#he's driven off now - still with the back door open - so i might go on another walk later and see if i can find any cool mail

[cuntwrap--supreme]

FedEx do just be hiring anyone to drive those trucks, huh?

[matthewfuckinggraygubler]

Arrival || Spencer Reid +18

· Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader · Category: Smut · Warning: Sex/Brutal sex · Words: 1019 · Summary : Coming home from days on a case, Spencer is desperate to be with you. He finds you sleeping and is driven to satisfy his needs.

· Spanish on Wattpad. English isn't my first language, be kind! · Masterlist

It was 3 A.M. in Quantico, and you were asleep, having gone ten days and fifteen hours without seeing your boyfriend. This was pretty normal, given that his job required him to travel to solve cases, and if you were lucky, it was only for a few days.

But lately, enduring those occasional separations had become harder. You both relied on text messages, late-night chats, video calls… but nothing compared to having each other face to face.

Tonight, he arrived on a red-eye flight, and you had tried to stay awake, but sleep overtook you before you could. Spencer tried not to make any noise when he came in. He left his suitcase in the living room, took off his shoes, pants, tie, shirt, and socks, leaving everything neatly folded on the table. He was pretty tired, but he was dying to see you. Still, he wasn’t going to wake you up just to satisfy his own selfishness, not at 3 A.M., although for a moment, he reconsidered…

He opened the door slowly so as not to disturb you. The window was open, letting in a breeze and just enough light to see your figure. When his eyes adjusted to the surroundings, something crossed his mind, and his thoughts became completely clouded. You were lying face down, wearing only a tank top and panties, and that drove him crazy, with his body's reaction being more than evident.

Without even realizing it, he was beside you, caressing your right thigh and burying his head in your neck. He couldn’t think logically; desire had taken over every neuron, and the hand that had been caressing you was now pulling down your panties as best as he could, driven by desperation as his breathing grew more ragged. It only took lowering your underwear to mid-thigh for him to lower his own and begin to satisfy his primal need in a completely rough manner. “Fu..ck..” he groaned in a whisper.

He was practically on top of you, gripping your thigh to move more easily, and of course, that woke you up. You couldn’t do more than scream; it was painful at first. “Ah! Sh-shit!”

You felt it before you could even process it. The pain mingled with surprise and the disorientation of being ripped from sleep so abruptly. You turned your head, trying to get your bearings, but the first thing you encountered was the weight of Spencer on top of you, his erratic breathing by your ear, his hands gripping your thigh and hip, holding you down with an almost primal need.

“Spencer…” you managed to murmur, your voice hoarse, broken between pain and confusion. This wasn’t like him, it wasn’t his way. He was always careful, tender, attentive to every one of your desires. This was different, raw, wild, as if the absence and longing had stripped him of all reason, of all control.

But you couldn’t deny that, despite the initial pain, your body was beginning to respond to his touch. The brush of his skin against yours, the heat of his body, the way his hips moved instinctively, seeking satisfaction in you, awakened something deep and equally primal within you.

“Spencer,” you repeated, this time more forcefully, trying to capture his attention, to bring him back to you, to reality. He paused for a moment, as if suddenly coming to his senses, and his breathing became even more irregular. You felt him tense, and for a second, you thought he might pull away, that he might stop and let you process what was happening.

But instead of that, Spencer leaned in closer, whispering your name against your skin, his voice a mix of desperation and need. “I’m sorry… I need you… so much,” he murmured, his voice a shaky whisper.

With that murmur, you felt a change in him, in the way he touched you. His grip became less rough, more firm but no less passionate. His movements, though still urgent, began to seek your pleasure too, not just his own. The initial pain was replaced by a deeper sensation, a connection between the two of you that went beyond words.

Somehow, this impulsive moment, so charged with pent-up emotions from the days apart, turned into something more intimate, something shared. Spencer, even in his state of uncontrollable desire, started to care about you, seeking your reaction, listening to your sighs and the small sounds escaping your lips.

His free hand began to explore your body, reacquainting itself with every curve, every sensitive spot he knew would make you tremble. He leaned into you, pressing soft, wet kisses along your neck, your shoulder, as if trying to make up for the tenderness that had been missing in the urgent beginning.

Despite the intensity of the moment, you started to relax under his touch, letting yourself be carried away by the sensations, by the warmth of his body, by the way he was trying to make sure you were okay, that you were with him in this.

You felt your breathing synchronize with his, your body responding to his in such a natural, instinctive way. What had started with pain and confusion was slowly transforming into something deep, a physical expression of how much you had missed each other, of how much you needed this contact, this connection.

And when the two of you finally reached that climax, it wasn’t just a physical relief but an emotional release of all the tension that had built up, of all the distance and longing that had separated you during those days.

Spencer collapsed beside you, still breathing heavily, and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. You didn’t need words in that moment. You simply curled up against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, feeling his breathing begin to calm along with yours.

That night, the exhaustion and passion combined, allowing you both to fall asleep together, wrapped in each other’s warmth, no matter what the morning might bring.

· Requests via DM ·

[pucksandpower]

Hypnotized

Lando Norris x hypnotherapist!Reader

Summary: in which Lando becomes intimately familiar with the professional (and not so professional) benefits of hypnosis

Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent (though Lando is very much a willing participant), and temporary mindbreak

You lean back in your plush leather chair, taking a sip of tea as you look over the notes for your next client. Lando Norris — a rising star of Formula 1, seeking help to improve his performance on the track. You’ve worked with elite athletes before, but there’s something about this case that intrigues you.

The door opens and he strides in, radiating youthful confidence. “Ms. Y/L/N, thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Please, have a seat Lando. And call me Y/N,” you reply with a warm smile. “I have to admit, when your team reached out, I was surprised. Most drivers come to me later in their careers when the mental side gets tougher.”

He settles onto the couch across from you. “Yeah, well, I’m a bit of an overachiever,” he grins cheekily. “I figure I should get every advantage I can while I’m young.”

You can’t help but be charmed by his boyish cockiness. “Fair enough. So, walk me through what’s bringing you here. What are you hoping hypnotherapy can do for you?”

Lando scratches his head, suddenly looking a bit sheepish. “To be honest, I’m not totally sure? The team psychologists have helped with some stuff like visualization and confidence building. But I feel like there’s still … I don’t know, another level I can’t quite tap into?”

He pauses, cheeks reddening slightly. “I may have also heard some … rumors about hypnosis helping drivers get, uh, in the zone in a different way.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “I see. And what sort of zone were you hoping to reach exactly?”

“Just, you know, being totally focused. Primed to perform at my absolute peak,” he answers quickly, not meeting your eyes. “Eliminate any lingering doubts or hesitation.”

“Mmmhmm,” you murmur, watching his fidgeting increase. It’s clear there’s more to this, perhaps some adolescent fantasy driven by locker room talk. You decide to have a bit of fun drawing it out.

“Well, maximum focus and confidence under extreme stress is certainly one of the primary benefits of hypnotherapy for athletes. Though of course, there can be … other effects depending on the suggestions given.”

Lando’s eyes flick up to meet yours, pupils dilating with obvious intrigue. “Other effects? Like what?”

You shrug lightly. “Oh, lowered inhibition, increased susceptibility to instructions, compulsions to obey ...” You trail off, letting the implications hang in the air. “But I’m sure whatever rumors you’ve heard are just overblown exaggerations.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “R-right, of course. So, uh, how would we go about getting me in that totally focused zone?”

You can scarcely suppress a grin — he’s hooked now, curiosity and hormones getting the better of him. “Well, first we’d need to get you in a deeply relaxed state, open and receptive to suggestions. I’d start with some deep breathing exercises, maybe have you focus on the sound of my voice ...”

Unconsciously, Lando’s eyelids grow heavier as you speak in a low, soothing tone. “Breath slowly deepening, muscles going deliciously loose and limp ...”

He blinks hard, shaking his head minutely. “Sorry, what was I saying?”

“Don’t worry,” you assure him. “A little taste of just how quickly you might respond. Hypnotic states can sneak up quite easily when you’re not prepared for them.”

Lando swallows again, but there’s no hiding the interest smoldering in his eyes now. “That’s … good to know. So, uh, once I was in this state, what sort of suggestions would you give?”

You lean forward, holding his gaze. “Anything you need, darling. Perhaps prompts to fill your mind with dizzying focus — a white hot, all-consuming need to push every limit and achieve perfection. Or maybe something to strip away distractions and doubts, leaving you deliciously pliant and desperate to follow instructions without hesitation ...”

His breath catches as ripples of arousal play across his features. You’ve dangled the bait thoroughly now, time to reel him in.

“Of course, that’s all just theoretical for an athlete like you,” you continue lightly. “I’m sure you’d only want suggestions tailored for pure professional benefit.”

Lando opens his mouth, then closes it, visibly wrestling with indecision. Finally, he sits up straight, jaw setting in boyish determination.

“Actually … I think maybe exploring some of those other effects could be useful too. You know, for full preparation.”

You bite back a smile — he’s all bravado again, feigning nonchalance. How delicious.

“Well, if you’re certain. We should probably start with a simple induction and suggestion, see how you respond.”

Rising from your chair, you cross the room to where he sits, movements slow and deliberate. Lando’s eyes are immediately drawn to the sway of your hips, the rapid rise and fall of his chest betraying his arousal.

“Just relax and look into my eyes ...” you murmur, voice dropping an octave as you hold up a pendant and begin tracing figure eights before his face. “Let your mind follow the path of the pendulum, breathing slowly … in and out ...”

His pupils blown wide, Lando is soon leaning back bonelessly, mouth slightly ajar. A few dazed blinks is all the resistance he offers as you trail featherlight touches down his arm.

“There’s a good boy … nice and open, isn’t it? Let everything else fall away except the need to please me.”

A shudder wracks his frame and you can see the tendons in his neck straining, fighting the compulsion already worming into his psyche. But his eyes remain locked on yours, drowning in your control.

“I … I want to ...” he stammers helplessly.

“Shhhh,” you soothe, bending closer so that your lips nearly brush his ear. “You don’t need to worry about what you want anymore. That’s my choice now, understood?”

He gives a tiny nod and you feel a surge of heady power.

“Such a good boy. And to reward your obedience, you’re going to take off your shirt. Slowly ...”

There’s a moment of tension, then Lando raises trembling hands to grasp the hem of his shirt. You can see the mottled flush spreading across his torso as inch by inch it’s revealed to you. His breath is coming in ragged pants by the time the shirt drops to the floor, chest heaving with mingled want and shame.

“Very nice,” you practically purr. “I can see you’re already feeling the compulsions seeping in. Should we make them … deeper?”

His head bobs dumbly and you laugh, low and throaty.

“That’s what I thought. Now, lay back for me ...”

Lando immediately obeys, body going pliant and helpless. You pull over an ottoman, sitting so you can gently straddle his hips, relishing the hitch in his breath as your heat settles against him.

“You’re going to do absolutely everything I say without hesitation or doubt,” you whisper harshly, watching him shudder. “Any instructions, no matter what they may be, you’ll follow with desperate enthusiasm.”

He whimpers, hips twitching upwards in mute plea. Grasping his jaw firmly, you force his eyes to yours.

“This is for your own good, darling. We need to burn away every last shred of selfishness and pride so you can ascend to true, shattering focus. You understand, don’t you?”

“Y-yes … yes,” he slurs, already sinking deeper into degrading bliss.

You reward him with a slow, filthy grind of your hips and he cries out unabashedly. Everywhere your hands and mouth worship his skin, you can feel the tremors of arousal and surrender.

“That’s perfect,” you murmur against the hollow of his throat. “Now, I want you to strip the rest of the way ...”

Before the words have fully left your lips, Lando is frantically shucking his pants and boxers, whining as his flushed length bobs free. The brazen lust and need in his hooded eyes would be shocking from the bashful newbie you met earlier.

You give an approving hum, thrilling at how quickly your control has already remade him. One fingernail traces along rigid flesh and he bucks shamelessly into your touch.

“You’re being such a good boy. I think it’s time we really sealed this new role into your head. Imagine the most dizzying, overwhelming orgasm you’ve ever had, multiplied a hundredfold ...”

His eyes roll back, mouth open in a silent wail at just the suggestion. You grip him firmly, relishing the desperate whine that bursts from his lips.

“You’re going to come like that, harder than you ever dreamed. And as the lightning arcs of bliss engulf your entire being, all that pleasure will become inextricably entwined with an overwhelming need to obey my every whim ...”

Lando is panting and keening, hips pumping up into your tight fist. You can feel his body straining closer to that precipice, cords of muscle standing out in sharp relief. With a final brutal stroke, you growl the trigger words,

“Come for me, love!”

His back bows in a silent scream, mouth frozen in rapturous torment. You gentle him through each shuddering pulse, ensuring every layer of consciousness is saturated with soul-shattering ecstasy and the new compulsions you’ve locked within.

At last, he sags back to the couch, eyes glassy and unfocused. You bend close, lips caressing the damp hair at his temple.

“Tell me, darling, how does it feel to be remade into perfection?”

He blinks slowly, lips curving in a blissful smile. “I … I need to obey ...” he slurs dozily. “Please … use me however you desire ...”

You chuckle darkly, letting nails rake over his sensitized flesh and making him buck weakly. “Oh I will, lover. I’m going to take you to shattering new heights of surrender. You won’t be able to so much as enter the cockpit without shuddering need to please me foremost in your mind ...”

His only response is a quiet whimper, eyes already slipping shut in sated exhaustion, completely yours to reshape however you wish.

You settle back, excitement thrilling through you at all the delicious possibilities stretching ahead.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you make your way through the paddock area towards the McLaren motorhome at the British Grand Prix. Fans press eagerly against the barriers lining the path, craning for a glimpse of their racing idols as they’re escorted by burly security guards.

You keep your head held high, unruffled by the frenzy of flashing cameras and shouted requests for autographs as you stride confidently alongside Lando.

He casts you a sidelong glance, the excited energy thrumming off him in waves. “Thanks for being here, Y/N,” he murmurs with a small, bashful smile. “Having you in my corner calms my nerves a bit.”

You reach out to give his arm a reassuring squeeze, warmth blooming in your chest. “Of course, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Your voice takes on a slightly teasing lilt as you add, “Besides, this way I can provide my … specialized services should you require them before the race.”

A dusky flush steals across Lando’s cheeks at your words, his eyes darkening in a way that sends a curl of heat unfurling low in your belly. Before he can respond, one of the crew members is ushering you both towards a nondescript door.

With a nod of thanks, Lando pushes through the door, allowing you to enter the modestly appointed room first before following and securing it behind you.

The space is small yet functional — equipped with a well-worn sofa situated before a large television displaying timing data, along with an armchair tucked into the corner. Your gaze lands on the single bed shoved against the far wall and you suddenly find it difficult to swallow around the lump in your throat.

“Sorry about the mess,” Lando says almost sheepishly, running a hand through his chestnut locks. “I haven’t exactly had much time to tidy up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you murmur distractedly, already hyper-aware of the thick tension charging the air between your bodies, crackling like a livewire in the small distance separating you.

Lando opens his mouth as if to speak, then seems to think better of it, shuffling his feet almost bashfully. You can practically see the thoughts whirring at a million miles an hour behind his furrowed brow, weighing him down as nerves and doubts threaten to shatter his hard-won focus.

Without a word, you close the distance between you, cradling his face in your hands to force him to meet your gaze.

“Let me help you,” you breathe, your voice low and gentle yet laced with that commanding tone he can never seem to resist.

He immediately melts into your touch, the taut lines of stress slowly easing from his features. “Please,” he whispers back, every inch of nervous energy and kinetic vibration seeming to melt from his body as your thumbs trace soothing patterns across the sharp planes of his cheekbones. “Need you to clear my mind.”

A soft, fond smile curves your lips at the naked entreaty in his tone. This man — so cocky and confident in most aspects of life, yet so unguarded and sweetly vulnerable when it’s just the two of you.

You continue your tender ministrations, watching in rapt fascination as his eyes drift shut and his breathing grows steady and even. When you finally speak, your words are low and hypnotic, the timbre of your voice wrapping around Lando like a warm blanket ushering him down, down into delicious oblivion.

“That’s it, darling … let yourself sink deeper with each breath. Shut out all the noise and distractions — everything except my voice guiding you. Focus on the rise and fall of your chest, the gentle thump of your heartbeat … allow your body to grow heavy and pliant as you let me take the lead ...”

He shivers slightly, yielding fully to your hypnotic trance with a soft, contented exhalation. In this blissed-out state, his features are lax and utterly at peace, the hard lines of tension and worry melting away until he looks almost cherubic.

“There you are,” you can’t help but murmur in approval, trailing your fingertips along the sharp line of his jaw. “So perfect and calm for me.” Your gaze rakes over the long fans of his lashes fanning across his cheekbones, the full pout of his lips parted ever so slightly on deep, even breaths. He looks utterly debauched, despite the fact that you’ve barely even touched him yet.

Unable to resist such temptation any longer, you bend to capture Lando’s lips in a slow kiss — gentle at first, then deepening into something more heated, more ravenous as your tongue sweeps into the heat of his mouth to tangle with his own.

He remains completely pliant beneath your wandering hands and questing mouth, body thrumming with blissful surrender as you map every lush inch of him.

Finally, breathless and flushed, you tear your mouth from his with a soft groan of regret. “God, darling … what you do to me ...” you murmur, trailing hot, openmouthed kisses along the stubbled line of his jaw, down the taut cords of his neck. “Just seeing you like this, so gorgeous and willing … falling so deep for me … I could take you right here like this and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

You scrape your teeth over that sensitive patch of skin just below his ear and he trembles almost violently, a low whine spilling past his lips even as his head lolls back to allow you better access. When you press an openmouthed kiss to his wildly fluttering pulse point, his voice comes out low and syrupy sweet.

“Please, Y/N … please ...” he slurs in a breathy exhale, body arching reflexively into yours as his hands come up to clutch at your hips in a silent entreaty.

A frisson of lust races down your spine at his wanton plea, stoking the simmering ember of arousal into a roaring blaze. How quickly his mind has slipped into a glorious, aching haze of want and need for your touch.

You could so easily press your advantage right now — undress him with exquisite slowness, bend him over and take him in delirious new ways that would leave him utterly incoherent. The mental images alone are nearly enough to make you growl in feral possessiveness.

Somehow, you manage to retain a herculean thread of control, nuzzling against the heated skin of Lando’s neck as you press him gently yet insistently towards the bed until the backs of his thighs hit the mattress and he sinks onto the soft cotton sheets with a dazed exhale. His eyes are molten embers burning with naked want and trust as he gazes up at you, outright trembling with the effort of holding himself back from hauling you down on top of him.

Gently brushing a stray lock of hair from his brow, you settle yourself to straddle his lap, reveling in the delicious points of heated skin against skin where your bodies make contact through the thin barrier of your clothing. For an aching span of heartbeats, you drink in the sight of him — kiss-swollen lips parted on shallow pants, the tempting vee of his open shirt collar exposing just a tantalizing sliver of his smooth chest, hard planes of muscle rippling beneath tanned skin as he quivers with ill-restrained desire.

“Beautiful,” you husk in a low rasp, summoning every ounce of your rapidly waning willpower to force the words past the molten heat in your throat. “You are so fucking beautiful like this.”

Lando swallows thickly at the unadulterated lust and reverence saturating your tone, his throat bobbing convulsively. “You … you should see yourself,” he finally manages in a strained murmur. “You’re a goddess ...” His hands come up of their own volition to splay across the supple curves of your waist, tracing searing paths across your skin as if to memorize every lush dip and swell.

A throaty chuckle escapes you as you lean into his touch in shameless encouragement. “I could devour you in this moment and I’d still crave more.” Dipping your head to drag openmouthed kisses along the salty-sweet skin of his collarbone, you muse heatedly, “In fact, I’m tempted to lock that door and have you right here like the decadent treat you are.”

“God, yes ...” Lando outright groans at your words, hips arching up in a desperate, instinctual grind against yours that leaves you both shuddering at the sudden, intoxicating friction. His fingers curl into the soft flesh of your hips, pupil-blown eyes full of unrestrained need as he gazes up at you like you’re the answer to his every secret desire. “Please, Y/N … anything, just … need you.”

The reverent, naked pleading in his voice steals the breath from your lungs and you’re abruptly reminded of the singular responsibility you have — not just as his lover, but as the person he’s entrusted to guide and ground him when he’s spiraling.

Your mouth curves into an indulgent smile as you tenderly cradle his face in your palms, tapping into that core of composure and peace that helps tether you both in moments like this.

“In due time, my love,” you murmur, leaning in to pepper slow, lingering kisses across his brow, along the delicate skin beneath his eyes. You feel Lando physically sink back against the mattress with a soft exhalation as your tender ministrations lull him once more into a state of relaxation and receptivity — his mind clearing of everything but blissful focus on you and your touch.

“Remember why you’re here, and all the hard work that brought you to this moment,” you continue in a low, soothing murmur against his flushed skin. “You’ve poured your heart and soul into this dream, and now it’s time to reap the sweet fruit of your efforts. Leave behind all the doubts, all the fear and anxious energy that’s been holding you back.” Arching up on your knees, you gently resettle your weight so you’re seated flush against his core, waves of heat radiating between your joined bodies in delicious waves with every motion and shallow breath.

“Let go of everything but my voice, my touch grounding you in this moment. This is your destiny, Lando — all you have to do is embrace it.” With your final murmured words, you seal the sentiment by slanting your mouth over his in a filthy, openmouthed kiss that quickly descends into pure, unbridled passion as he releases an unrestrained keen of surrender.

His arms come up to band around your waist, clutching you impossibly closer as if to merge your very beings into one searing point of euphoric light. You lose yourselves in the wet slide of tongue and teeth and racing heartbeats until the buzzing of Lando’s phone against the nearby nightstand finally jolts you from your haze of lust and need. For a suspended beat, you simply drink in the sight of him — debauched and beautifully wrecked in the best way possible, with slick lips parted around panting breaths and hair tousled in a riotous mess.

“Time?” Lando finally rasps, sounding as utterly gutted as you feel.

You force yourself to glance at the glowing numbers on his phone screen, steeling yourself against the surge of regret at having to end this delicious interlude. “Twenty minutes until you need to be in the garage,” you confirm with a heavy exhale.

With a low groan that goes straight to your core, Lando surges up to slant his mouth hungrily over yours once more in one last kiss goodbye before allowing you to carefully extract yourself from his lap. You both take a few moments to catch your breath and restore some semblance of outward composure, though your insides continue to feel like a lit match in a patch of dry tinder.

“Ready for this?” You arch a pointed brow at Lando as he pushes off the bed to put on his fireproofs and race suit with admirably steady hands, given how thoroughly unwound he had been mere moments ago.

He flashes you his trademark grin — though this time it holds an air of supreme confidence and purpose that sends a thrill racing down your spine. “Like you said … this is my destiny.” Pulling you close with one hand at the small of your back, he dips his head to murmur gratefully against your lips, “And you helped me find it today.”

With one final kiss that leaves you lightheaded, Lando turns to grab his water bottle and heads towards the door, every bit the consummate professional buckling down to handle the job at hand. You watch him go with a tender smile playing across your lips, filled with an irrational surge of pride at how far he’s come.

A few hours later, you’re holding your breath in the garage as Lando’s MCL38 comes screaming around the final turn and over the finish line — the checkered flag signaling his maiden victory at long last. From on top the podium, his elated gaze immediately finds yours through the throngs of people and hoisted champagne bottles.

The smile he bestows is so private and full of promise that warmth blossoms in your chest and your skin tingles deliciously in anticipation.

