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jjenthusee · 2 days ago

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Enthusiasm

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Sometimes the most intimidating can be the most tender.

A/N: HAPPYYY NEW YEAR i give u soft Jason 😌 i’ve been on and off (so sorry about that) but im excited to see what stories will be posted to this account this upcoming year :D so much has happened to end December, but i powered through and i wanted to finish something that was sitting in my drafts. so please ENJOY :) comment if you’re comfortable, reblog if you like the story, and have some flowers 💐

Tags: Fluff, hurt/comfort, i just wanna kiss his beautiful face fr, reader and jason are in competition of who can out fluff the other

Word Count: 2.5k

previous work linked here

The smell was strong.

Gunpowder and soaked clothes. Jason felt like a wet dog coming home with his tail between his legs. Holding onto the door frames, trying to not bump into the walls.

He had hoped the rain would have washed away most of the blood and burnt smell that radiated from his skin, but no matter how much he tried to rub it off, it was still there. Lingering after his every step, after every breath he took.

Each step into your apartment felt like he was contaminating more of the air, that he was diminishing the warmth you exuded so effortlessly.

His fingertips burned as he tried to grab a dry shirt and some sweats to change into, but his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

His mind raced and raced as he couldn’t focus enough to grab a single hanger in the closet. He already felt like he was standing underneath a beacon of light from the single bulb illuminating the entire closet and he couldn’t afford to wake you up now, you might smell him and you would find him disgusting until he would beg and beg that he could strip all the smell away.

Jason felt dizzy at the thought of you leaving. He had imagined many scenarios, all kinds of ways you would be gone. Tortured, kidnapped, or you simply walking out the door as he watched because you didn’t want to love him anymore.

It sickened him. A kind of bile that stuck to his throat when he tortured himself with the thought of you leaving him. He rubbed his face, feeling his calloused hands scratch against his skin as he tried to rub more of the smell away.

He could imagine the sound of your voice, screaming his name in fear or even quietly fading as you faded from his arms.

Sometimes the hallucinations felt so real, like you actually left until he found you at home. Living your life, perfectly fine.

“—on. Jason.”

He instinctively grabbed the knife from his utility belt, so quickly and efficiently that it felt like breathing for Jason.

He was still dizzy, but parts of your face were slowly focusing through his lashes, readjusting until your entire face was clear in his vision. He saw your wide eyes, opened because of the suddenness of him aiming a knife to your neck, but what made him feel even more sick to his stomach was the worried look on your face despite the survival instinct overpowering his brain.

It screamed how much you cared about him. The same man that pointed a blade at you.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Jason, it’s me. I’m right here.” You stood still. Watching the intense adrenaline rush from Jason. It had been a while since you’ve seen him escalate this badly.

“No, no. I‘m—you’re not real.” He pleaded, talking more to himself than at you.

“You’re home. You’re back home.” You tried to reach out with your words, giving him something to metaphorically grab onto.

“Please go away.”

Your heart pinched at his broken words.

“Everything is okay. I’m okay. I am right here.” You repeated.

As adamant as Jason was about stopping his hallucination, he couldn’t raise his voice. He was quietly whispering his pleas as you stood at arms length, confusing his reality and mental images. You didn’t waver to call out to him because he felt more wary of you than you did of him.

The blade he held to you was something he hadn’t done before and as frightened as you were in that moment, you stayed calm. Not for yourself, but from how much he shook and his disheveled appearance, Jason was just scared.

You continued to speak to him, giving him tender reassurances, explaining and truthfully telling him how safe he was and how he could relax from the anxiety plaguing him.

Jason’s eyes were relaxing as he listened to your voice, his muscles were loosening his grip from the blade the more in tune he felt with reality, and he suddenly felt all the exhaustion weigh on him. His knife felt so heavy. Every second he was growing more tired as he realized he was safe enough to finally let it go, so he threw it to the side.

The blade bounced to the floor, reflecting and shining the light from the closet back into the dark bedroom.

You took a deep breath watching the blade leave Jason’s hand, then you looked back to him, seeing his soaked hair stick to his face. His armor caked with dirt and blood blending into the fabric.

As much as you wanted to call Alfred, Jason was in no condition to see another person right now.

As you analyzed him, you saw, physically, how much the night had roughed him up. Jason’s hands were limp at his side, his head hung to your feet as you stepped closer to him, testing how close he was willing to let you get.

“Jay? You’re still in your armor, we need to get you out of your soaked clothes.” You gently spoke.

He said nothing to you, focusing on pacing his breaths in a way that didn’t cause him more anxiety. He kept his eyes closed.

“Do you need my help? I can help, but if you want to do it yourself—“

He grabbed one of your fingers, his frozen hand stinging your warm one that absorbed the heat from your blankets not too long ago. His large hand held onto your singular finger, feeling your smooth skin, trying to sink into the soothing feeling of physical touch.

You patiently waited, letting him go at his own pace to grasp that he was safe enough to ask for this much from you.

“I’m glad you made it home.” You spoke. Feeling Jason’s skin trace your knuckles and veins in your hand like he was memorizing and analyzing the living being he cared so much for.

As he continued his small rubs, he eased his touch to a feather light hover over your arm. Feeling up to press his thumb underneath the fabric of your shirt sleeve, mentally talking to himself about the feel of the fabric and its color.

You let him ground himself, taking note of how still you kept your body. All control was in Jason’s hands like a puppeteer over your entire self. He wanted to scream out to himself that he was selfishly touching you, but he was walking a very thin line of losing his mind any second and the feel of you was keeping him focused on something other than his racing head.

He was so tired that he grasp his hand onto your shoulder to gently pull you toward him, resting his head into your hair, smelling how familiar you were.

He thought you smelt so much better than the gunpowder and burning flesh from his body.

He rested his hand behind your back, slowly feeling up to cusp behind your neck, letting his fingers settle onto your pulse. Counting the thumps and feeling the repeated rhythm he memorized numerous times to fall asleep to.

Jason brought you in closer, matching his breaths to yours because if he felt like passing out, he reasoned to himself that it should be completely because he wanted to be one with you.

You settled your forehead onto his neck, taking a deep breath into his skin.

Jason flinched, feeling his skin tingle to your warm breath exhaling to his hair. He hummed before he was about to pull away from you, remembering his stench.

“I’m sorry, I…stink.” Jason apologized, fighting against himself to release you, but also grip you harder.

You pulled him back to you by his neck and arm, leaning his damp hair onto your head.

“You don’t need to apologize. Besides, I love your smell. I think I stink ‘cause I haven’t showered ever since I got back from work.” You lazily smiled up at Jason, appreciating that he was talking to you.

“You don’t smell.” He emphasized, whispering his sincerity into the small space between your bodies.

“I was sweating a lot today, so we can be stinky together if that’s what you’re worried about.” You comforted him, reaching up to cusp his cheeks. Soothing the redness on his face from his harsh rubs. “We can wash up together if you want to. It’s also okay if you want to do it by yourself. I’m always open to what you tell me, no matter what I’ll be right here until you let me know.”

Jason felt the ease in his shoulders, the voice in his head calming. It wasn’t completely silent, but it was a little quieter when you were speaking so gently to him.

“Can we wash up together?” He asked into your palm, rubbing his nose into your warm hand.

“Of course we can. I can get the water ready while you get out of your gear.”

“Hm.” Jason agreed into your touch.

“I won’t make the water too hot. I also got a new shampoo yesterday and I haven’t used it yet, so we can smell like eucalyptus together.” You could feel Jason’s frozen nose on your hands. “Hon, you’re freezing.”

Your worries were unanswered, leaving you to only furrow your brow at the man in front of you. Jason could only look up from your hands, clearly having nothing to say, but patiently waiting for you to give in to his tender gaze.

He knew you would give in, you always did and he wanted to use it to his advantage to not speak about his night.

He removed his gloves and you heard the slightly damp fabric being pulled from his fingers. With free hands, Jason reached out to rub off the furrowed look on your face, in attempt to cover his tired appearance.

“You’re lucky I’m going to be nice about this. I was about one call away to summoning Alfred or I would’ve drove your motorcycle all the way there if I had to.”

Jason chuckled as he kept kneading the line between your eyebrows. Listening to your stubborn worries that felt like music to his ears as much as he didn’t want to admit it.

“Threatening me now?” Jason asked. Amused, but willing to listen to your voice continuously. The way his voice teased you made your heart tingle, enough to distract you for a moment to look at the way his hair fell onto his face. His features were carved by wavy hair, elegantly placed hair strands that made you waver between frustrated and enamored, but unable to stop your heartfelt lecture.

“Maybe you can distract me, but Alfred is too experienced to even consider hesitating with you.” You tried to go move your eyebrows in defiance against Jason’s thumb, not backing down just yet. “I was about to haul you on my shoulders and dump you onto the back of your motorcycle. I didn’t go through all those lessons with you to not use it against you.“

“I knew it, you were always too excited to take it out for a drive. Can’t believe my own student was actually plotting against me all along.” Jason held onto your face, shaking his head as he traced your jaw with his fingers.

“It’s called “enthusiasm,” Jason.” You started to feel for the zippers of his jacket, moving your fingers against the leather as you slowly took it off his shoulders, carefully watching his body language to ensure you weren’t making him uncomfortable.

“Enthusiasm.” Jason repeated. In the same tone you always swooned at, hearing the familiar low roughness in his voice that was only reserved for you. A dangerous combo as he touched your face so affectionately, you could feel your face heat in the dim closet light. “I know all about enthusiasm.”

He leaned in to slightly peck your bottom lip, feeling his own lips barely touch yours. He felt how dry his lips were, but yours were soft enough to drown out his other worries and insecurities. Enough to feel the intimacy, but not enough to solidify something more.

You smiled, clearly won over by Jason’s charm. In one swoop you pulled the jacket off Jason, leaving him in his usual patrol skintight top with his emblem reflecting what little light was in the room.

You couldn’t imagine the fear that red bat symbol brought to the bad people lingering at night, realizing the bad shit they brought on themselves because that emblem was the last thing they would remember.

But you always liked what was beneath it, what it tried to protect. The part of Jason that he relentlessly tried to hide and you had the patience to slowly unveil every bit of it.

“Save that enthusiasm because we might not be able to wash up if you kiss me one more time.” You rubbed your hands into the back of his neck, feeling the tense muscles and wanting to help him relax for a bit with some warm water and rubbing some shampoo into his hair to hopefully allow him to sleep a little tonight. “Clean your gear in the morning, I wanna warm up with a shower and you can help me dry my hair.”

“Hm.” Jason agreed as he kept rubbing your lips with his thumb. You felt accomplished as you felt his hands slowly warming from your physical touch.

“I’ll get us some fresh towels. Grab the new shampoo after you remove your gear.” You released yourself from Jason and made your way to the bathroom. “It should be in the bag by the bed. I forgot to take it out.”

With some soreness, Jason removed his utility belt and picked up the thrown knife to safely secure it back in its place. He felt the weight in his eyelids as he made his way to the bathroom, hearing the water turn on.

When he pushed the door open silently, he watched the way you moved. Adjusting the heat of the water, placing freshly dried towels on the counter, and the way you were so perfectly domestic.

Jason didn’t want to disturb you, soothing himself to the sight of you after he exhausted himself from the repeated torture his mind put himself through.

When you looked back, the look you gave him almost made him melt to the tile floor. That it was unreal he was allowed this.

You pulled him into the bathroom, much like the other ways you introduced him to various simplicities he started to enjoy in his life.

He didn’t want to admit it to you, in case you would be offended, but he cherished how mundane you were. That he could feel as close to ordinary next to you. That the scars that littered him weren’t going to drive you away.

Piece by piece, clothing were removed from the two of you. It was comfortable to bare yourself, to share this intimate experience of bathing together. Washing and holding each other under warm water. Massaging and lathering soap.

The steam was filling the bathroom, slight humidity relaxing your skin and your shared scent radiating off each other.

The night was turning into dawn, but you dried each others hair. You gently laid into the bed to slowly rub at Jason’s head, easing him and yourself into another slumber.

#screaming and pulling my hair #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd #red hood #writing #dc

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y3sterdaysproblem · 2 days ago

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in my head - m.s.

part two of avery’s playlist series

pairing: reader x matt sturniolo

cw: alcohol, smut (unprotected sex, f!receiving oral, fingering), explicit language

wc: 6k

in my head, i see you all over me

in my head, you fulfill my fantasy

It was like a sixth sense, really, the way you could feel when anybody was staring at you when you weren’t looking. It was something you’d always had a feeling for since you were young, like any time a pair of eyes landed on you, you could feel it burning into your skin.

It was also something you had learned to ignore when you were around your friends, always feeling a constant stare when your head was turned, blue eyes unable to tear themselves away from your frame. You were used to it at this point, the way he looked over at you any chance he got. You were also used to him refusing to admit that he was looking at you, no matter how many times you caught him staring, he’d always deny it, say he was just spaced out or looking past you. You never believed him.

Today was no different, even in the crowded house with music blaring and your mind fuzzy from the alcohol you’d consumed, you could still feel Matt staring at you from where he was leaned against the wall, a fruity seltzer held in his hand as he peered your way. The two of you have been friends for years, but lately it felt like you’ve drifted apart due to how weird he’s gotten around you, and now when you came over, you mostly just talked to his brothers, Nick and Chris, since Matt had always excused himself after you caught him staring.

Matt was always a little bit odd, but he’d gotten more so over the last few months, and you’d gotten sick of trying to reel him back in, finally just deciding to let him pull away from the friendship if that’s what he really wanted.

Alcohol had always made you a little bit bolder, though, and today was no exception, so when you caught Matt’s eye across the room and he actually held your gaze, you couldn’t help yourself from marching over until you were right in front of him, your eyes determined as you approached him. He kept his eyes locked on you, an almost amused smirk playing on his lips at your attempt to be serious.

“Matt,” you start sternly, crossing your arms once you’re in front of him. He’s thoroughly enjoying the way you try to act bigger than you are, though he can tell by the glazed over look in your eyes that it wasn’t raw confidence that had you running up on him, but more of a liquid courage influence. He didn’t mind, in fact, he thought it was amusing. He stays silent, only raising his eyebrows as he peers at you over his can, waiting for you to continue. “We need to talk.”

Matt finishes his drink and sets it down on a nearby table before crossing his arms to match your stance, chest puffing out as his eyes narrowed. “About what?” He inquires, head tilting like a dog.

You weren’t deterred by his attempts to be dominating, though. “About your fucking staring problem.”

He raises an eyebrow like he’s at a complete loss. “What staring problem?”

“Are you kidding?” You laugh, dropping your arms to your sides in disbelief. “You think I don’t see you staring at me all the time? I can feel your eyes burning a hole in the back of my head!”

Matt is fully smirking at you now, his expression teasing. “I never stare at you. I look at you sometimes, like now when you’re talking, but I’m never staring at you.”

The distinct presence of alcohol makes your eyes feel heavy and your brain moves slower, only able to process his words a few seconds after he said them, but you refused to be gaslit into thinking that you were wrong, that you didn’t see what you know you saw.

“Don’t lie to me,” you say loudly, reaching up to point a finger in his face. “You can’t take advantage of me just because I’m drunk.”

The next words that he said are what really throw you off guard, to the point where you almost blamed the alcohol for it, and if you were even one drink further into your night you would’ve, but your comprehension levels were still sharp enough to catch the weight of his words as he leans in close to your ear.

“If I wanted to take advantage of you while you were drunk, lying isn’t the way I’d do it.”

It felt like the ground beneath you had shifted, like an unspoken boundary had been crossed and you had no idea how to react to it. Except your mouth moved faster than your brain, and you spoke before you could even think to stop yourself.

“What?!” You shriek, narrowing your eyes at the boy in front of you. “What on earth is that supposed to mean?!”

Matt rolls his eyes at your volume before he swiftly forces your body in the other direction with his hands and swings an arm over your shoulder. “It means we need to get some water in you.”

You’re offended at his suggestion, scoffing loudly as he led you into the kitchen, keeping a strong grip on you. “I am not that drunk, Matt. Could pass a sobriety test with ease.”

“You’re drunk enough to get confrontational, that’s how I know you need to slow down,” Matt retorts, grabbing an unopened water bottle from the counter and handing it to you.

You want to refuse, to shake your head and push his hand away, but when you turn your head to look up at him, the room spins a little bit, and you know it’s probably for the better that you have some water. Once you do grab it from his hands, you drank almost half of the bottle in one go before handing it back to Matt, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “There, happy now?” You sass.

Matt sets the bottle down on the counter, his other arm still swung over your shoulders. “Sure, now go dance with Nick or something,” he comments, nodding his head in his brother’s direction.

Your confrontational behavior hasn’t dissipated, though, in fact it only feels spurred on by the way Matt is staring down at you, like it’s funny the way you tried to talk to him, like he thinks your attempts at calling him out are adorable. It’s not adorable, you’re serious, and the fact that he doesn’t think you are has you heating up all over again.

In a quick motion, you grab his hand from your shoulder and start walking away, your grip on him tight as you drag him through the crowds of people and into his room. With all the strength you can muster, you pull him in through the doorway and push him in front of you, slamming the door after you’re both in the room.

“I am done dealing with you staring at me all the time and acting like you’re not!” You snap loudly at him, arms crossing over your chest once again. “I may be drunk and confrontational, but you’re drunk, too, so let’s just get this conversation over with so we can go back to being like we were before.”

Matt rolls his eyes at you, huffing like a child. “I’m not as drunk as you,” is all he says.

“Oh, please, like you weren’t just leaning up against the wall out there, or using your arm around me to keep your balance.” You point a finger at him accusatorially. “You’re leaning on your desk right now!”

“Yeah, because my ankle hurts,” Matt shrugged it off, but the way his eyes closed as he spoke made it all the more obvious what the truth was.

By the time his eyes reopen, you’ve marched over to him, your bodies only a couple feet apart now. “Enough. Stop fucking staring all the time or tell me why you do it.” You demand.

He’s getting frustrated again, and you can see it in the way he sucks in a deep breath, like he’s trying to stop himself from getting angry, or maybe he’s trying to stop himself from telling you the truth, trying to fight against the alcohol swimming through his bloodstream. He’s close to cracking, and all you need to do is push a little harder.

“Did I do something to make you mad? You barely talk to me anymore, and every time you do it’s like someone’s twisting your arm behind your back to do it.” Your voice is a bit quieter now, back to a normal speaking volume with a hint of sadness seeping in. “I used to be the closest to you and now it’s a chore to even get you to talk to me.”

Matt groans and leans his head back on his shoulders for a moment before picking it back up and meeting your gaze again. “You didn’t make me mad,” he replies.

“Then what?!” You push, hands flopping to your sides in annoyance. “Why are you so weird now?! You never talk to me, you’re always fucking looking at me and pretending you’re not, you’re always trying to avoid being in the same room as me alone and I am so fucking sick of-“

“What do you want me to say?!” Matt interrupts loudly, pushing himself off the desk and one step closer to you. Your eyes widen in shock as the distance starts to close between you, not expecting him to be so loud. Though the next words out of his mouth had your mind reeling and wondering if maybe you both were a little too intoxicated to be having this conversation. But maybe it was perfect.

“Do you want me to say that every fucking time I look at you, all I can think about is how much better you’d look underneath me? On top of me?” He starts lowly, taking another step closer. “Do you want me to say that I get carried away looking at you because I’m fantasizing about what I want to do to you? That I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want to make you feel good and hear your pretty voice moaning my name?”

Your heart feels like it’s stuck in your throat as you listen to him, pounding away and making your hands shaky, adrenaline running through you at his admission. It was the last thing you expected him to say, a confession of desire, the words ripping all of the air from your lungs.

You’re brought back when the backs of your knees hit his bed, causing you to fall backwards on it, hands catching you and resting behind you. The switch in angle has you staring upwards at Matt, the man that was your best friend, lashes fluttering as he gazed down at you, eyes darkening at the sight of you.

“Matt…” you whisper, shaking your head, unsure of what to say.

“You feel fucking stupid pushing so hard now, don’t you?” Matt sneers, leaning over so he’s hovering above you, faces inches apart. “Should’ve just left it the fuck alone.”

You swallow thickly, trying to ignore your nerves and the way the hair on your arms was standing straight up, goosebumps forming from how close he was to you.

“I don’t feel stupid,” you say quietly, pausing for a moment as you stare into his eyes, taking in his expression. His jaw is clenched tight, like he’s angry, but you know it’s his way of trying to hide the way he really feels; scared of how you feel. His eyes are searching yours for any sign of feeling the same, like he’s desperate for any sense of reciprocation. His chest is heaving as he leans over you, trying to breathe through the way his heart was racing, willing it to slow down in vain. You take a deep breath yourself, readying yourself for the shift.

“Just wish you told me sooner.”

Your hand comes up to grab onto his shirt to pull him in, closing the distance between you both, lips crashing together. He loses his balance when you pull him down, hands stopping himself on either side of you when he pushes you down flat on the bed, kissing you back like he’s waited his whole life for this moment.

His lips are molded to yours perfectly, only parting to let his tongue slip into your mouth and meet your own, tasting the drink he finished right as you walked up to him. His left arm shifted so he was resting on his elbow next to your head, right hand coming up to cup the back of your head, fingers splayed out in your hair as he used his grip to keep you close to him.

Even though you initiated the kiss, you’re still taken aback at how desperate his movements are, taking a moment to collect yourself and kiss him back just as enthusiastically, right hand keeping its grip in his shirt while your other one comes up to mirror his, tangling in his hair.

