#l think that should cover it for content warnings

[logaenhowlett]

SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I'M HEAD OVER HEELS - L.H.

Summary: What starts off as a simple favour to watch Laura’s cat sends Logan into a spiral as you continue to make your way into his life.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff - Logan is 100% whipped, Wade

A/N: 4.4k - my longest fic yet! Worst!Logan has my entire soul, I'd give anything just for that pretty smile. Title creds to Tears For Fears. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The familiar burn of whiskey stings the back of his throat. Logan rests his head against the couch, second-guessing his decision to babysit Laura's cat while she's enjoying her night out. Her tireless attempts of pestering him at last working in her favour so he can finally meet his 'copy-kitten' - her words.

A quick glance at the time reveals he should probably head out now. Logan rises, groaning as his muscles protest after weeks of just slumping around the apartment. Even Al had pointed out how lazy he'd become lately. And that unsolicited observation gave him half the mind to consider finding new roommates. But who was he kidding? As much as he also barely tolerated that one incredibly maddening little prick's incessant jibber-jabber, he wasn't going to find anything for what he's currently paying.

Soon enough, he weaves his way through the crowds, swerving past the shoulders of, frankly, one too many people absorbed by their devices to step aside for his large frame. Luckily, Laura's place isn't too far and he really appreciates that detail as the sound of thunder rumbles overhead. A faint ding emerges from his pocket and he retrieves his phone, reading the screen with a slight squint.

His boots soak the welcome mat as he fumbles with the door trim, locating the key according to Laura's text - making a mental note to remind her of personal safety later. Shivering, he shrugs the wet jacket off, tossing it over the armchair. His eyes dart around the room, looking for the damn cat, and for a moment, Logan wonders whether he's being pranked.

The pitter-patter of paws against the hardwood floor has him snapping his head to the little creature in question. The cat, or Leopold Alexis Elijah Walker Thomas Gareth Mountbatten - Leo, for short - he learns begrudgingly after Wade shoved pictures upon pictures to his face one particular day, stares at him with indifference.

Understanding the need to be left alone, Logan trudges towards the kitchen, swinging the fridge open. A small post-it stuck over a box of leftovers, reads "Knew you'd be hungry", has him scoffing, mildly amused that Laura had predicted his actions.

Minutes later, he sinks onto the couch, making brief eye contact with Leo, who's nonchalantly licking his paws. He's halfway through the bowl of pasta when the cat suddenly leaps onto the cushion next to him. Logan watches curiously, he's not terribly experienced around pets, hardly spending any time with Mary Puppins herself despite living under the same roof.

"Alright, here's the deal." He murmurs, "You stay outta my way and I stay outta yours."

Leo replies with a meow to which Logan nods, satisfied by the response. He hopes to god this cat has the same temperament as Dogpool and allows him to simply coexist till Laura returns. Intrigued by the smell, Leo slowly inches forward, gently nudging his head against the bowl.

"Don't think you can eat this, bub."

Leo seems to understand the implication and meows in defiance. With a sigh, Logan gingerly flexes his hand, stroking the cat's head. The act immediately has Leo purring in content, the desire to investigate the food long forgotten. And no one's there to witness the ghost of a smile that teases his lips.

The calm attitude only lasts an hour before Logan's biting back a string of profanities, frustrated by Leo's refusal to take his medication. He's thankful for his healing factor, for otherwise, he'd be covered in a litter of scars. How the hell Laura deals with this devil-of-a-cat is beyond comprehension.

There's no use in trying again. Leo clearly wants nothing to do with him or what he's hiding in his hand. The thought of seeking help crosses his mind, perhaps one of the neighbours is especially skilled in feeding pills to literal hellspawns. Logan tunes his hearing to the apartments on the floor. Old lady already asleep to her TV - no. A family of six attempting to eat dinner in peace - no. Two people about to - fuck no. Now he really wants a word with Laura about her living situation.

Just when he's about to give up, a recognisable melody reaches his ears - one he's unwilling heard Wade jam out to in the shower. This person swaying along to music seems far more approachable than anyone else in this building, and so he steps out, knocking on the apartment across from Laura's.

The door cracks open slightly, you peek your head out giving him a questioning look, “Um… hi? Can I help you?”

“Hey, sorry to bother you. But, uh… I’m watching Laura’s - your neighbour’s cat.” Embarrassment creeps into his cheeks as he points behind him, “He’s not takin’ his meds and uh do you… can you help me? Please?”

The look of absolute defeat paired with the remnants of red scratch marks on his arms has your heart clenching for this poor man, “Of course.”