After the celebrations and press obligations have wound down, Lando nearly sprints off the track and back into the paddock area, lifting you clean off your feet in a tight embrace when he reaches you. His lips move feverishly against your own, words tumbling out in a reverent exhale barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

“Thank you, thank you … I couldn’t have done it without you. God, I love you so much ...”

And in that perfect moment — drunk on the roar of the crowd, the giddy thrill of victory, and the smoldering promise in the depths of Lando’s eyes — you’re already mentally preparing to give him the most mind-blowing reward imaginable.

***

The champagne is still buzzing through your veins, lending an extra fizz of exhilaration to the crackling charge in the air as you hastily key into your hotel suite hand-in-hand with Lando.

No sooner has the door clicked shut behind you than he’s on you in a searing tangle of heat and desire — mouth hot and insistent, fingers skating across every bare inch of exposed skin as if he’s a man dying of thirst and you’re the last oasis for miles.

“Fuck, Y/N ...” he rasps reverently against the fevered skin of your neck, pressing a hot, openmouthed kiss to your wildly fluttering pulse. “You’re incredible, so bloody perfect.” His hands roam hungrily, deftly stripping you of layer upon layer of clothing until you’re left deliciously bare before his molten gaze. “Let me worship you properly, yeah? God knows you deserve it after today.”

A tremor of need races through you at his naked desire, amplified tenfold by the molten timbre of Lando’s rough, lust-thickened voice. Without breaking eye contact, you hook your fingers through his belt loops and begin walking him back towards the lavish bedroom, relishing the sharp inhale he sucks through his teeth at your commanding confidence.

There’s a practiced, sensual arch to your spine as you work the tails of his crisp button-down free from the waistband of his trousers, taking your sweet time to pop each individual button until the smooth, tanned expanse of his torso is laid bare.

Warm fingertips trail an achingly slow path up the defined ridges of his abdomen as you drink in the sight of him — pupils blown wide with barely restrained want and that delicious lower lip caught between his teeth as his chest rises and falls with shallow stuttering pants.

“Is this what you want, darling?” You murmur silkily, palming him through the rapidly tenting fabric of his pants and delighting in the strangled whine that punches from his lips at the contact. His hands fly up to clutch convulsively at your hips, gripping with bruising force as if you’re his only lifeline in a raging sea of lust and sensation.

“Yes … please,” he forces out on a ragged exhale, body practically thrumming with desperation as you continue to work him with languid strokes while rocking your hips in a slow, sensual grind against his throbbing need.

The headiness of having this confident man quivering and needy at your touch sends a heady surge of possessive satisfaction coursing through you.

“Well, since you asked so nicely ...”

With a decadent hum, you deftly pop the button of Lando’s pants and drag the zipper down in one smooth motion, allowing his rigid cock to spring free at last, flushed and straining obscenely. You swipe your thumb through the pearlescent bead of precome gathered at the swollen tip, making his hips judder with desperate rolls at the stimulation.

“Y/N … fuck, I need … need your mouth ...” Lando grits out, tangling his fingers in your hair with a barely restrained growl.

You can’t help the low, sultry chuckle that spills past your lips at his feverish plea. “So impatient,” you tut, even as you sink gracefully to your knees before him, trailing openmouthed kisses along the hard ridges of his abdomen. “But you’ve been such a good boy for me lately, I suppose I can reward you.”

Another punched-out curse fractures the air as Lando’s head tips back on a low groan at the first hot lick of your tongue up the length of his rigid shaft. You take your sweet time working him over until his entire body is trembling with the effort of holding himself in check, fingers clenched white-knuckle tight in your hair.

“Look at you, so pretty for me,” you purr at him from beneath your lashes. “I wonder how quickly I could have you coming apart completely on my tongue.”

A broken, desperate whine escapes Lando at your words. “Fuck … I’m not gonna last,” he warns through gritted teeth.

With a final swirl of your tongue around the swollen crown of him, you pull off with a lush, obscene pop. “Don’t you dare hold back for me,” you murmur, voice dripping wanton sin as you tighten your grip at the base of his throbbing length to stave off the mounting waves of his building release. “I want to taste every … last … drop.”

The broken whine that tears itself from Lando’s throat quickly warps into a strangled shout of ecstasy as you hollow your cheeks and sink back down to take his aching cock as far as you can. He outright sobs your name over and over as you relentlessly work him undone with hollowed cheeks and swirls of your talented tongue — at this point he’s putty in your hands, helpless to do anything other than clutch at you and shatter apart.

You pull back with a filthy, slurping noise just as the first hot ropes of milky white spurt from his slit, painting your tongue and lips with thick, viscous streaks. A guttural groan rumbles up from his chest at the shamelessly lewd sight, cock giving one final twitch against your lips as you swallow greedily, lapping and sucking every musky drop from his overstimulated flesh.

His knees nearly buckle at the over-the-top eroticism of it all, hands knotting tighter in your hair as if the grounding points of contact are all that’s keeping him anchored to this mortal plane.

Only once you’ve thoroughly wrung him dry with your mouth and tongue do you sit back on your heels, swiping the back of your hand across your swollen, well-used lips to clean away the remnant beads of his climax. Each breath Lando sucks into his heaving lungs is like molten fire in his tortured chest, his pupils still dilated as he gazes down in awe and not a small amount of reverence at where you’re tucked so demurely between his parted thighs.

“Bloody fucking hell, love,” he rasps around a breathy, disbelieving puff of laughter. “C’mere, lemme return the favor … I need to taste you in the worst way.”

His words go straight to your rapidly tightening core, sending a fresh gush of slick arousal pooling between your thighs. You allow him to haul you up by your elbows and press you into the plush mattress, surrendering to his hot, open-mouthed kisses and seeking hands as he divests you completely of your last shreds of clothing.

When his tongue finally finds your drenched center, you keen high and helpless in the back of your throat. “Oh god, Lando … yes, just like that ...”

Lando answers your breathless encouragement by burying his tongue deeper into your grasping heat with a satisfied groan. The wildly intimate stretch and stimulation of his clever licks and kitten flicks against your swollen bud quickly has you squirming and thrashing against the mattress in a glorious, overstimulated daze.

All you can do is pant and whimper encouragements, fingers tangling unconsciously in his thick chestnut locks as you rock yourself shamelessly into his mouth.

Just when you think the maddening coil of ecstasy winding tighter and tighter deep in your core can’t possibly grow any tighter, Lando slips two long fingers inside your slick, fluttering entrance with a guttural groan of satisfaction. The fullness of the dual sensations instantly has you seizing up all over, back arching off the bed as he works you over with sure, steady strokes.

“Oh fuck, fuck me … Lando, you feel … so g-good, ungh!” The inarticulate stream of praise and curses rapidly devolves into broken moans as he relentlessly pistons his fingers in and out, strumming insistently against that spongy cluster of nerves with each punishing thrust. You’re quickly rendered mindless, nothing but a writhing, desperate bundle of raw need and want with every nerve alight at his exquisite touch.

When Lando’s lips finally close over your pulsing clit and suckle hard, your entire world shatters into stardust with the force of your climax. A hoarse shout rips from deep in your chest as the coil within you finally detonates in waves of dizzying, toe-curling pleasure that seem to go on and on and on. Lando works you through it all with his plush mouth and tireless fingers, lapping up the honeyed rush of your release like a man dying of thirst.

For several long, blissful moments, the only sounds are your mingled gasps and pants for air as you float hazily down from your high. Lando’s lips trail scorching paths along the inside of your trembling thighs, nuzzling and nipping at sensitive flesh before finally lifting his head to grace you with that familiar adoring look that never fails to make your heartbeat trip.

“Look at the mess you’ve made, love,” he drags his index finger through the slick mess coating his chin and lips. With a blatantly filthy leer that sends a shiver of fresh arousal cascading down your spine, he slips the digit into his mouth and sucks it clean with a rumbling groan of satisfaction. “Delicious.”

You’re still totally wrecked and incoherent from your release, every nerve in your body humming and jangling in the aftermath like overstimulated livewires. A punched-out moan manages to escape you at his brazen obscenity as your hips lift off the bed in an instinctual, needful grind. “Inside me. Need y-you inside ...”

Lando rises over you in one fluid, graceful motion, hips slotting effortlessly between your splayed thighs as he brackets your face between his large palms, drinking you in hungrily. “God, look at you — you’re fucking glorious like this, wrecked and desperate for me,” he murmurs in a low rasp, cock dragging slickly through your sopping folds to nudge insistently at your entrance. “How do you do this to me, huh? Break me apart so effortlessly then have me begging on my knees for more of you ...”

With that, he bottoms out in one smooth, torturous glide — the exquisite, familiar fullness stealing your breath and sending stars bursting across your vision at the electrifying feeling of being stuffed so deliciously deep. You wrap your legs high around his taut waist, ankles locking needfully as you roll your hips in frantic little circles seeking any kind of friction.

“Oh god, Lando … move, please … need you to move, it hurts so fucking good ...”

He answers your pleading moans with a soul-scorching kiss, lips and tongue consuming you in delicious, velvet heat as he sets a ruthless, punishing pace, spearing into your clenching depths with all the force and stamina that makes him such a world-class athlete. You match him thrust for thrust, your cries swallowed by his plundering mouth as the delicious drag and slap of skin against skin fills your senses.

“I’ll never get enough,” Lando grits out between breathy curses. His teeth find purchase at the dip of your neck, sending a starburst of sensation and pain across your sensitized nerves that only compounds the haze of carnal bliss wrapping you in its searing embrace. “Could spend my life buried inside you like this and it still wouldn’t be long enough ...”

His words ignite something feral, darkly possessive in your core, an echoing howl of belonging and ownership that it feels like you’ve been careening towards since the very first time he surrendered to you in trance. With a carnal growl, you hook your ankles tighter, using your legs to flip Lando onto his back as you rise up to straddle his hips.

His eyes go comically wide before he’s grinding up into you with a gasp, grasping your hips hard enough to bruise as you set a punishing new rhythm.

“Say it again … tell me who you belong to.” Your voice is hoarse, burnished in equal parts wanton need and flinty command — you don’t care which one makes him shatter apart at the seams so long as he answers your order.

Lando immediately locks eyes with yours, gaze fever-bright and seeming to pierce straight into your very soul as he clamps his hands around your throat with delicious pressure. “You,” he groans without hesitation, the pads of his fingers flexing as your pulse throbs wildly beneath his touch. “You own me, down to my bloody bones.”

The reverent oath sends a surge of lust and possession searing through your bloodstream, stoking the incandescent heat pooling low in your belly to fever pitch once more. Your hips move in wild rolls, desperate and ragged as you ride him with reckless abandon. Lando keeps one hand locked at the juncture of your throat while the other skates up your side to palm your breast, rolling the peaked tip between calloused fingers.

“I can feel you getting close already, look at you … my perfect, filthy girl throwing herself at me like she needs nothing else but my cock splitting her apart,” he growls gutturally, his words and the punishing rhythm growing more and more erratic as your combined pleasure crests higher and higher.

Quite suddenly, Lando hooks his feet against the mattress and surges up to capture your lips in a sweltering, soul-devouring kiss as his hips somehow piston even faster into your desperately clenching depths. His name fractures and shatters around the seal of your kiss as your entire world liquefies into ribbons of rapture, ecstasy blotting out all coherent thought until every last shred of tension and want finally implodes in a supernova behind your navel.

Lando gasps against your lips as your release floods him, thick and scorching hot — wave after wave milking the most intense convulsions from his straining cock as his own orgasm shatters loose. You rock together through the shared obliteration of your mutual bliss until there’s nothing left but the gentle lapping of aftershocks and Lando’s thumb stroking idly along the racing pulse at the hollow of your throat.

When you finally manage to crack your eyes and focus on the beautiful wreck of a man sprawled boneless beneath you, the look of besotten awe on his features nearly takes your breath away all over again. Then his rueful chuckle rumbles up from deep in his chest, melting away the last smoldering embers of tension as he brushes a stray lock of damp hair back from your brow.

“What on earth am I going to do with you, love?” He murmurs, the hint of a smirk toying at the corner of his lips. “Now I’m permanently addicted.” He presses a lingering, searing kiss to your swollen mouth before pulling back to rest his forehead against yours. “Though I suppose there are worse fates.”

You answer his sentiment with a breathless chuckle of your own, tracing the lines of his face in an achingly tender caress as the last lingering flickers of passion slowly ebb and flow into deep, drowsy contentment. “Such are the spoils of victory,” you breathe fondly. “Though I suppose I should thank you for being such an … enthusiastic participant.”

“Mmm, I think I can manage that.” His eyes slip closed as he winds his arms around you to roll until you’re flush atop his chest, every supple inch of heated skin against skin and your legs tangled together in a sprawl. “You’ve ruined me,” he murmurs softly, reverently against your hair. “And I’ve never been more grateful for anything in my life.”

You hum serenely in agreement, nestling impossibly closer as Lando’s breathing evens out and you both begin to drift into a dozy haze of sated bliss. The warm, hypnotic lull of his heartbeat against your cheek and the delicious ache of well-used muscles is pure nirvana.

In this moment, suspended in time in the afterglow, you can scarcely fathom how you ever existed before Lando barreled into your life and ignited this intoxicating flame of desire, devotion, and bone-deep belonging between you.

His voice, already rough and worn velvet from your passionate exertions, breaks the contented silence once more as he nuzzles against your temple. “Stay with me tonight? God knows I could use a few more hours with you in my arms before we have to brave the real world again.”

A languid smile curves your lips at his soft plea, warmth blooming in your chest. “As if you even need to ask,” you murmur, punctuating the sentiment with a tender brush of your lips across the thundering pulse at the base of his throat. “I’m yours, remember? Any time and any place you’ll have me.”

Lando doesn’t respond further, simply tightens his arm around your waist as he hooks his chin over your head with a low, satisfied rumble.

With his name a breathless vow on your lips, you allow the bone-deep weariness of pure satisfaction to finally pull you under into peaceful oblivion beside the only man who will ever hold the keys to unraveling you so completely in return.

***

The pale moonlight filters through the gauzy curtains of Lando’s posh London flat, casting everything in an ethereal blue-silver glow as you burrow deeper into the plush duvet.

A lazy, spent sort of satisfaction permeates the air in the wake of your earlier lovemaking — though honestly, is there ever a time when you don’t feel utterly cherished and deliciously sated these days?

Lando’s arm is a warm, heavy brand across your waist, the solid plane of his chest pressed flush against your back. You can sense the steady thrum of his heartbeat mellowing into the deep, even cadence of slumber and make to slip out of his embrace, eager to make use of the en-suite facilities. But the moment you shift, his arm reflexively tightens, drawing you impossibly closer as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck with a low, sleepy noise of protest.

“Mmm … stay,” he mumbles groggily against your skin, voice still rough and sweetly wrecked from the way you had him crying out your name mere hours ago.

You huff a quiet laugh at his drowsy insistence, nosing affectionately at his tousled curls. “I’ll be right back, you insatiable thing,” you rasp, carefully extracting yourself from his octopus-like clutches to plant a lingering kiss to his slack, pillow-creased cheek. “Promise I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Lando grumbles something indistinct but doesn’t protest further, already slipping back into the lull of sleep with a final contented sigh muffled against the plush bedding. You take a moment to simply drink in the sight of him sprawled out so unguardedly – all toned muscle and tousled chestnut curls, the crisp white sheets tangling artfully around his hips to offer tempting peeks of tanned skin and lean, powerful thighs.

He’s gorgeous like this, you muse with a soft smile, feeling that oh-so-familiar spark of possessive want begin to simmer low in your belly. A dizzying rush of affection and belonging surges through you as your gaze rakes over the starburst of reddened lovebites peppering his throat and shoulders from where you marked him as yours so enthusiastically earlier.

It’s hard to fathom that there was ever a time you considered your life remotely complete before Lando and his smoldering passion whirlwinded into your world.

Still, you force yourself to tear your eyes away from the alluring scene with a steadying breath, retreating to the en-suite with the promise to return hanging unspoken between you.

By the time you’ve padded back into the bedroom wrapped in one of Lando’s obscenely soft bathrobes, he’s shifted to sprawl across the centerline of the mattress, face half-buried in his pillow and one hand flung haphazardly above his head. The rakish sprawl of bedsheets and moonlight across his sculpted form renders him a vision of absolute debauchery and desire — not that you’d have him any other way.

You can’t resist ghosting your fingers in a featherlight caress along the hard ridges of his spine and the lean cords of muscle defining his broad shoulders, relishing the shiver that chases itself visibly across his skin. “You awake, darling?”

Lando grunts an affirmation, languidly cracking one eye to regard you through the tangled fringe of lashes fanning across his cheekbones. There’s a hint of wry amusement laced through the rough velvet of his voice when he speaks. “Was starting to worry you’d wandered off again without me.”

“Never,” you reply instantly, warmth threading through the simple avowal. Moving to settle in the vee of his splayed thighs, you trail a meandering path of openmouthed kisses along his lower back, nosing aside the rumpled sheet to expose the swell of his ass with deliberate intent. “You know I’m defenseless against this gorgeous body of yours.”

A low, approving rumble vibrates up from Lando’s chest at your blatant appreciation, his hips giving an unconscious, languid roll as your lips brush across the dimples at the base of his spine in a teasing caress. But then, quite suddenly, the boneless sprawl of his limbs seems to tense as a perceptible aura of hesitance permeates the desire charging the air between you.

You immediately feel the subtle shift in his energy, that jarring note of dissonance plucking disquietingly at your intuitive senses — the same ones that have always allowed you to tune into the deepest vibrations of the soul with preternatural clarity. Without pause, you abandon your sensual exploration of his body to settle beside him once more, cradling the sharp line of his jaw in your palm and wordlessly coaxing him to turn and meet your gaze.

“Hey … talk to me, love,” you murmur, the soothing tone of your voice blanketing the sharp edged undercurrent of uncertainty in its rich, soothing folds. “Where’d you go just now?”

Lando exhales a soft, humorless puff of breath, worrying his plush lower lip between his teeth in that adorable yet concerning tell of his whenever something is weighing on that mind.

For a long stretch, he studies your features in silence, the only sounds in the room the ambient thrum of the city beyond the flat’s walls and the occasional muted honk of a passing car in the night below. Just when you’re about to prompt him again, the words finally tumble out in a low, slightly self-conscious rush.

“You … you don’t take on other clients like me, do you?” You feel him tense further under your palm, discomfited energy practically vibrating off him in waves. “Not that I’m judging, honest! It’s none of my business what you do or who you see for work, but I just ...” He breaks off on a frustrated exhale, jaw ticking in that way that tells you he’s holding back a tidal wave of emotion beneath his placid surface.

A dawning realization begins to unfurl in your chest, intimately familiar with the root of Lando’s inner turmoil. This brilliant, sensitive, achingly beautiful man — the force on the racetrack who melts into the most sweetly vulnerable creature behind closed doors whenever you bestow him with the full force of your focused attention. Of course he would crave that intensity of focus, that promise of belonging solely to him in your most intimate embraces, no matter how irrational or paradoxical the notion seems from the outside looking in.

Slowly, carefully, you reach up to frame that beloved face between your palms, silently urging Lando to hold your unwavering gaze as the words he needs to hear spill forth in a low, resonant murmur.

“Do you remember when this first started between us? How completely you surrendered yourself to me in the most profound way?” You begin, watching his pupils slowly dilate and a nearly imperceptible tension begin to unwind from his shoulders at the timbre of your voice. “The absolute trust it takes to let someone delve that deep into the most sacred corners of your psyche … to share your fears, insecurities, and unvarnished essence without artifice?”

Lando swallows thickly, nodding once in a jerky affirmation as the words seem to bypass his conscious mind and resonate somewhere deeper. You card your fingers soothingly through his disheveled curls, allowing your touch to lull and ground him as you continue in that same low, hypnotic cadence.

“That depth of surrender and connection is not something that can simply be replicated or transposed onto others, Lando. What we have is singular. Untouchable.” You press your forehead to his, registering the faint hitch in his breath as you drink in every last nuance of his features. “My gift has always been to help unravel the truths someone tries to bury, follow the threads that tether the conscious mind to something vaster and more primal. But with you ...”

A low exhale ghosts across his parted lips as your thumb traces the sharp line of his cheekbone in an achingly tender caress. “With you, it was as if the universe aligned to allow me to shed every last shred of protection and pretense until there was nothing left but the purest vibration of my very essence resonating in time with yours. Do you understand?”

Lando’s gaze is a hazy swirl of naked emotion and trust, drinking in your every syllable with the desperate reverence of a man being offered the world’s greatest truth. “Like … like the truest version of ourselves was always there, simply waiting to recognize its other half,” he rasps, the words seeming to bypass his conscious faculties entirely as he remains held captive in the depths of your connection. “Two souls spilling into one another.”

“Precisely.” Your lips curve in the ghost of a smile, a bone-deep sense of belonging and contentment settling over you both like a well-worn hug. “In that moment, you became an inextricable part of me, and I of you. Something that profound doesn’t simply … vanish, or dim, or lessen with time and distance.”

You allow the weighted truth of your decree to resonate between your joined bodies for a suspended heartbeat, cradling Lando’s face as if mapping every plane and angle with worshipful precision.

“I could help countless others access their potential or tap into dimly lit corners of their awareness,” you continue. “But there will only ever be one person to whom I belong in that elemental way. One person who will ever see this side of me and who lays the very fabric of their being bare without reservation.”

A tremulous exhalation shudders across Lando’s lips at the finality in your tone, as if every lingering filament of doubt or uncertainty has finally dissolved in the face of your avowal. One of his hands comes up to splay across the small of your back, fingers flexing and bunching the silky material of your robe in a desperate clutch as if you’re the last solid comfort in a churning sea.

When his eyes slip open once more, they’re practically luminescent with a naked heat that sends a delicious curl of answering want unfurling through your core.

“Show me,” he rasps, the simple entreaty laced with an edge of heart-stoppingly vulnerable need. “Please, Y/N …. I need to feel you completely.”

In the stillness that follows, the only sounds are your mingled exhales and the thunderous gallop of racing pulses filling the air with resonant verses of sin and worship. Then, with an instinctual roll of your hips, you’re slotting one toned thigh between Lando’s splayed legs and sealing your mouth over his in a filthy, searing kiss that instantly has his back arching off the rumpled sheets with a muffled groan.

There’s nothing tentative in the wanton slide of your lips and tongues, every flick and brush and gentle graze brimming with carnal intent and the unspoken promise to strip one another to the very marrow.

Lando surrenders to the sweet onslaught eagerly, hands skating across your body in frantic, searing paths until the belt of your robe finally falls away and he can palm the bare curves of your ass to grind you more fully against his rapidly stiffening length.

You break away with a sharp gasp at the delicious friction, mouth immediately seeking out the fevered juncture of Lando’s neck and shoulder to mouth searing patterns across the taut tendons there. “You want my gift?” You rasp against the thrumming pulse under your lips, rolling your hips in a languid, purposeful grind that drags the already swollen head of his cock through the slick evidence of your arousal with tantalizing friction.

Lando’s response is a low, breathless stream of curses and encouragements, blunt fingernails raking distractedly down the length of your spine in a way that sets every nerve alight with tingling sparks of pleasure-pain.

Allowing him to nip and suck intoxicating patterns across your collarbones, you dip your hand between your bodies until you can wrap your fingers around his rigid shaft, dragging the pads in a devastatingly slow glide from base to tip.

The groan that punches from Lando’s chest at your touch is guttural, hips pumping restlessly into the tight channel of your fist. “Fuck, yes … want all of you, every bloody inch ...”