“Matt,” you gasp in between kisses, whining softly when his lips trail over your cheek and down your neck, leaving soft but hungry kisses across your skin.

“Wanted you for so long,” he groans, teeth nipping softly before he continues his descent, pushing your shirt up until it’s bunched under your arms, moving his lips between the valley of your breasts. “You look so fucking good tonight, was like torture watching you walk around like I didn’t want to rip your clothes off.”

The giggle you let out is breathless, a mix of laughter and a whine, head tilted down as you watch him as he kisses down your stomach, hands moving to slide down your waist, gripping your hips when he reaches them. “You can take my clothes off if you want to,” you say nervously. His attention is immediately drawn back to your face, movements pausing at your words. “Yeah?” He rasps, voice low and quiet.

You nod, pushing yourself up on your elbows to watch him as he slides down your body and onto his knees between your legs, hands rubbing over your thighs. Your bottom half was adorned in a black mini skirt that already started riding up from the way he settled between your legs, your thong peeking out from underneath it, clinging to your skin from the way you were already getting soaked.

“This skirt looks so fucking good on you,” Matt praises, slipping off the end of the bed until he was on his knees, pulling you closer towards the edge until his face was only a few inches above your core. “Wondering why I’m looking at you when this shit barely covers your ass.”

“I wore it for you,” you admit shyly, watching as his hands slid up and down your skin, fingers gripping into your flesh every few seconds, like he couldn’t believe he was finally in this position, lips dragging up the skin of your inner thighs slowly.

“Oh, yeah?” He mumbles, almost absentmindedly.

“Mhm,” you reply, watching as his face gets closer and closer to where you want him. “Was hoping maybe if I dressed hot enough you’d finally crack, get the balls to shoot your shot.”

Matt drags his nose up your inner thighs, kissing occasionally until his face is right pressed into your panties, the thin fabric being the only barrier separating your bodies from what you both craved so badly. His tongue slips past his lips to flatten on your folds through your underwear, a small groan leaving his lips. “Was gonna shoot my shot anyway, just thought I’d have time for one more drink before you got all bitchy on me.”

A gasp leaves your lips at the feeling of his tongue on you, wanting nothing more than to rip the flimsy thong off and fling it across the room. “Calling me a bitch with your head between my legs is a little ridiculous, Matt,” you tease breathlessly, keeping your eyes locked on him. His hands move to push your skirt upwards before his fingers tuck themselves into the waistband of your panties, eyes shooting up to meet yours. “Sorry, next time I call you a bitch I’ll make sure I’m not about to eat you out.”

You scoff at his sarcastic response and roll your eyes, expecting nothing less than him making some snarky comment. His nose dips down and buries itself in the fabric again, his eyes fluttering shut as he sucked in a deep breath, moaning on the exhale. “Holy fuck.” He groans out before he tucks his fingers into the front of your underwear and ripped them apart, exposing your dripping pussy to him, drooling in anticipation.

“Are you…” you stare down at him incredulously, eyes wide. “Are you smelling me?”

Matt looks back up at you with an exasperated expression, raising an eyebrow. “Yes?” He replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Do you have any idea how good pussy smells? How good it tastes? God, I could get off on that alone.”

You shake your head in disbelief at him, to which he releases a small laugh, shooting you a wink before dipping his head back down and pressing his lips between your folds, planting a small kiss on your clit as his hands push your thighs apart, spreading you wide open to be used by him. “Taste so fucking good,” he mumbles, more to himself than anything. His hands wrap around your thighs and his fingers dig into the skin on the inside of your legs, kneading them softly as his tongue starts to work between your folds, quiet moans leaving him as the taste of you flooded his senses.

The sounds you made weren’t as quiet, the volume of your whines starting to fill the room, grateful for the music blaring through the rest of the house to drown you out. Your head fell back on your shoulders as your eyes fluttered shut, focusing on his tongue on you and the way his hands never stopped moving, whether it was his thumbs stroking over your skin or his palms rubbing up and down.

“Fuck, Matt…” you whimper, dropping your elbows out from underneath you so your back was flat on the bed, body already reacting to the way his mouth was moving on you, thighs starting to shake on either side of him.

He was eating you out in a way you’ve never felt before, his actions hungry and fueled by lust, lips and tongue working in tandem as he practically made out with your drooling core, the squelching of his mouth meeting your heat filing your ears. “Matt,” you warn, reaching down to grab at his hair, pushing him off of you.

He pulls away reluctantly, staring down at you with glazed over eyes, his mouth and chin glistening from the mixture of his saliva and your arousal. “What?” He questions, furrowing his eyebrows. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, breathing heavily. “Just close ‘n I don’t wanna finish yet.”

Matt’s confused at your words, staring down at you like he doesn’t quite understand, head tilting slightly as his lips parts to speak. “That’s kind of the whole point of what I’m doing,” he states.

“But… I wanna have sex,” you reply like it’s obvious.

“I thought that’s what we were doing?” Matt lets go of your thighs and runs a hand through his hair, growing more puzzled. “Do you not want me to eat you out?”

Your cheeks are darkening in embarrassment the more this conversation drags on, your hands coming up to cover your face. “I do! You’re really good at it! I just don’t want to cum before you actually… fuck me.”

“Why?” Matt snorts out a laugh, crawling onto the bed and hooking his hands under your thighs again, dragging you up the bed until your head was almost at the headboard, his own body moving to hover over yours. “I’ll just make you cum again. And again…” he leans down until his lips are touching your ear, one hand moving to rub over your clit gently, his two middle fingers rubbing through your slit. “And again, til you can’t even think straight.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he manhandles you, the way he pushed your body up the bed like it was nothing creating a kaleidoscope of butterflies in your stomach. “Really?” You questioned quietly, not used to men even really caring about getting you off even once.

“Mhm,” Matt hums into your ear, lips trailing down over your neck. “That okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you nod your head quickly, nervously. “Just never came more than once before.”

Matt snorts against your collarbone, dipping his two fingers inside of you, your pussy putting up no resistance to him, sucking him in greedily. “Probably because you sleep with a bunch of fucking losers.” He comments, following up his words by sucking a mark into the fleshy mound on your chest barely covered by your bra anymore.

Your back arches off the mattress when his fingers curl inside you, a loud whimper leaving your lips as your hands grip the sheets on either side of you. “Oh my god,” you moan out, ignoring the comment he made. You’ll have to remember to scold him later.

“How ‘bout you just lay there and keep making those pretty noises, yeah?” Matt smirks, sliding down the bed again until his mouth is back on your soaked heat, groaning against your clit when the taste hits his tongue again.

Obsessed doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what he’s feeling, how his mind is absolutely reeling from the way he’s got you coming apart underneath him. The way you taste, the way you sound, it’s all making his mind fuzzy, the buzz from the alcohol fading into the distance as he becomes more pussy drunk than anything in the moment. He’s trying to keep himself from losing control and fucking you into oblivion, grounding himself by listening to the sweet sounds you made.

“So good, Matt, right there,” you cry out, chest heaving as he brings you back to the brink of your orgasm, knuckles turning white against his black sheets. “Fuck, if you don’t stop I’m gonna cum,” you warn him, one of your hands coming down to thread in his hair, this time holding him against you instead of pulling him off.

“Mhmm,” he moans into your skin, tongue lapping up your juices fervently, fingers keeping pace inside of you.

The way his voice rumbled against your clit was all you needed to send you over the edge, your free hand coming up to cover your mouth as you moaned loudly, thighs trembling around Matt’s head.

He coaxed you through it, fingers and tongue unrelenting until you were lax and whimpering against the bed, legs twitching from overstimulation with every movement. Matt pulled his lips away, placing one more small kiss on your clit before looking up at you, smiling at how spent you looked, hair sticking to your forehead and your teeth buried in your hand from trying to keep quiet. “You covered up your pretty mouth,” he fake pouts, crawling back up the bed so his face is above yours. “Now I gotta make you cum again.”

You stare up at him breathlessly, watching as his face comes back into view, his expression dark as he stares at you. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Didn’t wanna be too loud.”

“No such thing,” Matt smiles, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips softly. You melt into the kiss, instantly returning it and tasting yourself on his mouth, something you’d hated in the past but felt immensely turned on by in this situation. He only kisses you for a few moments before he pulls away and gazes down at you again. “I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?”

You nod excitedly, agreeing instantly. He climbs off the bed and pulls his shirt over his head before walking to his bedside table to grab a condom out of the drawer, throwing it next to you on the bed. Your eyes watch the small foil pack as it lands next to you, feeling your heart rate pick up at the realization that this was actually happening. You were about to let your best friend have his way with you in his room during a fucking party, not caring who would hear, and especially not caring about what this would do to your relationship in the moment. Those were consequences you’ll face later, but right now all you could think about was having Matt buried deep inside you.

“Matt?” You sit up slowly and look up from the condom, letting your eyes trail over him, landing on his hands that were working on the button on his jeans, then slowly dragging his zipper down. He hums in response, urging you to continue. You clear your throat nervously, reaching out to pick up the condom. “I haven’t been on birth control for years just for you to not fuck me raw.”

Matt’s lips part as he sucks in a small breath, watching as you tossed the condom back onto the bedside table before smiling up at him. “You serious?” He asks, pushing his jeans down until they fall on their own, stepping out of them before kneeling back over you, his hand coming up to hold onto the back of your neck. You nod again, just as enthusiastic as the first. “Yeah,” you respond softly. “Wanna feel you inside me.”

Matt groans and grabs your shirt to finally pull it fully off, throwing it across the room before he helps you out of your bra as well. “You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he grumbles, shoving you back down onto the bed. A small giggle leaves your lips as he throws you down, hair fanning out over the pillow. The only thing you were left in was the black mini skirt that Matt was obsessed with, the material shoved up and bunched around your hips. It was completely out of the way of what was important, and Matt had no intentions of removing it from you.

Your folds and inner thighs were completely soaked when you spread your legs open for Matt to settle between, the wet skin glimmering in the dim lights of his room, a sight that Matt had to force himself to tear his eyes from so he wouldn’t finish too quickly. “You have no idea how pretty your pussy is, do you?” He mumbled, pushing his briefs just low enough for his dick to spring out, so hard it almost hurt when the cool air hit it. Your ears burned hot at his words, shaking your head gently. “No, I don’t. Wanna tell me how pretty it is?” You reach down to grab the backs of your knees, pulling your legs up and apart to expose yourself to him even more.

“Fuck,” he groans, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “I’m sorry but I’m already about to bust in my pants, can I just…” he clears his throat and reopens his eyes, looking down at the glorious sight below him; you staring up at him as you pull your legs wide open for him, pussy on display and glistening just for him, patiently waiting to pull him into your walls. His hand comes down to wrap around his aching cock and you watch as he starts to jerk himself off, small moans and whimpers leaving his lips, jaw slack from the pleasure.

It takes him less than a minute to stroke himself to his climax, hips stuttering as he coaxed out his load all over your stomach and added to the mess adorning your lower half, your own jaw dropping as you watch him cum all over you. “That was fucking hot,” you praise, a sinister smile forming on your lips.

He laughs, taking a few deep breaths before he situates his hips against yours, resting his tip against your entrance. “Thanks. I was not going to last at all and I’ve always wondered what you’d look like covered in my cum, so.. two birds.” He joked.

You’re about to laugh with him when he shoves himself inside you, bottoming out in one thrust. The movement rips a gasp from your lips, face contorting in a mix of pleasure and pain from the sudden stretch. “Oh!” You squeak out, locking eyes with Matt as he drags his own gaze up your body to stare down into your eyes. “My fucking god,” he groaned, slowly dragging his cock out of you before pushing back in, pulling a soft whine out of your lips. “Holding that pussy wide open for me, hm?”

You bite your lip harshly as your head drops back onto the pillow, eyes rolling back as Matt starts up a quick rhythm, his cock deliciously dragging through your walls. The angle of your legs being pushed up had him hitting every sweet spot inside of you, your voice growing hoarse from how much you were whining and moaning, hands starting to lose your grip on your legs. “C’mon, baby, don’t let up now, show me how pretty you look taking my cock so well.”

You’re trying your best when you readjust your grip on the backs of your knees, but the mixture of sweat and how weak you felt made the task difficult, your hands sliding around and unable to get a good grip. “Can’t, Matt,” you whimper, opening your eyes again to look back up at him, silently begging for help. He notices your struggle and pushes your hands away with his own, spreading his fingers out on the backs of your thighs to push them against you, the new angle of his cock inside you making you cry out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, right there, please don’t stop, need you right there.” You babble on, staring up at Matt as his eyes stay trained on where your bodies meet.

“Touch yourself, princess,” Matt demands, forcing his gaze up to meet yours, admiring the way your eyes were glazed over and half covered by heavy eyelids. “If you can’t hold your legs up you gotta touch yourself for me, baby.”

You’re taken aback, not used to such demands. Normally the guys you slept with didn’t even care about if you finished or not, and now here Matt was making sure you came at least twice. It was a bit confusing at first, but you eventually processed his words, eyebrows furrowing. “But, Matt, I-,”

He cuts you off with a sharp dig into your thighs with his fingers, silencing you immediately. “Fucking touch yourself for me,” he says again, leaving no room for argument. “Wanna see you cum all over me, see your pretty face and hear how good you sound.”

Really, who were you to deny such a convincing statement? Especially when he asked so nicely.

“Fuck,” you whisper in defeat, bringing your hand between your legs and taking a deep breath before pressing your two middle fingers into your clit, whimpering softly as you drew small circles around it, the pleasure of that mixing with the way Matt still thrust into you making you clench your eyes shut again, moaning as your head dug back into the pillow, back arching into the pleasure. “Oh my god, so good, Matt.”

Once he saw your eyes close again, Matt looked down to where your hand was picking up speed on your sensitive nerves, your movements and his grinding matching up in pace until your legs were trembling again, still held in place by his rough grip. “That’s perfect, baby, shit, you’re fucking made for me, hm? Made to take me all the way like this?”

“Yes,” you choke out, throat starting to straight from how hard you were rubbing yourself, breath starting to catch in your throat. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, oh my god, Matt, I’m cumming again,” you gasp, whole body tensing up for a few seconds before your orgasm crashed over you, your whole body shaking and legs trying to close but unable to due to Matt holding them in place. He’s groaning loudly, thrusts becoming uncoordinated as he chased his own high, his mouth dropping in pleasure when he finally reached his peak, loud, attractive moans spilling from his lips.

Matt’s own eyes are screwed shut as he paints his release over your walls, breath shaky as he slows down, unaware of how hard he’s gripping into your skin until you whine his name out and push your legs out of his grip. When he lets go, his forearms come down to rest on either side of your head, his face burying in your neck.

“Fuuuck,” he groans tiredly, still buried inside you. “Y’have no idea how long I’ve wanted to fuck you like that.”

You laugh, running a clammy hand over his equally sweaty back, patting his skin in a teasing matter. “Glad you got it out of your system.” You reply.

His head pops up after you speak, staring down at you questioningly. “Oh, I didn’t. I’ve still got plenty of fantasies to run through.” Matt tells you, and though his tone is silly, you know he’s completely serious, so you raise your eyebrows at him inquisitively. “Did this not fulfill your fantasies?” You ask him.

He scoffs and sends you a classic Matt eye roll, like he couldn’t believe you were actually asking him that. “It did, but only some. I’ve got like a year’s worth of filthy shit I wanna do to you.” He tells you, dipping back down to nip at the soft skin on your neck, sucking it into his mouth for a moment before letting go, blowing over the wet spot to make you shiver. “Like mark you up, fuck you all over my house, in my car, in the shower, I wanna fuck you on your hands and knees, wanna watch you ride me, wanna fuck that pretty, pretty mouth of yours, wanna hear you beg for me…” his lips are moving down your skin as he speaks, leaving soft kisses along his route until he’s nestled between your breasts, pulling away to look down at your body. “Wanna be able to call you mine,” he confesses, leaning back in to take your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. The feeling made you whine softly, your core tingling in anticipation, even though you were spent and anymore contact might make you cry.

“Matt,” you huff, reaching up to grab his face and push him off, looking down at his pouty expression. “Everything is so sensitive, feels like my skin is on fire.”

He smiles down at you, like he’s taken your words in the complete opposite direction you meant, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Perfect, so you can give me one more, yeah?”

You’re still processing what he’s said by the time he’s scooted back down the bed and positioned his face between your legs once again, a big grin on his face. You’re about to push him away and tell him you can’t take anymore, you’re too overstimulated to give him anything else, but when his mouth comes forward and starts working on you again, you’re silenced aside from the loud groans and whines coming from your lips, deciding one more couldn’t hurt.

a/n: matt’s favorite adjective for you is pretty. clearly (:

also welcome to my playlist series! leave requests for songs you’d like me to write songs based off of

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @mattslolita @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah

@sophsturns @ariana2saucyy @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo

@secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff

@imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @mattsbrat @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @mattsside

@sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @pvssychicken @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo

@sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @milasturniolo @mattsdillion @birkinbratsworld @aria003

@poppingmypussy4chris @victoryouactuallydidthis @seluky10 @annsx03 @ouchywow @pasteldreams @sweetshuga

#ave’s library 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x you #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

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downbad4sylus · 2 days ago

Text

“This mark is different”

(part 3 to “I killed you”)

synopsis: You and Sylus return to the base from the field of flowers where he shows you his horns.

content: NSFW; 18+ MDNI; smut with some plot; sylus x afab!reader; reader is MC; use of Y/N; soft!sylus; virgin!sylus (i am of the opinion that sylus wouldn’t so much as breathe near another woman who isn’t MC); virgin!reader; kissing; oral (fem receiving); p in v; soft sex; slightly rough sex; no protection (wrap it up kids); multiple orgasms; idk if this counts as monster fucking but sylus has horns and a tail; mostly proofread

word count: ~3.5k

tags: @travelerth; @midiplier; @satansdaughter123; @bookfreakk

a/n: massive thank you once again to everyone who’s read, liked, and reblogged parts 1 and 2, i genuinely can’t express how happy it makes me that so many of you have enjoyed these little stories :’) anywaayyy, in honor of the new banner and all the new spicy content (bless our game developer overlords) here is part 3 where things between you and Sylus get a little spiicccyyyy

Okay, so when Sylus asked if you wanted to go back to the base and see his horns, you might have taken him a little too literally.

What you thought was him innocently taking you to his bedroom—warning the twins on your way that he still didn’t want to be bothered—turned out to be far from that.

Which was how you found yourself currently pinned beneath him on his bed, tongues tangling and lungs screaming for air, no horns in sight. Or tail. Or wings.

You lightly pounded a fist against his chest. “Sylus…I need…to breathe…”

Sylus was loath to part from you, but did so regardless, taking the opportunity to marvel at the sight of you before him. Flushed cheeks, swollen lips, chest heaving. You were beautiful, perfect, and his.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, making sure he had your consent before he continued.

You bit your lip, and he nearly lost control then and there. How many times did he have to tell you to stop doing that?

“How far are we going?” you asked softly.

“As far as you want, sweetie,” Sylus assured. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

“I, um, haven’t really done anything before,” you confessed, turning your face away so you didn’t have to look at him.

Sure, you had a few boyfriends throughout the years but you’d never had more than a heated makeout session, it was usually the reason why those relationships ended. You weren’t a prude or anything, you were just saving yourself for when someone really special came along. Or maybe you’d unknowingly been waiting for Sylus to come along.

Sylus pinched your chin and forced your eyes back to his. “Me neither.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. “Really?”

He nodded. “I’d never give myself to anyone but you.” He released your chin in favor of dragging a finger down your neck before wrapping his hand around it, careful not to choke you. “I do, however, have a very good memory.”

Your heart thundered in your chest. You wanted him. You needed him. And most importantly, you trusted him.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay what, sweetie? I need you to tell me exactly what you want,” Sylus said, his thumb rubbing soothingly along the length of your neck.

“I want you, Sylus, all of you,” you said. “I want you to make me feel good.”

“Oh, Y/N, I’ll do so much better than that.”

He released your neck, trailing his large hand over your chest and down your stomach until his fingers teased the hem of your shirt.

“May I?” he asked.

You nodded. “But I get to take off yours next.”

Sylus chuckled. “Are you trying to make a deal with me right now?”

You nodded again, smiling. “For every one thing you strip off of me, I get to strip something off of you.”

His ruby-red eyes sparkled. “And those are your terms?”

“Those are my terms.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

You eagerly sat up and held your arms above your head. Sylus huffed, clearly amused by your enthusiasm, and gripped the bottom of your shirt in both his hands. In one smooth motion, he removed it, tossing it aside as his gaze roved hungrily over your now-bare skin.

When you reached for his shirt, intent on running your hands all over his delicious abs, you suddenly found yourself back against the mattress, wrists pinned to the pillows.

You blinked to find Sylus hovering above you sporting a positively wicked smile.

“Sylus! What are you doing?” you exclaimed, fighting to free your wrists.

He cocked his head. “You never said when you got to rid me of my clothes,” he drawled in that infuriatingly smug tone of his. “You need to be more specific when setting your terms, sweetie.”

Your mouth popped open. This was what you got for trying to make a deal with the King of Deals himself.

“Now, let’s get rid of this next,” he mused, trailing his fingertips along the underwire of your bra.

“How are you—“

Black-red mist enveloped your bra, tickling the skin underneath. It took only a moment for Sylus’s Evol to make quick work of it, the undergarment reduced to black and red specks of dust, leaving your upper half fully exposed.