When the door fully opens, Logan’s eyes widen reflexively at the state of your undress. There’s nothing evocative about it, yet he feels as though he’s intruding on an intimate side of you. One he’s definitely not privy to.

Your sheepish smile sends a wave of something indescribable through his body. He clears his throat, turning on his heel to lead you inside. Leo flicks his head up at the sound of footsteps, purring as if he hasn’t been driving Logan insane for the past hour.

You knew Laura had rescued the little guy a while ago, having run into her in the hallway the night she brought him home. Every interaction you’ve had presents him as the sweetest kitten in the world, so watching the distinct mark of dread on this stranger’s face has you stifling a laugh.

“What?” Logan asks, feeling a little self-conscious about the whole situation.

“Nothing. It’s just - Leo’s very friendly. Or at least, I thought so… what the hell did you do to piss him off?” You chuckle, kneeling a foot away.

“Piss him off? I was just tryin’ to give him the damn pills. Had no problem with me before that.” Logan’s fingers twitch as you approach the cat, wanting to protect you from the sharp claws the demon would surely attack you with.

Yet, to his astonishment, Leo innocently crawls into your outstretched arms. And Logan swears he saw a flicker of mockery come across the cat’s eyes as he peers at him, relishing your comforting embrace.

“See? He’s a sweetheart.”

The fondness in your tone almost has him believing your words. In no time, Leo’s fully cooperating with your gentle requests, happily taking the medication as if it’s the tastiest thing in the world.

Logan learns three things that night. One, your name. Two, that you have some innate ability to charm everyone around you - human or otherwise. Three, he absolutely couldn’t wait to see you again.

Logan tries to drain out the shouting match between his two roommates, ducking calmly as Al’s miscalculated spatula throw flies in his direction. Laura giggles next to him, entertained by the whole ordeal - Wade had accidentally left his cock ring plugged in the bathroom again, nearly short-circuiting the apartment.

“Hey! Kink shaming is very frowned upon, Althea.”

“You motherfucker! I almost got electrocuted by the toaster this morning!”

Logan grumbles to himself, knowing there’ll never be a quiet, normal day in this household. He turns to Laura, “Kid, you wanna grab some food later?”

“Can’t. I’m going out.”

He nods, not giving it a second thought. But as the memory of you flashes across his mind, he stops bouncing his leg, heart beating a little faster. It had been a whopping seven days since that interaction, yet every little detail has stuck with him since. In fact, he spent many hours pacing in his room planning some way to magically run into you.

“… What about the cat?” He asks, and when she raises her eyebrow, “Who’s watchin’ him?”

She replies with a shrug, “I’ll figure it out.”

The solution to his problem falls perfectly onto his lap. Oh, how his pulse quickens at the thought. And as if to not seem suspiciously enthusiastic, he pauses before speaking, “I can do it.” 

“Why?”

“Better than this shit.”

Laura considers him for a moment then agrees casually - she knows exactly why he offered. You had bumped into her a couple of days ago, offhandedly mentioning meeting Logan that night as you recounted the details of your week. It took mere seconds to put two and two together and realise he was incredibly smitten.

Logan spends a good fifteen minutes messing with his hair. Fuck, did it always spike up like that? The one tiny mirror in his room supposedly taunting him with each look over. A low tsk breaks the flood of self-criticism as he slams the door shut behind him, roughly brushing past Wade.

"Ooh, is that cologne I smell or are you just horny to see me?"

His teasing spirit immediately drops when Logan shoots him a glare, precisely throwing Al's spatula straight at his crotch.

"God - not the home office, peanut! Jim and Pam need protection!"

The walk to Laura's seems a lot shorter this time, some sort of nervous, giddy energy surging through his chest with each step. Logan bites the insides of his cheeks, feeling childish by the stupid smile daring to grace his lips just at the sheer thought of you. He can't remember the last time someone had drawn these kind of emotions from him. A part of him wants to cower in fear of rejection and self-doubt, and other? Oh, it's got your name written all over.

As soon as he reaches the hallway, all his senses are directed to your apartment. Confused by the silence he finds instead, Logan strains his hearing harder than ever. Hm, it's barely seven-thirty, maybe you're not home yet? Disappointment twirls around his mind, he sighs before opening Laura's door, convincing himself it's probably for the better.

To his surprise, Leo behaves quite well this time around - eating his food, taking his medication, and sticking with minimal efforts to annoy him. The black and white movie he randomly chose keeps his thoughts from drifting to you for the most part, though he can't help but wonder where you are at - he checks his watch - 10:38 pm on a Thursday?