His words seem to bypass your conscious mind entirely. You’re suddenly blisteringly aware of each and every point where your bodies join: the heated crush of his straining cock in your palm, the delicious friction of your slick folds catching and dragging against the cut grooves of his abdomen with each gyration of your hips, the teasing rasp of his calloused palms as they roam hungrily across your skin.

It’s as if Lando’s very being calls out to yours in an ancient tongue, rendering coherent thought utterly obsolete as you simply feel — the pulsing, cosmic certainty of your connection amplifying every tingling spark of friction and delirious drag of skin against skin until your entire world narrows to the joining of your shared potential cresting higher with each and every move.

“Now,” you grate out, vision whiting out as your climax detonates in a blinding supernova behind your navel — an ecstasy so transcendent that you’re certain it scorches across the very fabric of your soul. Your fingernails sink vicious crescent moons into Lando’s bicep as you arch against him with a keening cry.

“Y/N!” His hoarse shout fractures on a broken whine, muscles tensing as the first searing pulse of his orgasm floods your belly, joined soon by rich, viscous ropes of white heat that leave you both totally undone.

You simply clutch at each other through the relentless waves, Lando’s teeth sinking into the juncture of your neck and shoulder as if urging you to brand him irrevocably as yours.

When the explosive rapture finally begins to ebb, you both sag into the tangled bedding in a limp sprawl of sweat-slicked limbs and trembling aftershocks, chests heaving in perfect synchronicity as you cling to one another like lost mariners adrift in some fathomless sea.

You can’t even begin to discern where your consciousness begins and Lando’s ends — your very essences having merged so irrevocably that you simply exist as a singular vibration pulsing through the cosmos.

It takes several long, suspended moments for the concept of individual awareness to gradually seep back into the edges of your being, though even then it feels blasphemous to separate yourself from the soul-deep profundity of what you’ve just shared.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, you manage to crack your eyelids enough to drink in the sight of Lando gazing back at you with that same awed wonder etched across his beloved features.

“Bloody fucking hell,” he rasps, the words little more than a throaty whisper ghosting against your over-sensitized skin. “That was … there aren’t even words, are there?”

In lieu of responding, you simply wind your arms around him with a tremulous exhale, hooking your chin over the solid comfort of his shoulder and allowing his clean, earthy scent to wash over you like a balm.

In this place, suspended between bliss and awareness, there’s no need for words or platitudes. You can feel Lando’s very essence thrumming in tandem with yours — the inherent recognition of your twin flame and sacred belonging reverberating on a molecular level.

Here, entangled in the vital warmth of shared trust and intimacy, all that exists is the boundless and the eternal.

[pelova4president]

Shadows are to protect I

Alessia Russo x Putellas!Reader

shadows are to protect II, III, IV

summary~ You just moved to Arsenal and everything was unknown to you but now you had Alessia. Your situationship with Alessia was everything but perfect but at least she was there, sometimes.

this is pure angst

Alessia is your whole heart. You could tell her that a thousand times and she still wouldn’t leave her boyfriend.

He doesn’t even get her, not like you do. He doesn’t appreciate her like you do. It should be you holding her hand on the streets. It should be you kissing her in the bars of London.

You didn’t really know when you started to feel that way. You’d just moved to England, a very scary move from your comfortable and warm Spain. Spain and Barcelona was all you’ve even known. Expending your world was just as terrifying as you’d ever believed.

The welcome was cold, very cold. It was the completely opposite of what you were used to, it was quite literally what you were petrified of. You left the warm sun kissing the dark little freckles on your face and exchanged the English rain dropping down on your hair. You weren’t even sure what to call it, not in English and not in Spanish either.

But even now you weren’t sure if you’d go back and stay in Barcelona. The sun might shine there most hours of the working days but you’d always be in the shadows. In the shadows of La Reina, Alexia Putellas, your sister.

The two coloured club had offered you a contract extension where you’d get paid twice the amount you did last year. You’d driven to the club like you did most days but this time you had one thing in mind, or so you thought. Signing for another three years and being the average defender in the team for whenever one of the original starters couldn’t participate.

A red and blue pen rested between your thumb and point fingers as you listened to your manager talk about the future. But most of it fell to deaf ears. “Alexia and you would be the head of the Champions League campaign. Imagine this, the Putellas hermanas on top of Europe.” he said full excitement. It wasn’t the whole campaign that set you off but how he began his sentence, ‘Alexia and you’.

You were sitting here, ready to sign your contract, for your future. They wanted you to sign and still their first thought was Alexia.

Without saying a word you stormed off. You were not doing this again for three more years.

You had spiked interest from multiple clubs, not only Europe but America too. But when Arsenal let your agency know that they wanted you, you knew that that was it. From now on you’ll be a gunner, through and through.

You got picked up from the Airport. With a sign reading ‘Putellas’. It felt good. They didn’t have to clarify which Putellas sister they were picking up, there was only one in London now, you. The bigger man, he might’ve even be twice the height of you introduced himself. And with the little English you had in store you thanked him and told him your name.

The man you now knew as Keith was a simple man. He opened the door for you and didn’t say much. You liked it that way, the silence was fine by you. You liked that the intimidating car you were sat in had tinted windows. Not so you couldn’t be seen but because it gave you some sort of comfort. When you were younger and Alexia was a rising star she had you sit in the backseat, where nobody could see you and where you’d be safe she’d say.

The little droplets of rain were doing races and you had lost for about the twentieth time when the car came to a stop. Keith grumbled something about being there and got out. You didn’t really know what to do and what they expected of you so you opened the car door. Picking your bags up you placed your right foot outside and your left followed.

It all went too fast, Jonas showed almost all the rooms in the building and the wet pitches that were not in any state to be used. You had to film a few shots for your signing announcement, get through a few medical test and finally got to go home.

Keith drove you to your temporary apartment just a few minutes away from the training ground. You had a streak of almost one hundred days of English on Duolingo so you thanked the tall man in the few words you had learned to say and got out of the black Range Rover.

You were home. You were home, you kept repeating those words but you didn’t believe it. You were home.

This is it now. North London is your new home.

The appartement was empty except for the blank furniture, it had no personality and it was hard to think there ever would be. Four white walls, a grey couch, a black kitchen and an all white bed in the middle of your bedroom. They didn’t even tell you that the kitchen would be just as empty as the apartment.

The sound of a notification alarmed you out of your emotionless state. You forgot to put your phone on do not disturb. ‘Where are you?’ it read. Alexia knew you didn’t sign for Barca the day before but she didn’t know you’d be gone by the morning. Tapping on the do not disturb mode you traveled to your all white bed.

And that is how it went, do not disturb mode on. You we there, at the training ground and the games but not really there. You weren’t in the right mindset to talk to anyone yet and that’s why it was so goddamn frustrating when McCabe or Mead tried to get you to talk.

You sat alone at lunch, didn’t go out with your teammates and barely stayed in contact with your sister. That was until Alessia Russo came into your life.

You didn’t mean to let her in. You decided early on that you were at Arsenal for your career and career only. But she changed that, so quick. And before you knew it you were falling for her.

She came into Arsenal and everyone was a fan of her. It seemed like she was friends with everyone instantly and it made you curious.

Alessia had been a gunner for almost a week when you realised she lived across from your apartment. She came knocking on your door one evening, offering you some of het pasta since she had made too much. You knew that she’d been searching for an opportunity to get you to talk to her but you didn’t expect her to come knocking at your door like that.

You let her in and she started to talk to you. You couldn’t exactly call it a conversation since she did all the talking and you muttered out some broken English once in a while. But even though you hated to admit it, she was nice company. It made you feel less lonely, she made you feel less empty.

You’d told Alexia about your move to Arsenal before it officially came out and she wasn’t pleased, at all. She was mad, mad that you didn’t tell her earlier. You told her what had happened and what was racing through your mind when you made the decision but she just couldn’t fathom out the thought of you feeling that way. And that made you feel even less understood, it felt like your life was slipping away from you and you only made it worse with every next move you made.

But Alessia made you feel like you were okay for a moment. After the first day of eating together she offered you food almost everyday and after a month it became a tradition, you would diner together every single day and she even learned you English. You didn’t really progress in your Duolingo streak and didn’t talk much either so the help was very much needed.

It wasn’t until the first half of the season had been played that you realised you had other feelings for her. You saw her as more than just a friend. It was all going very fast and the feelings intensified by the day, that may be because she was the only one you really could talk to. It hurt you to even think about living without her and that might’ve the first warning you should’ve seen but you didn’t.

It was Alessia who kissed you first. You both had been drinking and the two empty bottles of red wine next to your grey couch were the evidence of that. Alessia was a touchy person, just like everyone in Spain so you didn’t mind. She was giggly and teasing you relentlessly.

“I bet you think about me hmm?” she hummed and started to climb on top of you. Taken aback by the movement you didn’t really react to anything she had just said. “I want to kiss you.” she whispered into your ear that was tinted red by now. You didn’t answer. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay.” she leaned in, placing her pink lips on your red ones. It was sweet but turned desperate very quickly.

The blonde slept sweetly beside you that evening. The thoughts raced through your mind and none of them were making any sense. It was hard to think straight with Alessia next to you, that was what made things so complicated. But now that she was laying in your bed you couldn’t not have her there, you needed her.

Alessia started to stay over more and more, it became your new normal. Half of her closet was laying in yours and she even brought her favourite mug with her. You bought all her favourite foods so she would feel comfortable and she appreciated it, just not enough to stay with you.

You came home on a Thursday evening one day but Alessia was nowhere to be found. Normally she would be laying on your couch, watching some sappy Netflix show you refused to watch with her. A bowl of nuts in her hands she didn’t really like but it was a healthy snack so it would do. But the only thing you found on your couch was her blue hoodie. Well it was yours originally but she basically claimed it as hers now.

Putting your cold groceries away you walked towards Alessia’s front door. She had given you her spare key after leaving hers in her home, locking herself out for the second time. She had bought a keychain with it, a little Barca jersey with your name and number on it. You smiled down at the colourful jersey and opened the door.

Walking in you heard some laughter coming from the living room that you could describe in detail. It was a light living room with two big windows that were open at all times, she liked it that way. She bought a brown couch after you broke her beige one. You had gifted her a few plants to make the room a real living space but knew she didn’t really care for them so you’d come in and give them water.

The photo’s in her hallway were those of her mom, dad and brothers, who she adored so much. And even though she didn’t like to have pictures of herself in her home she had one of her and her best friend Ella after winning the Euros.

When you stepped into the living area you were a bit taken aback by the man sitting next to your Alessia. His left hand was draped over her shoulder, like it was the most normal thing. His right was resting on her thigh. Who was he?

You stood still, watching the pair until Alessia noticed you. Her eyes had gone wide. “Hey, what’re you doing here?” she asked carefully. You didn’t answer. “Luke, this is my teammate, and well, this is my boyfriend Luke.” she introduced you and stalked towards your frozen form.

Boyfriend? You thought..

Alessia gave her boyfriend some weak excuse and walked you back to your apartment. You were in your own home again, a safe place. When Alessia started to talk again you cut her off. “I- you have a boyfriend? I thought we had.. something?” you looked almost lost to her. “Well, you thought wrong. Whatever you thought we had, we didn’t.” she said without any emotion behind her eyes, like she hadn’t spent the whole of last week in your house, in your bed, wearing your hoodie.

She left your house like nothing had happened.

Were you really that stupid, did you really think she’d like you. You had created this whole other reality, one where she’d actually like you and wanted to be with you.

You kept to yourself even more now. Alessia had gotten you out of your shell to some extent but now you had crawled back in again. Every moment you weren’t training or playing football you were at home but it didn’t feel like home anymore. It wasn’t as empty as it was when it arrived but it felt like it. The life had gone away and that’s not something you can fix with a few overpriced paintings and some weird cactus.

You couldn’t eat dinner without Alessia, you couldn’t watch horrible movies without Alessia and you just couldn’t sleep in a bed without Alessia.

It was the one time you decided to go out and drink that she came over to talk to you again. She acted like nothing had ever happend, like it was back to normal again, like she had slept in your bed the day before. But you liked it, craved it even. You had longed for Alessia to come back again and save you from yourself.

So she ended up in your bed and stayed long enough for you to fall asleep. But not long enough for you to wake up to her scent or her sleepy blue eyes and messy blonde hair.

It went on like that, she came home with you for the night and you forgot about all the things she had done to you and you woke up to an empty bed. You did feel bad for the Luke guy, well you did in the beginning but somewhere along the way you started to lose that sympathy.

You were mad. Angry. He could drive her to training and hold her hand out in public. He could kiss her on the streets and wake up to her snuggled next to him. He could have all those domestic little moments and gestures you longed for. It wasn’t fair.

Alessia had prepared dinner for the both of you and you were watching a movie when you felt the need to talk to her about this whole situation. “Lessi, i really like you. I want you and i to be together because i love you.” there, you said it. Alessia didn’t look at you, she stared blankly at the movie infront of her. You reached for the distraction playing on the television and paused it but she still wouldn’t look you in the eyes.

“I love you.” you repeated again, hoping for a response. She sighed, “Look, i don’t know what you think we are but we aren’t that. I don’t know how many times i have to tell you this but i have a boyfriend and you’re just there for a quick fuck. That’s all. You’re not special just because your sister has won a few trophies. I can’t do anything about the fact that you’re fucking lonely but leave me out of it.” she hissed.

You just said you loved her, for the first time. You handed her your fucking heart and she stomped on it like it was nothing. Alesia knew your relationship with your sister was complicated and being in her shadows was something that hurt you the most in this world, but yet she brought it up. You’d told her everything you never dared to say out loud and she used it to damage you even more. She is your whole world but to her you’re a ‘quick fuck’.

You were hers but she’d never be yours

“Please go away.” you asked her, tears threatening to escape your tired glossy eyes.

You were left alone in your apartment and the loneliness was more torturous than ever. The fucking lasagna Alessia had made you had turned cold and you looked at the wooden table infront of you. There was a picture of you and Alexia framed, Alessia had printed it out to make you feel more like home but it only made you miss it more, especially now.

Looking at your phone you opened your chat with your sister. You hadn’t texted her in about a month, the last text being about your mothers birthday that you couldn’t attend.

You needed her, you needed you sister to protect you. You needed her to protect you from the sun and to place you in her shadows again. For once it was all you desired.

A/N let me know what you think of the fic!! Also, i don’t know if i should write a second part and if or how i should end up Alessia and R together. I could make R fall in love with someone else too??

[steddieas-shegoes]

shirts off

for @steddieholidaydrabbles warm up round 'summer'

rated m | 966 words | no cw | tags: steve harrington has a big stupid crush on eddie munson, road trip, bad luck turned into a good situation, getting together, friends to lovers, implied sexual content

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

The tire popping was really only the start of the problems on this road trip.

The overwhelming heat and humidity was another.

Steve was trying to convince himself this road trip wasn't doomed, that it was just a short series of bad luck and everything from now on would be perfect. Eddie was grumbling as he tightened the lug nuts on the spare tire.

"You sure you don't need any help?" Steve asked him for the fifth time in as many minutes.

"If you ask me again, I'm leaving you here," Eddie replied, dropping the wrench on the ground and letting out a long sigh. "I'm done anyway. Please tell me there's cold water in the cooler."

Steve opened the cooler in the trunk and grabbed the last bottle of water they had for the road. Their plan was to stock up when they got to the beach, but clearly, they'd been derailed for longer than they hoped.

He handed it to Eddie, who proceeded to dump its entirety over his head.

"That was the last one," Steve said quietly, not wanting to admit that he hadn't planned for the worst.

Eddie looked up at him from the ground before closing his eyes and letting out an unamused laugh.

"We're still three hours away," Eddie complained. "We gotta stop at a gas station or something and grab a couple more. It's too fuckin' hot to not have water."

Steve was too busy staring at the way water was dripping down Eddie's neck to process anything he was saying.

"Hello? Earth to Harrington!" Eddie's fingers were snapping in his face, bringing him back from his daydream. He absolutely planned on blaming it on the heat. "Dude, you dehydrated or something?"

"Uh, yeah. Must be, sorry." Steve picked the wrench up off the ground and threw it in the trunk before slamming it shut and turning back to Eddie, who had his brows raised and an amused smirk on his face. "What?"

"Were you distracted by somethin', Stevie?"

Oh no. He'd gone all summer without Eddie being suspicious of anything. Nearly two months had gone by of Steve hiding his stupid crush that was probably a lot closer to love than he would admit out loud.

"Nope. Just hot," he gave a small smile before turning to the passenger door to open it. It was Eddie's turn to drive.

"I'm pretty hot, too," Eddie stood in his way, arms crossed over her chest. "You know what would probably help?"

Steve shook his head, but he could tell by the way Eddie was standing, so confident and knowing, this was going somewhere he wasn't prepared for.

"Ditching our shirts. Get some air on skin, ya know?"

"Right," Steve gulped. "I think once we get the air conditioner blowing, it'll be better."

"Sure, sure. But I'm all wet, and I wouldn't wanna get your seat wet. Might as well take it off until it's dry."

Steve watched as Eddie lifted his shirt off, throwing it in the open window into the backseat.

"I don't think it'll dry if it's bunched up like that-" Steve gasped as Eddie's hands gripped his hips, chests brushing together as Eddie's breath hit Steve's neck.

"I don't think I care, do you?" Eddie's low voice rumbled against Steve's skin. His lips were right there, grazing his pulse point.

Steve leaned his head back, offering himself up on a silver platter, hoping whatever was happening wasn't some heat-fueled daydream.

"So needy," Eddie groaned before licking a stripe up Steve's neck and nipping at his jaw. "Can't believe you didn't think I'd notice you staring for the last 20 minutes."

"I-" Steve couldn't fucking breathe. Eddie's hands were running up his sides, and his leg was pushing his own legs apart. "Eds, we're on the side of the road."

"A road no one has driven down in the last 20 minutes. It's fine," Eddie still pulled his head back, taking in Steve's ruffled appearance. "I'll stop if you're uncomfortable, though. Nothing we can't do when we get to the motel."

Steve's dick was already hard in his shorts, a fact that Eddie seemed to realize at the same moment as Steve.

"You can use my thigh. Take the edge off," Eddie offered.

"How the fuck am I gonna ride for three more hours in these shorts if I do that?" Steve wasn't completely opposed, he just wanted to see how far Eddie was willing to push.

"With the promise of being able to ride me for three hours when we get there," Eddie shrugged, completely nonchalant with what he was implying.

"Three hours? You think you can last that long?"

"For you? I can last all night, big boy." Eddie pushed his leg forward until it made contact with Steve's cock. "Wanna get one for the road though."

The heat was barely even a thought anymore as Steve rutted forward, knowing he wouldn't last long at all with Eddie's lips sucking a bruise into his shoulder.

He wasn't quiet, didn't even try to hold back.

It was the best thing he'd ever done, and he was still fully clothed.

When they got back in the car, Eddie handed Steve a bottle of water from the backseat. It was room temperature, but still refreshing.

"How long you been hiding water back there?"

"How long you been hiding your crush on me?" Eddie shot back.

Steve rolled his eyes, turning his face to hide his blush. "A while."

"I know, sweetheart." Eddie's hand covered Steve's knee as he pulled back onto the deserted road. "Don't have to anymore, though. I got you."

Steve's head fell back against the seat, turning over to stare at Eddie. He had a post-orgasm glow despite not getting off with Steve.

"Yeah, you do."

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

Levi x Scout!Reader - oneshot hurt/comfort, use of y/n, minor injury

Levi reaches out in half-sleep to pull you close and jolts fully awake when he doesn’t feel your body in the bed beside him. His heart pounds and he breathes deep, trying to shake off the burst of adrenaline. The sheets on your side are cold- you’ve been gone a while.

He slips out of bed, wrapping his coat around him as he lights the closest lamp. “How many times have I told them not to do this shit?” He grumbles, more to remind himself that you’re okay, that this has happened before, than out of any real anger.

And it has happened before- you stealing away to suffer alone rather than let someone else, even your partner, see you hurt. You’re not in the rest of the quarters, not in the hallway when he sticks his scowling face out the door to check.

“Fuck’s sake.” Levi shoves on his boots and heads straight for the training grounds, grimly confident that he’ll find you there.

You’re sweating under the pale moon, launching attacks at a sparring dummy that’s seen better days. Your knuckles are split- you didn’t bother to wrap them before starting to swing. A nightmare drove you here and you’re deep in your mind, seeing the faces of enemy soldiers on the worn, straw-stuffed head of the dummy.

The face before you is suddenly replaced with Levi’s, and you just barely manage to pull the next punch before it lands squarely on his clenched jaw. You still clip him on the chin and he takes it, his head snapping to the side, sleep-tousled fringe falling across his eyes.

“Hey, y/n. Rough night?” He deadpans.

You’re panting, breathless with exertion and the shock of him sneaking up on you. “Take a wild guess.”

He doesn’t answer, just looks down at your bloody knuckles and frowns. “Seriously?” He catches your wrists before you can pull away and turns your hands over, inspecting them in a tense silence. “Tch. Even shitty cadets don’t train barehanded.” You yank your hands away as he continues. “You know better. You wanted to hurt, is that it?”

“You weren’t there. You didn’t see their faces, Levi, it was my fault!” He steps closer, cautiously, like he thinks you might bolt.

His voice is quieter but still firm. “Then hit me.”

“What?” It knocks a bit of the fight from you, and you lower your fists warily.

“You’re right, I wasn’t there. But you’re on my squad, I gave the order. You're just a soldier following commands. Hurt me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Your voice cracks.

“I’m not.” He’s right in front of you now and he tugs his jacket open, exposing his chest to you and the empty field. “You wanna lash out, go ahead.” He spreads his arms like an invitation.

Your eyes sting with frustrated tears and you turn away so he doesn’t see them fall. “Fuck you, Levi. You know I can’t.”

“Y/n, look at me.” You shake your head, refusing to meet his gaze. His hand cups your cheek to bring you back. Levi’s eyes, still bleary with sleep, are softer now. “You don’t have to carry this alone anymore. Why didn’t you wake me?”

You can’t answer, afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll only be able to sob. The bright, guilty rage that had driven you out here was beginning to fade, but the shame it left behind was a different pain. A pain Levi knew well. He doesn’t ask you again.

Instead he gathers you into his arms as you cry, strong hands stroking your hair, your cheek against his steady heartbeat. Levi carries you gently back into the barracks, back into your room, into safety and the dim glow of lamplight.

He hushes the apology you begin, thumbs the tears from your cheeks without comment. He only lets you go when your shuddered breaths have smoothed back to normal, the worst of it over.

Levi disentangles himself from you with a murmured reassurance that he'll be back soon. He returns bearing two steaming mugs and an armful of bandages, disinfectant, and...cleaning supplies?

He rolls his eyes at your confused look. "You got blood on my jacket, brat. Can't let the stain set." He won't bother with his clothes, though, until he's finished gingerly cleaning your bloody knuckles and wrapping them in clean bandages.

You wince into your tea as he works, trying hard not to show more weakness in front of him. Especially not pain from wounds you caused yourself. Levi notices, and without adjusting his scowl he presses a quick kiss to your hands before wrapping the last layer. "Stop that."

"Hm?"

"Stop beating yourself up. The world fucks us badly enough. It doesn't need your help." He turns away to start scrubbing at the bloodstained jacket. "And I need to sleep through a night without worrying that you've run off to do something idiotic."

The hint of a smile creeps onto your face. "You worry about me?"

Levi's gray eyes narrow. "Of course I do. What kind of a question is that?" He pokes your forehead. "Or is there only room to think about yourself in that stupid head of yours?"

"I love you too, Levi."

He reddens and looks away. "Yeah, well. Next time wake me up."

"Promise."