Sylus’s pupils dilated as his hand gently cupped your breast, and you whimpered when his thumb brushed over your nipple.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “And all mine.”

He was barely touching you yet your core had already gone molten and was beginning to throb with need. You needed more of him, his hands, his lips, his tongue, his co—

A jolt of pleasure shot straight to your core, tearing a loud moan from your lips as Sylus closed his own over your neglected nipple. He continued, tongue laving and teeth biting until he switched to your other breast, giving it an equal amount of attention.

You were panting by the time he lifted his head with a quiet smack of his lips.

But Sylus was far from finished.

He kissed his way up to your neck, where he licked and sucked at your sensitive skin. You wanted to touch him, thread your fingers through his hair but he still had your wrists pinned firmly above your head with seemingly no intention of releasing them.

You cried out, your back arching as Sylus sunk his teeth into your neck.

“This mark is different,” he breathed, lapping his tongue over it to soothe the sting. “This time, I want to count how many times I can make you come before it fades.”

“Fuck Sy,” you groaned.

He trailed down again until he reached the waistband of your pants. He looked at you, one brow raised, silently asking for your consent. You nodded, straining against his hold on your wrists, desperate to bury your hands in his hair.

You nearly cried with relief when he finally removed his hand, only to have your wrists bound by his Evol instead.

“Sylus,” you whined.

He chuckled. “Be a good girl and let me have my fun first,” he said. “You’re the one who asked me to make you feel good.”

“Then stop teasing me already!”

“Mmm, very well.”

Sylus yanked off your pants, leaving you in just your underwear, which were soaked through by this point. He made quick work taking them off as well, groaning at the sight of you finally naked before him.

“So, so beautiful,” he murmured reverently as he reached out, brushing his thumb over your clit. Your hips bucked at the contact, and it was all the reaction Sylus needed before descending on you like a man starved.

Spreading your legs wide, Sylus licked your slick entrance, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue. Your back bowed off the bed, crying out in pleasure as he focused his efforts on your throbbing clit. He slung an arm across your waist and pushed you back down, keeping you locked in place, unable to escape the pleasure he was so eager to give you.

His unoccupied hand ghosted along your inner thigh, growing closer and closer to where his mouth was, until he reached your entrance and slipped a finger inside.

You moaned. “Please Sy,” you begged him. “Please let me touch you.”

Without parting from your core, Sylus’s Evol dissipated from your wrists, freeing you at last. Your hands immediately went to his head, burying your fingers in his hair.

Release tingled down your spine, the tension poised to snap. When Sylus added a second finger he nearly undid you then and there.

You grip his hair harder, moving your hips as much as his iron grip would allow, riding his face.

“Sylus,” you panted. “Sylus I’m gonna—ah.”

“Go ahead, sweetie,” Sylus said gruffly. “Come for me.”

And you did, the tension exploding as you came all over his mouth and fingers. He continued to lick and suck, his fingers pumping in and out while you rode out your high, stopping only when your body went limp beneath him.

“That’s one,” Sylus said proudly, straightening as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You stared at the slick covering his fingers, transfixed by the way it shined in the light. Sylus noticed.

“Want a taste for yourself?” he asked.

Heat flooded your cheeks but when your eyes met his, you nodded.

“Open,” he commanded. You obeyed and Sylus slid his fingers inside your mouth. When you closed your lips around them he said, “Now suck.”

You couldn’t feel any embarrassment you were so turned on, tasting yourself as you licked and sucked Sylus’s fingers clean.

“Good girl,” Sylus purred as his withdrew his fingers. “Would you like to uphold your end of our deal now?”

You pounced on him, almost knocking you both off the bed. You tore at Sylus’s shirt, bunching it up over his torso before ripping it off his head. Without stopping to admire his physique, you rose on your knees, positioned on either side of his legs, and unbuckled his belt. The bulge in his pants made your mouth water and you wanted nothing more than to wrap your hands around his cock and wring as much pleasure out from him as he did you.

“Lift your hips,” you told Sylus.

He raised them, his chest heaving with anticipation as he watched you. You hurriedly popped the button and pulled the zipper down, then with all your might, grabbed the waistband of his pants and underwear and yanked.

Sylus’s hard cock slapped against his abdomen and you nearly abandoned undressing him at the sight of it. He was long and thick, precum leaking from his slit and onto his stomach. You wanted to touch it, taste it, feel it inside of you.

“Don’t stop now, kitten,” Sylus encouraged, his voice breathless. “You can’t leave my pants like this.”

You blinked, realizing you’d be staring at his cock, hands still gripped tight on his pants, which were only halfway down his thighs. You mumbled an apology and managed to finish stripping him, tossing his clothes aside onto the floor somewhere.

Sylus groaned as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. “Kitten,” he panted. You dragged your hand up his length, gathering the precum at the tip before running it back down. “Hah—ah, that feels so good.”

But Sylus grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

You pouted. “I want to make you feel good too.”

He smirked. “You can do that some other time, right now, I need to be inside you.”

Sylus sat up, putting you at eye level.

Your breath caught. He was so beautiful, with his sharp, chiseled features, but what really took your breath away was the look in his eyes. He looked at you like you held his entire world in your hands. Like you were the only light shining in a life otherwise shrouded in darkness. You loved this man, and it was so heart achingly clear he loved you too.

Sylus cupped your cheek and ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

“I’ve never been so sure about anything before,” you answered him with a smile. “I love you, Sylus.”

He smiled too, a real smile, not anything like his smug ones. “I love you too, Y/N.”

He kissed you, lips pressing softly on yours. It was slow and unhurried, like you had all the time in the world to just enjoy each other. Even when your tongues met, you didn’t rush, Sylus gently pushing you down onto the mattress.

He drew back when his cock teased your entrance. “I’m going to go slow, okay? If it hurts or you need me to stop, just let me know.”

Your hands flew up to his face. “Sylus wait.”

He didn’t move a muscle.

“You said I could see your horns.”

Sylus faltered. “Sweetie, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

You shook your head. “No, I want to see them, Sy, and your wings and tail. I said I wanted all of you and I meant all of you.”

Sylus’s heart thundered in his chest, unsure whether to give in to your demands. He was sure if he protested further, he’d be able to convince you to drop it for now. In truth, though, he was nervous. Yes you had remembered your past together but you’d never seen him in his dragon form in this life. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you. He’d never recover if you saw him as the monster he truly was, you were the only one who loved him despite that very fact.

“Sylus.”

Hearing his own name tore him from his thoughts, his gaze fixing on your face.

“I love you now just as much as I did then, dragon and all,” you said firmly. “Please, I want you to be able to be yourself with me.”

Sylus hung his head and sighed, resigning to your demands. “Fine, but no wings, they’re too big for the bed.”

“Okay, I can live with that.”

Sylus huffed and brought his lips back to yours. As you kissed, black-red mist swirled at the top of Sylus’s head and at the base of his spine, revealing his scaled, black horns and tail.

He held his breath as he parted from you, bracing himself for your reaction. But when you opened your eyes, they were not filled with fear. They were filled with awe.

You lifted a hand and brushed the bottom of one of Sylus’s horns. He shivered at your touch, his tail swishing back and forth behind him.

“Are they sensitive?” you asked, ghosting your fingers up the length.

“Yes,” Sylus breathed.

You hummed thoughtfully as you angled your head, peering at his tail, then looking back at him. “You really are beautiful, Sy.”

He swallowed against the lump in his throat, moved far more than he could ever express with words that you found him beautiful, even like this.

“May I continue now?” he asked, deflecting with his usual arrogance.

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Please.”

Sylus almost lost his self control at the relief that flooded through him. His cock was throbbing so hard it was painful, and the only way he could soothe it was to be buried deep inside your cunt.

Tail thrashing wildly, Sylus repositioned the head of his cock at your entrance, somehow even more soaked now than before. Coating himself first, he then began pushing past your folds.

You inhaled sharply at the burn as your walls stretched to accommodate his size.

“Relax, my love,” Sylus soothed, one hand trailing down toward your core. He gently circled your clit, encouraging your body to relax.

You whimpered, clenching around the head of his cock, desperate for him to fill you more despite the pain.

Taking his time, Sylus rocked his hips slowly, easing into you inch by inch all while rubbing your clit to keep you loose. By the time he bottomed out, the pain you’d felt had been long replaced by the pure pleasure of being filled with his cock.

Sylus trembled with the restraint it took to not start pounding into you, wanting your first time to be more loving and tender. There was plenty of time to take you hard and rough.

“I’m going to move now, okay?” he warned, breathing heavily.

“Yes, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He groaned and rocked his hips until just his tip was left inside you, before sliding back in. You both moaned as Sylus began thrusting in earnest, his pace slow and steady.

“You feel so good, Y/N,” Sylus panted. “Just like I remember.”

You were unable to respond, too consumed by the way he moved inside you, his cock hitting you in all the right places.

As though it had a mind of its own, Sylus’s tail snaked around one of your legs, keeping it locked to his waist.

Tension building already, your nails dug into Sylus’s back as each thrust brought you closer and closer to the edge. Sylus could fell your walls fluttering around his cock, and while he wanted nothing more than to lose himself right along with you, he was determined to rip as many orgasms out of you as he could.

He picked up the pace slightly and you responded in kind, tightening your grip on him as you cried out.

“Sylus, oh fuck, don’t stop, please please please don’t stop.”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He captured your lips in an impassioned kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you moaned. One hand cupped a breast, his fingers teasing your nipple before moving on the other.

His touch, his kiss, his cock, it was all too much.

Your back arched as you came, waves of pleasure washing over your body again and again with seemingly no end. Sylus kept moving through it, pausing when you finally slumped into the bed.

“That’s two, but we’re not finished yet, kitten,” Sylus growled.

You hardly registered his words before he was flipping you onto your stomach, a shocked oof breezing past your parted lips. He dragged your hips up so your ass was in the air, sliding his cock back into your cunt with ease. His tail slid along your ribs, then across your breasts, the hard scales rubbing on your sensitive nipples, and it pulled you flush to Sylus’s chest. On instinct, you reached back and grabbed onto both of his horns. The groan he let out was purely animalistic.

“You better hold on tight,” he whispered in your ear, the only warning you got before his cock started slamming into you.

You moaned at the delicious new angle, your body already working toward another orgasm. Admittedly, you’d been a bit nervous that Sylus was relying solely on memory from another lifetime in order to please you, and truly you would’ve been happy with whatever he’d be able to give you. But this? This was not at all what you expected.

“I won’t last much longer, kitten,” Sylus warned, his thrusts growing sloppy, “and I fully intend on bringing you with me.”

His hand slid down your abdomen, two fingers finding your clit and rubbing in quick, tight circles.

Your cunt clenched hard around his cock as you pulled on his horns, your mouth popping open in a silent cry. Sylus groaned, doubling his efforts both with his cock and his fingers.

“Sylus!” you yelled, body tensing. “Sylus, oh please.”

“Give me one more, Y/N,” he muttered. “Be a good girl and give me one more.”

Your climax slammed into you, your vision going white as the pleasure rocked your body harder than the last two. It drove Sylus straight off the cliff edge, chasing his high right alongside you, filling your cunt to the brim.

When you were both spent, Sylus collapsed on top of you, but you were too fucked out of your mind to care about his weight crushing you.

He didn’t linger on you too long though, rolling over onto his side, taking you with him as his tail was still wound around your breasts. He peppered kisses on your neck and shoulder, making you smile.

You twisted in his hold to face him, placing a chaste kiss of your own right on his lips. “I love you, Sy,” you murmured.

“I love you too, sweetie,” he replied quietly.

“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?” you asked, the picture of innocence.

Sylus scoffed. “I was under the impression I was much more than just your boyfriend.”

“You are, but I can’t introduce you to people as my soul-bound lover,” you protested. “We need a socially acceptable label, Sy.”

“You want to introduce me to all your little Hunter friends?”

“Yeah, as my small-business-owner-slash-fruit-stall-vendor boyfriend, Skye!”

He gave you an incredulous look, as if he couldn’t believe you were having this conversation right now. But, he’d never deny you anything. “Fine, I’ll be your boyfriend as long as you get to be my girlfriend.”

“You have to ask me first.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You have to ask me to be your girlfriend first.”

Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Y/N, my love, will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

You grinned and smacked your lips against his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Little did you know that Sylus had much bigger plans in mind than you being just his girlfriend. Fiancé was good, but wife was even better. You know, for the sake of socially acceptable labels, of course.

#love and deepspace #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus smut #lads smut

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brooklynnbbg · 3 days ago

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Elle my queen please write what it would be like for Lu to take your virginity. Would he be gentle? Imagine this man holding back the urge to absolutely obliterate your coochie but he knows it’ll be about two more times before he can do all that, (I have a feeling he’d tell you about it too) “amore mío, you have no idea how much I wanna pound into right now” I need a visual of the faces and sounds he would make while all of this goes down 😩😩

♡ WARNINGS - Smut! unprotected p in v

♡ A/N - Guys i actually need him so bad writing this made me want to cry!! Anon ily for this request <3

The room was bathed in the golden glow of the bedside lamp, a soft warmth that did little to calm the nerves fluttering in your stomach. Luigi knelt beside you on the bed, his eyes soft and full of adoration as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “We’ll go slow, amore mio,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the racing of your heart.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss so gentle it made your chest ache. His hand found yours, threading his fingers through yours as he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours. “You tell me if it’s too much, okay? We stop whenever you want.”

You nodded, trusting him completely as his lips began a trail down your neck, his hands skimming over your sides to remove the thin tank top that separated you. He took his time, kissing every newly exposed inch of skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “So beautiful,” he whispered, his brown eyes dark and filled with reverence. “You’re perfect, tesoro.”

When you were bare beneath him, he paused, taking in the sight of you. His fingers brushed over your stomach, your hips, as though committing every curve to memory. “I’ve got you,” he said softly, his lips curling into a tender smile.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, as he guided you onto your back. His hands roamed your body, gentle and deliberate, coaxing you to relax. When he slipped a hand between your thighs, his fingers gliding through your slick folds, you gasped, your hips instinctively bucking against his touch.

“Shh, I know,” he soothed, pressing kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your throat. “Just like that, bella. Let me take care of you.” His fingers worked you slowly, coaxing soft moans from your lips as he watched you with an intensity that made your cheeks burn.

When he finally lined himself up with your entrance, his cock hard and glistening with your arousal, he paused. His free hand found yours again, holding it tightly as he looked into your eyes. “This might hurt, amore mio. But I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You nodded, trusting him completely, and he began to push in, his movements painstakingly slow. The stretch burned, your body adjusting to the intrusion, and Lu's jaw clenched as he held himself back. “Breathe, tesoro,” he urged, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’re doing so well for me.”

His voice was a lifeline, grounding you as he inched deeper. His breathing was ragged, his forehead damp with sweat as he fought to keep his movements gentle. His lips parted, a deep groan slipping out as he moved into you, his hips flush against yours.

“love, you feel so good,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he looked back at you, his gaze heavy with desire and restraint. “you have no idea how much I want to pound into you right now.”

You whimpered, your nails digging into his back. He stilled, giving you time to adjust, his lips peppering kisses across your face. “Talk to me, bella,” he murmured. “How does it feel?”

“Full, but good” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Luigi smiled, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “That’s my girl,” he said, his voice filled with pride. “Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

As the discomfort faded, you nodded, and he began to move more. His thrusts were slow and shallow at first, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched for any sign of pain. When your soft moans turned to cries of pleasure, his movements deepened, his hips rolling against yours in a steady rhythm.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice thick with restraint. “You’re taking me so well, amore mio. So fucking good for me.”

His free hand slid down to grip your hip, holding you in place as he drove into you, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through your body. The sounds he made—the low groans, the breathless moans, the way he whispered your name like a prayer—only heightened your arousal. He buried his face in your neck, repeating “I love you, I love you.” His jaw tightened as he bit down on his bottom lip, the muscles in his neck straining as he held himself back, his breaths coming in short, ragged bursts.

When your walls clenched around him, his movements faltered, a deep growl rumbling in his chest. “I’m close, bella,” he warned, his voice strained. “But I need you to come for me first. Can you do that, amore mio?”

You nodded, your body already trembling as the coil in your stomach tightened. His hand slipped between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing slow, deliberate circles that sent you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, your nails raking down his back as your orgasm washed over you, and Luigi followed moments later, his hips jerking as he spilled inside you with a guttural moan.

His face contorted in pleasure, his brows furrowed and his lips parted as his breath hitched, a deep groan spilling from his chest. “fuck,” he muttered, his voice hoarse as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You’re incredible, bella. So perfect for me.”

He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he pressed kisses to your temple. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of awe. “My perfect girl.”

As you lay tangled together, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of the moment, he whispered against your skin, “Next time, amore mio mio, I won’t hold back. But for now, rest. You’re mine, and I’ll take care of you.”

Tags: @nicholaschavezslut69, @ddlydevotion, @italianbabydaddy, @rckerbell, @slavicdolls4mangione, @perfumeaddicted @yeeterang @days12 @v1rtualsalvat10n @bricapellan16 @sleeepytimebear @preiyers @hdh-57jcidm-blog

#luigi mangione smut #luigi mangione #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x reader smut #luigi x reader #luigi x reader smut

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rainytrashh · 2 days ago

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In the Lab…

Fic type-> NSFW + Drabble

Tags-> Sub Jayce, bottom jayce, degrading kink, kinda exhibitionism? both parties get off on getting caught, gn reader but they have smth to fuck him with whatever that might be lol, choking

Word count-> 705, about two pages of a book

AN-> I’m alive it’s a miracle! Anyways there’s not enough sub or bottom jayce fics just saying 🤷‍♀️. And as always, requests open!

AO3 | Masterlist

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It was Jayce’s idea. Not yours.

Honestly, blowing his back out in the lab wasn’t really what you had in mind when you said you wanted to try something new. It’s not like you hadn’t done it before- just this time it was in his lab, over his workbench, scarily close to the door. It didn’t help that Jayce didn’t know how to shut up during sex.

“Yes, yes- fuck!”

You apply more pressure against his wrists held behind his back, pressing him further into metal workbench- a silent warning.

“Jayce.” A hushed tone compared to his strained cries.

“‘m sorry, jus’ too good…”

You tug his trousers further down his ass since his loose belt buckle was clinking against the bench with every thrust.

You glance towards the door.

“Gah- god-“

You watch as his face distorts into one of pleasure as you’d just adjusted the angle of your movements.

“If you don’t know how to shut up-“

“Make me.”

His comment surprised you, he didn’t sound bratty when he said it. And no, he’s too good to disobey you. He sounded desperate for it. Like he needed you to keep him under control, even if he was perfectly capable of keeping quiet himself.

So you lean in, and let your breath caress his tanned shoulder blades.

“Oh, is that what this is all about then huh? Riling me up, teasing me?”

He hesitates before he answers,

“…no, please that’s… it’s not-“

You hook your hand over his mouth, only muffling his moans to your disappointment. He felt a jolt of electricity shoot down to his dick, smearing more pre against the underside of the workbench.

“This is what you wanted isn’t it? Getting me to slut you out in the lab in hopes of, what- getting caught?”

He could only moan into your hand as you pull him up so his head rests on your shoulder, his hair splaying out across it.

“You’re such a whore, who are you imagining walking through that door right now huh?”

You turn your head towards his ear letting your breath hit it, eyes flitting up briefly. You only grin.

“Is it Mel? Or perhaps Viktor?”

You let go of his mouth and instead opting for his neck to hold onto for leverage.

“Both-“

“Both? And what would they do if they saw you like this? Man Of Progress against his own workbench, taking dick like a bitch huh?”

Jayce can’t help but groan at the idea, someone so close to him walking in on such a scene.

“Come on, what would they do…”

You grip his hip harshly to re-adjust your position slightly, his mouth drops open and his now free hands flailing to try to bring you ever closer to him. You know you hit the spot with each thrust too when he stammers before he replies.

“I-I don’t know-“

“I think they’d like it, someone finally having the guts to fuck all that arrogance out of you.”

As you talk you sneak in kisses along his jawline and neck, even leaving one dark mark along the side of his neck.

He whimpers and squeezes his eyes shut, imagining Mel’s and Viktor’s sneering faces. Perhaps they’d be muttering between each other as they stare at him like he’s a common whore.

“Just- fuck- I’m gonna cum.”

“You gonna cum ‘round my cock and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Please, please let me cum- I’ll be-“

“Good? You gonna be good if I let you cum?”

“Mmhmmm…”

“Well… go on, be a good boy and cum for me.”

Like the flick of a switch he arches his back into you and cums across the underside of his workbench, your final few thrusts making it smear all along his dick afterwards.

You feel him go fairly pliant against you as his heavy breathing gets gradually slower, his eyelids slip closed.

You simply smile as you hold his jaw and tilt it away from you. He lets it loll to the side like you want as he pries his eyes open.

Of course Mel and Viktor are standing in the doorway, and of course they both look rather flustered.

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amirasainz · 3 days ago

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Girl, I just listened to 'Oh qué sera' by Willie Colón and I can imagine Carlos dancing with his girlfriend to it at a restaurant or something. I love your stories so much and wanted to ask if you could write my request please😘🫠🥹

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💙

Dancing through the night

Carlos leaned back in his chair, casting a warm glance at Yn as she sipped her drink, a soft smile curling on her lips. They were out with some friends at a cozy little restaurant nestled on a quiet street. The laughter of their friends echoed around them, but in his eyes, there was only Yn. The dim lighting added a romantic charm to the evening, and he couldn't help but notice how stunning she looked in the soft glow of the candles on their table.

