it's home."

Naya chuckled, taking in the details. "I love it. It feels... you," she replied, moving further inside. She noticed a few trophies on a shelf, each one a testament to Jude's hard work and talent. "You've accomplished a lot."

"Just a few things," he said modestly, rubbing the back of his neck. "But enough about me. What do you think of the place?"

"It's cozy," she said, her heart swelling with affection. "I can see why you love it here."

Jude stepped closer, his expression softening. "I'm glad you're here. It feels different with you around."

Naya smiled, feeling a flutter in her chest. "I'm happy to be here with you."

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You know, my parents can't wait to be here with you, my mum wanted to come home tonight, but they're travelling back here with Jobe tomorrow morning instead."

Naya felt a rush of warmth at Jude's words, her heart swelling with affection as Jude let out a yawn, stretching his arms above his head.

"Long day?" she asked, a teasing smile on her lips as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Just a bit," he replied, chuckling as his hands came to rest on her ass.

Naya felt a thrill at his touch, the warmth of his body against hers sending a rush of excitement through her. "We should get ready for bed and order dinner," she smiled softly, her hand finding its way beneath Jude's sweater.

Jude's breath hitched as Naya's fingers grazed against his skin, sending a jolt of electricity through him. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss that deepened as their bodies pressed closer together. The warmth of the moment enveloped them, and for a brief second, the world outside faded away.

"Dinner and a shower sounds perfect," he murmured against her lips, his voice low and husky. "But I might not be able to keep my hands to myself."

Naya laughed softly, her cheeks flushing at his words. "I wouldn't want it any other way," she replied, her heart racing with anticipation.

Jude's eyes sparkled with mischief as he pulled back slightly, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Well then, let's make this quick," he said, his tone teasing. "I don't want to keep you waiting for dinner."

Naya rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face betrayed her amusement. "You're so annoying," she said, shaking her head as she stepped back to give him some space. "You're lucky I love you."

"Good to know," he replied, his voice low and sultry as he watched her with an intensity that made her heart race.

They made their way to the bathroom, the anticipation hanging in the air like a charged current. The bathroom was spacious, with a large shower stall and a deep soaking tub. Naya felt a thrill of excitement as she turned on the water, steam beginning to fill the room.

"Do you want to go first?" Jude asked, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her with a smirk.

Naya bit her lip, feeling a rush of boldness Naya began to undress herself under Jude's watchful eyes, she wanted him to join her but she was more than willing to play his game with him.

Jude's eyes widened slightly as Naya began to peel off her clothes, revealing her smooth skin beneath the warm glow of the bathroom lights. The air was thick with anticipation, and he felt a rush of heat flood his body at the sight of her confidence.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he asked, his voice low and teasing, but there was an unmistakable edge of desire in his tone.

Naya smirked, her heart racing as she stepped out of her leggings and tossed them aside. "No, I'm getting ready to go in the shower," she replied innocently, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Jude swallowed hard, his gaze locked on her as she stood there, unabashedly confident. "Well, if you're getting ready for the shower, I guess I should join you then," he said, his voice thick with desire as he stepped closer.

Naya felt a thrill run through her at his words. "I thought you'd never ask," she teased, her heart racing as she turned to step into the shower, the warm water cascading down her body.

Jude followed her in, the steam enveloping them both as he closed the door behind him. The warmth of the water felt heavenly against their skin, and Naya couldn't help but smile as she turned to face him, droplets glistening on her body.

Acting as if Jude wasn't there, Naya stepped beneath the shower spray, running her fingers through her hair and letting out a soft moan.

Jude watched, entranced, as Naya let the warm water cascade over her, droplets glistening on her skin. The sight of her, so carefree and beautiful, made his heart race. He stepped closer, the steam wrapping around them like a warm embrace.

"God, you're stunning," he breathed, his voice thick with desire as he took in the way the water highlighted her curves.

Naya turned to him, a playful smile on her lips. "You're not too bad yourself," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She reached for the shampoo, lathering it into her hair, and Jude couldn't help but admire the way she moved, the water glistening on her body.

"Need any help with that?" he asked, stepping closer, his voice low and teasing.

"Maybe," she said coyly, tilting her head back to rinse the shampoo from her hair. "But I think I can manage."

Jude chuckled, the sound deep and warm. "I don't know about that. I think you could use a little assistance," he said, his eyes darkening with lust as he stepped behind her.

Naya felt a shiver run down her spine as Jude's hands found her waist, his fingers brushing against her skin. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Just helping you wash your hair," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. He took the shampoo from her hand and poured a small amount into his palms before working it into her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp gently.