[nanivinsmoke]

Spring break

Geto x Gojo x F!Reader

oh yall already know this gone be some freak nasty shit! these two fuckers in one fic with each other? oh yeah, you might as well submit. enjoy~!

summary ~ it’s spring break, time to have fun and unwind, and to get stuffed….

warnings and tags ~ fingering, overstimulation, car sex (fingering only), squirting, multiple orgasms, public sex, blow job (rough), creampie (mouth) jealousy, friends with benefits, part two will have so much more~.

words ~ 2.6k

twelve days. twelve whole days you’ll be with the two of them.

originally there were going to be six of you, but everybody bailed last minute; except those two. you were upset that not everyone was coming, but you were glad you were at least going to be with your two best friends. you needed this vacation, you needed to destress and keep your mind off work. you were here to have fun, and nothing was going to ruin it.

the three of you were packed into the black comfortable suv that geto rented, with you in the passenger seat, gojo in the back sleeping and geto driving. the drive to your vacation spot was long and every three hours you guys would rotate, so the each of you would have driven and the other two could rest.

but, you couldn’t sleep and it was all thanks to him. his thick finger pumped in and out of your sopping wet pussy, while keeping his eyes on the road. your shorts, along with your panties, were slightly pulled down to give him better access to your warm cunt, your slick dripping onto the car’s crème brule colored seat. soft moans escaping your plump lips as he curled his fingers, rubbing against your spot.

“shhh, we don’t want you waking him up in the back. wouldn’t want him to catch me playing with this sweet pussy, now would we?~” his voice low and deep, pinching your swollen clit, glancing at you from his peripheral. you shook your head and placed your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans.

“good girl. now, cum for daddy~” he pushed his fingers back inside of you, pumping hard and fast; guiding you to your orgasm. and you came hard too, biting your hand to stop the loud moan that escaped your throat. he slowly continued to finger your cunt, before pulling out—leaving you breathless and drained while he licked your sweet cum from his fingers.

you sat in your seat, in a orgasmic daze—trying to catch your breath, while gojo began to stir in his sleep. his crystal blue eyes opened and he sat up with a yawn, making geto look in the rear view mirror. “gps says we should be there in ten minutes,” he spoke like read his mind, glancing at you with a smirk etched on his face.

you knew that in those ten minutes that you were fucked.

———

the house the three of you rented was huge, it had three big bedrooms with adjoining bathrooms, a huge infinity pool, a jacuzzi on the deck, a movie room and a bar in the basement. these twelve days were going to be memorable.

dropping your suitcase and luggage down into the bedroom you picked out, you plopped on the soft king sized bed—face deep into the pillows, mind still clouded with thoughts of geto and you in the car. just the thought of gojo catching the both of you, had you pressing your legs together as that familiar throbbing sensation reappeared.

what would gojo do? what would he say if he saw his best friend getting finger fucked by his other best friend? would he join in? make geto pull the car over so they could stuff you with their cocks?

before you know it, your hands have found their way into your shorts; rubbing your sensitive clit and dipping into your wet hole. with your eyes being closed, you didn’t see the spiky haired white male appear in your room; amused to see you playing with yourself, but shocked to hear you moan his and geto’s name. he softly closes the door behind him, startling you.

“so what I saw in the car, wasn’t my imagination? im a little jealous you let geto of all people play with that pretty pussy.” so he did see everything. you said nothing and only kept your eyes on him, a little shy that you were caught playing with yourself. a smirked eased onto his face as he sat on the bed in front of your spread legs, eyes dropping to your clothed cunt, then back up to your eyes.

“idiot only let you cum once too. no wonder you want more.” his eyes low and lidded, his hands softly tracing your bare thigh, sending flutters to your pussy. his hands slowly make its way to the middle of your shorts, rubbing the area where your clit hid underneath. you let out a breath of air, amazed at how easily he found your clit, pressing on it hard enough where it sent shivers up your spine.

“let me teach you how many times a woman should cum,” he unbuttoned your shorts, pulling them down with your help and tossed them to the other side of the room.

a whistle left his mouth and he smirked, “whew, you’ve been waiting for this? so wet for me already~” his hands rubbed on the outline of your puffy lips, the deep stain of your slick that soiled your panties—stuck against the tips of his fingers. “gojo~” you whined, wanting him to stop teasing and push his fingers inside—or to put something else in.

a chuckle escaped his lips, “so needy for me~.” he pulled the soaked fabric aside, your puffy lips glistening from your slick. he took a second to admire how pretty your cunt looked, before his lips attached to your clit—sucking and swirling his tongue on it. your hands immediately latched onto his winter white locks, pushing him deeper into your cunt.

he mumbled against your wetness, the vibrations made your clit throb while moans spilled from your plump lips. he pushed two of his long fingers into your aching hole, causing you to gasp. “oh fuck gojo!” you moaned loudly, making him detach from your clit— slick all over his lips. “want geto to hear your slut noises? want him to come in here and catch me two—three fingers deep inside of you?” he pushed another finger inside of you, stretching your hole.

you wanted to scream from the sensation, his long digits rubbing against your spot with each pump—your cunt clenching around him crazily. “did you just get wetter from that? so fucking nasty” he reattached his lips to your clit, pumping inside of you faster. that ball in your stomach was getting bigger by the second and you so desperately wanted to cum—no needed to cum for him.

“so close, g’na cum for you” you breathe out, rotating your hips against his lips. he began to swirl his tongue in a different manner—shivers and jolts of excitement being sent up your spine. and by the time you realized he was spelling his name on your clit, that ball exploded inside of you—with you coming undone underneath him.

he slurped and sucked, fingers still pumping inside of you, making sure that he didn’t waste not one drop of your sweet cum—pulling away with a trail of slick following him. “mhm, only got to the letter ‘u’. don’t get too comfortable now, sweetheart” gojo didn’t even let you recuperate before he slid you between his legs, his boner pressing into the top of your ass.

you tried to reach around to palm him through his pants, but he stopped you—looking down at you with a smirk. “not yet, princess. not until i get you to cum until you can’t anymore.” his words caused you to gulp and you looked away from his hypnotizing eyes, looking at his big hands that hovered over your mound.

“which feels better. one—“ he circles your clit with two fingers and pinches your nipple with the other hand, a mewl leaving your lips, before continuing. “—or two” he moves his hands from your clit and pushes them back into your cunt, arousal immediately coating his fingers. you rock your hips into his hand, wanting—no needing more. and when he didn’t hear your answer, he removed his fingers, making you whine in response.

“let daddy know which one feels better, princess. now one or two” he repeated himself, this time he curled his fingers on the second one, while his palm sat on your clit; adding pressure to it. “two! oh my god, two~.” he chuckled and began pumping his thick fingers in and out of your sloppy, wet cunt—his palm rubbing on your clit adding double pleasure for you.

the sounds of your moans and your sex squelching, echoed throughout the room. he was pumping in and out of you like a madman, hitting your spot each time. and you were getting close, so so close. “cum all over daddy’s fingers. let daddy feel how that pretty pussy cum’s for him, kay’?” you nodded your head, pussy clenching around his fingers rapidly before you let go once again.

his fingers didn’t move from your cunt, no matter how much you squeezed your legs together. “can’t. too much—please, satoru~” you whimpered, looking at the sloppy mess you were making—slick mixed with your cream staining the sheets underneath you. “one more baby, cum for me just one more time. daddy wants to see you cum for him, one more time~”

fuck, it was so easy to listen to every word he said. you wanted to obey him. to cum for him on his command. to let him see how messy you were. to see how much you wanted him to fuck you senseless in the mattress. he pumped inside you faster, rotating his fingers around—stretching you more and more. his palm, now covered in your slick, continued to rub on your clit.

your walls squeezed around his fingers, with you cumming harder than the last. this time it was more intense—a clear stream of your fluid flowing out, dampening the bed even more. “yes, that’s it baby. that’s what daddy wanted, good girl” his pace quickened and you could feel yourself going insane as he drained you.

your body jolted and convulsed as you released, even when nothing came out. eyes rolled back and hands gripping onto the bed. you didn’t even notice that satoru left your room, leaving you to sit in the puddle of your cum.

———

day two.

you were trying so hard to be quiet, so the two of you wouldn’t get caught by the store’s workers. but, how could you when his tongue was so deep in your pussy, licking every crevice and teasing your gummy walls. you grinded again his chisled face, hands getting tangled in his sleek raven hair, tugging it as his lips sucked on your swollen clit.

the two of you decided to explore the town’s shopping district, stopping in a cute clothing store when you were ogling at this cute dress in the window. and when geto snuck into your dressing room, he couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

“cumming for you—suguru!” you whined when he pulled you off of his mouth, cutting your orgasm short. he smirked and got up from the dressing room’s soft bench, licking up your slick that covered his mouth. “this was your punishment, baby. I knew what you and gojo were doing yesterday.” you bit your lip, avoiding his intimidating gaze.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you immediately regretted the lie that flew out of your mouth, knowing that there was consequences to follow. he reached around and made you face him, brown eyes dark and lidded as he stared at you. “not only did you let him touch what’s mine, but you lied about it too? tch, g’na have to—punish—you!”

he pushed you down onto his lap, hand colliding with your ass causing you to yelp out. he sent another smack to your ass, in the same spot, this time a moan came out instead. “suguru, please~” you begged, earning another smack to your fat ass—another yelp followed after—making him hit your ass harder than before. you had to bite your lip hard to stop the scream that desperately wanted to be let out.

“see you have a problem with shutting up. gonna have to shut you the fuck up,” he pulled you back by your hair, unzipping his pants with one hand, making his cock springing to life. it was so fat and pretty. tip a nice shade of red, leaking with his precum. mouth drooling at the sight, your plump lips immediately latched onto it—welcoming him right into your warm mouth. he sucked in some air, loving the tightness of your mouth—almost forgetting this was a punishment.

he pushed your head down, bucking his hips upwards, his cock now deep into your mouth—touching the beginning of your throat. your eyes widened at the sudden force, tears brimming your eyes as he begun to fuck your mouth. so much spit coated his dick, dribbling out the corners of your mouth and onto his pants. it was so, so, so messy, yet you couldn’t help but want more.

the more he pounded your sweet little mouth, stretching it with each thrust, you got used to him—taking more of him each time. you were getting more aroused by the second, slick dripping from your lonely cunt—down your thick thighs. his cock was so addicting, you couldn’t get enough of the taste nor the smell of his balls, getting a whiff each time his cum filled balls met your nose.

geto’s eyes rolled back and his mouth was gaped open, low grunts leaving his mouth as his cock explored your mouth, the softness of it made him want to fuck you harder—deeper— he wanted to break your mouth and stuff it full of his hot load. his hand landed on your ass again, the fat rippling from the impact, making you moan against his cock— vibrating against his shaft.

he was so lost in the essence of your mouth, that he completely forgot where he was at until a knock was heard, causing his coffee colored eyes to pop open.

“uh, we’re about close soon. could you please hurry up?” a man spoke on the other side of the door. you had

“give me—shit—a second~” he grunted, looking down at you with pure arousal as you fondled his balls that was coated in your saliva.

“sir! I need you to hur—“

“i said give me a fucking second— shit, g’na cum, drink my fucking cum, slut~” geto yelled at the man, cutting him off mid sentence and making the male leave, while he thrusted in your mouth faster. his hot—thick load pooled into your mouth, coating the inside of your cheeks white. you gave his balls a squeeze, hoping to empty them out as you swallowed his cum. the warmness from it spilling down your throat, making you squirt—splashing onto the mirror behind you and the dress you were looking at before, staining it.

he pulled out of you with a pop sound following, spit and his left over cum trailing from your mouth which you happily slurped back up with a smile on your face. he reached over and grabbed you by the jaw, cheeks puffing up as he stared at you before he pressed his lips into yours, tasting himself when his tongue entered yours.

“fuck. i need to get you back to the house, i want to fuck that little throat some more~”

the two of you quickly got dressed and left the dressing room, bumping into the male worker on the way out and throwing a wad of money at him.

“i don’t get paid enough for this shit”

[stylesloveclub]

sunshine (epilogue)

In which Harry's still grumpy, except for when he's with his sunshine girl.

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“How was it?” Maddie asks y/n, sitting in the driver’s seat of her beat up red Toyota Corolla. The engine is running as y/n climbs into the passengers side, carelessly throwing her backpack in the backseat and buckling herself up. 

“I don’t want to think about integrals ever again,” y/n responds. She’s just gotten out of her calc midterm, and she feels horrible and miserable and exhausted. Although she’d promised herself to go to sleep early last night so that she’d be alert and prepared for her exam… she actually hadn’t fallen asleep until 4 AM. She’d been twisting and turning in her bed, flipping her pillows and trying to lull herself to sleep all night, unsuccessfully. 

Thankfully the class wasn’t until noon, so she was still able to get at least five-ish hours of sleep. But she still woke up feeling like shit. Her heart had been pounding nervously all morning, and she hadn’t been able to get any food down except for three sips of some coffee she made for herself in the morning. She didn’t put any makeup on as she left for campus, only a pair of sweats and a burgundy sweatshirt… Harry’s burgundy sweatshirt. The one he’d given to her in the car when he’d driven her home. 

Now, she has a reason for wearing it! You see… it still smelled like him. And y/n somehow convinced herself that by wearing Harry’s sweatshirt (the sweatshirt that smelled like him!) she might be able to…  absorb some of his math skills? And do better on her midterm? 

She’s pulling at straws here. She still feels like she failed it. 

“Listen…” Maddie says, pulling out of the parking lot. “I need to go over to Blake’s, I left my makeup bag in his bathroom and then we’re gonna go out for lunch.”

“Okay,” y/n mumbles, not caring. She closes her eyes to try and soothe the pounding in her head. She’s gonna nap as soon as she gets into her bed. 

“Do you want me to drop you off at home first? Or… did you want to come and see Harry?” 

Y/n’s eyes flutter open. Harry. 

Maddie looks over at y/n knowingly. Y/n turns bashful. “Yeah, I’ll come and see Harry.”

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Harry looks like he’s just woken up when he opens his bedroom door for y/n.

His eyes are puffy and his curls are flat and messy. A smile immediately spreads on his face when he sees it’s y/n.

“Hey.” His voice is deep and raspy, and it’s probably the first word he’s said all day. 

“Hi,” she says, twisting her hands in the sleeves of her sweatshirt. No– his sweatshirt. 

Oh. Oops.

Harry smiles down at the burgundy sweatshirt that’s swallowed y/n’s body. 

“I– I wore it so that I could return it,” she stammers. A lie! Harry sees right through it, and finds his smirk growing even wider. 

“I like it on you,” he grins. She grows shy under his gaze, heart bubbling with that familiar feeling. The feeling of a crush. “How was the midterm?” he asks, closing the door behind himself and y/n.

He lays back down in his bed, the way he’d previously been before y/n came knocking on his door, and y/n sits down next to him. “I dunno,” she shrugs. Her eyes are downcast and dull, lacking the happy sparkle he usually searches for whenever he’s in her presence.

“I’m sure you did okay,” he says, resting a reassuring hand on her knee. “At least it’s over now!”

She nods. A certain weight had been lifted from her chest as she walked out of that lecture hall. No more studying integrals and derivatives for hours straight…

“There was this one problem,” y/n can’t help but say. “It was like… ln(x) to the power of two…”

“Do you want to write it out?” Harry asks. He knows that y/n probably won’t be able to let this midterm go until she gets all of her questions out of the way. 

With a pen and paper in hand, she messily writes the problem out, the paper tearing a little bit when she presses down too hard. “It was ln(x)^2… and i split it into ln(x)*ln(x). That’s allowed right?”

Harry nods, “Mhm. That’s what I would’ve done too. What next?”

“Um… I did a U-sub. I don’t know if that’s right though… I was running out of time and just did something so that I could get at least partial credit.” 

“A u-sub is right,” he grins.

“Really?” She blinks with wide eyes as he nods. “So… wait– tell me if I did the rest of it right.” She messily writes down what she remembers putting down on the test, then gives the paper to Harry. 

“S’good,” his dimple pops out as he smiles up at her, “It’s all right. And you didn’t forget the +C, good job!” 

“No way!” she exclaims, disbelievingly. Her hands land on Harry’s chest as she giggles triumphantly, “No freaking way I did it right! I thought I was just making math up! Oh my gosh!”

“Told you,” he laughs along with her, holding the hand that she rested on his chest. “Stop stressing out, sunshine. You studied, and now you’re done!”

There’s that name again, the one that makes her entire body tingle with happy chills. >sunshine. The sparkle in her eye is back, and Harry feels pride for being the reason she laughed. The entire world feels brighter now that she’s happy again. 

Y/n’s giggles die down slowly, and she looks down at Harry, eyes flickering between his. Her stare is intent as she chews on her lip, the remnants of her cheery smile still present in the apples of her cheeks.

Something thuds on the floor behind Harry. They both peer over the side of the bed to see what fell from his bedside table. It’s just a book… but when y/n looks closer…

“Wuthering Heights?” 

His cheeks turn pink. “Yeah…” he coughs dryly. “I um… I remember you reading it. Thought it might be nice if I picked it up, and that… we might be able to talk about it or something.” 

Her heart swells in her chest. “You’re reading Wuthering Heights?” 

“Well– trying to,” he chuckles at himself lamely. “I’m like 10 pages in.”

She wants to kiss him. She really really does. Like… he’s perfect and beautiful and kind and sweet and amazing. But… god would it be weird? After last time?

Harry pushes himself up on his elbows. He can feel the tension too. But when he inches closer to her, her eyes flicker with doubt and she looks away. 

“No,” he pleads, cupping her jaw. “Please… please don’t let it be different.” She meets his gaze again. 

“I like you,” he swallows thickly, “and I want… something with you. Whatever you want.” 

He inches upward, and this time she doesn’t pull away. Her heart races in her chest and she lets the magnetic force between them take over. 

“We’ll take it slow, at your pace…” he murmurs, his thumb rubbing back and forth on her cheek. Her eyes flutter shut. “No rush. Just trust me, please.”

She nods. She trusts him.

Their lips connect, a spark flying through y/n’s body the second she makes contact with him. It’s wonderful, better than last time, even, and she realizes the reason kissing Harry is so great is because it’s >Harry. Because she can feel how much he cares for her when he kisses her. He speaks poems with his lips when he kisses her and writes sonnets on her skin every time he touches her. He tastes like minty toothpaste, freshly washed, and his lips are so soft and sweet and gentle. 

He pulls away from her lips with a soft click, then stares up at her with hearts floating in his eyes. 

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Y/n is out of breath, huffing and puffing in front of Harry’s door and knocking like a madwoman. She ran here from her own apartment, too excited to wait and ask Maddie for a ride. She needed to see him >immediately. 

Harry opens the door with concerned eyes and furrowed eyebrows, a little bit scared. He still has his headphones on with his controller in his hands, staring down at y/n as though he just had a heart attack, “What? What is it?” 

A huge grin is plastered on her face. “Harry!” she beams. “I passed!”

“What?” he’s still confused. What did she pass? Why is she at his door?

“I got a 77% on the midterm!” she squeals, jumping up and down in her place. 

His eyes light up and a smile spreads across his face. “Yes!” he cheers. He pulls the headphones off of his ears and hangs them around his neck, just in time for when y/n wraps her arms around him. He’s taken aback, stumbling a few steps backwards from how hard she pummeled into him, but easily steadies himself and wraps his arms around her back. He hugs her so tight that her feet leave the ground, and she’s laughing in his ear sweetly.

“I can’t believe it!!!” she says, her hands on his shoulders as he puts her back down on the ground. Her eyes glimmer with the shine that he adores so much, and it makes him grin even harder. His dimple pops out, a rare sighting for anyone else except for y/n these days. 

He kisses her without a second thought.

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The scene is all too familiar. Harry, sitting at a party with his eyebrows furrowed grumpily. His friends are sitting around him, laughing and chattering, but Harry says nothing. He takes a bored sip from the jungle juice in his hand. Three girls have approached him tonight, batting their eyes up at him and biting their lips teasingly, but he’s brushed them off without so much of a glance. He’s not interested in the slightest.

He looks around himself, eyes searching for a certain someone, and he sighs to himself. She’s still not here. His pout grows more prominent, and he whips out his phone. He does not care for anyone at this party, and though his friends are fun and all… they’re having a weird conversation about Elon Musk that he doesn’t want to even listen to.

He huffs. He stares at the last text he received, 19 minutes ago.

sunshine: omw!! be there in 15 :)

She’s 4 minutes late, he pouts. It’s probably Maddie’s fault.

A firm poke is pressed to his forehead. “Hey grumpy.” His heart jumps as he recognizes the sweet sunshine angel voice speaking to him. 

“Sunshine,” he coos, the furrow his brow immediately melting into a soft smile. He holds a hand out for her, which she immediately takes. She has a soft smile on her face, her eyes kind and warm and gentle, the LED party lights haloing around her head and making her look like a fairy. “Missed you.”

He pulls her down into his lap, her butt comfortably sat on his thighs, and nuzzles his face into her neck, trying to get as close to her as possible. A content hum rumbles through his chest now that he’s surrounded by her scent, his pretty girlfriend in his lap, drowning out all the other people at the party. She giggles cutely when his curls tickle her chin, simultaneously trying to escape the kisses he’s pressing to her sensitive throat while also wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

“Watcha drinking?” she asks. 

He offers her his drink, “dunno.” She grimaces as she takes a sip, and he imitates her grossed out face. “Yucky, isn’t it?”

She gets the drink as far away as possible from herself. “Gross.” 

He chuckles. She’s so beyond cute, her cheeks so soft and biteable as she scrunches her nose. One of his hands is on her back, holding her upright, while the other one rests on her thigh comfortably. His fingers on her back find the ends of her hair and start twisting them, playing with the soft strands and curling them around his fingers, while his fingers on her thigh trace up and down and up and down. Goosebumps rise along the path of his fingers, and it makes him smile. She’s so reactive to every single one of his touches… he wants to have his hands on her 24/7.

If she wasn’t so shy and sweet and innocent, he’d start kissing her pretty, glossed up lips right here and now, even with all of their friends sitting around them. He’s obsessed with her! Obsessed with kissing her all the time and teaching her all the secrets of intimacy. But he knows she’d probably get bashful and embarrassed with that much PDA (even getting her to sit in his lap took a bit of coaxing at the beginning), so he settles for pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You’re so cute,” he murmurs to her, resting his head on her shoulder. Is it too early for them to leave this party and to his room? He’d love to be snuggled up in bed with her… have her read to him a little bit while he plays with her hair… yeah that sounds nice.

“M’gonna go get a juice box from the fridge,” she whispers (his fridge is stocked with juice just for her). He whine when she pulls away, looking up at her with big pleading puppy dog eyes, begging her not to leave him when he’s just gotten her, but she pecks his cheek with a dismissive kiss. “Do you want one too?”

“No,” he pouts. “I’ll just have some of yours, if that’s okay?”

She squints her eyes at him, “you get two sips, and that’s it.” 

He shrugs with a teasing smile. “M’kay.” He resists the urge to pat her ass as she walks away (that’s for when they’re alone in his room).

He’s stuck in a lovey dovey lavender haze as he watches her get swept away by a group of her girlfriends, smiling to himself fondly as they all giggle and look towards Harry mischievously. He knows she’s probably getting grilled about how little miss sunshine finally got a boyfriend! 

A shove from Blake jostles him out of his daydream. “Who are you?” Blake snickers. All of his friends are staring at him too. Nobody has ever, ever seen grumpy Harry be so soft with anyone. Kissing her cheek and cuddling into her neck and whining like a love-struck puppy… it’s funny. 

Harry rolls his eyes and tells his friends to fuck off, trying to furrow his brows and look all serious again. But his heart flutters happily in his chest, and those pretty dimples dent his cheek. 