"You look beautiful tonight," Carlos said, his voice low but full of affection.

Yn smiled, her cheeks flushing. "You're just saying that because you want me to finish my food," she teased.

Carlos laughed softly and reached for her chair, pulling it slightly closer to his. "I want you close to me, not because of your food," he said, his hand gently resting on her thigh as he did. His fingers traced small circles on her skin, a gesture that made her feel warm and cherished.

Their friends, a mix of fellow drivers and their partners, were deep in conversation about the latest race, but Carlos and Yn were in their own little world. She reached over, stealing a bite of his steak, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"Hey! I was saving that!" Carlos chuckled, but his tone was playful. "Here," he said, cutting off another piece and offering it to her. "Let me feed you."

Yn raised an eyebrow but accepted the piece, her lips brushing his fingers in the process. She smiled up at him. "You spoil me, you know that?"

Carlos just shrugged, his eyes softening. "It's not spoiling when I enjoy doing it," he replied. "You deserve it."

They continued like this, sharing bites of food, laughing at inside jokes, and exchanging sweet glances. Every time their eyes met, Carlos felt his heart flutter like it had on the first day they met. Yn had a way of making everything feel right in the world.

As the evening progressed and their friends started heading off to other places, Carlos and Yn remained at the table. The restaurant had started to empty out, the noise settling into a more peaceful hum. It was just the two of them now, the quiet punctuated by soft conversations between the two, occasionally interrupted by the distant clinking of glasses.

Carlos looked around, sensing the change in atmosphere. He reached over, squeezing Yn’s hand, which was resting on the table. "Hey," he said softly. "What do you say we stay a little longer, just the two of us?"

Yn met his gaze, her heart warming at the thought. "I’d like that."

As they sat there, savoring the peacefulness, a new song began to play over the restaurant's speakers, the familiar tune immediately catching Carlos's attention. His eyes lit up as the first few notes of "Oh Qué Será" by Willie Colón filled the air. He knew immediately it was Yn’s favorite song.

Without missing a beat, Carlos stood up and extended his hand toward her with a playful grin. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

Yn’s eyes sparkled with delight. "Here? Now?" she asked, her voice full of excitement.

Carlos nodded, his smile never wavering. "Of course. No better time than now."

Yn’s face broke into a wide grin as she placed her hand in his. He helped her to her feet, leading her out of their seat and onto the small dance floor that had been empty up until now. The soft lights above them made the moment feel like something out of a dream. The song was a slow salsa, and Carlos immediately pulled her close, his hand resting lightly on her waist while his other held her hand. Yn placed her other hand gently on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his touch.

They moved together, the music flowing through them as they swayed to the rhythm. Carlos's fingers lightly brushed her back, sending shivers down her spine. He loved how easily they fit together, as if they were two puzzle pieces.

"You know," Carlos murmured as he twirled her gently, watching as she laughed, her eyes sparkling. "I could twirl you all night long."

Yn laughed, her voice light and musical. "You're just saying that because you know I can't stop giggling when you do."

"Exactly," he teased, grinning as he spun her around again, watching her smile grow wider. He loved hearing her laugh—especially when it was because of him.

They danced, spinning and swaying, laughing at their own clumsy movements as the song picked up a little, but always staying close to one another. Carlos would pull her back in whenever she wandered too far, always with a gentle smile and a soft laugh of his own. Each time they came together, their gazes locked, and the world outside seemed to fade away.

As the music slowed, Carlos pulled her closer, his arms wrapped securely around her. He rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm on her skin. "I love you," he whispered, his voice full of sincerity.

Yn's heart skipped a beat at the words. She placed her hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under her fingers. "I love you too," she replied, her voice just as quiet and filled with emotion.

They stayed like that, dancing slowly, their movements almost imperceptible, as if time had no meaning in that moment. The song ended, but neither of them wanted to let go. Carlos continued to hold her close, and Yn leaned her head on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart, a comforting reminder of the love they shared.

"You know," Yn said softly, still in his arms, "this is the best part of the night."

Carlos grinned, his thumb gently stroking her back. "I agree," he said, kissing the top of her head. "But we’ve got all the time in the world for more moments like this."

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside seemed far away. There was no rush, no place they needed to be—just the two of them, sharing a moment of quiet, gentle love.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #xoxo babygirl ��#carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #williams #slow dancing

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lovesick-desires · 2 days ago

Text

VALETUDINARIANISM

YANDERE!VIKTOR X IMMUNOCOMPROMISED!READER — CHAPTER ONE

⇢ NEXT CHAPTER (coming soon)

ABSTRACT: An immunocompromised individual comes across Viktor's commune and Viktor wants to do more than just cure them of their ailments. CONTENT WARNINGS: gender neutral reader, season two spoilers, yandere behavior, manipulation, cult behavior, no mentions of "y/n", mind reading, use of google translate for Czech WORD COUNT: 1.7k VIKTOR'S YANDERE ARCHETYPE: delusional, protective

Growing up in the Undercity was especially hard for someone like you: someone who was dealing with an debilitating disability. In a city full of pollution and waste only worsened your symptoms, especially since you had no money to really manage it well, let alone treat it. Life constantly had you recovering or suffering from illnesses, one after the other. It felt like you were drowning in an ocean of chronic health issues, wave after wave of illness pushing you down just when you reached the surface to catch your breath.

One day, wandering the lanes in your ill state, you heard whispers of a man who could cure any ailment. Someone who utilized the arcane arts to cure disabilities, illnesses, anything... Of course, this lured you in. Not having any other hope in getting the help you desperately needed, you decided to look into this mysterious man.

Viktor, that's what his name was, or so you've heard as it was mumbled in the streets of the Undercity. A man who could heal all: the Machine Herald.

Eventually, you found the location of this mysterious healer in the outskirts of Zaun. Lanterns and cozy looking tents decorated the landscape, centered around a large iridescent orb in the center, which was presumably where the healer was—

"Excuse me," A meek voice emerged from the front gates. As you glanced over to the voice's origin, you spotted a man standing there with his hands held together. His warm auburn hair fell in messy strands over his forehead, framing his peach face and pale eyes. He was adorned in a white robe that seemed to be some sort of fabric wrapped around his body, which was accented by the metal accessories decorated him torso and left arm. The most unique thing about this man was that he had iridescent markings encompassing his right eye, looking akin the the pattern on the orb in the cult's center.

"Yes?" You replied, slowly approaching the weary man.

"Can you... please drop your weapons? This is a place of peace, not violence." The man spoke up, gesturing to the knife that was sheathed in its holder wrapped around your thigh. Realizing what he was referring to, you immediately were put on edge. Why was this man trying to take your weapons and leave you defenseless in a city such as theirs? However, you had your other knife hidden in your boot for emergencies, so you'd be fine to lose one. Begrudgingly, you undid the buckle of the knife's holster and dropped it to the floor, much to the relief of the man before you.

"Thank you." The man spoke up, his voice tinged with a sense of relief.

"Where is this healer I have heard of?" You queried the gateman, facing him with your full body now as you adjusted your stance. To this, a small smile spread across his lips.

"Ah, you mean the Machine Herald, yes. He should be in his center. If you'd like, I can lead you there." The gateman spoke, gesturing towards that weird orb in the center. Reluctantly, you nodded, letting the gateman lead the way.

As you two walked around, you gazed at the surroundings. Men, women, children, all running amuck and looking... happy. It was sure an odd sight to experience in a place such as the Undercity. These people had those iridescent markings on their body like the gateman had. Is that the Machine Herald's healing? Did it leave that sort of marking on those he cured? They each seemed different markings in different places, all with the same iridescent look and sheen. What would yours look like?

"We are here." The gateman uttered, gesturing to the large orb before you two with two large crescent shapes bent around it like a broken halo. As his hand landed on your shoulder, you jumped a little before glancing over at him.

"He will heal you, trust in him." The man proclaimed with such assurance in his voice that you could feel it in your chest. Slowly, the man's hand slipped from your shoulder as he left you before the orb, walking back to his gate.

Your gaze left the man as you looked up at the orb before you, shocked at the sheer size of it. With much reluctance, you took your first steps up the stairs to its entrance, mentally bracing for whatever you saw through those double doors. With shaky hands and a racing heart, you reached for the handles and pushed the doors open.

As you glanced around, you were greeted with foliage in every nook and cranny of the room. Plants and trees you had never seen before with vibrant colors flooded all your senses as if trying to suffocate them with such vibrancy. Glancing up at the ceiling, you could see the holes of the orb filtering in a golden sunlight, dappling the flourishing interior with the light of the heavens. In the center of the concrete paths stood a lavish water fountain. With shaky steps, you approached it as you admired the clean looking water. You had never seen clear water like this in your lifetime, let alone in the Undercity of all places.

"Fascinating, isn't it all?" A voice with a thick Czech accent spoke up from behind you. Glancing back, you take in the sight of an individual wrapped in what appeared to be some sort of blue sheet that was doctored into a makeshift robe with the help of ivory colored belts at his waist. His umber hair laid in undulating waves, framing his pale face as the tips of his hair were a soft blonde. While his face was a pale tone, the rest of his skin from his strong jawline down was a purplish grey with raised markings that looked like billowing smoke which were adorned with golden markings. "All this beauty in a place such as this once was." He continued, walking towards you in a slow, meticulous manner. After staring at him for a moment, you cleared your throat.

"You are... the healer, correct?" You muttered, watching him carefully as you kept your guard up.

"Relax, this is not a place of malintent." The Machine Herald spoke softly, reaching out for you with a gentle hand towards your forehead. For an unknown reason, you felt calm as you gazed up at his hand, letting his fingers graze your forehead with a tender touch. A small spark filled his gaze as his fingertips glowed softly. Slowly, he pulled his hand from your forehead, looking down at you.

"Ah, I see your ailments now. Your body is weak, yet your soul is strong. The will to live you have is very admirable, despite your chronic hardships." The healer spoke, much to your confusion.

"How did you know that?" You questioned, raising a brow at his sudden knowledge of you.

"I saw it when I touched your forehead, miláček," He muttered, looking at his fingertips for a moment before averting his gaze back to you. "I can heal you of your ailments, which is why you are here, correct?"

"What's the catch?" You interjected, obviously still on guard about the whole situation. It all seemed to be too good to be true. After so many years of you suffering, it can go away just like that? Viktor's face stayed stoic and unmoving.

"Ah, I see. You are afraid I am taking advantage of your vulnerabilities for my personal gain," Viktor proclaimed as he strolled past you towards the water fountain. As you looked over your shoulder, you could see him picking up a cane that was leaning against a tree near the water fountain. "I can understand why you would think that why, given how long you have suffered from having such suffering in your life from illness." He continued as his gaze shifted from his cane to you.

"So, what do you want? Money?" You questioned, turning around to fully face the Machine Herald. To this, the Machine Herald scoffed.

"Money? No, no, I have no need in monetary assets." He replied, his thick eyebrows knitted together.

"So, what is it? What's the price?" You spoke, walking towards the healer, trying to rack your brain with any possibility.

"I only request your devotion. This commune could do well with addition such as yourself." Viktor declared, holding his cane at his side firmly. Oh great, you had to join this guy's cult to get healed of your disorder. You felt a pit in your stomach when you realized his implications. You would probably have to live in this cult for the rest of your life. What would life be like? Would it be as utopic as it seemed or would things be more dystopic than Zaun?

"I don't think... I can do that." You muttered out, taking a step back. Something was off about this whole thing. Something was under the surface that you didn't know about, you were certain. To your rejection, Viktor's eyes widened softly before he tutted, offering his hand out to you.

"You are scared of the possibilities, I understand that. But I can assure you that you can trust me." The Machine Herald cooed, his purplish grey hand beckoning you to him with spindly fingers. You felt your heart race in your chest. No, you can't do it. Something was wrong. You knew something was wrong, deep down.

To this, you took two more steps backwards only to bolt out of the orb, not looking back even after the Machine Herald called out your name. Bursting through the double doors of the center, you run through the winding paths between tents and markets. Narrowly dodging cult members who all looked at you with bewildered eyes, you ran as fast as your legs could carry you. You had to get out of here. Now. Something was seriously wrong with this fucked up cult and you knew better than to get involved any further. You ran through the gates where the auburn-haired man stood, confused at your sudden escape.

You had no idea what you had just done by rejecting The Machine Herald's blessing. You had no idea what you had awoken in the healer. He knew you were gone, but we knew he would find you.

SONG OF THE FIC: DISEASE - LADY GAGA

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nosyp · 3 days ago

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Don't you miss me babe?

Warning = stalking, controlling behaviour, toxic relationships, toxic michael kaiser, manipulation

Pairing = Michael Kaiser x reader

Summary = Michael Kaiser begging for you to come back but you aren't having none of it.

Word count = 3.8k

A/N = I kinda hate this, maybe I'll rewrite in the future

The hum of the plane engine filled the cabin, a constant, soothing rhythm that masked the restless whispers of passengers and the occasional clatter of the flight attendants’ carts. You leaned your head against the cool window, eyes tracing the endless expanse of clouds below, their fluffy edges glowing softly in the sunlight.

The world seemed so small from far away up here. You clutched the boarding pass in your lap, the crinkled paper a tangible reminder of where you were headed… and what you’d left behind.

A voice crackled over the intercom, the pilot announcing the estimated arrival time, but the words barely registered. Your mind was elsewhere, replaying the moments that had brought you to this seat at 30,000 feet in the air.

The stranger beside you shifted, snapping the book shut in the process. "Long flight, huh?" he said, their tone light.

You still stared out of the window, surprised by the interruption and too scared to meet their eyes. The voice sounded so familiar, that scared you. There was no way right?

“Yeah," you murmured, unsure whether to continue the conversation or retreat back into your own thoughts.

“Why’re you flying?” he asks, looking at the clutched boarding pass in your lap.

You look up at him, meeting his eyes. Shit. It was your ex, Michael Kaiser.

Your breath caught in your throat, your stomach twisted and turned inside your stomach. Of all the people in the world, why him? You’d worked so hard to leave Michael Kaiser in the past, but here he was, seated right beside you in the plane.

“Kaiser,” you bit out, your tone laced with venom.

His smirk widened at the sound of his name. “The one and only,” he said smoothly, leaning back in his seat as if he hadn’t noticed that you were staring daggers at him. “Fancy seeing you here. Guess it’s fate, huh?”

“Fate?” You scoffed, shifting away from him as much as the cramped airplane seat would allow. “More like a sick joke.”

He chuckled, the sound grating on your nerves. “Still so feisty. I missed that about you.”

Your fingers tightened around the boarding pass in your lap. “What part of I never want to see you again didn’t you understand?”

Kaiser leaned closer, his cologne annoyingly familiar. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. We had something special.”

“Special?” You turned to him, eyebrows raised. “If by special, you mean you constantly acted like the world revolved around you and couldn’t take no for an answer, then yeah, it was real special.”

His confident grin faltered for a split second before he recovered, brushing off your words like they were nothing. “You’re just angry because you know I’m right. Deep down, you still–”

“Don’t,” you interrupted sharply, your voice low and firm. “Don’t even finish that sentence.”

For a moment, silence settled between you, giving you the temporary moment of peace you needed. Kaiser opened his mouth, probably to deliver another infuriating line, but you held up a hand.

“I’m not doing this, Kaiser. Not here, not now, not ever. So save your breath and just go.”

He stared at you, his smirk slipping into something more subdued, a softer smile, but you refused to let your guard down. The tension between you and Kaiser was so intense it almost felt real. He leaned closer again, his face now inches from yours, and this time, the smirk was gone, a dark smile now present on his face.

“I don’t think you understand, do you?” His voice low, almost a whisper, but still somehow able to send shivers up your spine. “You think you’re moving on, but I know you’re not. Not really.”

You stiffened, resisting the urge to shove him away. “You don’t get it, Kaiser,” you spat, your teeth gritting. “I hate you. I never want to see you again, I never want to talk to you again. So what the fuck are you doing here?”

He didn’t move, his presence suffocating. “Oh come on… just calm down. You can say that all you want, but I know you. You can’t just erase me from your life. We were good together and… I was the only one who could truly understand you.”

Your pulse quickened. He was crossing every line, and still, you couldn’t bring yourself to back down. He was right. No matter how much you hated to admit it, there was always that nagging feeling, that memory of the way he’d manipulated everything around you. He knew exactly what buttons to push and how to push it.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you managed to say, weakly.

Kaiser leaned in even closer, his breath brushing your ear. “You might think you’re over me, but I can see it in your eyes. You’re still looking for me. You need me.”

Your stomach churned. “Shut. Up.” The words were shaky, but you forced them out. “You have no right to talk to me like that. Not after everything.”

He chuckled softly, that familiar, infuriating laugh that always made your skin crawl. “What’s wrong, babe? You’re still mad about how I left? You’re still pissed off about everything? Do you think you’re the only one who’s suffered?”

The sudden rush of emotions hit you like a truck, all the feelings of anger, disgust, and hurt all blending together in a raw, overwhelming mix. “You’re unbelievable. I hope you know that.”

His eyes gleamed with that sharp, calculating look you remembered too well. “Maybe. But I know exactly how this ends.” He slid his hand closer to yours, his fingers brushing against your wrist, the touch making you recoil.

“No,” you hissed, shoving his hand away, a hot surge of adrenaline rushing through you. “You have no idea how this ends, because it ends now. I don’t owe you anything. Not an explanation, not closure, nothing. You lost that long ago.”

For a moment, Kaiser’s smirk faltered, finally. He was visibly frustrated from the words that you decided to spew out. “You’ll come around. You always do.” His tone was almost... patronizing. Like he was speaking to a child.

You stared at him, trembling with the effort to keep your anger in check. “You’re insane if you think I’ll ever forgive you.”

His eyes never left yours, unwavering. “It’s not about forgiveness, babe. It’s about me getting what I want.”

The words hit you harder than any of his previous ones, and a cold dread settled in your chest. He wasn’t backing down, not this time. He was going to make you believe that you owed him something. He was going to make you need him again.

And for the first time, you wondered if he really would win.

“Don’t touch me,” you warned, your voice shaking despite the rage bubbling inside.

His smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened. “You know, you really don’t know how much you still care. But don’t worry, I’ll remind you.”

The way he said it disgusted you. It wasn’t a plea or even an attempt to reason with you. It was a command, words that were supposed to manipulate you into thinking you’d need him. He never understood the word no. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

“You really think you can book a seat next to me and just start talking to me as if everything’s fine?” You bit out, your voice sharper now, holding onto your anger like a weapon. “Like you didn’t tear me apart?”

Kaiser tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with that damnable amusement. “Tear you apart?” He laughed, a low sound that made your skin crawl. “If anything, you tore yourself apart. I just showed you who you really were. All those walls you put up? I broke them down. You didn’t know who you were before me.”

Every word hit like a slap. The guilt, the self-doubt that had been buried under the layers of anger and resentment you’d carefully built after the breakup, started to bubble to the surface. He knew exactly how to chip away at you, to make you question everything.

“I was fine before you,” you snapped, forcing your emotions to stay in check, but the crack in your voice betrayed you. “I was better before you. And you know what? I don’t need you to remind me of anything.”

His expression shifted slightly, the smirk faltering for a moment before it returned, darker now, colder. He leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re wrong. You need me more than you’ll ever admit. And I’m not going anywhere, babe. You’re mine.”

That last word settled over you like a shadow, its weight sinking into your chest. There was no mistaking it now. He wasn’t just trying to get back with you—he was trying to reclaim you, to possess you again. The same twisted control he’d held over you before was there, lurking in every word he spoke.

“No,” you managed, barely a whisper, but firm enough to choke back the crushing weight of his presence. “You lost your chance. You can’t own me anymore, Kaiser.”

He stared at you for a long moment, eyes narrowing, observing every detail of you. Then, as if he’d come to some conclusion, his lips curled into a sinister smile.

“You’ll see. You’ll come crawling back. They all do eventually.” His tone was so confident it made you want to scream, to slap that smug look off his face. But you kept still, trying to hold onto whatever piece of sanity you had.

But as the seconds stretched on and turned into minutes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he could be right.

And that thought… oh that thought… it was far more terrifying than anything you could ever imagine.

Kaiser’s smirk stayed on his face. The air around you started to feel suffocating now. Every word he spoke was like a jagged blade carving through your defenses, and despite every instinct telling you to fight, you felt a momentary crack in your resolve.

“You really think you can move on?” he continued, his voice calm but edged with something darker. “You think you can just forget everything we were? All the things we shared? All the things I gave you?”

The words sliced through you, and for a split second, a memory flashed. You’d suddenly remember the feeling of his touch, his words, the moments where he did make you feel like you were everything. And then, in the next moment, everything could change. Those sweet memories turning into something bitter.

“No,” you spat. “I’m not the same person anymore, and you’re not the same either. In fact, you’ve probably gotten worse. You were always the selfish one, always looking out for yourself. You can’t just come back into my life and pretend things are different.”

His eyes glinted with something that looked almost like amusement. “Selfish?” he repeated, his voice dangerously soft. “Maybe. But you’re no saint either. You’re a mess, and deep down, you know that. You’re just too scared to admit it.��

Your heart pounded harder, anger flashing through your veins. “Stop trying to manipulate me!” you hissed, your fist tightening on the armrest. “This is exactly what you did before. You don’t care about me… you care about winning. About controlling me. About making me need you again. I bet it makes your ego thrive huh?”