Naya closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensations as Jude's hands worked through her hair. "That feels amazing," she sighed, leaning back against him, feeling the warmth of his body against hers.

"Good," he replied, his voice low and sultry. "I want you to feel good."

As he continued to wash her hair, Naya felt herself melting into his touch. The warmth of the water mixed with the heat radiating from Jude's body created an intoxicating atmosphere that made her heart race.

"Jude," she breathed, turning her head slightly to catch his gaze. The intensity in his eyes made her pulse quicken.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered as his hands reached to cup her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers.

Naya gasped at the sudden rush of pleasure that coursed through her body at Jude's touch. The warmth of the water cascaded over them, mingling with the heat radiating from Jude's body, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that made her heart race.

"I want you," she breathed, her voice thick with desire as she leaned back against him, feeling the hardness of his body pressing against her.

Jude's breath hitched at her words, and he turned her around to face him, their bodies inches apart. The steam from the shower enveloped them, creating a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. "You have no idea how much I want you right now," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

Naya felt a rush of excitement at his admission, her heart racing as she looked up into his eyes. "Then show me," she challenged her voice barely above a whisper.

With a smirk, Jude leaned in, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. The warmth of the water cascading over their bodies only heightened the intensity of the moment. Naya melted into the kiss, her hands finding their way to Jude's hair as she pulled him closer.

Jude's hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve as he pressed her against the cool tiles of the shower. The contrast of the cold surface against the warmth of their bodies sent shivers down Naya's spine, and she gasped against his mouth.

"I want you in my bedroom," Jude breathed, his lips trailing down her neck as he nipped at her skin, igniting a fire within her. Naya arched her back, pressing herself against him, craving more of his touch.

"Then let's make it happen," Naya whispered, her voice thick with desire as she pulled back slightly to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes made her heart race, and she could feel the heat radiating between them.

Jude's lips curled into a smirk, and he stepped back, taking her hand and leading her out of the shower. The cool air hit her skin, sending a shiver down her spine, but Jude's warmth enveloped her as he wrapped a towel around her shoulders.

Pulling Naya from the bathroom, Jude led her back into his room closing the door behind them.

The moment the door clicked shut, the atmosphere shifted, charged with anticipation. Naya felt her heart race as she stood in the middle of Jude's room, the steam from the shower still clinging to her skin, making her feel alive and exhilarated.

Jude stepped closer, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of her, still glistening from the shower. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you," he murmured, his voice low and filled with longing.

"Get onto my bed," he commanded softly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Naya felt a thrill run through her at his words, a mix of excitement and anticipation flooding her senses.

She moved toward the bed, her heart racing as she climbed onto the soft comforter. The warmth of the blankets contrasted with the cool air of the room, and she felt a rush of exhilaration as she settled back against the pillows, watching Jude with eager eyes.

He stepped closer, his gaze intense as he took in the sight of her. "Sit up on your knees," he said, his voice thick with desire. Naya felt her cheeks flush at his instruction.

She complied, shifting onto her knees and looking up at him with a mix of anticipation and excitement. The way Jude's eyes darkened with desire made her pulse quicken, and she could feel the heat radiating between them.

"Good girl," he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips as he stepped closer. The tension in the air was palpable, and Naya felt a thrill run through her as she watched him approach.

Jude reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek before trailing down her neck, sending shivers down her spine. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "I can't get enough of you."

Naya felt her heart swell at his words, a rush of warmth flooding her cheeks. "I want you," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, his hands finding her waist as he pulled her against him. "Tell me you're mine," he urged, his voice thick with desire.

"I'm yours," Naya breathed, her heart racing as she looked up into his eyes. The intensity of the moment made her pulse quicken, and she could feel the heat radiating between them.

"Good," Jude replied, his lips curling into a smirk. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a heated kiss that sent sparks flying through her body.

Climbing onto his bed to join her, Jude took the night alone to show Naya exactly why it was him that she belonged.

Elsewhere Anais sat alone with her thoughts, news travelled fast. Although Jude's visit home was quiet and one he planned to spend laying low, it was still news amongst his circle back home.

She wanted answers from Jude, it was owed to her at the very least. Although she had been trying to remain level-headed about the situation, she wasn't able to.

It was evident that Naya was a driving force behind his change of heart and the reason why she'd been cut off and more than anything she wanted Naya to understand that regardless of what now was, she refused to bow out of Jude's life until she was good and ready to.

You can find chapter 44 and all other 43 chapters of All That Glitters via the link above.