He can’t be very grumpy when his sunshine girl is skipping back to him, juice box in hand as she settles back down on his lap. 

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perfect ending for my fav story:( TELL ME WHAT BLURBS U WANNA SEE!!!! MANY MANY BLURBS TO COME BC I LOVE THIS STORY:(

sunshine masterlist

[iwritefandomimagines]

DRIVING LESSONS — JESS MARIANO

based on a request

masterlist

pairing: jess mariano x reader

description: you should’ve known that asking jess to teach you to drive would be a mistake if you actually wanted to learn to drive.

warnings: swearing. other than that just flirty teasy jess mariano which is my fav thing.

author’s note: thanks for this request eeeek i love it so much im sorry it took so long to get out. i hope you enjoy! it’s pretty short but short n sweet !

———

“Y’know, I should be charging you for this.”

You rolled your eyes, hands firmly on the steering wheel as you turned briefly to shoot Jess a stern glare, “We only just got in the car, Mariano.”

“You’re right, I’d charge by the hour. We’ll see how you go,” he teased, before one-by-one explaining the mechanisms of the car that you needed to know to get started, “Think your pretty little brain can remember all that?”

You scoffed, “My pretty little brain can handle it just fine. Might wanna tone down the condescension, big guy.”

“I have been working out, I’m glad you’ve noticed,” he flexed his arms for a moment and licked his lips as you rolled your eyes, “Big, huh?”

With a shake of your head, you pressed your palms against the steering wheel almost exasperatedly, “Your ego is, yeah.”

Jess just smirked, lowering his arms and folding them across his chest.

He looked out at the empty parking lot surrounding you for a moment and then back across at you, “You’re cute when you’re pissed off with me.”

“Are you going to teach me to drive or just flirt with me, Jess?”

He quirked his eyebrow, “Men can multitask too you know? See, while you juggle learning to drive and glancing over to ogle at me, I can teach you to drive and make you blush.”

Before you could stop yourself you glanced up at the rear view mirror, catching sight of the fact that he wasn’t lying — your face was stained a deep crimson.

“Again, surprised you can fit in the car with the size of your ego,” you mumbled, eyes on the parking lot again as you avoided meeting his.

He laughed, “Or my big arms, huh?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the most annoying person on the planet?” you huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as amusement continued to spread across his features.

He contorted his face into an expression of mock horror, “Me? Never! Most intelligent, sure. Most handsome, maybe. Annoying? Doesn’t ring a bell.”

You pulled the handbrake and switched off the engine completely now, hands still gripping the wheel as you shifted your body to look at him fully.

Your expression was challenging him.

You were getting absolutely nowhere, and the flustered feeling flitting through your body at every moment of this conversation wouldn’t help even if he was multitasking.

“Shall we just save the lessons for another day? I’ve had a long day anyway,” you frowned, heaving in a deep sigh as he shook his head dramatically.

His brows had raised to give off the look of an unimpressed school teacher, tutting as he crossed his arms, “Giving up so easily? My, my, Y/N, here I thought you were resilient.”

“I put up with you on a regular basis, Mariano, I’d say I’m pretty fuckin’ resilient alright,” you huffed, growing only more irritated by his ever present smirk, “I’m not driving another inch right now.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, leaning to open the car door and get out, which left you scowling.

You were so flustered you’d entirely forgotten that he’d driven you out to the empty parking lot you were currently sat in, and he was getting out to switch sides with you.

“I know you like me, babe, but I can’t sit on your lap to drive you home,” he teased as he rounded the front of the car, opening your door, “You gettin’ out or do you just wanna waste time so you can stay in my company?”

You scoffed, “Like you’re just going to drop me home. Fifty bucks says you drive us to the diner so you can loiter ‘round me all evening.”

“Fifty bucks, hey?”

“Oh get lost, Mariano.”

It was his turn to scoff now, “Like that’s what you want. You wish I’d loiter around you.”

You stepped out of the car with a shake of your head, your arm brushing against his as you slipped past to walk around to the passengers seat.

You tried to ignore the jolt of electricity in your veins at the contact, but you could tell that he’d noticed your briefly widened eyes.

The smirk on his face only grew.

“Home it is,” Jess feigned a sad sigh, “I’ll go piss Luke off and eat my body weight in fries all alone.”

“Who’s desperate for whose company now, huh?”

Jess shrugged, a teasing tight-lipped smile on his face, “Oh, still you. I’m just saving you from having to get all red faced and stuttery when you beg me to come inside when I drop you home.”

“You wish.”

“No, I know. But like I say, I’m a gentleman.”

You nudged his shoulder. “Oh sure. Such a gentleman you can’t even actually tell me you like me — which you so blatantly do — and choose good old fashioned teasing instead.”

He looked offended for a moment, turning to face you and leaning against the steering wheel with a pout, “Am I that transparent? No shit, Sherlock. It’s called flirting and as we’ve established it’s reciprocated.”

“Well at what point are you going to do something about it?”

Jess tutted, “At what point are you going to do something about it?”

You sat silently for a moment, completely still except for both of your eyes flitting between each other’s eyes and lips.

“Fine, I concede,” Jess raised his hands up in surrender, shaking his head, “But only because I think I might pass out if I don’t kiss you right now.”

You smirked, leaning forward for a moment, “Oh, don’t tempt me to reject you with a promise of temporary peace.”

“You wouldn’t dream of it,” he licked his lips, hand reaching up to curl around your chin, “Not when you feel the exact same, huh?”

You drew in a sharp breath, the touch of his hand pricking goosebumps on your skin.

Obviously he was right, and there was no way you could handle going even another second without kissing him.

You leaned into his touch, lips meeting his with the urgency of all of the pent up passion of just how long you’d been waiting to kiss him.

The console between you was a frustrating obstacle, but one you were both more than happy to deal with in this moment.

A few minutes of frantic kisses and sweet nothings later, you finally pulled back and Jess readied himself to start the car almost immediately, biting his lip to hide the smirk returning.

“No offence, Jess, but I think I should get a real teacher if I actually want to learn to drive,” you bit your lip, watching him laugh.

He shrugged, “No, I get it. Hopefully your next teacher isn’t so ruggedly and distractingly handsome so you can focus.”

“Ruggedly handsome?” you scoffed, “And it’s you who was distracted, sir. What was it you said… you might pass out if you didn’t kiss me?”

He huffed in surrender, “Aren’t you just lucky your dream guy is such a romantic poet?”

“Sure,” you snorted, “A pleasure to be your muse.”

He leaned over to kiss the corner of your lips once more, a small gesture that sent your stomach aflutter with butterflies.

It felt almost reassuring — like he was asserting that this wasn’t just him being a horny teenager wanting to make out with you, but that he had actual feelings.

“Back to your castle, princess?” he joked, immediately wondering whether he was pushing his luck even though he was teasknf, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. We’ll go to Luke’s.”

You hummed, shaking your head for a moment as he turned to narrow his eyes at you before pulling out of the lot.

“I’m not making out with your uncle watching, you perv,” you rolled your eyes with a small laugh, “Let’s go to my place.”

His grin widened again, his foot on the ignition and his eyes on the road immediately.

“Your wish is my command.”

———

thanks so much for reading! as always, please let me know what you think <3 i hope you enjoyed — and if you want to read more of my stuff, here’s my masterlist

[cenorii]

Reasons

Hi, today let's discuss some interesting and short topics related to Chris and Wesker. Their relationship and a bit of biology.

Strange attitude towards Chris

We know that Chris has been diligently strengthening his body since the events of Code Veronica, in order to have something to counter Wesker. But he's still human, so no matter how much he tries to increase his physical strength, he can't stand up to Wesker if he's serious about killing him, it's logically useless. Of course, he wasn't the only reason for Chris's increased body mass, an additional motivation was the moment in Code Veronica when he didn't have the strength to kick down the door to save Claire.

Against Wesker any strength is useless (except for Alexia), just think of the final battle in the Lost in Nightmares DLC. No amount of physical strength and training helped Chris even scratch his opponent, let alone any attempt to fight back. The difference between the two is unrealistically huge, which raises the logical question... why is Chris still alive?

What's his attitude towards Chris anyway? Judging from their dialog in re1r, Wesker respects Chris's talents and has his hopes set on him, proud that he came out from under his captain's wing. It's the reason he didn't shoot Chris, wanting to show his best man his best creation (he also showed Jill Tyrant, but from the prism of their situation it looks more like bragging than a meeting of his two best creations). In Code Veronica they met again, and despite Wesker's open hatred for his former subordinate, he chose to demonstrate his power in front of him rather than kill Chris.

What emotions does a person feel when he wants to brag to someone he respects, but at the same time hates? I think Wesker has more respect for Chris than hate. He also wants to show him that he is now "better than he knew before" by trying to impress Chris a second time. He doesn't want to kill him because he's cocky and knows for a fact that the average person won't stop him.

The next encounter takes place in the Lost in Nightmares DLC, where Wesker is angry about information that offended his pride and crossed out everything he thought about himself. This time, when attacking Chris, he's driven by nothing but rage, so he doesn't think much about who's in front of him. Because of this, he might be contemplating breaking with his past, including Chris, so he's actually going to kill him. But he is interrupted, time passes and his emotions cool down, thanks to which the next time he meets Chris in re5 Wesker again doesn't plan to kill him. Chris is now his past, which he has accepted.

Instead of finishing what he planned and cutting off everything that reminds him of his fake past, Wesker decides to embrace the truth, including saving Jill's life and using her in his plans. He must have thought about Chris a lot and talked about him a lot, which you can tell from Excella, who said with disdain: "Chris Redfield" and Wesker at that moment turned away and smiled so that she could not see. He is either amused btw Excella reacts to Chris, or he is really secretly happy to show him his creation again but doesn't want to show his joy to Excella, whereupon he switches back to a serious tone of voice, provoking the woman to leave the room.

Their encounters in re5 don't look like a normal battle, because Wesker is able to kill both of his opponents (Sheva and Chris) completely unhindered just like he killed Spencer's guards in the mansion from the Lost in Nightmares DLC. But he doesn't because Chris has now found a new value to him. Redfield is an element of his past and an element of his present, integrating his personal growth processes and showing up at significant moments in his life. Therefore, as long as Wesker is confident that he will show Chris Uroboros, he will not seriously harm him. Only when his confidence crumbled did he become adamant about getting rid of the interfering element that now not only ruins his plans, but ruins his dreams, opposes his ideals, and negates what Wesker believes in. Chris is now not an accepted and valued past, but a judgmental eye looking straight into Wesker's soul. Someone who is the complete opposite of him. And since Wesker still respects Chris, because he only shows strength to those who are worthy (artbook quote), his opinion is valuable. But what if Chris's opinion differs from his and it can't be changed? The only thing left to do is to beat those views out of him.

Chris is a very important person to Wesker, despite the feelings of hatred he displays, which may also be the result of Wesker being confused about how long he let Chris live. That said, he is utterly helpless to kill this fragile man. He's too rare, valuable, special, the only one. And that brings out the tangled emotions in him. The fact that Chris is alive is absolutely no credit to Chris himself.

Height difference

When Wesker caused himself to overdose with Uroboros, his body increased in size due to the excess cellular material in his body. He is now about 230 cm. I'm sure the process is reversible, and when the virus in his body stabilizes from the overdose by properly fusing with his body, Wesker will return to his previous size. But what's funny is the very fact that because his body cells are unusual and able to regenerate, Wesker is able to react to the overdose with similar side effects. But if the effects were irreversible? That's interesting to think about.

Lack of a hand

If you follow the animations of Wesker's right hand on the volcano closely, you will notice that it moves as one continuous tentacle without bones. While the left one seems more static, and you can also see the arm model through the tentacles on the left arm. I examined its model and found out that the left hand does indeed have a full hand, even fingers, but the right hand is less fortunate - it's missing. In its place are tentacle bones. I realize this was done for ease of animation, but let's imagine for a second that the missing arm is an irreversible side effect, and now Wesker's arm will never come back. The tentacles will retract inside his body, but the arm will be missing and never regenerate. Oldsker without his right arm? Interesting.

[lewsnumerounofan]

party foul (jeremiah fisher x reader)

summary: so what if you're in love with your best friend, jeremiah fisher? one drunk kiss won't change anything. right?

notes: not biblically accurate conrad, teen drinking, kissing, 3k words, reader previously dated co**ad, angst/miscomm., not proof read at all

+ part 2

+ i never keep the same tense i'm so sooryim gooo fuckjuhnbsorry oh my god and dw abt the header image!!!!!! it's okay!!!!!

kissing jere was easy.

it was the first thing you noticed. how easy it was to let his lips slant over yours, to tilt your head back at the greedy request of his hands, to forget about the party and conrad and the house.

it was just him and the feel of his mouth on yours.

you hadn't expected this, to say the least. in fact, you'd been bracing for an awkward and mostly miserable night. ever since conrad and you had split back in june, things had been awful. the breakup had been bad itself--getting ditched at prom without explanation was one thing--but watching conrad get back with nicole a week later was even worse.

so you were pleasantly surprised with yourself when you decided to go to the fisher's goodbye party, despite whatever tension there might be between you and conrad.

if you were being honest with yourself though, you mostly had jeremiah to thank. you two had been best friends since childhood, but ever since his brother had broken your heart, jere had been there for you. all the time, really. he'd drive down on weekends to check up on you. and when susannah had gotten worse, you'd driven up to make sure he was eating and sleeping too.

so of course he'd been able to convince you to come stay, waving off your concerns about conrad. i want you there, he'd said. i really want you there. and so you'd come. you arrived late, tired from the hours of highway driving. already the house was packed with hap hazardously parked cars and drunk teenagers. the music was loud even on the warm streets outside, and you couldn't help but feel excited as you pulled your bag out of your car and started towards the party.

taylor was the one who opened the door for you. she launched herself into a hug, giggling and shrieking as you two swung around.

"oh my god. you have no idea how happy i am to see you," she yelled, dragging you into the crowded house.

together you fumbled upstairs, eventually breaking into one of the larger rooms. various assortments of air mattresses and water beds covered the floor. jere had called you as soon as they'd gotten back from the boardwalk about julia's suprise moving. it wasn't often you heard him so... defeated.

"you can drop your stuff wherever," said taylor, "but the one in the corner is jeremy's."

she didn't even bother to hide her grin as you slapped her arm. nothing, not even your best kept secret, made it past taylor.

"shut up. you can't say anything to him or i swear i'll kill you," you promised, only half joking.

"oh please. he hasn't stopped talking about you the whole trip. it's disgusting."

you tried not to smile at that--jere talked about you? i mean, he'd called you just about every day for the last few months. more, on days when things were hard. but still, you felt almost nervous at the thought of seeing him now. of what it might be like between you.

your thoughts were cut off by a shout of your name. running into the room was belly. well, not running--rolling.

"oh my god bell what are you wearing?" you asked. it was too late though, because she was wrapping you up in a wobbly, crushing hug.

"roller skates? duh? they're an old pair of susannah's," she said.

you'd missed belly. she looked fucking adorable in her little vintage number, and you hugged her again just because. over her shoulder you could see steven grinning, and conrad too. you waved to the later while steven strode over, ruffling your hair before taking your bag from you.

"long time no see, city-girl," he said.

"yeah yeah yeah. just be nice to my bag, okay? it's got some very delicate presents," you said. steven raised his eyebrows but did as you said, placing your bag onto the bed taylor had indicated earlier. jere's bed. taylor and steven met eyes and winked--uh oh. the last thing you needed was them trying to set you up with your best friend. your best friend who you're in love with, something inside you said. you tried your best to strangle it.

"hey."

this time it was conrad, who was sporting a pair of atrocious sunflower sunglasses on the top of his head.

"hey. i like the glasses," you said, doing your best to smile. it was weird to talk like this to him. you were so angry and embarrassed and sad because of him for so long, and now there was just... nothing. and it felt okay.

"uh, yeah. nicole--nicole got them for me."

he looked sheepish, blushing in a way that used to have you fawning. now you just did your best to nod, saying, "well, she's certainly got a good eye for fashion."

you were saved from the conversation by steven's cough. he stood by the doorway, impatiently waving you towards the party.

"cmon guys, can we hurry this up?"

"yeah, gimmie one sec," you promised. returning to your bag you pulled out the liquor you'd secured on your way there, the bottles heavy in your hands.

"see," you said, turning back to your friends, "presents."

-

downstairs was even louder than you thought it would be. belly had gone all out for the party--strobe lights blared in every room, a kegger was set up outside, and a dj (was that cam cameron??) was spinning in the living room. you had to admit it: you were having a good time. a really good time. except for, that is, one thing. or person, really. jere was nowhere to be found. he'd even missed out on the group shots you, steven, taylor, belly and conrad had downed first beside the pool and then by the kitchen. jeremiah never missed group shots.

a little more than drunk now, you pushed off from your spot on the counter to find your bestfriend.

"city-girl, where you going?" asked steven.

"i'm gonna go find jere. i haven't seen him since i got in."

"i'll come with you," a voice spoke up.

it was conrad, who looked between you and the floor nervously. you didn't miss the questioning looks that pass between taylor and belly. you shrug at them--a little nervous, but not enough to turn him down in front of all your friends.

"uh, yeah sure."

so you and conrad made your way back through the party, scanning couches and corners for jeremiah. by the time you hit the stairs you were both sweaty and annoyed. you had come all this way to see him, and all of a sudden he'd disappeared.

"he's not picking up any of my calls," said conrad, pulling his phone away from his ear.

"me neither," you admitted, letting yourself swing around the banister to sit at the bottom of the staircase. cautiously, conrad gestured to empty landing beside you.

"mind if i join?"

you nod, scooching over to make room. conrad looked bigger than last time you'd seen him. he looked stronger too. for a while after susannah died he'd looked like a corpse--pale and skinny and only half there. even you could admit you were glad to see him doing so much better.

"hey, look i didn't really tag along to search for jere," conrad said, glancing back at you. shocker.

"i uh," he cleared his throat, "i mostly just wanted to apologize. for how things ended. i know i messed up really bad and i wanted to say i'm sorry."

in the hazy blue and purple's of the dance floor below, conrad's steel-blue eyes were genuine. for the first time that night they held yours steadily.

"i was hurting, and let myself fall on you for comfort even when i knew you weren't who i wanted. who i needed. and it wasn't fair to you. i know that now, and i'm sorry it took me so long. i'm really, really sorry."

huh. you hadn't really expected that one either. but it was nice to hear him say those words. you liked conrad. he was a good guy who'd had a rough hand delt to him. and yeah, he hadn't done right by you. but like susannah had always repeated:

"no harm no foul," you said, and let yourself smile at him. he looked relieved as he smiled back, no doubt recognizing the reference to his mother.

"you're happy now, i take it? with nicole?" you ask.

"yeah. more than happy, actually. don't know what i did to deserve her."

you're happy for him, in that moment. really happy.

"what about you? you finally stopped messing around and admitted your feelings to jere?" he asked.

"huh?" you drop, mouth open. there's no way.

"what," he chuckled, grinning harder at your shocked expression, "like it's not obvious you two are crazy for each other."

you can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks now, stomach skipping at his words. so they all knew, you realized. does jere?

"he doesn't--you didn't tell him, right?" you said, panic rising.

conrad shakes his head, still looking amused.

"no, but he'd be a fool not to see it. you guys are perfect for each other. really."

"thanks, conrad."

and you mean it--it's been months of awkwardness between you. and now you just feel... good. you feel like you've got your friend back. so you lean over and hug him, letting yourself remember that before your fling you were friends, and returning back to it feels comforting and warm.

"thank you, for hearing me out. i'm glad we can be back to normal now," he said into your shoulder.

"friends again?" you ask.

"definit--"

"what the fuck?"

-

it's jeremiah. he stands at the top of the stairs, eyes wide. he's wearing the ariana grande merch you'd gotten him. he looks the same and yet--

and yet something in your chest fizzes and your stomach starts running circles as you look at him. you missed him. and not because he was your best friend.

"jere--it's not what it looks like," said conrad.

and then you realized he did look different. the jeremiah you knew was always grinning about some secret joke, or making fun of belly or steven. he never looked... betrayed like this. and he certainly never looked at you with disgust. with anger.

"what the fuck are you guys doing?" he asked again, but this time he didn't even look at you.

"nothing, jere. we were just talking," said conrad.

you cringed at his words. they might be true, but they sure didn't sound good.

"yeah, sure," laughed jere. you'd never heard him laugh like that. it made your skin prickle.

"c'mon, you know i'd never do that-" conrad started.

jeremiah was faster though. he was up in conrad's face in a second, pushing him into the wall. you'd never seen him like this. he wasn't an aggressive guy; even when the brothers fought it was never violent.

"don't fucking lie, con. you were just waiting to take her back weren't you? waiting until you knew it'd hurt me the most, huh?"

you felt his words viscerally, like they were being penned onto your skin. hurt him the most? it was the closest to a confession you'd gotten, but it all felt wrong.

by now, partygoers on the main floor had started to notice the commotion. people were pointing, some even starting to pull out their phones. great.

"jere," you called. he paused, bright blue eyes on you. even now, fighting with his brother, jeremiah looked beautiful. maybe you had had a bit too much to drink.

"jere, please let it go. conrad isn't a part of this," you murmured. though you didn't break eye contact, you could see his hands loosen around his brother's shirt in your peripheral. jaw clenched, he heeded your wishes, giving a final shove to conrad before breaking away. he walked quickly down the stairs and into the throngs of people below.

"jere, wait up!" you call, desperately trying to follow the broad shape of his back through the crowd. jeremiah didn't bother trying to accommodate your smaller strides, and you almost lost him a few times in the packed house.

"would you please slow down? jere," you said again. by now you were out of the house, dodging pool floaties and scattered drinks. the blonde made no indication of hearing you as he kept striding towards the beach.

"jeremiah!"

finally he whipped around. he still looked mad--the set of his jaw, the notching of his eyebrows--but under all of it, he just looked sad. you hated seeing him upset, and you hated knowing you might've been the cause of it.

"jere, please. what's going on?" you asked, this time softly. he was close to you now. you could see his heavy breathing, could smell the perfume he always wore.

"how would i know. you're the one who's looking all close with your ex--my brother--conrad," he spits. he swallows hard, like he's checking himself.

"it was always you and conrad. even when we were kids it was that way. i was stupid to think it could've been any different."

he turned away from you, gaze hard. oh, jere. you have no idea, you thought. it was him--how could he not see that? how could he really think it was conrad you cared about?

you couldn't deny it any longer: you loved jere. and you definitely weren't about to let him walk away thinking otherwise.

quickly, without letting yourself dwell on it, you grabbed jeremiah's hand. he turned back, eyes wide. and you kissed him.

kissing jere was easy.

it was the first thing you noticed. how easy it was to let his lips slant over yours, to tilt your head back at the greedy request of his hands, to forget about the party and conrad and the house.

it was just him and the feel of his mouth on yours.

and then everything was static. everywhere he touched you--the long, lean press of his body to your front, the sharp slide of his jawline under your palm, the firm press of his hands at your waist. every sense was filled with him and his warmth and the way he smelled.

you were gasping into the kiss, hyperaware of the small noises he made when you pulled on his curls. of just how tall he was, how much he had to lean down to hold you like this.

you barely broke away enough to say, "jere, nothing happened with conrad. we were talking about you-"

"don't care," he said, voice rough. because he was too busy lifting you onto one of the wooden boardwalk rails, muscled arms flexing in the distant party lights.

you barely had time to settle before he was kissing you again, sloppy this time, like he owned your mouth and wanted you to know it. you felt hot everywhere, as his hands pulled apart your thighs and he crowded his broad body into you.

you'd kissed once before for a game of truth or dare. it had been sweet and short, and you both had been teased about it for years afterwards. this was different.

wholly different, you realized, as jeremiah's lips sought out the hot skin of your neck. there was no place except where he touched you; the noise of the party, the lull of the waves on the beach, the quiet way he murmured against your skin.