Kaiser leaned back in his seat, as if satisfied by the effect his words were having on you. “So what if I do?” he drawled, his voice lazy. “I’ve always had control over you, and I know you hate admitting it. But every time I’ve walked away from you, you’ve always come crawling back. You always do.”

All of a sudden, his voice dropped to a whisper. “Just like I said. You’ll come to me when you’re ready. When you realize no one will ever love you the way I did.”

Your stomach churned, the darkness of his words wrapping around you and squeezing you. But even with the lump rising in your throat, something in you refused to give up. You weren’t the same person anymore, not the one who’d been caught in his grip.

“Not this time,” you managed to say, voice trembling but defiant. “You don’t control me. You never did.”

Kaiser chuckled again, but this time it was devoid of warmth. Icy. Like he was savoring something, like he knew you’d eventually break. He slid his gaze over to you, leaning forward again, too close for comfort. His breath ghosted over your ear as he spoke, low and chilling.

“I never needed to control you, babe,” he whispered, voice thick with unspoken threats. “Because you were always mine to break. And that’s the thing… no matter how hard you try, how many times you escape… I will always find a way.”

His fingers grazed your wrist once again, with more force this time, gripping your skin with a cruel sort of finality. “You don’t get to walk away from me. Not again.”

The sound of the plane’s engines seemed to fade into the background, like the world was narrowing down to just the two of you.

You fought back the tears about to burst from your eyes, clenching your jaw until it hurt. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you break, not again. This time, you wouldn’t let him win.

“You’re wrong,” you said through clenched teeth. “I’m done.”

Kaiser didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “We both know you’re lying,” he murmured. “And when you finally admit the truth, when you realize that you still… need me, you’ll come running. And I’ll be right here, waiting. Because I always will be.”

You could feel his hot breath on your skin, the pressure of his presence pushing in on you from all sides. His hold on you wasn’t physical, not just yet. But emotionally? Mentally? He was already in control, and the thought sent an icy shiver down your spine.

But as the plane hummed on, you took a shaky breath and refused to let him see how deeply he was getting under your skin.

This wasn’t over. And it never would be, not until you stopped letting him invade every part of you.

For the rest of the flight, Kaiser didn’t try to disturb you, luckily. Though, his presence still hovered in the corner of your mind, like a shadow you couldn’t escape, but he still kept his distance. Maybe it was all a game to him, or perhaps he realized that pushing you further would only make things more complicated. Either way, you were thankful for the quiet, for the ability to breathe without his voice invading every thought.

You tried to focus on something, anything, to distract yourself. The seatbelt sign flickered on and off occasionally as the plane made its way through the clouds, and you found yourself staring at the small plastic tray in front of you, as though it held the answers to all your questions.

But the longer the silence stretched between you, the more you realized how fragile it all was. What if he didn’t stop? What if this wasn’t just some twisted game to him? What if Kaiser really could find a way back into your life, despite everything you’d worked to leave behind?

The more you thought about it, the more anxious you became. His words echoed in your mind.

“You’ll come crawling back.”

“They all do eventually.”

“I’ll remind you.”

“You’re mine.”

Each sentence was a poison, spreading through your thoughts, and you could almost feel yourself slipping. But you clenched your fists, dug your nails into your palms, and reminded yourself that no, you’re not going back. Ever.

You glanced out the window, the endless sea of clouds below you offering some semblance of calm. The gentle sway of the plane became a lullaby, coaxing your thoughts into a haze. But even in that moment of peace, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of Kaiser’s words.

Suddenly, a soft thud broke the silence. You turned your head to find Kaiser leaning back in his seat, eyes closed, seemingly relaxed. His arms were crossed over his chest, but there was something about the way he sat made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

It was like he was waiting for something, watching you out of the corner of his eye, studying your every movement. He wasn’t bothering you, but his presence was still suffocating, like a constant reminder that he was never too far away.

You forced yourself to look away, focusing back on the soft hum of the engines, trying to keep your mind from spiraling. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to engage with him, because you certainly didn’t. It was more that you knew that if you let him in again, even just a little, you might never get out.

The flight seemed to stretch on endlessly. Every passing minute felt like an eternity, and the closer you got to your destination, the more you felt that sense of oncoming doom closing in on you. You had no idea what was going to happen once you both landed. Was this just another round of his twisted game, or would he try to force himself back into your life for good?

The intercom crackled once again, and the pilot’s voice filled the cabin, announcing the final descent. You braced yourself, hands gripping the armrest as you stared straight ahead, trying to steady your breath. You couldn’t shake the feeling that once this flight was over, you would have to face him, face the reality of everything he had dragged you through, and decide if you were really strong enough to walk away for good.

But for now, you have to survive the next few minutes. The next few moments of silent tension, of being stuck in this small metal tube with someone who knew exactly how to hurt you.

And for now, you held onto one truth. That one small, defiant thought: You won’t let him win. Not again.

As the plane descended, the sense of tension looming above you and Kaiser worsened. The hum of the engines was no longer a soothing background; now, it felt oppressive, like it made the sound of his words louder. You could feel his presence near you.

Just when you thought you could breathe again, the silence was broken by the soft sound of him shifting in his seat. He moved, and you immediately tensed, instinctively turning your body toward the aisle, trying to put a physical distance between the two of you. But it was too late.

Without warning, Kaiser slid closer to you, settling into the seat beside you as if he had every right to. His arm brushed against yours, and your body went stiff at the contact. His proximity was unbearable, but you didn’t dare react. Not yet. You were caught in a limbo of wanting to flee and wanting to not give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm.

He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching, studying. The air was thick with unspoken words, the weight of his gaze on your skin like a brand. You tried to focus on the window, hoping the world outside could somehow offer you escape, but he was relentless.

“Comfortable?” His voice was low, smooth.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to snap back. Instead, you forced yourself to stay still, to ignore the adrenaline thrumming through your veins. “I’m fine,” you muttered, the words clipped.

“Sure you are,” he said, his tone laced with disbelief, though he was oddly calm. “You’ve been quiet since I sat down. Very unlike you.”

The arrogance in his voice made your blood boil, but you kept your hands clenched in your lap, trying to keep your temper in check. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you react.

Kaiser let out a soft chuckle, the sound sliding under your skin like a snake, crawling its way into your thoughts. “You’re still angry,” he observed, eyes flicking over you in a way that made you want to crawl out of your own skin. “I can tell.”

You swallowed hard, refusing to give him an inch. The memory of everything he had done to you. You hated him. Hated him so much you could feel your chest tightening with it.

“I’m not angry,” you said through gritted teeth, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. “I’m just… so tired of you.”

His smile didn’t falter, but there was something darker behind his eyes now. “You’ve said that before,” he murmured, leaning just a little closer. “And yet, here you are. With me.”

The distance between you seemed to close even more, and you felt the edges of your control slipping, like sand through your fingers. He was right. You were here. You were stuck on this flight, trapped beside him for the last stretch of the journey. You were stuck in this hell of your own making.

But then, something in you snapped. You couldn’t just let him keep twisting the knife, making you feel like you were the one at fault. You had fought so hard to get away from him, and now he was just waltzing back in, expecting you to fall back in line.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, suddenly turning toward him, voice sharp and low. “Don’t ever think you have the right to get close to me again.”

His smirk widened, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. “I don’t need your permission to be close to you, sweetheart,” he said, voice dripping with venomous sweetness. “I’ve always been close to you. And I always will be.”

Your heart slammed in your chest, the fight-or-flight instinct kicking in. He was pushing, testing you, seeing how far he could take this before you caved.

The plane began to shake slightly as it descended further, but Kaiser didn’t budge. He stayed right beside you, close enough for you to feel his body heat, hear his breath. His presence was suffocating, invasive, but you forced yourself to stay calm, even if your heart was pounding in your throat.

You focused on your breath, your pulse, the sound of the plane’s descent, anything but him. You weren’t going to let him control this moment. Not now, not ever again.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock #yandere blue lock #michael kaiser #yandere michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader

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freeuselandonorris · 1 day ago

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honestly would kill to see your take on any kink ever, but I must admit I haven't been able to get your thoughts on electrostim out of my mind since you shared them so. that one. (+camshow if you're feeling it 👀)

ps.: I did have a good festive season, and I hope you did too!! 🫶🫶

glad to hear it! 🫰 mine has been. mixed. but mostly good thank u!

obviously could not resist this one. enjoy oscar being the stone cold freak for once!

Lando had asked to see it, mainly because he didn’t entirely believe Oscar was telling the truth.

Oscar was cool and everything. Funny, with a saucy mouth on him once you got to know him. But you had to admit the guy came off as — well. Vanilla.

So when they’d gotten pissed together on leftover Moët in Lando’s suite and Oscar had picked up the TENS machine Jon had left in there, turned it over in his hands and said, “are you into electrostim?” in tones of nervous delight, Lando hadn’t even considered it might be some sort of weird sex thing.

What the fuck is electrostim? he’d asked, tipping the remnants of his glass down his throat, which meant he didn’t notice Oscar’s horrified expression for a few seconds.

“Nothing,” Oscar said quickly, but by that point Lando had clocked the blush spreading rapidly across his cheeks and perked right up. Even then, he’d figured it was something embarrassing, but not — that.

He’d not believed it, when Oscar explained it. How you could wire up the same kind of machine Jon used to zap the cramps out of his aching thighs and stick it round your cock. Not that Oscar said it so brazenly. There was a lot of umm-ing and err-ing, a lot of vague hand gestures and stuttering, before Lando got the picture.

“Fuck off,” Lando said when Oscar finished stammering out the barest of explanations. “Really? You?”

”Jesus, Lando,” Oscar said, somewhere between exasperated and indignant.

“I bet you a hundred quid you can’t,” Lando said.

Oscar shrugged. “Believe what you like.”

Lando, whose impulse control was bad at the best of times and even worse combined with half a bottle of champagne and a burgeoning stiffy, picked the machine up from where Oscar had dropped it onto the coffee table and held it out. “Show me?”

Oscar gaped at him. He was redder than Lando had ever seen him, but he didn’t look mad or anything. Just — blindsided, maybe.

“Not now,” Oscar said eventually. His voice came out in a kind of croak, and he cleared his throat before he spoke again. “Maybe — maybe some other time.”

Lando knew a brush-off when he saw one, so he shrugged and changed the subject and tried not to feel too mortified about it. Oscar made his excuses after another glass, sloped off to his own bedroom, and Lando put the whole embarrassing affair out of his mind.

When his phone buzzed a week later with a text from Oscar, he had to read it twice before he understood it.

Osc 19:48 Hey. I took a video if you’re still interested. No worries if not, don’t want to pressure 🙂

Lando breathed out hard through his nose, blinking at his phone.

lando 19:50 thats the politest sext i’ve ever had yeh i am pls

Osc 19:51 🙄 it was hardly a sext [video attached]

The thumbnail was blurry, a flash of maroon and some squiggles that might be wires. Lando swallowed hard, thumb hovering over the play button. He tapped it.

”Okay,” Oscar’s voice came from the phone’s speaker, quiet. Lando kicked the volume up a couple of notches, watching a confusion of movement. Oscar’s torso, clad in his usual plain t-shirt, and a pair of khaki knee-length shorts, open at the waist. The wires Lando had spotted led out to a hand-held control box, similar to the one Jon used but a different model.

On-screen, Oscar cleared his throat. “Had it on for five minutes or so already,” he said. His voice was a little shaky, like he was nervous. He swallowed audibly before he spoke again. “So I’m a little — I’m already, you know.” A soft laugh. “Sorry, don’t know how well I’ll be able to, um, talk you through it. Let me just — I’ll just show you.”

He exhaled, audibly steeling himself, and Lando felt himself mirror the action unconsciously. His hands were sweating enough to worry he might drop his phone. He swore under his breath and hit pause on Oscar, heading through to his bedroom and flopping back onto the bed. After a moment’s deliberation, he shoved his own shorts down to mid-thigh. He wasn’t hard yet, but — well. Better to have the option.

He hit play. Oscar-on-the-screen hummed thoughtfully and then the screen blurred again. Some scuffling sounds that made Lando wince, the screen going briefly dark and then bleaching light again until Oscar came back into focus from the neck down to mid-thigh, standing in what looked like his bathroom with the camera, presumably, propped on the sink.

“Right, that’s better,” Oscar said, and breathed out again, a short sharp exhalation. “Okay, here goes.”

He put the control box down, out of shot, and visibly straightened his spine before he pushed his shorts down. No boxers. Oscar, Lando thought admiringly. I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.

It took the camera a few moments to focus, but when it did, Lando bit back a groan. Oscar’s cock was thick, semi-hard, and covered in wires. A thick black loop of it cinched tight around the base, and another snug beneath the head of his cock, trailing a black wire.

“Had it on low,” Oscar said. “I’ll turn it up a bit.”

His hand reached out of frame and adjusted something, and he gasped. His cock jerked, filling out in front of Lando’s wide eyes. Oscar made a soft noise, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he adjusted something else that made his cock jump again, a tiny rhythmic pulse.

“Ah,” Oscar said. “That’s — about halfway now. Feels pretty intense.”

He adjusted himself with one hand, pulling the top loop of wire a little tighter with the plastic toggle tucked up tight beneath the head. His long fingers hovered for a second, like he was struggling not to jack himself off, help things along.

Lando let out a string of curses beneath his breath and grabbed himself. He thumbed at the bottom of the screen to bring up the playback bar. Jesus, the video wasn’t even a quarter of the way through yet.

He watched Oscar’s cock get harder, bobbing in midair. Lando tuned himself into it after a minute or so. He could tell when Oscar adjusted the intensity of the current by the way Oscar’s cock flushed red, jolting against his belly, the veins on the underside pulsing beneath his foreskin.

Still, it made him gasp when Oscar’s cock blurted thin clear liquid. It trickled down the side of his cock and dropped out of sight.

“Yep,” Oscar said tightly. “Yeah, it’s. Getting good now.”

“Oh my God, Oscar,” Lando said to his empty room, voice shocked and shaking.

Oscar hummed again, a low rumble in his chest. When he spoke again, it sounded like an effort. “Sometimes it makes me, uh. I think it stimulates my bladder or something, so — just to warn you.”

Lando let out a shuddering breath, blinking hard at the screen. This was insane. Both of them had clearly lost their minds. He wondered, for a brief paranoid second, whether this was some sort of sophisticated deepfake scam and he was going to have his bank account emptied or his DMs leaked yet again. But no, Oscar had said it to his face.

“Right,” Oscar’s voice came over the speaker. “Gonna take it up another notch. It’s getting — it’s strong now.”

Lando could hear it now. A faint ticking sound, barely there, pulsing in time to the jerk of Oscar’s swollen cock. Oscar pulled up the hem of his t-shirt with one hand and clenched his abs, gasping.

“Ah, jeez,” Oscar gritted out, and on the screen, his cock jumped and let out a spurt of liquid. It spattered wet against his stomach, dripping down. Too far away from the camera to be able to see what it was.

Lando curled his toes into the bedding. He was wanking furiously now, skin slapping against skin sounding overly loud in the room compared to the processed sound of Oscar’s heavy breaths. On the screen, Oscar’s cock was pulsing rhythmically, drooling clear liquid with every movement. Little droplets ran down the shaft, dripping to the floor. The hem of Oscar’s t-shirt had fallen down again when he’d let go of it, and it was dark and damp. Lando found himself wanting to suck it clean.

”Not—” Oscar’s breath hitched on a moan. “Not long now.”

You’re telling me, Lando thought wildly, squeezing himself around the base to try to calm himself down. He was panting, thighs flexing with the need to come, but Oscar hadn’t yet, and he wanted to see it.

“Okay,” Oscar was saying on the screen, more to himself than the camera. “Gonna — gonna turn it up to max now, and that’ll probably do it.”

He reached out then and picked up the phone, bringing it closer to his straining cock. As the camera moved, Lando caught a glimpse of his face, red and shining with sweat.

“Ready?” Oscar’s voice came over the speakers, and Lando moaned at the shock of being directly addressed.

Oscar reached his other hand out to the control unit, and Lando saw his thighs clench, his cock lurch violently.

“Oh, fuck,” Oscar rasped. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

He came, untouched and messy, spraying across his t-shirt. Before he knew it, Lando was coming too, letting it get all over his own stomach as Oscar’s ragged gasps echoed in his ears.

Lando stopped coming before Oscar did. Oscar’s cock was red and angry-looking, still spurting thin liquid every few seconds as his thighs shook visibly. Then the screen tilted dizzily, and the video stopped.

Lando stared at the screen, shell-shocked. His brain felt like it had been hollowed out.

“Fucking hell,” he croaked to the phone. He wanted to laugh, slightly hysterical. Instead he wiped his sticky hand on his shirt and swiped out of the video, back to his message thread with Oscar.

lando 20:03 omfg wow

A second later, Lando’s phone vibrated, but there was no reply in his thread with Oscar. Instead, there was a notification from his bank. Lando opened it.

Oscar Piastri has requested funds! Oscar Piastri has requested £100.00 GBP. Message from recipient: “Told you so.” Accept request to transfer funds?

#trying to format this on tumblr mobile took almost as long as writing it #i am having A Day so these have been a wonderful distraction #ln4 #op81 #mctwinks #kink generator prompt fics #piss tag #prompt fill #answered

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msbigredmachine · 2 days ago

Text

The Boy Next Door: Chapter Six

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake’s masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine’s masterlist

Word Count: 9k

TRIGGER WARNINGS: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, violence, smut

Ivy hadn’t realized how much space Roman took up in her life until she pulled away. A week of zero contact felt like forever, especially after they’d been practically inseparable before. Where his texts and calls once lit up her phone all day and made her smile, the same texts and calls…well, voicemails…were now grating, each one pleading and importunate and doing nothing to quell her current stance. She wasn’t sure if the distance was for his sake or hers, but after what she’d witnessed that day, it was absolutely necessary.

Every time she thought about Roman yelling at Zaia, the venom laced in his voice, it sent a chill up her spine. Sure, he had apologized—and was damn near begging since then—but the memory lingered like a bad taste. She couldn’t get past the fear she’d seen in her daughter’s eyes.

Zaia, funny enough, seemed to have already moved on. It helped that Roman was pretty much bombarding her with presents, the latest being a Little Mermaid (Halle) coloring set and a handwritten note that Ivy found in Zaia’s new Hello Kitty backpack:

“For the best little DJ I know.” Zaia had beamed when she read it, proudly showing Ivy the small charm bracelet he’d tucked into the package as part of his peace offering.

But Ivy wasn’t a six-year-old. Roman’s charm, his gifts, his apologies—they didn’t erase the cracks forming in her trust. She couldn’t shake the memory of his sharp tone, his anger. And, as much as she hated to admit it, there was something else. Something deeper, a gnawing unease she couldn’t quite name.

Saturday Afternoon

She was folding laundry in the living room when the doorbell rang. Duchess barked sharply, scampering to the door as Ivy set down Zaia’s unicorn-printed pajamas and sighed. She knew exactly who it was. Roman had texted her earlier, saying he wanted to stop by.

When she opened the door, there he stood, impossibly handsome in a fitted black T-shirt that clung to his broad chest and sweats that hung just right on his hips. His tribal tattoos spread from beneath his right sleeve, a tantalizing display of inked skin. In one hand, he held a large gift bag, and in the other, a bouquet of deep red roses.

“Hey, baby,” he said, his voice a smooth rumble as he flashed a tentative, almost nervous grin. “I come bearing gifts.”

Ivy crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “More, huh? You trying to bribe me?”

Roman chuckled. “Is it working?”

Rolling her eyes, she stepped aside for him. “Not yet.”

He grinned, closing the door behind him before following Ivy into the foyer. Duchess sniffed at his boots, her tail wagging, while Roman set the bag and flowers on the counter. “This is for Zaia,” he said, pulling a small stuffed dolphin from the bag. “She mentioned how much she loved that sea animals documentary the other day. Thought she’d like this.”

Ivy softened slightly, her arms uncrossing. “At this point, you’re spoiling her,” she said.

Roman shrugged sheepishly. “Well, I do owe her. And these,” he held up the roses, “are for you. Not cuz I messed up—though I know I did—but because…I miss you. I miss us.”

His words hit a nerve. Ivy wanted to stay mad, to keep him at arm’s length, but the longing in his dark eyes tugged at her heart. She took the roses from him, inhaling their sweet scent.

“You ain't making this easy, you know,” she said quietly, setting the flowers in a vase.

“I don’t want it to be easy. I want it to be right.” Roman insisted, reaching into the gift bag before turning to her. “I got you one more thing…” He held a small box out to her, wrapped in elegant gold paper.

Ivy frowned but accepted it, unwrapping it carefully. Her eyes widened at the Tiffany & Co. packaging. She glanced up at him, gauging his hopeful expression, and then opened the box. Inside was a delicate gold necklace with a small heart pendant. It sparkled in the light, simple yet stunning.

“Roman…” she started, her voice trailing off.

“I hate this distance between us,” he implored, stepping closer. “I miss you, Ivy. I miss your smile, your laugh, the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “I miss your touch. Your hugs…your kisses.”

She swallowed hard, her emotions warring inside her. “Roman, I…I don’t know…”

“I understand why you’ve been staying away,” he said quickly. “I fucked up, baby, and I’ll spend as long as I need to, making it up to you. But I can’t stand being away from you like this. It’s killing me.”

He cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple shifting and his hand running over his mouth and gray beard. He then, reached for her hand, his touch warm and familiar. “Baby, I’m not perfect, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. I swear to you. You and me—we’re amazing together. I need you, Ivy.”

Her resolve faltered. Damn him and his way with words. The sincerity in his tone, the way his thumb stroked her knuckles—it all chipped away at her defenses.

“I don’t know, Ro…” she started, but he didn’t let her finish.

“Come here,” he murmured, settling down in one of the foyer chairs and pulling her gently onto his lap. “Sit with me.”

“Roman,” she protested weakly, though she didn’t resist.

“Just for a minute,” he said, his arms circling around her slender waist as he looked up at her. “I've missed holding my baby. Let me hold you. Please.”

Ivy sighed, her body betraying her as she melted into him, growing even more traitorous as she absorbed the feel of his lips brushing her neck, then her jaw, and finally her mouth. The kiss was slow and consuming, pulling her under like a riptide. Her hands found the sides of his neck, gripping tightly as she kissed him back. His lips were soft yet insistent, his hands firm as they slid up her back to keep her close. She hated how good he felt, how easily he unraveled her. There was something about his kisses. They made her forget the world, made her forget him—the man who scared her, the man she doubted. In these moments, he was just Roman, the man who made her feel alive.

At last, they broke apart, but only just. Roman's big hands caressed her face, holding her as if he was afraid she’d disappear. “Tell me, Ivy,” he whispered, “Tell me you’ve missed me too.”

Her resolve wavered as she looked into his eyes. Damn it, she had. Despite everything, despite her doubts, he drew her in like a moth to a flame. Every damn time he touched her, kissed her, all her defenses crumbled. It was dangerous, but fuck did it feel good.

“I missed you too,” she admitted breathlessly, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

His smile was slow, almost predatory. “I knew you did.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away, kissing him one more time before resting her head on his shoulder. For a moment, it felt like old times, like they hadn’t spent the last week avoiding each other. But then the doubts crept back in, nagging at the edges of her mind.

As if sensing her hesitation, Roman kissed her forehead and shifted the mood. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone lighter. “We need to get away. You, me, and Zaia. Somewhere warm and sunny. How about Hawaii?”

Ivy sat up straight, blinking, caught off guard. “Hawaii?”

“Yeah,” he said, his enthusiasm growing. “You’ve been working so hard at the hospital lately, and I see how much you do for Zaia. You deserve a break. Both of you.” He trailed off as he rubbed her hip, his touch firm and persuasive. “Plus, we can really focus on us. No distractions. Just paradise.”

Ivy smiled faintly, but something about the way he was speaking—so eager, almost insistent—made her uneasy. “That does sound amazing,” she admitted, glancing over at Duchess, who was now laying in her kennel. “But it’s not that simple. Zaia’s school just started back up, and I have shifts scheduled. Plus, traveling with a six-year-old isn’t exactly relaxing.”

Roman waved her concerns away, his expression unwavering. “All of that can be worked out. I’ll take care of the arrangements. You deserve this, Ivy.” His voice lowered, more intimate now. “You’ve given so much to everyone else—Zaia, your patients—you need to give yourself a little grace.”

Ivy hesitated, torn between the allure of his words and the knot of unease tightening in her chest. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to get away—God knew she could use the break—but Roman’s urgency felt…off. Too perfect, too rehearsed.

She settled with a forced smile. “Let me think about it, okay?”

Roman’s expression flickered for a brief moment, a shadow in his eyes. But before he could respond, Zaia came bounding down the stairs, her eyes lighting up when she saw the big man in the foyer.

“Roman!” she squealed, running over to hug him.

He grinned, lifting her onto his lap alongside Ivy. “Hey, little lady. Look what I brought you.”

As Zaia tore into the gift bag, Ivy watched Roman out of the corner of her eye. He was attentive, affectionate, the perfect picture of a doting boyfriend and even a possible stepfather.

But deep down, Ivy couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Something about Roman wasn’t adding up anymore. And until she figured out what it was, she couldn’t let her guard down—not completely.

Sunday Afternoon

Her bedroom was dim, save for the slivers of sunlight that slipped through the blinds, casting long streaks across the walls. A faint hint of lavender clung to the air from the candle Ivy had lit earlier, now reduced to a hardened pool of wax on the nightstand. The room was warm, and would have been quiet had it not been for the bed rocking beneath the moving bodies, heavy breaths mixing in the silence. The rhythmic creak of the bed, their moans and gasps, filled the space, escalating until she collapsed on top of him, their bodies trembling from the intensity of it all.

It had started innocently enough—a nice Sunday lunch on her day off, opting to extend an invitation to Roman to ensure he wasn’t alone…or so she told herself. There had been the familiar, easy chatter between her and Roman, Zaia’s laughter echoing as they set the table together, their bodies just inches away from each other, close but not too close as they sat side by side. But as time ticked by, the tension began to shift. By the time she tucked Zaia in for her afternoon nap, it was sizzling. Roman’s gaze had deepened, his touch lingered a little longer, and before she knew it, he was in her bed again.

A blur of sensations—long fingers, warm skin, the heat of his body overwhelming hers. Roman had been tender but forceful, his touch demanding in a way that sent electric currents surging through her veins. The feeling of him inside her had been comforting, intoxicating, and sorely missed, and when she had begged him—moaned for him—it was as if she had lost control completely, her body responding to him in ways she couldn’t explain.

An hour later, her bare body pressed against his solid, warm frame. His muscled arm draped lazily over her, his fingers tracing absent patterns on her butt cheek. The steady beat of his heart was a reminder that, for now, they were both here, tangled in the aftermath of what had just happened.

“I’ve been thinking,” Roman said suddenly, his baritone voice breaking the stillness.

Ivy turned her head, her curls brushing against his chest. She raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Thinking? That sounds dangerous. About what?”

He huffed a soft laugh, his fingers pausing their motion before resuming. “About us. About you…and Zaia.” His tone softened, dipping into something vulnerable. “You two are the best thing that’s happened to me since I moved here.”

Her chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in them catching her off guard. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she stayed silent, her fingers sliding idly along his tattooed forearm, encouraging him to continue.

His dark eyes gleamed in the low light, his expression open yet serious. “You know I don’t have any kids of my own. Elesha and I never got to…” he trailed off, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “Being around you and Zaia…it’s made me realize how much I want that again. Marriage. A family, a real one. With you.”

Ivy’s breath hitched, her lips parting slightly as her eyes searched his. “Ro…”

“I mean it,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered on her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin. “Watching you with Zaia always warms my heart. You’re an amazing mom, baby. And I can’t stop thinking about how incredible it would be to give her a little brother or sister. To give us that.”

His words landed with the weight of a tidal wave, equal parts intoxicating and overwhelming. For a moment, Ivy could almost see the life he described: the happy, chaotic mornings, the sound of children’s laughter filling the house, Roman’s strong arms wrapping around her as they watched their family grow.

But then reality crashed back in. The nagging memory came rushing in again; of Roman’s voice raised in anger at Zaia, the way he’d lost control, even if just for a moment. He’d been trying to be much better since then, but Ivy couldn’t help wondering—what if it happened again? What if this perfect vision cracked under the pressure of another child?

Her gaze dropped, her stomach twisting. “Roman, that’s…that’s a lot to think about,” she said carefully, her tone hesitant. “I mean, I love what we have, but I don’t know if I’m ready for another child. Zaia’s still young, and—”

He cut her off gently, his fingers tilting her chin back toward him. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a soothing whisper. “I’m not saying it has to happen tomorrow. I just…I want you to know how serious I am about us. About you.”

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, torn between the warmth of his words and the unease curling at the edges of her mind. She was in love with him—she knew she was—but something inside her held back, a quiet voice whispering caution.

“I get it, baby. But let’s…let’s take things a little slower,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay? We still have time.”

Roman’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, but he recovered quickly, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. “Fair enough,” he said, though his tone carried an undercurrent she couldn’t quite place.

Ivy tried to lighten the mood, needing to shake the weight of the conversation. “So,” she said, running her fingers along his forearm, “have you thought about having a housewarming party?”

Roman tensed slightly, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes so quick she almost missed it. “A housewarming party?”

“Yeah,” she said casually, though her curiosity was piqued by his reaction. “You’ve met more people since Gemini’s party. It might be nice to invite them to yours. I remember how fun it was when mine happened. You’ve made some friends, right?”

He shrugged, his hand resuming its idle strokes on her hip. “I don’t know, Ivy. I’m not really comfortable with people coming over just yet.”

“For real?” she pressed, her tone light but probing. “I haven’t even met your work colleagues yet. Or seen your office, come to think of it.”

Roman stiffened, his jaw tightening. “Nah, not happening,” he said, his voice sharper than intended, but quickly added, “I mean, the office is a mess—renovations, chaos everywhere. Besides,” he said, his tone softening as he ran a hand down her back, “I like keeping my personal space… personal.”

The words landed heavily, and Ivy blinked, her hand freezing mid-stroke along his chest. Confusion flickered across her face before it hardened into something sharper. “Wow,” she said slowly, her voice laced with quiet frustration. She rolled off him, sat up and crossed her arms. “So, what? You don’t want me in your space? After everything I’ve shared with you?”

Roman hesitated, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s not that,” he said, his tone smooth but guarded. “It’s just…I like things a certain way. My space is where I clear my head. You get that, right?”

“No, Roman,” she said, her voice firm but tinged with hurt. “I don’t get it. It feels like you’re shutting me out.”

Roman’s jaw clenched, his fingers curling into the sheet beneath them. “It’s not about you, Ivy,” he said softly, though the tightness in his voice betrayed his frustration. “It’s just…I need to keep some things separate. Trust me, okay?”

Ivy let out a bitter laugh, pulling away from him slightly. “Trust you,” she repeated, her voice cold. “Funny how that’s getting harder to do.”

Roman sat up slightly, the tension in his broad shoulders undeniable. “Baby, wait,” he said, his voice softening. When she didn’t respond, he reached out, his hand brushing hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Right.”

He sighed, running a hand through his long, loose hair. “I’m just…tired. Work’s been a lot lately. Stress piling up. You know how it is, Miss Assistant Head Nurse.”

Ivy studied his face, searching for answers he clearly wasn’t willing to give. She’d learned that despite his openness, Roman was a man of walls—carefully constructed barriers that he rarely let her peek behind. The storage room in his basement came to mind, a fitting example of his tendency to shut things away. When she’d asked about it, he’d claimed it was just filled with his late wife’s belongings. The curt manner in which he’d also dismissed the topic had made it clear there was no room for discussion. It saddened her that he wasn’t opening up to her as much as she was to him.

Still, she knew when to back off. She wasn’t the type to push too hard—at least not with such a fresh wound, pun intended. Despite the faint unease curling in her chest, she let the subject drop. There were battles to be fought another day.

“I get it,” she said softly, her lips curving into a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Work can be crazy sometimes. Just…don’t let it get to you too much, okay? Stress has a way of eating people alive if you let it. It got both my parents. I don’t want the same to happen to you.” Her hand found its way to his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm grounding her. She watched as his eyes fluttered shut at her touch, his shoulders easing just slightly, the weight of her presence momentarily lightening his burden, it seemed.

“I…I want you to know you can talk to me, Roman,” she whispered now, as though she feared scaring him off. “About anything. Alright?”

Roman’s eyes opened, but they weren’t clear—they were shadowed, distant, as if he were looking somewhere she couldn’t see. Something lurked behind them, an emotion she couldn’t quite name. For a long, silent moment, he just stared at her, his full lips pressing into a thin line.

Finally, he exhaled, his voice low and heavy. “I’ll try.”

The words felt like a fragile bridge, half-built but still offering the promise of something more. Ivy patted his chest gently, nodding, even though her heart ached with the knowledge that there were still so many walls he wasn’t ready to let down.

As she started to pull away, his arms tightened around her, the hold both firm and tender. His gaze softened, filled with a yearning that sent her pulse racing. Then, his lips met hers, and the kiss wasn’t just passionate—it was a silent apology, a plea for her forgiveness. She allowed it, savoring the moment for what felt like an eternity. By the time he pulled back, just slightly, she was breathless, her anger reduced to embers.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a great kisser?” he teased, his voice low, his eyes burning with intent.

Ivy’s lips twitched despite herself, the teasing jab disarming her slightly. “Don’t try to charm your way out of this,” she warned, though her tone was less icy now.

“Charm’s all I’ve got,” he said with a smirk, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Ivy exhaled shakily, her eyes searching his, the tension between them dissolving in the heat of the moment. She sighed, rolling her eyes but not pulling away. “You make it hard to stay mad at your ass, you know that?”

Roman smirked, brushing his nose against hers. “That’s the idea.”

Ivy giggled. “You’re exhausting.”

“In bed? Hell yeah,” he murmured against her skin, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

Ivy shook her head, smiling faintly despite herself. “You’re lucky you can fuck, Reigns.”

Roman grinned evilly, tugging her back on top of him as he crushed his lips to hers, sealing the moment with a deep, hungry kiss that spoke volumes more than his words ever could.

Ivy paced her living room, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as her thoughts spiraled out of control. It had been two weeks since she’d last heard from Gemini. Two long, agonizing weeks of silence. Even when they fought, they never went this long without talking. But now? There was nothing—no calls, no texts, not even a passive-aggressive email. The memory of their last argument kept replaying in Ivy’s mind like a broken record: Gemini’s sharp words, the tension overwhelmingly thick, and their meeting after that, with Ivy storming out of Gemini’s office without looking back. It was petty, childish even, but neither of them had made a move to fix it. And it didn’t sit right with her.

The pit in Ivy’s stomach grew heavier by the hour, the silence suffocating. She tried to distract herself—organizing Zaia’s schoolwork, tidying up her kitchen, even re-watching an old favorite movie. But nothing worked. The nagging thoughts wouldn’t let up.

So, she grabbed her keys. She couldn’t ignore the gnawing worry any longer. Sliding into her Kia Carnival, she drove through the quiet streets of their neighborhood, the familiar route to Gemini’s house offering little comfort.

Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel as she pulled up to the Beaufort mansion. The porch light was off, and the curtains were drawn, giving the place a hollow, almost abandoned feel.

Ivy stepped onto the porch, her breath hitching as she reached for the potted fern by the door. She found the spare key exactly where Gemini had always kept it, hidden under the dark green leaves. Her hand trembled as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The house was eerily still, the kind of quiet that made the hairs on the back of Ivy’s neck stand up. The faint scent of lavender hung in the air, but there was something else, too—a faint metallic tang she couldn’t quite place.

“Gem?” Ivy called out, her voice breaking the silence. It sounded small, fragile, like she was afraid of what might answer.

There was no response.

Ivy moved cautiously through the house, her eyes scanning every detail. The living room was untouched, the pillows perfectly arranged on the couch. The kitchen was eerily spotless, the countertops gleaming as if freshly wiped down. A wave of unease rolled over her. Gemini was a lawyer, but even she was never this meticulous, not unless she was trying to make an impression.

Heart pounding, Ivy made her way upstairs, her footsteps muffled on the carpeted stairs. When she pushed open the door to Gemini’s bedroom, her breath caught. The unmade bed was the first thing that stood out, the sheets tangled in a way that was so unlike Gemini, who prided herself on a pristine home. A faint breeze fluttered the curtains, but the windows were shut, amplifying the strange stillness.

And then she saw it: a piece of paper on the nightstand, folded neatly, waiting.

Ivy froze, dread tightening in her chest. Her feet felt like lead as she crossed the room and reached for the note. It was typed, the words precise and cold. Her eyes darted to the signature at the bottom—it was Gemini’s, unmistakable. But as she read the letter, the words felt alien.

I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry to everyone I’ve hurt. I just want the pain to stop.

To my dear Ivy,

I’m sorry I pushed you away. I will miss you the most.

“What the fuck!” Ivy whispered. Her knees buckled, and she sank onto the edge of the bed, tears spilling down her cheeks. “No, no, no…”

The sobs came hard and fast, her chest heaving as she clutched the letter like it might disappear. She couldn’t bring herself to read all of it because it didn’t feel real. Gemini had always been the strong one, the vibrant one. She was the one who dragged Ivy out of her darkest moments, who never let her give up no matter how hard life got. And now? Now she was gone.

But something didn’t add up. The thought clawed its way through Ivy’s grief. If Gemini had written this note, where was she? The house was empty, devoid of any sign of her presence. There were no personal items packed, no indication of where she might have gone. It was as if she had simply vanished.

“Where are you, Gem?” Ivy whispered, staring at the bed as if it might hold the answers. Her mind raced with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. Was Gemini even alive?

The weight of that question bore down on her, suffocating her as she sat in the silence of her best friend’s room, the unanswered questions echoing louder than any scream.

She hadn’t even realized she’d driven to Roman’s house until she was there, her heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the quiet sounds of the neighborhood. Ivy stood trembling on his doorstep, clutching Gemini’s note in one hand and Duchess in the other. The puppy whined softly, nuzzling against Ivy’s neck as though trying to absorb her pain. Thank goodness Zaia was at her friend's house and unable to see her mother's distraught state.

When Roman opened the door, his concerned expression immediately softened into something more tender at the sight of her tear-streaked face. But before he could speak, Ivy blurted, “I need your help. I need to find her!”

Roman’s brows furrowed, and he stepped closer. “Baby, what’s going on? Who are we looking for?”

“Gemini,” she stammered, her voice breaking as her body trembled. “She’s gone, Roman. I went to her place…She left this note but she’s not there and I don’t know where she is. I have to find her!”

Roman’s jaw tightened, his features hardening for a split second before he schooled his face into a mask of calm. He reached out, cupping her face with both hands. “Baby, slow down. You’re shaking. Come here.”

Ivy allowed herself to be pulled into his arms, Duchess squirming slightly between them. Roman’s embrace was warm and steady, but Ivy could feel the weight of his silence pressing down on her. She clung to him for a moment, trying to gather her spiraling thoughts, before pulling back to look up at him.

“She’s out there somewhere,” she said, her voice shaking. “She sounded so lost in the note, but this don’t feel right. Roman, I need you to help me find her. Please.”

Roman sighed, his hands sliding to her shoulders. “Baby, let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe she just needed some space. People do that sometimes.”

“No!” Ivy insisted, shaking her head. “Not Gem. She wouldn’t leave like this, not without saying goodbye properly. And the note—it doesn’t make sense.” Her grip on Duchess tightened as tears welled in her eyes again. “I feel like something’s wrong, Roman. Please, we have to go look for her.”

Roman stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. He led her into the house and shut the door. “Baby girl,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm, “you’ve been through a lot. You’re exhausted, and I think that’s making this feel worse than it is. Let’s take a minute, sit down, and go over everything together.”

Ivy shook her head, stepping back from him. “We don’t have time to sit around, Roman! She could be in trouble. She could be—” Her voice cracked, and she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.

Roman reached for her again, his large hands cradling her shoulders. “Baby, listen to me. I get that you’re worried, but running out into the night without a plan isn’t going to help. Let me take care of you first, okay? You need to breathe.”

“I don’t need to breathe!” Ivy snapped, her desperation boiling over. “I need to find my friend! Are you gonna help me or not?”

Roman’s jaw clenched, his grip on her tightening briefly before he let out a measured breath. “Of course I’ll help you, baby,” he said, his tone soft but deliberate. “I’d do anything for you. But we need to think this through. Let me make you some tea, and we’ll figure out the best way to look for her.”

Ivy hesitated, her tears streaking her face as she searched his expression for reassurance. “You promise?” she whispered, her voice small.

Roman leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I promise, baby girl. I’m here for you. Always.” He stepped back, his hand on her shoulder. “Come on,” he said gently, guiding her toward the kitchen. “You need to sit down. Let’s figure this out together.”

Ivy followed him numbly, her legs moving on autopilot as her thoughts churned. She clutched Duchess tightly, the dog’s soft whimpers a faint reminder of her reality. When they reached the kitchen, Roman pulled out a chair for her, the scrape of wood against tile sounding too loud in the stillness.

“Sit,” he urged, his voice steady but insistent.

She sank into the chair, her hands trembling as she smoothed Duchess’s fur. The note burned in her mind, its shaky words etched into her memory. It was so unlike Gemini—strong, vibrant Gemini—to write something so hopeless.

Roman leaned against the counter, his dark eyes studying her intently. His arms crossed over his chest, and the stark black of his tattoos seemed even more pronounced under the harsh kitchen light.

“What did the note say?” he asked, his tone calm but probing.

Ivy swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper as she replied, “She said she couldn’t take it anymore. That she felt lost and alone. And…she said she was sorry for pushing me away.” Her throat tightened, and fresh tears spilled over.

Roman held out his hand. “Let me see it.”

She handed him the crumpled note, watching his face closely as he read it. His expression darkened subtly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before he looked up. “And you found this where?”

“On her nightstand,” Ivy said, her voice shaky. “But she’s not there, Roman. Her car’s gone, and she’s just… vanished. It doesn’t make sense. She wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t leave me like this.”

Roman frowned, his jaw tightening for a brief moment before his face softened again. “Maybe she…didn’t want to do it at home,” he suggested cautiously. “She might’ve gone somewhere private.”

“No!” Ivy’s voice rose, her frustration spilling over. “That’s not her! She wouldn’t just leave a note like that and disappear. Something’s wrong, Roman. I can feel it.”

Roman sighed heavily and stood in front of her, his large hands resting on her thighs. His dark eyes met hers with an intensity that made her stomach twist.