"jere," you said, because there was no room in your mind for anything or anyone else. he hummed as his canines bit lightly at your ear. jere.

greedy for more, you took one of the tan, strong hands holding your face and brought it lower, lower until it rested over your frantically beating heart. jere had pulled away to watch your ministrations, cursing softly as his hand fell over your chest.

"you sure?" he asked, and his voice sounded hoarse.

"yeah, course jere. it's you."

something behind his eyes sparked at the trust you promised. it's always been you. kissing you once more, gentler this time, jere let his hand run up and under the vintage bathing suit top you'd stolen from your mom for the party.

skin on skin, jeremiah was soft and warm. he was breathing heavy as you as he felt you up. forehead to yours, gaze keen as he watched you pant and squirm.

"this okay?"

you could only nod, eyes drawn tight at the sensation. he kissed you again, his touch more confident as you clung to his shoulders.

you'd messed around with conrad a few times. it had felt good. fun, even. but he'd never had you reeling like this, never made you feel like everywhere he touched was fire. that feeling was reserved for jere.

and as his thumb circled your nipple and his teeth pulled at your lip, you realized you were burning and there wasn't anything you could do to stop it. best friend or not, jere was the only one who could make you feel like this. ever.

you pulled away from his mouth. he looked concerned, and you could feel him move his hands away from you.

"sorry if i..." he started, blue eyes near scared as he watched you.

"no, jere it's not that. it's, it's just that i-"

"hey, there's my man! where the fuck were you dude?"

it was steven. fucking steven. on his arm was taylor, who grinned manically when she saw your mussed hair and blushing expression. please not now, taylor. please don't mess this up any more.

but drunk as they were, the pair didn't notice your nervous expression. instead, steven laughed and said, "so did you finally tell her you're in love with her or what?"

-

jere's face dropped. whatever softness you'd shared moments earlier was gone. his mouth set flat, hands that had been mapping out your body now closed into fists.

"fuck you, steven."

taylor's eyes were on you now, finally recognizing the tears you tried to blink away. with a hand on his chest she held steven back, some wordless communication passing between them. if you hadn't been feeling your own heart break you would've been trying to tease them about it.

instead, you chased after jeremiah's retreating figure.

"jere, will you please listen!" you called. but he was stubborn--you knew this better than anyone. one more time you tried, shouting his name over the stupidly loud party.

he whipped back around, blue eyes sharp.

"just stay away from me, okay? why don't you go find conrad to wipe your tears," he snapped. for a moment, jere looked shocked at his own words too. but then he was shaking his head, tearing his gaze away from yours as he continued through the crowds towards the house. away from you.

and this time, as people collapsed into the space all around you, their yelling and singing drowning out even your thoughts, you knew there was no use calling for him.

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - VI

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence, divider by animatedglittergraphics

6. creature of the night

In the back of the yellow taxi driven by the faithful Chas, John makes a point not to touch you. You are so heartbroken by the events of the past half hour that it does not even register that Chas is driving you somewhere other than your mutual apartment building, until you pull up in front of a dilapidated storefront declaring “BOWL, BOW, BOWL” on the neon sign. 

“What…?”

“My friend Beeman’s place. Somewhere to lay low,” John explains, throwing open the door of the cab.  

“Thanks, Chas,” you say, because John never seems to find it necessary to do so. 

“Sure, y/n,” answers the young man. “Hey John–” 

John slams the door shut on Chas’s question. 

“You’re so mean to him,” you sigh.  

He only answers that with a snort, coughing to the side. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” 

He leads you through the doors, and up some stairs to a living space above the bowling alley. It is long, with high ceilings, white subway tiles, and crumbling lead paint on the paneling. A bank of windows stretches all down the wall. 

It’s an interesting space, but the windows could be a problem for you, come dawn. 

“There’s a big closet in the other room,” he assures you, like he can read your mind. 

He directs you into a chair at a long table, and all business, starts loosening his tie. 

“John…wait.” 

“You don’t have time to wait. You look like shit, and his blood will contaminate your ability to fight him.” He cocks his head, looking down at you. “Unless you don’t plan on fighting him? You looked pretty cozy when I found you.” 

A thread of heat dances down that connection between you, and you pause with surprise as you recognize it for what it is. Jealousy? After the way he’s avoided you? Is he fucking kidding right now? 

“You look like shit,” you counter, and you realize it’s true. His skin is sallow; there are dark circles under his eyes. He was always slender, but now he borders on too thin. You know he doesn’t take care of himself, but this is beyond the usual abuse. Was he not sleeping or eating because of you? You think on what Wick said to you. He doesn’t look good. I won’t have to wait long for you. What the fuck did that mean? “Are you ok?” you demand, standing to examine him more closely. 

“I’m fine,” he grouses, backing away. 

You don’t believe him, and the two of you stand in the kitchen facing off with each other, both pissed, though you suspect, for different reasons. 

Somehow you know if you keep pushing him, John will just refuse to talk to you at all, stubborn bull of a man that he is. So you change tack, appealing to the know-it-all in him. 

“What…is he?” 

“John Wick is a hybrid,” Constantine explains matter of factly. “Half human, half vampire. Your perfect predator. They have to drink vampire blood to stay alive, and they can live a long time.”

“He drank my blood,” you admit, touching the marks at your throat that still have not healed. Usually such an injury would have sealed over by now. “But then…he gave me some back.” 

Constantine snorts. “Yeah, I saw that.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. 

“He said…I reminded him of someone he once knew.” 

“When you’ve lived as long as he has, probably everyone reminds you of someone,” John scoffs. 

“He slaughtered all of don Juan’s vampires, at Perla. Juan was going to hold me hostage to bait you. But then Wick came up the stairs, and…Jesus Christ. It was a massacre.” 

“Yeah. He does that.”

“Juan got away, and Wick…spared me.” 

“Spared you, huh? Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”

Your annoyance spikes. “You know, for someone who has been avoiding me like the plague, you sure seem to care about who I kiss!”

“You can makeout with whoever you want, sweetheart, I couldn’t care less. But what the hell were you doing at Perla?” 

His tone suggests he might feel otherwise.

“Hunting.” 

“At the Master’s own club? Are you kidding me?”   

For a moment you are taken aback, and then you really see red. “I didn’t know it was the Master’s club because you’ve never fucking told me anything, John!” Seething, you go on, “You didn’t have to fuck me. You didn’t have to feed me. But it would have been nice if you could have at least prepared me!”

In the end you are toe to toe, and points to John for not flinching while your eyes are flashing orange and your fangs are bared. 

“I tried,” he insists through his teeth, a lot more calmly than you. “But everytime I’m around you…”

You share blood and body fluids, is the short of it, and you know he’s not wrong.  

You let out a long breath, trying to calm down. The following inhale does not exactly help you; it’s all John, his yummy cologne and the scent of his skin and that beautiful essence coursing beneath it and jesus fucking christ no wonder he hates you. 

You retreat, turning your back on him, trying not to cry, trying not to yell, and trying not to tackle him to the floor to drink him down.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, and you mean it. “I didn’t know how to control it.” You think about that golden thread between you, and the way don Juan taunted you, and the name slung so freely by the vampire hunter like it was an insult. Maybe you have an inkling of why John’s been avoiding you like the plague. “What did I do to you, John?”

“I know you didn’t mean to.” 

He sounds as miserable as you feel. 

“Mean to what?”

“You made me your creature, y/n. Familiar, human servant, famulus, bonded, thrall, Renfield. You want all the names for it?” 

You turn to look at him, your heart breaking all over again. “I just…liked you, John.” 

More than liked him, apparently, but you’d rather die than admit it now. 

He nods, suddenly very interested in a stain on the wall, his jaw clenching. “I liked you too,” he admits. “But this is…not good.” 

You feel that light inside you, that warmth that is a part of him, somehow, a part of you. You tug on it, and he can’t help but look at you then. “It feels good?” you say.

“Yeah.” He takes a step closer towards you. “But if I was damned before…” Another step. “I’m really fucked now.” 

You shake your head, at such a loss. What kind of a God would forsake his children so freely, if not a complete sadist? Isn’t he supposed to be all love and forgiveness?

“We’re not bad people, John.” 

“I know. It doesn’t matter. There are rules.” 

“You know, you’ve never told me…why you think you’re going to Hell?”

“Because when I was a teenager, and driven to despair living in an institution because of the things God gave me the gift to see…I killed myself. I spent two minutes in the fiery pit before they brought me back, but it was enough. It’s…pure agony, y/n, and it lasts for an eternity.” 

Your lip quivers as the magnitude of what he’s telling you sinks in. Growing up, Heaven and Hell were such abstractions to you. Something you suspected your parents threatened you with just to get you to behave. But hearing him say it like this…you believe him. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, John. Can it be undone? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” 

Sadly, he just shakes his head. Does that mean it’s irreversible? With a heavy sigh he sits down in one of the kitchen chairs, pulling over his bottle of Ardbeg and splashing a couple fingers into a glass. He doesn’t offer you any–not that you’d want it, but still rude. You shouldn’t be surprised by now. “I admit I didn’t think you could even do it yet, you’re so new.” 

You think about the power the two of you called up, the last time you were together. You’ve always been fire together, even when you barely knew each other. Isn’t that worth something? How is that not something gifted by God, if indeed that motherfucker does exist?

“Are you ready now?” he asks, sounding resigned, pulling his collar aside again. 

You look away, because the sight of his bare throat affects you like a teenager with a PLAYBOY centerfold, making you flush all over. Jesus Christ, will you ever not want him so much? 

Even with your belly full of dhampir blood; his pulse calls to you with a siren’s song.

His heart beats for you, your deepest instincts whisper, even while your head knows it's all a wishful thought.

“I can find someone else, John. I’ve caused you so much trouble.” 

The sound he makes at the thought of you with someone else low in his throat is nearly a growl–but then ends in a violent cough.

You take a step closer. “Are you sick? Do you have the flu or something?”

He actually laughs at that–then coughs some more. “No, I don’t have the flu.” 

“Then what?” 

The bitter curl of lips he offers you hurts your heart. “The irony is, I’d probably be dead by now if not for you.” 

“What?”

He lets out a long-suffering sigh. 

“I’m dying, y/n. I’ve got cancer.” He spits the last word, as though he finds it utterly absurd, like an insult God has personally bestowed upon him.

You feel as though the floor has dropped out from under you, a ringing in your ears like you were at ground zero of an explosion. Cancer? All the things this man has faced…and…he’s got fucking cancer? 

“How long have you known?” Your voice cracks with the effort to keep it all in.

“Not long.” 

“Prognosis?” you ask quietly, fearing the answer like the monster under the bed. 

“Not good.” When he sees your lip trembling he adds, “Please don’t fuss.” You don’t have much blood to spare, but you feel the sting of tears start to well in your eyes again. “And definitely don’t cry. Come on, y/n.” The admonition turns into a coughing fit. He turns his head, covering it with his sleeve. When he lowers his arm you see the stain of blood from his lips, and your heart hits rock bottom. 

“Oh my god. You should be in a hospital!” 

If you can sense so much, how did you miss this?

“Well…I’m kind of busy trying to save the world right now. Whatever Hell’s cooking up this time, it’s big. I can feel it. If I don’t stop it…nothing up here might matter anymore anyway.”

“Ok…what do we need to do?” 

He snorts. “We? Oh no. You’re staying out of it. I leave you unsupervised and you get tangled up with the Master of the City and the world’s most dangerous dhampir in one night?”

You clench your jaw, trying to hold it in. Your despair, and your frustration, because for someone so smart this man sure can be a fucking idiot. 

“John, you should be in treatment!”

He shrugs, paying you that rueful half smile that ties your heartstrings up in knots. It would be a full on grin for most people. You realize that he would fucking hate it if you started weeping all over him, but this form of expression of your grief for him is acceptable. This, he’s actually enjoying, the weird bastard. 

This man is going to be the death of you. 

You are on the verge of chewing him out when he tugs at that connection between you, and that golden coil inside you flares to life. You shudder, closing your eyes, hardly able to keep yourself from crawling into his lap. You’re trying not to be a horny mess in the middle of this serious discussion–and failing badly. 

“Feel that?” 

“What is it?” He has so much more experience with this metaphysical stuff than you. 

He chews on his answer for a long time, before finally admitting, “I’ve been doing some reading. I think…we’re bound.” 

“Bound how?” 

“Our life forces,” he tries to explain. “We can…feel each other. It’s how I found you tonight. I felt you calling me, I knew you were in trouble. And we make each other stronger. I think…you’re keeping me alive, for now, but I don’t know for how long. The cancer’s still getting worse, just…slower.” 

“You should have told me.” 

“I…didn’t know how,” he admits. Most people would have added, I’m sorry, but not John Constantine. 

You finally get up the courage to take another step closer, standing between his spread legs. You reach out to touch his face, tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone, the line of his dark hair around his ear. You should have noticed immediately that he was looking gaunt. His eyes close under your touch, a long sigh escaping him, and you sense how horrible it’s been for him to carry this burden all alone. Always so alone, your John, and mostly, by his own choice.  

“If you need money for chemo I’ll get it for you.” 

His lips twist with amusement at hearing that. “Yeah? You gonna rob a drug cartel for me, Miss Vigilante?” Such is the state of the American healthcare system, that such extremes might be necessary.

“That’s not a bad idea.” 

He laughs, then regrets it as the coughing takes over. “Jesus. I’m sorry,” you say, patting his shoulder.  

“This is why I can’t be around you,” he snarks deadpan. “I’ll lose a damn lung.” 

You sigh, unable to stop yourself from thinking about the woman you saw him with last night. 

“Does…Angela know?” 

He blinks at that. “No, why would she?”

“Isn’t she…your girlfriend?”

Again, he starts to laugh, then forces himself to be still, squeezing his eyes shut. “What? No, we just met.” His dark eyes are practically sparkling as he looks up at you now, unbearably smug. He thinks this is funny, and you are so not going to tell him you were ready to chew through the concrete of your apartment building after seeing them together. “She’s helping me with a case. Or I’m helping her. The demon half-breeds are up to something big. I think they’re after her.” 

“Oh.” You are the worst, because rather than sympathy for that poor woman, all you feel is relief. “I…that’s awful.” 

“Yeah. I warded her apartment while I’m trying to get to the bottom of it. If she stays put, she should be fine…in theory.” 

“Oh. That was…nice of you.”

You can tell John is fighting not to smirk at you. “Yeah, that's me.”

Annoyed by his cheek, you insist, “You like her though. I could tell.”

“She’s alright,” he answers, interested in a knot in the table suddenly.

“You want her. I guess I don’t blame you. She’s pretty cute.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“I’m dying, for one.”

“All humans are in the process of dying.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Just saying. Better not waste your time.” You're interested in the floor too, as you say this. The thought of him with another woman claws at your insides, but you try to handle it like an adult. 

“You trying to get rid of me now?”

“Did I ever have you?”

If you’d still had to breathe, you would have held your breath, waiting for his answer, yearning for some acknowledgement of what is between you. But he only shakes his head, at you or himself you’re not sure, pouring himself another drink.

Your heart sinks like a stone to the bottom of a cold, cold lake. 

“You trying to clear your dance card for John Wick?” 

“You mean Jardani?”

“Oh, Jardani?” he singsongs mockingly, fluttering his lashes. “No one’s called him that in this century.”

“Fine. Whatever his name is, the answer’s no. He scares the fuck out of me.” 

It’s mostly true, though maybe not for the right reasons. 

“You didn’t look too scared, in the alley together. You looked like you were going to eat each other.”

You kind of did exactly that, and you didn’t know it was possible to blush as a vampire, but goddammit there it is. Cherry red heat, blistering your cheeks and the tips of your ears. 

“I don’t have to take this from you,” you growl, turning to go, though where you have no idea. 

“Hey, wait.” He catches your hand in his, and you are reminded somehow of the last time you were together. You have the control not to throw him onto the floor this time, just looking at him from under your lashes. 

“I’ve been waiting, John,” you finally say, and there’s no accusation in it now. Just resignation. Because if what he says is true–you’ve got the time to wait, but he definitely doesn’t. It seems surreal, that he could actually be fatally ill.

He sighs, and you marvel at how much this man can convey with the expulsion of some air. Annoyance, and maybe even some regret.  “I warned you, when this whole thing started, that I’m not boyfriend material.”

Why does hearing him say that hurt so much? You feel the sting of tears again, but you don’t let them fall. “I never expected you to be my boyfriend, John.”

“Then what did you want from me?” 

He seems genuinely curious, maybe as confused about all this as you are, and looking down into his soulful dark eyes you realize you don’t actually have an answer. You have all these feelings for this man, all this emotion that feels like a goddamn electrical storm crackling inside you, and yet…what did you want from him? Chocolates? Flowers? Love poems? You fucking knew better than that. You weren’t going to date like a normal couple. You weren’t going to move in together or meet each other’s parents. “I don’t know,” you admit, sounding as surprised as you feel. “Just some acknowledgement, maybe, that I meant something to you. 

He lifts an eyebrow to that. “Okay. Consider it acknowledged.” 

Somehow, this doesn’t exactly satisfy you. Disgusted, more with yourself than him now, you try to retreat again, but he won’t let go of your hand. 

“I like you, y/n,” he says with emphasis, squeezing your palm like there’s something you’re supposed to be reading between the lines. “But I don’t have anything to offer you except a target on your back. I’ve brought you nothing but trouble.”

“Is that what you really think?”  

Does he hate himself so much?

“I know it, y/n.” 

You can’t help but think of the joy you’ve felt in his arms. The pleasure, and the triumph, and the utter elation. That is why you have chased him, you realize. Because in the fleeting moments in which you catch him–you feel like you’re on top of the world. No one else has ever come close to making you feel the way John Constantine does–and if you say any of this out loud you’re afraid he’ll roll his eyes and laugh at you. 

With his handsome face in your hand you lean down as though drawn by a string, hoping to show him how you feel instead. Can’t he feel it, through this connection between you? The way you adore him? You think you feel it start to glow, and if you can invoke that magic you shared before, then surely he’ll understand. Maybe he will value himself more, if he understands how precious he is to you. He watches your approach with parted lips, his eyes fixed on you. But at the last minute he turns his head, and you freeze with mortification for his rejection. 

“You’ve still got dhampir blood in your mouth,” he says quietly, not meeting your gaze. 

He’s not wrong, of course. You didn’t exactly have a chance to brush your fucking teeth–and maybe that is pretty gross. 

You disgust him. 

You are a bloodsucking creature of the night, and even if he’s dying inside, he’s a demon hunter to the bone. 

Why you ever thought he could love you, is anyone’s guess.

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter Eight

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word Count; 2,969 (nice)

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Rating; 18+ for swearing and some mature language

Notes; Last chapter for the weekend, so I hope you all enjoy it! Also, the first of many Sylus-centric chapters. I'm a Rafayel girlie at heart, so it feels wrong to have so many Sylus focused chapters, but it feels like Sylus needs a lot of chapters since he has a lot of good scenes.

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Don't forget to check out my ideas for the future to see what other plans I have for this story and any future ones I plan to write! Also since I accidentally posted seven early, I might as well post eight early as well and then I'll do nine later on today as a treat! 🩷

The next time you wake up, you're in the back of a van with your hands tied together. Your head was pounding, your mouth felt drier than a desert and you could taste something metallic on your tongue. You really didn't even want to open your eyes because of the pain, but you do take a few mental notes. The smell of cheap leather and that the van was still moving, be it shaky and rickety. You're most likely on a dirt road or a road that hasn't been used in some while.

Even though the man threatened to inject you with the neurotoxin, you really thought he'd at least keep his word and not go through with it if you didn't fight, but it seems like he did anyway. Good thing you took the inhibitor Xavier gave you.

Even though it's dark inside the vehicle, you notice your jacket is off to the side but your watch and your guns are missing. Possibly in the vehicle somewhere. As you think of a way to get out of this mess, you notice the man is talking on the phone.

“I took a big risk snatching prey from the Nest. The reward needs to be better than that.” You try to look and see what the man looks like but he's wearing a black cap and a mask over his mouth, though you can at least see his hair. It's not white so he's not the man you're looking for.

You begin struggling with the binding on your arms, trying your best to make them even a little bit more loose.

“You sure this is right? I've driven down this same road three times. I'm not going anywhere.” You hear the man sigh before the van makes a noise. “Just my luck. The car broke down all the way out here..” He angrily opens his door to step outside before he opens the back of the van. “Get out. We'll wait here.” He grabs you by your restraints and pulls you out of the van. You take the chance to look around at your surroundings hoping to see anything familiar but it's dark out.

He all but throws you to the ground on your already injured knees and you hold back a hiss between your teeth. “Not a soul to be seen..Just an abandoned yard. Hurry up and send someone over.” The man was still on the phone.

You notice dead trees, a metal fence that seems to have been broken before, large boulders and rocks. This place seems more like a graveyard than anything. Your gaze turns to a dirty cobblestone structure nearby, you assume it used to be white but its more of a cream or light tan colour now.

“You're wide awake, huh. Guess you're a tough gal but I'm warning you, don't try any trick on me. You hear? I'm not against hurting a woman.” The man scoffs, clicking his tongue as he brandishes a pocket knife and taps it against his palm. “So you're just a middleman. Are you working for people in the N109 Zone?” You ask with a raised brow, putting on a tough act.

“Shut up. Let me inspect the goods before I hand you over.” His voice was cold as he points the knife at you. “Where did you hide the aether core?” You can't help the laugh that bubbles from your lips, finding it amusing that he's looking for something intangible. He'd have to cut it out if he really wanted to 'inspect the goods'. Though before you can say anything else, you hear another voice.

“Kidnapping Onychinus’ prey without letting us know..Wow, that's not exactly polite now, is it?” The disembodied voice sounded amused and taunting.

“Who's there?” Your masked kidnapper quickly pulls you to your feet, holding the pocket knife to your throat as he looks around. Seems like he's panicking. But Onychinus? Hmm…so it seems like they weren't the ones who kidnapped you.

“She's ours, by the way. We called dibs a long time ago.” and then, seemingly out of nowhere, the man's hand gets cut.

You flinch and the man drops you from the sudden pain in his hand. You fall to the ground once more, scowling at the pain in your legs before sitting down on the ground so as to not hurt your bloodied knees anymore. Maybe a skirt was a bad idea… You turn back to look over at your kidnapper who was now on the ground as well, holding his arm.

Your eyes widen as you notice two masked men appearing from red and black smoke. “I'm really curious..She's brave enough to drink from a black glass.” One of the newcomers twirls a knife around in his hand before resting his foot on your kidnapper's back. The other man starts walking toward you. “I wonder what will she do when backed into a corner?”

The masked man kicks your kidnapper to the side, taking a few steps toward you and that's when you notice they're both wearing a full black mask with a hooked beak. You can't see their eyes or anything. They have their hood up and it seems like there's tiny red horns on the top of the hood. “You're pretty bold for releasing information about the aether core in the Nest like that.” The one with a piercing through his left horn says and the other, who has one through his right, leans his whole upper body to the side. “Explains why boss is interested.”

“I see…So Sylus sent you.” The man on the ground laughs as he rises up to his knees. “But the aether core….is mine!” He suddenly pulls out a gun from behind his back and aims it directly at you before shooting.

The smell of gunpowder fills the air as you flinch back with your eyes closed. Though, you don't feel any pain. Instead, when you open your eyes, you see the man covered in a dark crimson and black mist. His actions constricted and the bullet, so close to your face, wrapped in the same mist before it disintegrated the bullet as if it were never there. The fog wraps around the man's hand, causing him to drop his gun before it swells up around him, wrapping around his neck and lifting him into the air. The mist swirls around him, almost seeming like it's working its way through his body until the man…explodes. Or at least that's what you think.

You see no blood, only the smoke slowly falling down toward the ground as if it's job is done. Then you notice that the two men in crow masks are walking away. It seems their part is done so that must mean…your gaze is brought back to the cobblestone structure, there's now a person standing on top of it with their thumb looped through their belt loop. The sound of a large bell chiming in front of a seemingly red moon.

You now realize your binds are undone, you could leave at any time but you're paralyzed with fear. You haven't been sure what to expect for awhile now and you honestly thought you'd be happy to see Sylus for the first time but, in fact, it's actually terrifying.

A crow caws, flying through the sky until landing on his shoulder as the man on top of the wall reabsorbs his energy with a stretched out hand. He then steps toward the edge of the wall and disappears in a swirl of that same coloured mist before appearing a few steps in front of you.

“Take out the vermin that are still running amok.” The white haired man says, his voice a deep timber that you'd usually be freaking out over but right now you're freaking out for an entirely different reason. The men in the crow masks echo a ‘yes sir’ as Sylus slowly walks up to you. Once he's in front of you, he tilts his head to the side with a scoff.

“You're…also here for the core, right?” You manage to say, trying your best not to look at him because he's hot, but also scary. He crouches down, leaning a bit forward as he says, “Even if you wanted to sell your soul, you still have to find someone who can pay the price.”

He reaches down to grab your chin, lifting your head to look at him. “Look at me.” His voice void of any emotion, even though his facial expression was rather soft. “You-” you flinch as his right eye begins to glow. Voices that you feel like shouldn't be here begin chanting in your head. “Devour him..” They echo. "Take the power.”

Your head begins to pound as blood rushes to it. You suddenly look down and your hands are bloody. “Take it…” “Just…kill him.” You want to hit your head, you want to tell yourself this isn't real because you know it isn't. You're confused and your head hurts and you try to look away from him, realizing something is wrong with his eye.

Your hand darts out to grab the dropped pocket knife and you find yourself cutting Sylus’ cheek, the black and red energy holding your wrist in place so you can't cause anymore damage.

He chuckles, amused by your actions. “Is this how you greet a new friend?” He swipes his thumb across his cheek, the wound disappearing as if it were never there. “I guess you don't remember anything.” He says as he brings his hand up to brush his knuckles against your cheek. “Allow me to jog your memory.” His hand goes further down before wrapping around your throat. That's when you begin to panic, grabbing his wrist with your free hand. “Let go of me.” But your attempts are weak at best.

With his hand around your throat, he makes you look back into his eyes. “From your past to your future…to even all of the crimes you'll inevitably commit. After all, you and I… were the same. True kindred spirits.”

You've must've blacked out because the next time you come to you're on the ground. “Three days. Yet we're unable to achieve even a simple resonance. How disappointing.” You hear Sylus before you see him. Three days? How come you don't remember any of that? You wince and turn your head to look in his direction, noticing that he's sitting with his legs crossed on a plush red chair. It almost looks like a throne.

With a wave of his finger, his evol wraps around you and pulls you toward him. “What do you want?” You ask, exasperated and you're almost to the point of giving up. Especially when you don't know what'll happen next or even what path is the safe one. You tug at the energy wrapped around you but your hands go through it like smoke until you find yourself in Sylus’ lap. Now any other time, you'd be throwing a party about being in a hot man's lap but right now? You're not sure how to feel.

“You went through all that trouble to enter the N109 Zone. I must fulfill my duty as your host.” He says before he uses his evol to lift your arm up, his fingers dancing along the soft skin of your wrist before making their way to your tightly closed hand. His index finger trying to wiggle its way under your fingers before he adds a bit more pressure, using his evol to pry your hand open. His palm pressing flat against yours before he intertwines your fingers and pulls your connected hands to his chest. His eyes closing as he tries to force the resonance. “Stop-” you try to pull your hand away but his energy evol keeps your hand and your body where he wants it.

The voice in your head coming back to rear its ugly head. “Devour him…He's yours..” You get that, you get that he's hot and all, but do you really need to devour him? It's not like he's yours either- “He's right there..before your very eyes.” Damn okay voice, chill. Thirsty much? “His..” “eye..” the voice is cutting in and out, you can only hear a tad bit of what it's saying until the energy dissipates with a tiny flash of light. The resonance worked?

Sylus scoffs, looking at the light dancing across his hand, “It's a shame your evol has deteriorated into its current state.” You take a deep breath, trying to steel yourself and you throw some bait out. “My family's deaths…You're behind them, right?” If he's a love interest, you know there's no way he is but you have to, at least, act that way to find answers. “Family?” Sylus chuckles to himself, “The people closest to you might be the ones who want to kill you the most.” Your brows furrow at that. Huh, that was a theory you never thought about. But who?

Wait, act angry. Right…uh say something, anything. “Shut up! Right now, I just…I just..” your head begins hurting again, “I just want to kill you myself!”

What? That's not what was meant by “say anything” but alright.

You flinch as soon as the words leave your mouth. You didn't mean to say that, did you? Though as you're unable to control your actions, Sylus catches your hand. “Do you think your evol will help you in a fight against me? Your courage is admirable.” He pushes your hand away with an unamused expression. “You're lucky I don't like picking on the weak, kitten.”

…what?

Before you have any time to dwell on what he just called you, he holds his hand out and uses his energy to pull something toward him. One of your guns lands in his hand. “What're you doing?” You ask, a bit nervous at the firearm held firmly in his grasp. He makes sure it's loaded, cocks it, and then holds the gun out to you. “Didn't you want my life? Or do your words just ring hollow?”

Ah shit, here come the voices again. “Kill him.” Wait, the voices didn't want you to fu- Nevermind that, you really don't want to grab the gun but it's out of your control. Your hand moves on its own, taking a hold of the gun and even your mouth moves on its own. “You think I won't do it?” You hold the gun up to his head, internally screaming and pleading to not let this happen because it would be a shame if you were the one to kill such a handsome man. “Now…that's much better. Though, you do owe me a curtain call grander than death itself,” Sylus muses, wrapping his fingers around the muzzle of your pistol as he slowly brings it lower and presses it against his chest as your hands shake.

“I..” “Why're you trembling? Has your resolve already begun to falter? You weren't just bluffing, were you?” He tilts his head to the side and you honestly want to yell at him and ask if he's crazy or thinks he has nine lives or something but you can't since whatever mysterious power you have inside of you is still controlling your movements. “No, of course not. It's just..” you trail off and he slowly moves his hand down to wrap around both of yours on the gun. “Want some help? Yes? No? Maybe so?”

He's so hot, he's so-

Bam.

You…you shot him? You actually shot him? Are you sure you won't regret this later? That's actually like crazy that you shot him just now. Well- it's not like you had any part in it. You couldn't control your actions to begin with..

Darkness.

Darkness is all you see. You felt so…hungry. So empty. Anything would be great to fill this emptiness you felt inside.

“Devour him..” Shit the voices were back. “Its…your power.” It was probably Sylus’ power, but pop off voice.

You weren't sure how long you had to endure the voices but they finally went silent. Leaving you in the dark, alone. It almost…felt cold.

The ending is a bit abrupt, so I'm going to apologize up front for that- I honestly didn't realize just how cut it was since it lines up pretty well with the next chapter. You'll have to wait to see that next week though, unless I end up feeling excited enough to post chapter nine early! 🤔 Either way, I hope you liked the comedic turn I took with the second half of the chapter. It was too good to pass up. Also, I tried something different with the paragraphs. I added double spaces between specific, important ones and just the standard singular with everything else. Let me know which you like between (between chapters 6-8 and I'll start doing them like that in the future!)

Anyway, if there's any spelling errors and stuff like that, then that's on me. I've re-read all of these chapters so many times and re-worked so much of it, but I'm bound to miss some errors so hopefully it's not too bad!

Taglist; @orphicmeliora

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 30th

Body Worship, Papa Emeritus II x Catholic!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 4.1k.

Warnings: Body Worship (okay, turned out less body worship and more just worship in general but fuck it, I wanted to write it this way lmao); fingering; vaginal fingering; cunnilingus; marking; piv; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; praise kink; y’all this is soft soft, and I love it; religious symbolism; corruption kink; hair pulling; multiple orgasms;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog @saturnhas82moons

Author's Note: This is a continuation of October 3rd, so if you haven’t read that, please go and do so before you read this! Thanks!

Recommended listening: Chase Atlantic with their self-titled 2017 album.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Under the cloak of night, he crept through the ancient cobblestone streets of Rome, heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat of impending doom. The Vatican’s towering walls loomed before him, a fortress of faith and secrets. Driven by a love forbidden by both church and society, he had come to breach the sanctum’s impenetrable defenses.

His leather-soled shoes barely made a sound as he approached the towering stone wall that guarded the Vatican’s secrets. In the moon’s pale glow, he could make out the shadows of security guards patrolling the perimeter. He crouched low, his heart racing with each passing second, and carefully assessed their movements.

Timing was everything. With the precision of a cat, he found his moment when two guards turned their backs, engaged in hushed conversation. In one swift, heart-pounding motion, he scaled the wall, fingers gripping the rough stone edges, and muscles straining with urgency. His breath held, he cleared the top, dropping silently to the other side, where the hallowed ground of Vatican City stretched out before him. It was almost as if he could feel the soles of his feet burning as it touched the hallowed ground, and forced him to move forward quickly.

Silent as a whisper, he navigated the maze of corridors of the Vatican’s residential quarters. The opulence and history that surrounded him seemed at odds with the clandestine nature of his mission. Portraits of pontiffs from centuries past stared down at him from gilded frames, their judgmental eyes seemingly aware of his transgressions.

He moved with caution, avoiding the gaze of any servants or clergy members who might cross his path, clutching onto his Grucifix pendant in his thick hand in an attempt to shield his true identity. His knowledge of the Vatican’s layout was limited, but the urgency of his desire propelled him forward.

Finally, he found himself outside a front door, familiar to him only by the number he’d been given. He knew this was where you resided, his forbidden lover, a cardinal of the church with all the responsibilities but none of the titles or accolades. With trembling hands, he reached for the doorknob, his heart pounding louder than the sacred hymns echoing through the Vatican’s hallowed halls.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, casting dancing shadows on the richly adorned tapestries that lined the walls. He had finally found your apartments, and with a mixture of apprehension and longing, he pushed the door open, revealing the inner sanctum of the Pope’s daughter.

Inside, you sat at a writing desk, the dim light revealing the weariness etched into your features. Your modest dress hung off your frame just as pristine as you liked it. You looked up from your work, your eyes widening in shock and disbelief as they met his.

Time seemed to stand still as your gazes locked. Words failed you both, as the weight of your forbidden rendezvous hung heavy in the air. You stood from your seat slowly eyes fixed on the now cocky Secondo whose arms were outstretched as though he wanted you to run to him and welcome him into your home. Run to him you did, but no words of welcome were exchanged.

Your palms reached his shoulders and with a force, you pushed him, anger now taking hold of your body. “What are you doing here!?” You hissed, clearly livid by his intrusion. This was not how he wanted things to go. “My father will be here any minute! What do you think he’d do if he found a Cardinal of the Satanic Church in his daughter’s room?”

Secondo grinned, his black upper lip stretching into a lacivious smile. “Hopefully he’d understand my intensions and close the door behind him.”

Your hand connected with his cheek, a red mark forming instantly. Just as you were about to lay into him, you heard a familiar voice sounding from the entryway. “___?” Your father had arrived.

Secondo’s eyes widened, now understanding the gravity of the situation. Though the Catholic church was supposed to be a pinnacle of moral upstanding, it wasn’t uncommon for Popes to take drastic measures to protect their Papacy, even if it meant defying their God’s wishes. Thou shalt not murder - unless of course they pose a threat to your power and need to be eradicated. Secondo knew that given he was a footsoldier of the Devil, a Satanic rat sent to plague the people with “immorality”, your father would have no problem crucifying him on the steps of St. Peter’s Basilica.

“Hide!” You shout-whispered, your panic even greater than Secondo’s.

Secondo wasted no more time, diving into your bedroom and throwing himself under your bed, thankful that you didn’t use it as storage. He did so at just the right time, because while he couldn’t see your father from his position, he could hear him and he was right where Secondo had stood just thirty seconds prior.

“What are you doing in here?” Your father asked, his tone certainly suspicious. “Why didn’t you come when I called?”

“Sorry, father, I was doing some work. Correspondances.”

Your father hummed in acknowledgement. “There’s a meeting tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. We’re gathering officials to discuss how we’re going to remove the vermin.”

Secondo didn’t need to visit the Vatican often to know that the vermin your father was referring to was the Satanic Church. He rolled his eyes and contorted his face to childishly mimic and mock your father - though he knew no one could see him, it was a knee-jerk reaction and he thought it was funny.

You hesitated before you spoke. “Yes, father.”

“Something you want to say?”

There were, in fact, several things you wanted to say to your father and none of them were kind. After spending as much time as you did with Secondo, you had grown to understand that they weren’t the monsters you used to fear and that the way your father and other members of your church talked about them was terrifying. You wanted to yell at your father for not treating you as you deserved, as well. How you were always promoted within the church, but could never retain the title as “women didn’t hold powerful positions”. But he had no problem using you to benefit his politics and Papacy. But all your thoughts would fall on deaf ears, and so you settled on a, “No, father.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow.”

As the Pope finally left the room, you sank back against the door you had closed behind him, your emotions in turmoil. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. That was the moment Secondo had been waiting for. He emerged from his hiding spot, his presence a comfort and a promise in the midst of your forbidden… whatever this was. The silence between you was palpable, broken only by the flickering candles and the distant echoes of Vatican life outside your apartment. He watched as you composed yourself, trying to calm yourself of the anger your father had left you with only to feel it flare up when you saw the Satanic Cardinal standing in your bedroom doorway.

“Why did you come here?” You quietly shouted at him, anger ever present in your voice. “You know what would happen to you if someone saw you - what would happen to me, too!”

You stood there, lecturing him about his behaviour, hands flailing about the room in your frustration and a small amount of hatred dancing in your eyes. As you unleashed your fury, your words cutting through the air like a storm, he couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the raw beauty of your anger. Your eyes blazed with intensity, your voice resonated with passion, and your fierce determination only made you more captivating. In that moment, your rage seemed to enhance your allure, and he found himself irresistibly drawn to you. Never had he seen a woman before so beautiful than you in that moment.

He thought back to when he first met you, how your anger and hatred towards him had fuelled his lust, and how it forced him to act against his better judgement to take your virginity on a desk that didn’t belong to him in the bowls of the Ministry.

Caught between the tumultuous emotions swirling around them, he took a step closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your presence. Your anger had laid bare the depth of your relationship, and he knew that your illicit connection was a flame that refused to be extinguished. As you continued to vent your frustrations, he reached out, gently taking your face into his hands and pressing his lips against yours, silencing you, a fervent promise that he would stand with you against all odds, consequences be damned.

You pushed against him at first, not because you didn’t want to kiss him, but because he had the nerve to silence you when you were talking. But the more you melted into his arms, the less resistance you put up, and allowed yourself to be caught by him as you began to fall from grace. Though your descent from righteousness started when you gave yourself to him, it was that kiss that solidified your feelings, and made you realise that however much you loved your God, you were sure you loved Secondo more.

Passions grew when he pressed you against your door, trapping you between him and the wood. His hands moved from your face, down your arms, and tickled at the bare skin until he finally settled at your hips. Your hands gripped at his cassock, holding on tightly and pulling him as close as he could possibly be to you, but even then that wasn’t close enough. His kisses ignited a fire in you that shouldn’t have been lit in the first place, and had you submitting and bending to his wishes willingly. When his fingers tightened on your hips and began lifting your dress, you let him. When his tongue begged for entrance to your mouth, you let it. When his hand found the gusset of your panties, you spread your legs to allow him easy access. When he dipped below the waistband, and stroked a tentative finger over your clit, you moaned into his mouth to encourage him to do it again.

In this moment, he wasn’t a servant of Satan. He was yours. Your ardent and eager slave, a genie sent to grant all of your wishes even if you didn’t know that he had them. His lips travelled South from yours, roaming over vast expanses of your body in search of a single destination. He moved to your jaw, your neck, your clothed dress, your stomach, hips, thighs. He dropped to his knees in front of you, his glove-covered fingers pulling your panties down with him as he knelt before you. You watched him hesitate for a moment, before wide eyes stared up at you as if to plead with you to grant him permission. His eyes were mismatched and popped against his Cardinal paints, a gentle yet emblazoned fire in his eyes as he waited for you. You couldn’t say no; you simply didn’t want to. You needed him probably more than he needed you. You nodded.

He gently lifted your leg in his hands and kissed it from ankle to knee. The higher up his lips went, the more passionately he kissed, and once more he played using his tongue. But now, in addition to kissing, he started sucking, leaving a trail of numerous dark brown hickeys on your thigh. No one would be able to see them here, but every time you caught a glimpse of your naked body, you would be reminded of them. Of him. Of what he did to you and the shame that was supposed to come with it. Shame that you refused to feel because that would imply you regretted letting him have his way with you. But even when you were worshipping your Lord, when you were in the confessional booth, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret your actions.

He immediately dove in and started licking and sucking at your clit. He forgot to take it easy and instead allowed himself to just take from you what he wanted because he was so desperate and needy for your taste. He was encouraged to continue his movements by the faint and low whimpers that escaped from your partially opened mouth.

“Yes! Just like that!” Due to the strong suction he applied, you whispered, ending your sentence with a particularly breathy moan.

One of your hands flew to his head, gripping onto his hat and throwing it to the side allowing you to rest your hand there, pushing his face into your heat. Your hips bucked in pleasure, riding his tongue and taking what you needed from him. “Secondo!” The hand that wasn’t resting on his head flew up to your mouth, covering your exceptionally desperate moans as you came on his tongue, silencing yourself as much as you could so the Clergy wouldn’t hear your pleasure from the other side of the door.

When your orgasm had completely subsided, Secondo released you from his suctioned hold, his chin glistening with your juices and a small grin on his face. That grin altered your brain chemistry and instilled a confidence in you that you didn’t know you had. You pulled him by his cassock back to his feet and crashed your lips against his, kissing him much harder than before. You could taste yourself in his mouth, your own essence moving onto your tastebuds and heightening your arousal. Your hand gripped onto his and pulled off the first glove, still with your lips attached to his, and once it was off his hand, you threw it somewhere in the room. The second glove met the same fate.

You pushed him away from you and pulled at your zipper, undoing the dress and letting it pool around your feet. Your bra was the next to go, falling to the floor and exposing your breasts to him. You stood completely bare in front of him, looking at his face as his eyes ran over your body, drinking in every part of you he could see and committing it to memory. You then took his hand and walked him to the bedroom.

Before today, all your secret meetings had taken place after or during official meetings between your churches, sneaking off while representatives met to discuss peace or something redundant that both sides would ignore. Your meetings had been limited, but over the course of that week had been frequent. Yet for each of your encounters together, Secondo had taken charge. Despite how much he degraded you, how disrespectful his words were, you had grown to trust him entirely. He would never push you passed your limits, or do something to deliberately hurt you that you hadn’t already asked for or expressed your wish to try. Though he always used his experience to heighten yours, you were very much the pace-setter.

This was never more evident by his willingness for you to push him down onto the bed once his cassock and underwear was on your bedroom floor. How he happily lay on his back and watched you crawl up his body, tongue laving over his hairy stomach and chest and driving you further upwards. In your hubris, as your mouths connected in a passionate kiss, you took his length into your hands and lined him up with your sopping entrance, preparing both of you for the stretch you were about to experience. You felt Secondo’s hands move to your hips, supporting you as you sunk down onto him, taking him inside you in one fell swoop. This motion had you both breaking the kiss, mouths falling open in a perfect ‘o’ and your eyebrows raising while his furrowed, darkening his eyes.

You sat up, taking him even further down, and when you bounced for the first time, you ripped a growl from his throat. His back arched, his fingers tightened their grip on your hips. “Fuck!” He gasped when you did it again.

Your inexperience made it difficult for you to find a rhythm, your hands falling to his stomach to support you but failing to give you both the pleasure you needed. Secondo changed your motions for you, instead of helping you bounce, he used his hands to move you back and forth. “No, grind on me, little lamb.” He told you. You found a rhythm pretty quickly. “Just like that. Good girl.”

This position had your clit rubbing against his pubic mound and his cock moving inside you perfectly. The slight upwards curvature of him meant that each time you moved back, he hit that sweet spot inside you and caused you to cry out.

The more you moved, the more confident you became in your ability and allowed you to relax and just feel him - feeling the way he felt inside you, hitting your walls with each movement, his hands gripping onto you tight enough to leave more marks for you to admire later. While your eyes were closed in pleasure, his were wide open, drinking in every inch of your body and admiring you from below. He got to see you in your full glory, breasts bouncing with each thrust, thighs jiggling, mouth agape in ecstasy. The placement of your bed in the room in contrast with the overhead light created an ethereal glow, almost giving you a perfect halo around your head.

An angel.

You were an angel - you were his angel. The once good, Catholic girl who he loathed to look at, who made his life Hell in all the wrong ways. The righteous child who preached to those who didn’t want it, who was so sure in her decisions being the right one, now warmly accepting her mortal enemy into her body without much of a second thought. Now giving into temptation and pleasuring herself, against the will of her Lord, with the very man her book warned her about. The daughter of God using the son of Lucifer to commit sin after sin within the walls of the most hallowed building. It was almost as if he could feel your soul tainting with each thrust of your hips, your purity disintegrating along with his willpower each time a moan fell from your lips.

“Please,” you whimpered, “talk to me. Like you normally would.”

Degrade you? Now? He couldn’t possibly. He couldn’t find it within himself to tear you apart when you looked as you did: red-faced, sweating, panting and gasping for air as you felt him all the way up in your stomach. “I can’t.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Why?” He didn’t answer at first, hoping you’d drop this crusade. But you were determined to get what you wanted and so, you stopped moving. “Why?”

“Little lamb, move.”

“Why?”

He lifted your hips a little more and tried to thrust into you, but you fought against him. “For fuck sake!” He sat up, his nose mere centimetres from yours, his eyes burning with anger and lust, pupils blown so far out the colour had disappeared entirely. His hand moved to the back of your head and pulled at the roots of your hair, lips brushing against your neck as he spoke, “Because you are divine. Move, please.” When he lay back down you picked the pace back up exactly how you did before you stopped, working towards your orgasm. His eyes remained on you the whole time. “You want me to tell you how sinful you are, hm? How much of a bad girl you are for defying your Lord?”

“Yes!”

“I won’t. I won’t use the same words that they do. Fucking shit! I can’t use those words when Lilith herself blessed you with ethereal beauty. When she placed her most beautiful creation on this Earth to walk amongst the mortals; art amongst the rats. I will not degrade one who was made to conquer men.”

You were breathless, both from the exertion and his words. “I c-conquered you?”

“Body, mind, soul,” he gripped hold of your hand and pulled it to his rest on chest, “and heart.” Your eyes met his in surprise, and your body shook as though electricity was running through it. “Conquered and enslaved. I will forever be yours, and worship you like the goddess you are.”

His large hand that had completely covered yours moved up your arm and began to rub both of his around your body, gripping onto pieces and stroking gently.

“Secondo!”