“Ivy,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing. “You’ve been through so much lately—Angelo, Zaia, work—and now this. You’re overwhelmed, baby. Your mind is running in circles, and it’s making you see things that aren’t there. Let me take care of you tonight. You need to rest.”

Ivy blinked, her resolve faltering under his steady gaze. Was she overreacting? Was her grief clouding her judgment?

“But—” she began, only to have him interrupt.

“No ‘buts,’” Roman said firmly. His hands squeezed her thighs gently before he stepped back. “We’ll figure it out, but you need to trust me. I’ll take care of you, okay?”

The reassurance in his tone eased some of the tension in her chest, though unease still lingered at the edges. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Roman’s lips curved into a faint smile. He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against her forehead. “Good girl. I’ll make us some tea,” he said, turning toward the stove.

Ivy watched him move, her mind still racing despite his calming words. Something about the way he had responded—too measured, too controlled—didn’t sit right. She wanted to shake the thought away, and blame her exhaustion and grief. But she couldn’t.

Something was not right. No matter what Roman said, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Gemini’s disappearance than the note suggested. And deep down, a tiny voice whispered a warning that she wasn’t ready to hear it.

Her gaze drifted aimlessly around the kitchen, desperate for a distraction from her spiraling thoughts. That’s when she saw it, tucked into a shadowy corner near the pantry: a vibrant tan-colored Prada tote bag.

Her breath caught in her throat.

It was Gemini’s—her favorite bag, the one she saved for special occasions and treated like it was made of gold. Ivy’s pulse quickened, her fingers freezing mid-stroke on Duchess’s fur. Why was it here? Gemini never let that bag out of her sight. Panic surged through Ivy’s chest, an icy flood that made her stomach churn.

Setting her puppy gently on the floor, Ivy’s feet moved almost on their own, carrying her to the bag. Her fingers hovered over it for a moment before grasping the worn leather strap. She turned it over in her hands, her heart sinking as her eyes landed on the unmistakable ‘G’ charm dangling from the zipper—Gemini’s signature touch. There was no doubt now. This was her best friend’s bag, here in Roman’s kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

His deep voice startled her, sharp and sudden, cutting through the tense air. Ivy jumped, clutching the bag tighter as she spun to face him. His towering frame loomed in the doorway, his expression dark and unreadable.

“This is Gemini’s bag. Why do you have it? Why is it here?” she demanded, her voice shaking. Her wide, tear-streaked eyes locked onto his, searching for an explanation, but the dark, unreadable look that flickered across his face sent a chill down her spine.

The mask of charm finally slipped. “Ivy…listen to me...”

But Ivy wasn’t listening. Her hands shook as she unzipped the bag and rifled through it, pulling out the contents one by one. There were several printouts of news articles of missing persons, Rhea and Bianca among them. One particular photo made her stomach drop into the void as she laid eyes on it.

Roman’s mugshot.

“What the hell is this?” Ivy’s voice cracked as she held it up, the other documents in her other hand.

Roman took a step toward her. “Ivy, calm down.”

She ignored him, her hands trembling as she stared at one of the headlines:

Mateo Hobbs Wanted in Connection with Multiple Murders in Florida.

The image was unmistakable—Roman, though his hair was shorter, and his beard less full. Ivy’s stomach turned, the bile threatening climbing up her throat.

“What is this?” she demanded, her voice shaking. “Who the hell are you?”

Roman’s face darkened, his jaw tightening as though he were physically restraining himself from reacting. “Baby,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “I can explain—”

“Explain?!” Ivy’s voice rang out, sharp and filled with betrayal.

“Ivy—”

She threw the papers at him. “Tell me that’s not you! Tell me that’s not your face! You can’t, can you?”

Roman took a deliberate step toward her, his large frame cutting an imposing figure in the dim kitchen light. His large hands were raised in what he probably thought was a placating gesture, but to Ivy, it was nothing more than a threat. She backed away, her movements jerky and panicked. Duchess, standing protectively at her feet, growled low and steady, the sound vibrating through the tense air.

“Baby,” Roman said, his voice soft yet firm, as if he were speaking to a child on the verge of a tantrum. “Calm down. Let’s talk about this.”

“I let you into my house! You held my child!” she yelled, her chest heaving as her mind raced to comprehend the horrifying truth. Her voice cracked under the weight of her disbelief. “Oh my god…you and me, we…” Hot tears welled in her eyes, sick to her stomach.

“Ivy,” Roman repeated, more hostile now. “You don’t understand. Come here and let’s talk—”

“No!” Her scream was shrill, laced with fear and fury. Her hands fumbled blindly behind her as she searched for something—anything—to defend herself. Her fingers brushed against cold steel, and she wrapped them around the handle of a kitchen knife, holding it out in front of her with shaking hands.

“Stay away from me!” she yelled, the blade trembling as she brandished it. Duchess barked furiously now, the sound filling the space as she bared her teeth at Roman.

Roman’s expression flickered with anger, frustration, perhaps—but he didn’t stop. Instead, he took another step forward, his gaze fixed on Ivy.

“Put the knife down,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone. “You don’t wanna do this, Ivy. Just listen to me.”

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll stab you!” she shrieked, her grip tightening on the knife even as her hands shook violently. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear her own thoughts. “I mean it, I’ll-”

Roman lunged.

The world blurred into chaos as she swung the knife wildly, her instincts overtaking her terror. Their bodies collided, and the knife clattered to the floor with a metallic clang. Roman’s strength was overwhelming, his grip on her arms like iron as he wrestled her to the ground.

With a loud bark, Duchess launched herself at Roman, her teeth snapping dangerously close to his leg, but he kicked her away with brutal precision. The yelp that came from the dog sent a fresh wave of panic through Ivy’s chest.

“Duchess!” she screamed, her voice breaking as she thrashed against Roman’s hold.

“Stop fighting me!” he growled, his voice no longer calm or coaxing but sharp and commanding.

Ivy’s nails clawed at his arms, her legs kicking wildly as she tried to free herself, but Roman was too strong. He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head as her screams echoed through the kitchen.

“Let me go!” she cried, tears streaming down her face as she bucked beneath him, her energy rapidly depleting.

Roman’s face was inches from hers now, his breath hot against her skin. His eyes were dark, swirling with a mix of frustration and something far more dangerous.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Ivy!” he said through gritted teeth, but the menace in his tone betrayed the words.

Ivy let out one last desperate scream, thrashing with so much force that her head struck the floor hard. Pain blossomed at the back of her skull, sharp and blinding, her vision tunneling before the world around her faded to black.

Roman sat back on his knees, breathing heavily as he stared down at her limp form. His jaw twitched, and he ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” he said, his words low and tinged with frustration. He stood, lifting Ivy’s unconscious body effortlessly into his arms. Duchess growled weakly from where she lay near the corner, her movements sluggish. Roman didn’t spare the dog another glance as he carried Ivy toward the basement door, disappearing into the shadows below.

When Ivy woke, her head throbbed viciously and her vision swam with disjointed shapes. The cold concrete floor beneath her sent a chill through her body, seeping into her bones. She blinked, trying to piece together where she was and how she’d gotten there. The dim, artificial light cast long, eerie shadows across the space, and the faint, sharp scent of bleach stung her nose. But there was something else—something foul, sour, and unmistakably metallic.

Blood.

Her stomach lurched as she inhaled sharply, the nauseating scent overwhelming her senses. Ivy’s pulse raced as fragments of her memory returned.

Roman.

His shift in tone. The confrontation. And then… darkness.

Her heart pounded harder as she pushed herself onto shaky feet, her legs wobbling beneath her. She instinctively reached for the back of her head, feeling the tender knot where she must’ve been struck.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling and barely audible over the oppressive silence.

The room came into focus slowly—a basement, cold and sterile, with pristine white walls that somehow felt wrong in this suffocating space. A basement that didn’t belong to her.

Roman’s.

The realization hit her like a jolt of electricity, and her breath hitched. She spun toward the only door, but it was locked. Of course, it was locked. She pressed her ear to it and froze as she heard faint, deliberate footsteps above her. He was there.

Ivy backed away from the door, her movements frantic. Her chest heaved as panic clawed at her throat. She scanned the room for any means of escape. But nothing. The basement was immaculate, eerily so, with nothing out of place except for a large barrel in the corner. No ropes. No gags. No tools. Nothing that looked like it belonged to his wife, as he’d claimed. Just her, the empty space, and the deafening sound of her own breathing.

And then she saw it.

A trapdoor, set inconspicuously into the concrete floor.

Her stomach twisted, a war raging inside her between dread and desperate hope. Could it be a way out? Or was it something worse—something she didn’t want to face?

Ivy hesitated, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Roman could hear it from upstairs. She had to move. Had to act. The door wasn’t an option, and she couldn’t stay here waiting for him to come back.

Swallowing her fear, she crept toward the trapdoor, her breath shallow and ragged. Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the wood, the rough surface digging into her palms. She hesitated, every instinct in her body screaming at her to stop, to leave it closed. But her desperation overpowered her fear.

The wood creaked as she lifted it.

The smell hit her first, a nauseating wave of decay so strong it made her gag. She stumbled back, one hand covering her mouth and nose as her eyes watered. The pit below was dark, but her gaze caught something—a shape, pale and unmoving.

And then the shape became clear. Familiar.

Gemini.

A scream tore through Ivy’s throat, raw and guttural, reverberating in the empty space around her. “No! No, no, no, no, no, no!” she cried, her voice breaking, each word more desperate than the last. Tears slipped from her eyes as they locked on her best friend’s lifeless face, barely recognizable beneath the bruises and caved-in features. A long, open gash sliced through her throat, like a knife had been taken to it.

Her stomach lurched, bile rising in her throat as she tried to process the horrific sight. Her breathing was ragged, each inhale feeling sharper, heavier, as though the very act of drawing breath into her lungs was a betrayal of what she was seeing. That somehow her mind was playing tricks on her. But the light above the trapdoor cast cruel shadows on Gemini’s body, highlighting the sheer violence of what had been done to her.

What Roman had done.

“Gemini!” Ivy’s body convulsed as she collapsed beside the pit, clutching at the edge and reaching in as though this act could somehow pull her best friend back into the world of the living. Her shaking hands closed around the cold, stiff fingers that no longer curled into playful fists or reached out for hugs. Ivy’s entire frame shook with the force of her loud, hysterical cries as she clutched at Gemini’s hand, willing it to warm, to move, to hold hers back.

“Oh my god…Gem…” Her voice cracked, her words barely audible over the torrent of anguish pouring from her. “Oh god, Gemini, no, no, please, please wake up—”

The words caught in her throat, strangled by guilt and despair. She couldn’t finish. There was no point. No plea could bring Gemini back. The realization hit her like a physical blow, making her chest ache as if her heart were shattering into shards inside her ribcage.

“I’m sorry, babe, I’m so sorry,” Ivy wailed, fat teardrops splashing onto Gemini’s lifeless hand. The stark, unyielding coldness of her skin was wrong—everything about this was wrong.

Her sobs increased, her chest heaving as she cried out, “You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve this!” Her voice echoed in the space, bitter and broken.

Ivy rocked back and forth, her eyes squeezing shut as if it could stop the memories from flooding in—memories of Gemini’s laugh, her hugging Zaia and tickling Duchess, her fierce loyalty, her way of making Ivy feel like everything would be okay even when it wasn’t. All of it was gone now. Snuffed out by Roman’s brutality.

And she had let him in.

The realization was like a knife to her gut, twisting and unrelenting. Her fault. All her fault. She’d seen the signs. Felt the unease in her gut. Gemini had warned her, but she hadn’t listened. She’d ignored the warnings, chosen to believe in him when she should’ve been running far, far away.

“I’m s-sorry,” Ivy wept, the words spilling out over and over like a mantra as she gripped Gemini’s hand with both of hers. “F-Forgive me, Gem. Please forgive me…”

The weight of her grief was unbearable. Slumping in a heap next to the pit, her shoulders heaved from crying. Somewhere above her, the faint creak of footsteps reached her ears, a reminder that this horrible nightmare wasn’t over. But Ivy couldn’t move. She couldn’t leave Gemini here—not like this, not alone.

She pressed her forehead to the ground, her tears soaking the cold floor. “I’ll fix this,” she sniffled, her voice hoarse and trembling. “I swear to God, Gem. I’ll make this right. I’ll—” Her voice broke, the words dissolving into another gut-wrenching cry.

The silence in the room was deafening now, save for her choked sobs. The world felt darker, heavier, like it had shifted irreparably. Because it had. Gemini was gone. And Ivy wasn’t sure she could survive the hole that had just been carved into her soul.

The sound of heavy footsteps descending the stairs snapped Ivy out of her daze. Her heart raced as she released Gemini’s hand and scrambled to her feet, backing away from the trapdoor. Her body trembled, cold terror coursing through her veins.

Roman appeared, carrying a large, barrel-like tank similar to the one that sat in the corner of the basement. His broad frame filled the space, and the calm expression on his face made Ivy’s stomach twist in revulsion.

“I see you've found her,” he said casually, as if discussing something mundane, his tone unsettlingly smooth.

Ivy’s breath hitched, and her voice came out in a trembling shriek. “What did you do?!” she screamed, her hysteria bubbling over. “What did you do, you monster!”

Roman’s dark eyes flicked to her, and for a moment, something like disappointment crossed his face. But he didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his attention to the trapdoor, kneeling down and pulling it open fully.

“What are you doing?!” Ivy cried, her voice breaking. “Roman, stop! Please! Don’t—don’t touch her!” She stumbled forward instinctively, her hand outstretched, afraid to get close.

Roman didn’t stop. He bent down with deliberate precision and gripped Gemini’s body, hauling her up with a disturbing amount of strength and lack of hesitation. Ivy gagged, her knees threatening to give out as he moved the corpse with chilling efficiency.

“Stop it! Don’t do this!” Ivy cried, tears streaming down her face. “Please, Roman, I’m begging you! Leave her alone! Stop!” Her voice cracked, raw and desperate, but he didn’t even glance her way.

Instead, he began forcing Gemini’s limp form into the tank. The sound of bones snapping and joints dislocating filled the air, each crack a horrific reminder of his strength—and his cruelty. Ivy pressed her hands over her ears, crying uncontrollably as she backed against the wall. She couldn’t look away, no matter how much she wanted to. Every fiber of her being screamed to run, to fight, to do something, but her legs wouldn’t obey.

Roman worked methodically, his movements almost clinical, as though this was just another chore to complete. He didn’t speak, didn’t react to Ivy’s pleas. It was as if she wasn’t even there. Her sobs filled the silence, broken only by the grotesque sounds of his work. And all she could do was watch as the man she once thought she loved continued to unveil the monster he truly was.

“Why?” she begged, “Why are you doing this?”

Roman twisted the lid of the barrel closed and turned to face her. “They didn’t understand me like you do,” he explained, his voice almost tender as he glanced at her. “I didn’t want to kill them, hell, I ain’t even plan to…but Angelo was in the way, and Gemini…she just wouldn’t stop digging…”

For a moment, Ivy couldn’t breathe. Her chest tightened, her vision blurred, and the room spun. She blinked rapidly, hoping—praying—that she’d misheard him. But the look on his face, calm and unrepentant, told her otherwise.

“You…what do you mean you killed Angelo?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Roman tilted his head slightly, as if her disbelief confused him. “He was holding you back, baby,” he said simply, his tone almost matter-of-fact. “Every time I saw him with you, I knew he’d never let us be happy. And Zaia deserves a father who loves her, who loves you.”

Ivy stumbled back, pressing herself against the cold concrete wall. “Oh god. Oh god, oh fuck…” The words tumbled out of her in a broken chant, her hands clutching at her chest as if trying to hold her heart together.

Roman took a step closer, his hands spread in a placating gesture. “Ivy, listen to me. I did it for us. For our future. Don’t you see?”

But she couldn’t hear him over the blood roaring in her ears. Memories of Angelo flooded her mind—the way he used to playfully lift Zaia onto his shoulders, how his laugh would echo through the house during family dinners. Yes, he had his faults. He was stubborn, controlling at times, and their relationship had ended messily. But he was Zaia’s father. He was her child’s father!

“I can’t believe this!” she cried, her voice rising in hysteria. She sank to her knees, clutching her head as tears poured down her face. “Angelo stressed me out, but I never wanted him dead! He was Zaia’s father! How could you—how could you take him away from her?!”

“Ivy,” he said, his tone low and coaxing, as though she were a frightened animal. “I know this is hard to hear, but Angelo was a piece of shit. He wasn’t good for you. He didn’t treat you the way you deserved. And Zaia? She’s better off without a man like him in her life.”

“Fuck you!” Ivy screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of her anguish. “You don’t get to decide that! You don’t get to play God with our lives!”

Roman’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening for a split second before softening again. “Baby girl,” he said, his voice almost soothing. “I’m protecting you. I’m protecting Zaia. You both deserve so much more than he could ever give. What’s a measly fucking house and some necklace when I can give you ten houses? A hundred necklaces? He was the bare minimum and you deserve more.”

“You’re sick,” Ivy hissed, her voice shaking with raw emotion. “You’re fucking insane!”

Her words seemed to pierce through Roman’s calm façade. For a moment, his face hardened, his jaw clenching as he stared at her. Then, just as quickly, his expression shifted back to one of calculated composure.

“I know you’re upset,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “But one day, you’ll understand. You’ll see that everything I’ve done was for you—for us.” He swallowed hard, emotion clouding his features, “Because I love you, Ivy. I love you so much.”

Ivy let out another guttural sob, her body wracked with uncontrollable tremors. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to block out the sight of him, the sound of his voice. The man she had trusted, the man she had thought she was in love with, had taken Gemini and Angelo from her.

From Zaia.

The realization hit her like a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs. Her baby would grow up without her father—not because of a tragic accident, but because Roman had stolen him away. And he had the fucking nerve to stand there, calm and unbothered, as though he’d done her a favor as opposed to destroying her and her daughter’s life.

Roman crouched down in front of her, his large frame blocking out the dim light. He reached out as if to comfort her, but Ivy recoiled, her entire body rattling with fury and grief. “Don’t touch me!” she choked out, her voice raw and trembling. “Get away from me!”

He hesitated, his hand hovering in the air before slowly retracting. He stood, his towering figure casting a long shadow over her trembling form.

“You may hate me right now,” he said softly, “But deep down, you know I’m right. I’ll give you time to see that.”

Ivy didn’t respond. She couldn’t. All she could do was curl into herself, her sobs echoing through the cold, sterile basement as the horrifying truths engulfed her like a vulture swooping in on its prey.

Thanks for all your support last year! Your replies and reblogs are so much appreciated! Please keep your Asks coming, we’re loving all the theories!

Roman gif by @dejameflorecer

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jburrgf · 3 days ago

Text

About you ||| — The Love Trope Series.

“Do you think I have forgotten about you?”

• pairing: ¡lsu!joe burrow x ¡ex situashionship!reader

° summary: second change trope, college relationships, slow burn love, right person wrong time.

o description: you and joe had a thing months before, but the things ended in a bad way. now, you see yourself stuck in something that requires you to be close to him every single day.

• playlist: About You - The 1975, Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Golding, Like Real People Do - Hoozier, I Bet You Think About Me - Taylor Swift, Called You Again - Lizzy McAlpine, Tolerate It, ImGonnaGetYouBack, Clean - Taylor Swift

PART THREE: I BET YOU THINK ABOUT ME

The fluorescent lights in the classroom buzzed faintly as I slipped into my seat at the back of the room, pulling my hoodie tighter around me, hoping to disappear into the fabric. Mondays were bad enough, but after the party on Saturday, the mere thought of facing the day made me want to crawl back under the covers and stay there.

Especially now, with the nagging suspicion that my life was about to take another unpredictable turn.

The group of students gathered for Media Strategies in Sports was small, a core requirement for my degree, and one of the few that worked directly with LSU’s athletic department. Normally, I loved it—brainstorming campaigns, creating social media content, and pitching ideas to actual professionals. But today, the room felt stifling, like the walls were closing in.

I sank lower into my seat, Maddie, seated beside me, shot me a knowing look.

“Morning, sunshine,” Maddie chirped, sliding into the chair beside me with her usual energy that somehow thrived even at 8 a.m.

I grunted in response, burying my face in the collar of my hoodie.

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad,” she teased, nudging my arm. “You left before anything interesting happened.”

I shot her a glare, and she held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop. “You’re being dramatic,” she whispered, nudging me with her elbow.

“I’m being cautious,” I muttered, keeping my voice low.

Professor Reynolds entered the room, a stack of papers tucked under his arm. He was a tall, wiry man with a gruff demeanor, but he loved his job. This class was his pride and joy, a hybrid course designed to give students real-world experience working with the university’s rising athletes

The professor, Dr. Reynolds, stood at the front of the room, a stack of papers in his hands and an overly chipper demeanor that felt out of place this early in the week. “Alright, class,” he began, his voice cutting through the low hum of chatter. “As you all know, this semester we’re diving into a hands-on project with the athletic department. Each of you will be paired with an up-and-coming athlete to develop a personalized media strategy. This is a big opportunity—LSU takes its athletics seriously, and these athletes are the faces of the future.”

I already hated this.

“Pairs will be assigned at random,” Reynolds continued, adjusting his glasses. “These are some of LSU’s rising stars, and this is your chance to prove you can handle the pressure.”

Dr. Reynolds began reading off the pairings, his voice steady and matter-of-fact.

“Anna, you’ll be working with Derek Stingley Jr. Jamie, you’ve got Clyde Edwards-Helaire…”

The names blurred together as I stared at my notebook, pretending to take notes. Maybe, just maybe, I’d luck out and get someone I could handle—a name I barely recognized, someone who wouldn’t make me feel like the walls were closing in.

“Justin Jefferson,” Dr. Collins called, glancing up. “Maddie Carter.”

Maddie lit up like a Christmas tree, her grin practically splitting her face. She turned to me, barely able to contain her excitement. “Oh my God, Y/N. Justin Jefferson. Can you believe it?”

“Lucky you,” I said flatly, my heart sinking further.

She didn’t notice, too busy already envisioning her project.

“Y/N L/N,” Professor Hart continued, scanning his list. “You’ll be working with Joe Burrow.”

I didn’t respond, hoping for some kind of cosmic intervention. Reynolds’s gaze found me anyway, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he looked at me.

“Joe Burrow.”

My blood ran cold.

Maddie audibly gasped beside me, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle her reaction. I couldn’t even look at her. Instead, I ducked lower into my hoodie, practically melting into my chair.

My heart plummeted.

Maddie turned to me, her eyes wide. “Oh no.”

The words hit me like a freight train, and my body instinctively tensed. My heart sank, my pulse quickening as the room seemed to close in around me.

I slid further into my hoodie, wishing the fabric could swallow me whole.

“Of all the people,” I muttered, my voice muffled.

I didn’t respond, instead pulling my hoodie up over my head and practically disappearing into the fabric. My face burned as the rest of the class murmured, a few curious glances thrown my way.

Maddie leaned closer, her voice low. “Y/N, this is fine. It’s fine. You can handle this.”

I peeked out from the safety of my hoodie, glaring at her. “This is not fine.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re overreacting. It’s just Joe.”

“Exactly,” I hissed. “It’s Joe.”

Before she could respond, Dr. Reynolds clapped his hands together, pulling the class’s attention back to him. “Remember, this project is about collaboration. You’ll be working closely with your athlete all semester, so make sure to establish good communication from the start. Now, if there are no questions, class is dismissed.”

I stayed rooted in my seat as everyone began gathering their things, my mind racing. There was no way I could do this.

Maddie stood and slung her bag over her shoulder, leaning down to whisper, “Go talk to him. Maybe he’ll switch you with someone.”

“That’s the plan,” I muttered, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

I shot her a point and Maddie shrugged. I waited until the room had cleared out, then made my way to the front where Dr. Reynolds was organizing his notes.

“Professor?” I said hesitantly.

He looked up, offering a kind smile. “Yes, Y/N?”

I shifted awkwardly, clutching my notebook to my chest. “About the project… I was wondering if there was any chance I could switch partners.”

His brow furrowed, and he set his papers down. “Switch partners? Is there a specific reason why?”

I hesitated, my mind scrambling for a professional-sounding excuse. “I just think… maybe someone else would be a better fit. Joe and I… we don’t really have a lot in common, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to… um, connect with him the way someone else might.”

Dr. Reynolds studied me for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Y/N, part of this project is about stepping outside your comfort zone. Learning to work with different personalities is a crucial skill in this field. Joe Burrow is one of the most promising athletes at LSU right now, and I believe you’re more than capable of handling this assignment.��

I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. “I understand this might feel challenging, but I’m confident it’ll be a valuable experience for you. Give it a shot, and if there are any real issues, we can revisit this conversation later in the semester.”

“Right,” I said weakly. “Of course.”

“Besides,” he added with a small smile, “working with someone like Joe is an incredible opportunity. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

I forced a tight smile, nodding as I backed toward the door. “Thanks, Dr. Reynolds. I’ll, uh, do my best.”

As I turned to leave, Maddie was waiting just outside the door, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face.

“Well?” she asked.

“No luck,” I grumbled, pulling my hoodie back up.

She shrugged, looping her arm through mine as we walked down the hallway. “See? The universe wants you two to work this out.”

I groaned, leaning my head against her shoulder. “You’re not helping.”

She laughed, giviI glared at her. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” she replied, linking her arm through mine as we started walking. “Come on, Y/N. You’ll survive. He’s just a guy. A very cute guy who just so happens to be your ex, but still—just a guy.”

But as we walked across campus, her words felt far from reassuring. Because deep down, I knew this wasn’t just about the project—or about Joe. It was about the way he still made me feel, no matter how hard I tried to forget.

“You’ll thank me later.”

I groaned, pressing my hands to my face. “Why do I feel like this is going to be a disaster?”

“Because you’re overthinking it,” she said, looping her arm through mine. “Come on. Let’s grab lunch. You’re gonna crush this project, and if he tries to make it weird, I’ll personally set Justin Jefferson on him.”

Despite myself, I laughed. Maddie always had a way of making things feel just a little bit lighter.

But as we walked out of the building, I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in my chest. Joe Burrow wasn’t just any project partner. And no matter how much Maddie tried to convince me otherwise, I knew this was going to be anything but simple.

“When are you guys going to meet?” Maddie asked me, walking by my side down the streets of the campus. We were doing our way to Malone’s.

“Probably still this week. Joe has the hardest schedule, but I know he has some free days this week. I kinda Remember.”

Maddie gave me a quick look, but she didn’t say a word. And it was ok, cause I know her enough to know what 's going on in her mind. And it was the same way with her: she knew what was going on my mind right now.

"You are not going to do that," she told me, as if her demand would change something I had already decided in my mind.

I didn’t answer, my mind already spinning with ideas to get out of this. There had to be a way to switch partners. Maybe Jamar could help me—he was Joe’s best friend, and I’d worked with him before — kinda met him when I was with Joe. He was always good at reading Burrow, especially. Maybe, just maybe, he’d pull some strings for me, cause I know that half of the girls from my class would kill to be paired with Joseph Lee Burrow.

I pulled out my phone, dialing Jamar’s number quickly. The phone rang once, twice...

“Yo, Y/N, what’s up?” Jamar’s voice came through the speaker, relaxed but friendly.

“Hey, Jamar,” I said, trying to sound casual but feeling the anxiety creep in. “Look, I need a huge favor. You know that media project for class, right?”

“Yeah, I’m in that class too. You got paired up with someone tough?” He asked me. “I wasn’t in the class today, got early practice this morning.”

“Well,” I hesitated, glancing over at Maddie who was watching me curiously, “I got paired with Joe.”

There was a brief silence on the other end, and then Jamar laughed. “Oh, man. That’s gonna be fun.”

I didn’t share his enthusiasm. “I don’t want to work with him, Jamar. It’s... it’s complicated, you know? Any chance you can make a switch for me? Just... I don’t know, talk to the professor or someone? Talk to the girl that got you!”

Maddie, still walking beside me, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “You’re not seriously asking Jamar to pull strings, are you?”

I shot her a glare, but she just laughed, clearly knowing what I was about to do.

On the phone, Jamar chuckled again. “I get it, I get it. But nah, I can’t really do that. You two gotta work it out. Besides, Joe’s a good dude. You’ll be fine.”

I felt my shoulders slump. “You’re not helping here, Jamar.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, you’ve got this,” he replied, his tone warm but firm. “But you’ll need to face it at some point, right? Might as well be now.”

I groaned, my frustration mounting. “You’re all against me, huh?”

“Not against you, just keeping it real,” Jamar said, laughing lightly. “But look, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides, you’ll have some good stories to tell after, right?”

I wasn’t ready to accept that yet, but before I could say anything else, Maddie swiped the phone from my hand, holding it to her ear before I could protest.

“Chase! It’s Maddie. We’re going to Malone’s now, you in?” she said, all casual and confident.

“Maddie!” I protested, grabbing at her, but she pulled the phone further from me.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. You need to face Joe,” Maddie continued to Jamar, ignoring my complaints. “We’re going to make sure you do, and I’ll be there to back you up. You’ll be fine.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Maddie just gave me that look—the one that told me she wasn’t about to let me off the hook.

Jamar’s voice came through the phone again. “Malone’s, huh? Yeah, sure, I’ll swing by. Should be a good time.”

Maddie grinned at me. “See? Jamar’s in. Now you just have to deal with the whole Joe thing, and we’ll all go get a drink. It’ll be a good distraction. You’re welcome.”

I sighed, defeated, knowing she was right. There was no avoiding Joe, and it seemed like I wasn’t going to get out of this project. “Fine,” I muttered, sinking into the nearest bench. “But you’re buying me a drink tonight, Maddie. I’m gonna need it.”

Maddie smiled, her arm linking through mine. “Deal. But remember, you’re facing your ex like an adult. No running away this time.”

I rolled my eyes, but there was no escaping it now. "You’re relentless, you know that?"

She just winked. "That’s why you love me."

[…]

The atmosphere at Malone’s was a mix of low chatter, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. It was the kind of place where everyone on campus went to blow off steam, whether it was for a burger or a beer. Maddie, Jamar, and I had been sitting at one of the wooden booths for over an hour, nursing drinks and nibbling on fries while we talked about the media class project.

Jamar had been surprisingly helpful, giving me tips on how to navigate the project with Joe—though he seemed to enjoy teasing me about it at every opportunity. Maddie, as always, was in her element, sipping on her drink and chiming in with her unsolicited (but not entirely unwelcome) advice.

“I’m just saying,” Jamar said, leaning back in his chair. “Joe’s not that bad to work with. Once you get past his, you know... personality.”

I shot him a look. “Oh, you mean his stubbornness? His perfectionism? His tendency to completely ignore other people’s input?”

Jamar grinned. “Exactly.”

Before I could retort, the door swung open, and in walked Justin Jefferson. His easy confidence turned a few heads as he made his way toward our table, spotting us immediately.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is," Jamar greeted, sliding over to make room for him. "What’s up, Justin?"

Justin slid into the seat directly across from Maddie, his eyes flicking to her before settling on the rest of us.“Not much. Just got out of a meeting with Coach. You know how it is." Justin said, His eyes flicked to her drink. “You already started without me?”

Maddie smirked, raising her glass. “You’re late. That’s on you.”

Justin chuckled, settling in as if he’d been there the whole time.

Maddie perked up immediately, smiling at Justin as if the rest of us had disappeared. "Hey, did you see the assignment? I got paired with you for the project."

Justin leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Yeah, I saw that. Guess we’ll be spending a lot of time together, huh?" His tone was casual, but the way he looked at Maddie made it clear he wasn’t just talking about work.

I couldn’t help but smile a little at their interaction. It was nice to see Maddie’s confidence in action, even if I wanted to shrink into my hoodie at the mere thought of working with Joe.

Justin turned his attention to me after a moment, his eyebrows raising. "So, who’d you get stuck with, Y/N?"

I hesitated, glancing at Maddie and Jamar for support. Maddie was quick to jump in. "She got Joe," she said with a grin, as if this were the most entertaining development of her week.

Justin’s eyes widened slightly, his smile turning into something more curious. "Wait, Joe Joe? As in, Joe Burrow? Your Joe Burrow? Didn’t you two have a thing?”

“He’s not my Joe,” I said quickly, my face heating up.

Jamar chuckled, and Maddie smirked into her drink, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

“It was a long time ago,” I muttered, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.

Justin leaned back in his chair, clearly amused. “Man, this just keeps getting better.”

“Look,” Jamar said, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m just saying, if you don’t want to work with Joe, you better have a solid plan. Dude’s serious about this stuff when it comes to football, and he’s not gonna let you off easy.”

I groaned, stirring my drink with the straw. “It’s not about him being serious. It’s about—”

“History,” Maddie interrupted with a sly smirk. “We all know the elephant in the room.”

I shot her a glare, but Jamar chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. History aside, you’ll be fine. Just keep it professional. Joe’s not the type to hold grudges.”

Before I could come up with a response, Jamar’s phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up, his face lighting up when he saw the name on the screen. “Speak of the devil,” he said with a smirk. “It’s Joe,” Jamar announced, holding up the screen for us to see.

“Put it on speaker,” Justin said immediately, leaning forward with interest.

“No, don’t—” I started, but it was too late. Jamar had already hit the speaker button and placed the phone in the middle of the table.

“Yo, Joe, what’s up?” Jamar said.

“Hey, man,” Joe’s voice came through the phone, low and steady. “I just got out of practice. What’s up with this project? Do you know who I’m paired with yet?”

Maddie and Justin exchanged glances, their eyes twinkling with amusement. I sank deeper into my seat, pulling my hoodie over my head in a futile attempt to hide.

“Not yet, huh?” Jamar replied, grinning at me. “Man, you’re gonna love this one.”

Joe groaned on the other end of the line. “I swear, if it’s someone who doesn’t take this seriously, I’m gonna lose it.”

“Don’t worry,” Jamar said, his voice full of mock reassurance. “Your partner’s... super dedicated. Really invested.”

Maddie coughed, barely stifling her laughter. Justin was no better, leaning forward with his hand over his mouth to muffle his amusement.

Joe sighed. “Great. Anyway, where are you? I’m starving.”

“We’re at Malone’s,” Jamar said casually. “You should swing by.”

There was a pause before Joe replied. “Alright, be there in ten.”

When the call ended, the table fell into a quiet buzz of excitement. Justin leaned forward, his gaze flicking between Maddie and me. “This just got a whole lot more interesting.”

I shot him a look, then turned to Maddie. “You’re not helping.”

Maddie shrugged, clearly unbothered. “I told you, you need to face him. Now’s your chance.”

I glared at Jamar. “Why did you invite him?”

“Because,” he said, leaning forward with a grin, “I live for the drama.”

Maddie nudged me. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just Joe. You’ll be fine.”

I didn’t respond, my mind racing as I tried to mentally prepare myself for what was about to happen.

A few minutes later, the door swung open again, and there he was. He looked like he’d just come from practice, a hoodie slung over his shoulders, hair slightly disheveled, but his sharp gaze swept over the room like he was always in control.

I froze in my seat, trying to shrink into the background as his eyes roamed over the tables.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Justin muttered under his breath, leaning forward with a smirk.

Jamar casually waved him over. “Yo, Joe, over here!”

Joe’s head turned toward the sound of Jamar’s voice, and then his eyes landed on me. He stopped mid-step.

He froze when he saw me.

His gaze locked with mine, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The noise, the people, the world—it all disappeared as we stared at each other.

Joe walked over slowly, his expression carefully neutral, but I could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes as he took the empty seat directly across from me.

“Sup,” Joe greeted. The space felt smaller now, the table between us an insignificant barrier.

“Hey, man,” Jamar said with a grin, clearly enjoying the tension that had settled over the table.

Joe’s gaze flicked briefly to Maddie, then Justin, before landing back on me. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his voice neutral, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something—surprise, maybe.

Justin, ever the instigator, wasted no time. “So, Joe, you know who your partner is for the big marketing project yet?”

Joe frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Not yet. They haven’t told me.”

“Oh, really?” Jamar said, feigning surprise. “Man, that’s weird. I thought for sure you’d know by now.”

Maddie stifled a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. I shot her a glare, but she just winked at me.

Joe glanced at Jamar, then at Justin, and finally back at me. His expression shifted subtly, realization dawning as he pieced it together. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the rest of the table seemed to fade away.

“You’re kidding,” he said, his voice low and edged with disbelief.

I looked down at the table, suddenly fascinated by the condensation on my glass. “Nope,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Not kidding.”

Joe let out a quiet, humorless laugh, leaning back in his chair. “Of course.”

Justin chuckled, clearly enjoying the drama. “This just got a whole lot more interesting.”

Joe ignored him, his focus entirely on me. “So, it’s you,” he said, his tone unreadable.

“It’s me,” I replied, finally meeting his gaze.

The air between us felt heavy, the unspoken history lingering like a storm cloud. Maddie broke the tension with a cheerful, overly chipper tone.

“See? This will be great! You two already know each other. It’s a head start!”

Joe shot her a look, and she just shrugged innocently.

Jamar leaned forward, grinning. “Come on, Joe. Don’t look so worried. Y/N’s great to work with. She’ll probably carry you through the whole project.”

Joe didn’t respond immediately, his eyes never leaving mine. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, quieter. “Yeah. We’ll see.”

Maddie cleared her throat loudly, cutting through the tension. “Alright, this is officially too much brooding for one table. Jamar, let’s order another round, yeah?”

Joe leaned forward slightly, his attention still on me, even as Jamar and Maddie launched into a debate about appetizers. “We should figure out a schedule for the project,” he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

“Yeah,” I replied, my throat dry.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he added, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Fine.”

Maddie shot him a look, then turned to Joe. “Look, it’s just a project. You’ll survive.”

Joe didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still on me. There was something in his expression I couldn’t quite place—like he was trying to figure out how to handle the situation without making it worse.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his tone resigned. “I guess we don’t have a choice.”

“Exactly,” Maddie said, her voice overly cheerful. “It’s gonna be fine. Right, Y/N?”

I forced a tight smile. “Sure. Fine.”

Joe’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he reached for the menu in front of him, clearly ready to change the subject. But the tension lingered, thick and unspoken, as we all sat there pretending this wasn’t as uncomfortable as it actually was.

Jamar, of course, seemed determined to make things worse. “Hey, Joe,” he said, grinning. “Remember that time we talked about working with people you had... history with? Funny how life works, huh?”

Joe shot him a glare, and I kicked Jamar under the table, but he just laughed, unfazed.

Joe nodded once, then glanced at Jamar. “You’re paying for my drink, by the way.”

Maddie leaned over to whisper, “You’re doing great, sweetie,” and I resisted the urge to groan.

Jamar laughed, but the awkwardness didn’t fade. I knew this project was going to be a challenge, but sitting across from Joe now, with all the unresolved tension hanging in the air, I realized just how difficult it was going to be.

I couldn’t take it anymore. The awkwardness, the stares, the weight of his presence—it was all too much. Pushing my chair back, I stood abruptly.

“I need some air,” I said, not waiting for a response as I made my way toward the door.

Behind me, I could hear Maddie murmuring something to Joe, probably trying to smooth things over. But I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

The cool evening air hit my face as I stepped outside, my breath shaky as I tried to collect myself. Working with Joe was going to be harder than I thought.

I leaned against the brick wall outside Malone’s, the faint buzz of conversation and clinking glasses filtering through the door behind me. The cool air helped calm the heat rising in my chest, but it didn’t quiet my thoughts.

What were the odds of being paired with Joe? It felt like the universe was playing some cruel joke on me, forcing me to confront something I wasn’t ready to face.

The reality of it settled in my chest like a stone, making it hard to breathe. I shouldn’t have reacted like that—I knew it. But seeing him, sitting across from me, brought back everything I’d tried so hard to bury.

The door behind me creaked open, and I turned my head slightly, expecting Maddie.

Instead, Jamar stepped out, his usual easy grin replaced by something softer, almost concerned.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the wall beside me.

Hey,” he said, leaning against the wall beside me.

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to look unaffected. “Hey.”

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The quiet between us was heavy, filled with everything I wasn’t ready to admit.

“You okay?” Jamar finally asked, his voice low.

I let out a shaky breath, my eyes fixed on the parking lot in front of us. “I’m fine.”

“Come on, Y/N,” he said, tilting his head to catch my gaze. “I’m not Maddie—I know when someone’s not fine.”

I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. Jamar wasn’t the kind of guy who pried, but he also didn’t let people off the hook easily.

“It’s just… a lot,” I admitted quietly, my fingers gripping the sleeves of my jacket.

He nodded, like he’d expected that answer. “Yeah, I figured. That’s why I came out here.”

He gave a slight nod, his face serious again. “Just don’t shut us out, alright? If you need to talk or need a distraction, we’re here.” He glanced back toward the door of Malone’s, then added, “Joe left, by the way. Said something about needing to clear his head. I think you both just need some space.”

I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or frustrated. Joe leaving only added to the uncertainty swirling inside me. “I guess that’s for the best,” I muttered, pushing myself off the wall. “I don’t know how much more I can handle right now.”

“Yeah, he’s complicated like that,” Jamar continued, his tone light, but his eyes were sharp, watching me closely. “He pretends he’s all chill and collected, but deep down? He’s just as messed up about this as you are.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “That’s comforting.”

Jamar bumped my shoulder lightly, his grin returning. “Hey, I’m just saying—he’s not some robot. You’re not the only one feeling weird about this.”

I didn’t respond, the weight of his words settling over me.

Jamar studied me for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I get that. I do. But listen, you don’t have to do this alone. You’ve got Maddie, and you’ve got me. And if you need me to keep Joe in check, I got you.” He smirked lightly, trying to lighten the mood. “He may be a little too quiet for his own good, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t make things awkward for you. And honestly, Joe’s not as scary as you think.”

“Debatable,” I muttered, earning a chuckle from him.

“Fair,” he said, stepping away from the wall. “But seriously, don’t let this eat you up. You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for.”

I watched as he walked back toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Oh, and Maddie’s probably in there plotting how to cheer you up, so brace yourself.”

Despite everything, I smiled. “Thanks, Jamar.”

He winked before disappearing back inside, leaving me alone with my thoughts—and a small, fleeting sense of hope.

As Jamar started to head back inside, I stayed a moment longer, trying to steady myself. I knew I couldn’t run away from this forever. Sooner or later, I was going to have to face Joe. And when that time came, I hoped I’d be able to handle it without letting everything fall apart.

But for now, I took a deep breath, and when I walked back through the door of Malone's, it felt like stepping back into a world where the past was waiting to meet me.

#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joeburrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #bengals #joe burrow angst #second chance romance #second chance love

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