By the way your walls were fluttering around him, he knew you were almost at your peak. “Cum for me, little lamb. Bless me with your holy water.”

This orgasm was much more intense than your first, your body shaking and your eyes glazing over. Your back arched as it washed over you, your fingers digging into his arms and leaving half-moon prints in his skin. “Fuck!” You screamed softly, like your body had just been plunged into cold water.

“That’s it. That’s right. Give it to me.”

“Secondo! Oh my God!”

He pushed you off his cock and put you on the bed beside him, turning you to lie flat on your stomach. Your hips were lifted just enough for a pillow to sit below you, then you felt him mount you from behind, draping his entire body over you. His lips found their way to your ear as his cock lined up with your hole once more. “Your God doesn’t deserve you.” He told you as he entered you again, pressing you against the mattress. His hand found yours and interlocked his fingers with yours as he began to thrust into you, moving at a similar pace to when he usually fucked you. Hard, fast, dirty. But this time there was something new, something tender in the way he touched you, the way his other hand rested atop your hip.

“I will forever get on my knees for you,” he told you between grunts, “and worship between these hallowed walls.” He kissed your shoulder blades. “I will thank you for all that you give me. I am yours.”

“I’m yours, Secondo.” You turned your head to capture his lips and give him a deep kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his cock continued to slide in and out of your tight, wet heat.

He surrounded you, every inch of his body running against yours and trapping you between him and the mattress in a way you’d never felt before - making you feel safe. His words told you that you were loved, despite the violent speed they ran through your head as he occupied every inch of your mind. His scent, woody and musky, filled your nose. His grunts and growls swallowed by your mouth in your unbroken, needy kiss. He loved you. He’d risen to catch you as you’d fallen for him. In that moment, nothing else mattered. God and Satan be damned. They’d ruled your lives too much, you both deserved this.

“Cum for me.” You whispered into his lips. “Give it to me, give me everything.”

“Where can I cum?”

“Inside me. I wanna feel you inside me.”

“Fucking hell!”

His hips snapped faster and more erratically until eventually he pushed himself as far as he could inside you, painting your walls with his cum. His eyes were tightly shut and a growl escaped him. He could feel his heart in his throat. His fingers tightened around yours when he came, gripping onto you and never wanting to let go.

As he came down from his high, he peppered your skin with kisses, black Cardinal paints very much wiped away at this point and his body exhausted from the exertion. He stayed inside you, softening with each passing second but not wanting to leave the warmth of your body just yet. You didn’t want him to, either. But it had to happen eventually. He rolled off you, but kept his hand on your hip as he did and rolled you with him, wrapping you up in his capable arms and holding you close.

The later into the night it got, he knew he’d have to leave the Vatican and wait to see you for who knew how long, and that thought hurt him more than he could possibly. He did everything he could to commit you to memory; how you looked, felt, smelled. He needed something to see him through until the next time you managed to see him. And so, he held you close, doing his best to fight off sleep.

That was until your voice broke the silence. “How would the Ministry feel if I left with you tonight?”

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[n8doe]

A.N — this is my first ever time writing about chris so i apologize if its not accurate 😥 i’ll get better overtime (i hope)

SUMMARY — after being alone in an apocalypse for years, you finally find the people youve known and got separated from since the beginning + your boyfriend (chris)

WARNINGS — very little gore is mentioned since its an apocalypse, lowercase letters intended, but other than that, nothing. also, the beginning might be boring so skip wherever you want

you finally reach the edge of the forest, spotting a street ahead. the sight fills you with a sudden burst of energy, and you run out of the woods and onto the street. the hot weather of the unknown state hits your skin, causing sweat to drip down your neck.

you walk across the street towards a gas station, scanning for any signs of life. you desperately need to find gas and a car; the thought of continuing on foot with your shoes, which are on the verge of falling apart, is unbearable. the gas station looks abandoned, but you hope it might still have some supplies. driven by desperation, you approach the building, ready to search for anything that might help you on your difficult journey.

you knock loudly on the glass door of the gas station, making sure none of the dead are going to sneak up on you. after a few seconds with no response, you open the door, which rings a small bell as you step inside. the interior is dimly lit and dusty. you cautiously walk through the aisles, scanning for any useful supplies.

the shelves were almost empty and fallen over. debris covered the floor along with a bunch of dead bodies of the people who decided to take the easy way out. the bodies were melted into the ground, showing they had been there for ages. you carefully navigate around the fallen shelves and debris, trying not to disturb anything. the air is thick with the stench of decay, making it hard to breathe. as you move further in, you spot a small office in the back and decide to check it out, hoping to find something useful.

you twist the doorknob and try to push it open, but you realize something is blocking it. you slam your body against the door, attempting to push it open, but it doesnt work. you try one last time, and this time the door flings open, causing you to fall onto the floor.

you snap your head toward the noise of growling, seeing a dead body trying to crawl at you but unable to move. it had no legs and its arms were weak. you sigh in relief, crawl over to the dead body, and stab your knife into its head. then you notice a can of gas nearby. you immediately push yourself off the ground and pick up the can, revealing it was halfway filled. you let out a breathy chuckle and turn around to leave the office, but you stop when you see a pair of keys hanging off a hook.

you snatch the keys off the hook and walk out of the gas station, quickly spotting the car. you fill up the gas tank, toss the can into the back seat, and get into the drivers seat. starting the car, you drive away, not knowing where youre headed. hopefully, the roads will lead you somewhere safe, somewhere you can stay for a while.

after what felt like seconds, you heard a gunshot and your tire popped, causing your car to swerve and spin until you hit a tree. you groan as the airbags deploy, hitting you in the face. with the car flipped on its side, you have to crawl out of the window, broken glass scattered all over you.

once you exit the car, you look around and see no one. you feel a sting in your shoulder and look down to see blood running down your arm, soaking through your shirt.

“turn around,” you hear a man call out from in front of you, causing you to look up and see a stranger with a shotgun pointed at you. you stare at him for a few seconds. “now,” he demands.

you slowly turn around, raising your hands in the air, not wanting to cause any trouble. you hear his footsteps getting closer before you feel his hands patting down your sides, checking for weapons.

"you in a group?" he asks, grabbing the knife from your back pocket before backing away and pointing his shotgun at your head again. when you don't reply, he sighs and speaks in a stern manner, "look at me and respond."

you roll your eyes, turn around, and drop your hands to your sides. "no," you reply plainly, watching as he puts your knife into a bag on his shoulder.

he squints his eyes and looks you up and down. you have dirt and blood all over you, from both yourself and the dead. "whats your name?" you tell him your name, which causes him to nod and lower his shotgun. "follow me," he says, nodding his head before walking toward the woods.

"why would I do that?" you scoff, your eyes tracking his every move and reading his body language effortlessly. you groan and put your hand to your head, realizing the crash really messed you up.

"youre injured and alone. its not safe for a girl like you," he states.

"you think im not capable of handling myself?" you tilt your head. the man shrugs and starts walking into the woods. you shake your head before following after him.

after following the man for half a mile, you learn his name is ian. his camp is a motel surrounded by fences with guards patrolling every corner. you follow him to the front gate, watching as three men point guns at you while ian tries to talk them down.

“i have her weapons; shes not dangerous. she needs help because she was in a crash," ian explains, acting as if he didnt shoot your tire and wasnt the sole reason you crashed.

"take her to medical, then we'll send her off with supplies and a car. we dont have enough space for more people, ian," a woman with black hair said as she opened the gates. ian grabbed your arm and dragged you towards what you assumed was the medical area.

"’m sorry," he mumbles. "i'll make sure to give you extra supplies for wasting your time. i’ll be waiting outside for you once the doctor comes in." ian walks out of the room, closing the door behind him with a heavy sigh.

you knew it was a mistake to follow him here, but you did it because he also took your only weapon. you lie back on the bed, feeling the blood start to dry and become crusty as you wait for the doctor to come and help you.

you hear a lot of mumbling on the other side of the door before it creaks open. you look over, your eyes widen, and your body freezes. the doctor stops in her tracks when she sees you, a smile creeping onto her face.

madi filipowicz calls out your name before speed-walking over to you and hugging you. you hug her back, your face becoming numb from how big your smile is.

"do you want me to grab chris for you?" madi asks, pulling away from the hug and resting her hands on your shoulders.

you dont even know how to respond. you havent heard that name in years. youve been trying to find chris ever since the outbreak happened, but you found nothing. no clues, no leads—absolutely nothing. that was until a man named ian shot your tire and took you to his group.

you nod your head repeatedly. "youre amazing," you say. at your words, madi runs out of the room, her smile never leaving her face. you stand up from the bed and start pacing around the room. your hands are shaking, and your stomach is hurting. theres no mirror in the room, so you hope you look okay. you havent showered in a couple of months, and you definitely smell like shit.

the door creaks open again, and you turn around to make eye contact with chris. it had been years since you last saw him, each day feeling like an eternity. the thought of him had kept you going through the darkest times.

your breath caught in your throat. you took a tentative step forward, your voice barely a whisper. "chris."

chris’ eyes widened in disbelief. "theres no way…" he murmured, his voice cracking with emotion. he took a few steps towards you, then broke into a run, closing the distance between you in an instant.

you collided in a tight embrace, the world around you fading away. tears streamed down your face as you clung to him, feeling his warmth, his heartbeat. "i thought i’d lost you," you choked out, your voice trembling.

"i never stopped looking for you," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. he pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. "youre actually here. this is unreal.”

you nodded, unable to find the words. instead, you leaned in and kissed him, pouring all the years of longing, fear, and love into that one moment.

when you finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. "i love you so fuckin’ much," he whispered, his voice filled with determination.

"i love you," you mumble, feeling a sense of peace you hadnt felt in years. in that moment, amidst the chaos of the world, you had found your home again in his arms.

"move aside," nick says, pushing chris away before hugging you tightly. a beaming smile lights up his face as he squeezes you, then lets matt and nate hug you as well.

"i thought you were done for,” matt says with a smile. "we saw most of the herd heading your way, and i seriously thought you were a goner.”

“im lucky.” you smile back.

"you shouldve heard how much that baby was whining about you in his sleep,” nate laughs, referring to chris, which makes you giggle.

"okay, you guys can reunite in a second. ian told me she got into a crash and shes badly injured. everybody out," madi demands, pointing towards the door. everyone groans and exits the room except for chris.

chris looked you up and down, "how the hell do you crash a car in the middle of an apocalypse?"

you debated whether you should snitch on ian or not, but you decided against it and shrugged. "i forgot how to drive."

"at least you can drive," madi mumbles as she cleans the wound on your shoulder. she glances at chris, who is giving her a harsh glare.

"a’right, dude," chris squeezes your hand before looking back down at you, his expression immediately softening. "i love you."

“i love you," you mumble, kissing his lips again before looking at madi, who is still cleaning your wound.

hey guys, im sorry if this wasnt great 😥. I PROMISE ILL GET BETTER. please make sure to send requests—i need ideas and i want to write more. i'll write anything (nothing with nick that has to do with sexual or romantic shizz)

[bts-hyperfixation]

Outside of the Fox

Chapter 34 of 35

2785 words

Y/N longs for a new life when the one she’d been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.

Last

“And he really said he wanted to meet me?” Namjoon asks for the fifth time.

Jungkook is stood by the door to the annexe tying his laces while you brief Namjoon on how to get to the doctor’s office; not that you really need to, Jungkook is perfectly capable of getting the two of them to Dr Treiver’s appointment on time. But Namjoon seemed less than convinced of Jungkook’s progress.

Which is part of the reason dr Treiver had asked for Namjoon to accompany the rabbit to his session rather than you.

“Yes Namjoon, I am certain. Now go before you’re late,” You scold, pushing him towards the foyer.

He holds up his hands in defeat, and Jungkook takes ahold of one, pulling him along so they don’t end up being late. 

They disappear around the side gate as you watch them through the still open front door.

You feel a bit put out, your routine broken by not taking Jungkook out for therapy. It’s been about ten weeks now since it began, and you had taken him without fail to each one. It was really slow progress, but there had been definite progress. Jungkook was now able to share a room with the builders without twitching too much AND you were able to go into the ice cream shop last week! Sure you were the only customers, but there were two teenagers behind the register that he only hid from briefly.

“Are you going to stand there until they come back?” Hoseok asks.

He makes you jump as his arm snakes around your shoulder.

“Your feet are really going to start to hurt,” Yoongi says, going around you to close the door.

The older man settles on your other side and places an arm around your waist. They turn you around and bring you over to the large plush sofa in the middle of the room. It’s a great L-shape sofa Jungkook had insisted on so it was big enough for the eight of you to pile together, far more comfortable than the 3-seater you had had in the main house before. 

They cage you in between them and Hobi rests his head on your shoulder 

“They’ll be okay you know,”Hoseok comforts.

“Of course I know that,” You roll your eyes.

However, the knot in the pit of your stomach doesn’t untie. You lean your head against his and take a deep breath.

“And you made fun of us for being so concerned about Jungkook when we met,” Yoongi chuckles, he strokes your leg comfortingly.

“I didn’t make fun… I just thought it was odd…” You shrug “And I’m more concerned about Namjoon than Jungkook right now,”

“Now that might be a valid concern,” Yoongi agrees.

_______________

Meanwhile Jungkook switches off the engine as he parks outside of the doctor’s office. Namjoon has driven him nuts the entire drive. He is certain the man means well but all he is doing is making the anxiety in Jungkook’s stomach feel like it did on that very first session again. He lets out a low whine as Namjoon asks him for the fifth time if he is really sure about going in to the appointment. 

“Oh Bunny, if you really are that stressed out we don’t have to go,” 

Namjoon reaches out a hand to pat Jungkook on the shoulder, but Jungkook flinches away.

“I’M FINE,” he snaps.

Namjoon looks taken aback. He has never been shouted at by a pack member before now, especially not Jungkook.

“I am okay, Namjoon,” He sighs reacting to the sadness in his leaders eyes, "You are making me more nervous.”

"I'm sorry," Namjoon answers, his voice small.

Jungkook's hands begin to tremble and he longs to lean over and curl into his leader like he always has done, but he knows the minute he does it's like giving in. Instead he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes like the doctor taught him, steadying his nerves on his own. Namjoon sighs and opens the door, letting himself out of the car. Jungkook follows suit a moment later and allows Namjoon to take his hand falling into step beside him. The younger man leads his partner through to the doctor.

“Good afternoon Jungkook, this must be Namjoon,” 

The elder gentleman smiles warmly at the pair, extending his hand to Namjoon. Namjoon greets the man, warily taking up the offer of a hand shake. Doctor Treiver nods curtly and motions for them to both sit on the sofa. 

Out of instinct, Jungkook sits almost on top of Namjoon before realising and shuffling over to allow for more space. Namjoon can't help but feel a little lost, unsure of what to do with himself if he isn’t comforting Jungkook.

The first half of the session went as could be expected of a therapy session. The doctor focused most of his attention on Jungkook, walking through anything and everything Jungkook was willing to talk about. Today that seemed to consist of renovation plans. 

Namjoon rolled his eyes. This is what Seokjin was paying for? Seemed like an absolute waste of money if you asked him... Not that anyone did lately…

Only on his fifth eye roll did he realise the doctor was now watching him instead of Jungkook. The bear looked down at his feet, suddenly finding the hideous carpet pattern to be the most interesting thing on the planet. 

"Jungkook, you've done a fantastic job today. I can tell you're really excited about this room painting you and Y/N have been doing and I do want to talk more about it," Doctor Treiver says, then he turns to Namjoon, “However I was hoping we could talk to Namjoon and you together today, would that be okay?”

Jungkook and the doctor both turn to Namjoon expectantly. 

Namjoon won't meet the doctor's eyes despite the clear invitation to speak. He hadn't considered he would be the one in the hot seat, prepared to observe, not participate. 

“Okay, let’s try this slowly. Jungkook are you comfortable with me talking to Namjoon about things we have discussed in past sessions? Please understand you can say no,” Treiver says gently.

“Namjoon knows everything about me, doctor, you can talk about whatever you need.” The bunny confirms.

Namjoon prepares himself to be psychoanalysed by this almost complete stranger, thinking somehow this man was going to blame him for every single one of Jungkook’s problems, reaffirming what Namjoon already thought about himself. He braced himself to hear all of his worst thoughts realised by a professional, to hear how he wasn’t fit to have one mate let alone be the leader of such a large pack.

But the negativity never came. In fact, it seemed that while Namjoon had been spiralling inside his own head, the doctor had been commending him for how he had handled Jungkook so far.

“Jungkook’s condition goes back a very long time from what I can see. I think it is a credit to you and your family that he is able to function outside of his birth family unit at all”

The doctor went on to talk about how Jungkook had confided in him about his fear that he had only gotten worse since moving in with Namjoon, no longer able to be independent at all. This made Namjoon cringe until the doctor continued. The elder man explained how this was much more likely to be a response to the new sensation of safety that Jungkook was experiencing, he was finally comfortable enough to shut down and protect himself in the way prey animals typically want to, hiding from the perceived threat of the world outside his burrow, his home.

It was a lot of information to take in. Ever since Jungkook had started therapy, Namjoon had been terrified he would be blamed, that they would find out he wasn’t able to support the people he loved. It hurt to find out that Jungkook had been concerned about his worsening state and hadn’t been able to voice it, but at the same time Namjoon hadn’t brought it up to him either, his fear that Jungkook would want to leave consuming him. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't a little reassuring to hear the doctor blame Jungkook’s father instead. 

The bear rests his hand on Jungkook’s leg and squeezes reassuringly, more to ground himself than his mate. He isn’t sure he truly understands what this therapy is going to do for Jungkook in the long run, and in the short term, it’s just hurting his head. But he is happy that Jungkook has someone outside of the pack to trust.

The doctor glances up at the clock and Namjoon’s gaze follows, only five minutes remain in the session.

“Jungkook would you be comfortable enough to sit in the waiting room on your own for the remainder of the session? Ms. Harris, my assistant is right behind the desk for you, and you can come immediately back inside here if it is too overwhelming for you?” Dr Triever asks carefully.

Jungkook’s eyes go wide and Namjoon can see the immediate rise in his hackles as his panic response begins to activate. Jungkook’s hand finds Namjoon’s and squeezes tightly before the bear has a chance to react. Instinctually he pulls Jungkook into his lap and holds him close, whispering gently into his ears reminding him to breathe. 

“I’ll take that as a no…” The doctor tilts his head observing. “That’s okay, a little too soon for public spaces I see, not a problem, you can stay right here,” 

He makes a note on his paper as Jungkook carefully unfurls himself from Namjoon’s arms, revealing his tear-stained cheeks to the room. 

“Would it be possible for me to see you alone another time Namjoon? I would also like to discuss the tension you yourself show around Jungkook as his primary support system”

“What do you mean the tension I show!?” Namjoon asks, a little sharply.

“That tension Mr. Kim” The doctor states, returning to honorifics in response to the change in tone.

Namjoon looks a little ashamed of himself for snapping at the man, immediately aware of the way his demeanour changes when Jungkook’s scent sours. 

“Right doctor, of course… Do you have any appointments later this week?” He has zero interest in having his brain examined by a shrink, but he would do anything for Jungkook, or anyone in his home. 

“You can arrange with my assistant on your way out. Thank you so much for coming on request Namjoon. Jungkook, I look forward to seeing you next time” The doctor opens the door and ushers the pair back into the waiting room.

___________________

You and Yoongi had just finished showering when Namjoon and Jungkook returned. You had managed to find more than a few ways to keep your mind from wandering to how their joint session might’ve been going. Hoseok had regretfully had to go in for the early shift at the karaoke place, although the two of you had tried very hard to make him call in sick to keep you company. That man had an iron resolve, any other member of your pack would’ve folded the instant your shirt left your body. 

Both men were stood before you in one piece, and with no police escort, which meant the session must’ve gone much better than you had given them credit for. Yoongi had money on Namjoon insulting the doctor in some way that would result in a restraining order; and while you had a little more faith, the issue of Namjoon’s ego and temper had made you a little nervous of the potential outcome.

Still, the pair didn’t seem overly eager to share what had actually happened within the meeting, only sharing that Namjoon would be returning on his own later in the week. So instead of talking about it, you got comfy on the sofa and waited for your other lovers to return to you.

By nine pm, Taehyung still wasn’t home. This had become the norm in recent weeks, but it didn’t make you any less sad. He claimed his family were just being needy at the moment and promised it would finish soon and he'd be home more, but each time he said that, he seemed less and less convinced by his own words. 

The house was at a loss without him too. You'd all been together for such a short time, but one person missing felt long a limb had been detached. Lately, Taehyung wasn't even bothering to join any of you in bed, if he came home at all. You'd all wake up to find him sleeping on the sofa cuddling a pillow, still fully dressed from the day before. Jimin was furious with him, he'd given him the silent treatment for about an hour before he caved. Taehyung had seemed far too sad to stay mad at him. 

After yet another night of watching Jungkook and Jimin mope, while the others were just restless, you decide enough is enough. It's obvious that Taheyung is unhappy with how much his parents are piling on, and it's obvious that no one around here is going to be comfortable until he is back to his normal self. So it's time someone did something about it. 

You text Taehyung to make sure he is not on the way home, only to receive 'Sorry babe, probably going to just sleep here' as a response almost immediately.

You feel a little guilty about your next move, but it needs to be done. You check the Find My Phone app and track Taehyung, finding his parents' home address. Grabbing Yoongi's car keys, you tell the others you're heading to the store and then you follow the little green dot all the way to a very large estate.

You chew your lip the entire drive, feeling guilty about lying to the others about where you were going, feeling even guiltier about stalking Taehyung's phone to find him. You contemplate turning off to actually go to the store and leaving Taehyung alone, but you just can't shake the feeling he needs help, and more than anything you just want to see him. 

You drive up a dauntingly long driveway and park Yoongi's car next to Taehyung's. The door is equally as imposing with a large golden knocker right in the middle, it reminds you a little of your ex-husband's parents' house, and it really drives home exactly how much money must be behind Taehyung's family. You grab the knocker and bang before your nerves get the better of you, although you find yourself wondering if it's loud enough when no one immediately comes to the door.

You shuffle your feet awkwardly as you wait, it feels like hours until the huge wooden door swings open revealing an ageing gentleman in a suit. 

"Good evening Madam, I'm afraid we will not be needing anything you're selling today," He says and moves to shut the door.

"Wait!" You say a little too loud.

The man pauses with the door ajar.

"I'm here to see Taehyung,"

"Master Taehyung did not make us aware of any visitors and he is extremely busy. He is unavailable to be seen."

"Bu... but" You stammer trying to think of a plausible excuse for your random late night appearance.

The older gent just raises an eyebrow as if he is waiting for something entertaining, knowing you have no straws to grasp at. 

"He sent me his location and told me to bring him some clothes, they are in the car..."

"Master Taehyung has plenty of clothes here. Now I must ask that you leave now miss, before I have to escalate the situation.

Once again the man moves to shut the door. You sigh and resign yourself to having to give up, turning to make your way back towards the car. It probably wouldn't do to linger too long, families like this have a penchant for calling police on people they deem to be trespassing. You watched your own butler deal with the police far through the crack in your curtain far too often to think the threat would be a bluff.

Dejectedly, you take one last look at the large house. It really was a beautiful build with ivy hanging from trellises scaling the walls. If you had to guess you probably put the house at at least 200 years old. The stonework seemed old but wonderfully maintained and the windows had that slightly warped appearance that only old glass possessed. Observing more closely, you could see a very familiar, but confused, face staring back at you through one of those windows.

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Masterlist

Sorry about the disappearing act.... it will probably happen again ngl. Also that 35 chapter thing was complete bull we are going so much further than that I guess....