Whatever hope he held onto paints him a fool as time slips by. He couldn't blame you, you didn't owe him anything. Logan runs a hand down his face, and despite his wavering relationship with Leo, he's at least grateful for the cat's company on this rather lonely night.

"Was a dumb idea, huh?" He mumbles, gently scratching Leo's ear.

Not ten minutes later, the jingle of something hitting the floor has him sitting up, intrigued. Logan pads over to look through the peephole, his heart fluttering at the sight of you. It doesn't take a genius to note your drunken state with the way you're cursing and fumbling with the keys. His hand rests against the doorknob, a flash of hesitation creeping in. Do you even want to see him right now?

Before he can psych himself out, his instincts make the decision for him. Logan's unsure of how to announce his presence, wanting to avoid any chances of scaring you. In hindsight, that task should’ve been deemed impossible when you flinch suddenly anyway.

"Logan! Shit - did I wake you up?"

He chuckles at that and before he can even respond, you fire off another question, "Wait, what're you doing here?"

"Laura's out. I'm on babysitting duty." Leo purrs from somewhere behind him in confirmation. Logan watches as you nod slowly, the keys once again sliding from your grasp, "Here, let me help you."

The two of you reach down, fingertips barely grazing as he reacts faster than you. He realises he's much closer than he anticipated when your perfume crowds his senses. Logan buries the urge to meet your eyes deep, deep down, instead unlocking the door with a clenched jaw.

He's very appreciative of the fact that you're too out of it to observe his actions. He wanders into the kitchen to fetch some water, a laugh nearly spilling out of him as you collapse onto the couch, "Hey, easy."

"I'm not that drunk."

"I believe you." He lifts the glass to your lips, words ever so soft, "But... how about we get you to bed hm? Doesn't that sound better than this couch?" When you blink at him tiredly, Logan knows it's so over for him - every shred of denial he held within now shattered by your very hands.

"Okay... "

He maintains some distance, assuming you'd stubbornly dismiss his attempts to guide you to the bedroom. Leaning by the doorframe, he doesn't try to hide the fondness in his expression as you settle under the covers.

"Night, Logan."

He hears you murmur beneath the blanket. It's almost natural how quickly he replies as if you've had this exchange hundreds of times before, "Good night, sweetheart."

A groan leaves you as the sunlight eventually breaches the comfort of your dark room. Rubbing your eyes, you blindly reach for the bedside table, hoping to find your phone. Instead, your hand retrieves a piece of paper while knocking over a bottle of Advil that definitely wasn't there earlier.

'Not that drunk' my ass. - L

The party hat lays tilted on his head. Logan hooks his finger onto the string, momentarily stopping it from cutting into his chin. On any other occasion, he wouldn't have been caught dead wearing the stupid thing, but it was Laura's birthday and once she pulled out the dangerous puppy eyes, there was no way he could refuse without being an asshole.

He's been leaning against the wall, thumb lightly tracing the rim of the beer bottle in his hand as he blankly stares around the room. Throughout the night, Logan's eyes impulsively shift in your direction, tuning into the conversations you're having with - what feels like - everyone but him.

Mary Puppins zooms by, stepping on his boots in the process. She must've caught a whiff of whatever Al's cooking. He bends down to pick up the stuffed Wolverine chew toy she dropped along the way, mildly concerned by the amount of slobber coating it.

"Nice hat."

Logan hears you chuckle behind him. He quickly turns around, tossing the toy somewhere far, far away before you could notice. And despite wishing all night for the opportunity to talk to you, he finds himself tongue-tied now that you're actually in front of him, awaiting his response with an amused expression. Get it together, dumbass.

"This thing? Well... it made the kid happy." He says, incapable of suppressing the smile that never fails to make an appearance whenever you're around.

The way your features soften releases a storm of arrows to his poor, old heart. Whatever anxiety he felt earlier increases tenfold, Logan takes a swig of his drink only to realise it's empty. With nothing to divert his energy to, he grips the bottle tighter, hoping the integrity of the glass is enough to withstand the force of his nerves.

"Thank you, by the way."

His eyebrows raise in confusion, "For what?"

"Few weeks ago. When I got home totally wasted." As your cheeks turn a little red at the memory, Logan wants to relive that moment over and over again.

"Oh... yeah." He huffs lightly, gaining a smidge of confidence from your flustered state. It gives him just enough courage to throw in a cheeky comment, "At your service."

He's mighty pleased when you giggle, biting his lip to control the proud smile aching to take over. Logan studies you briefly, and if he didn't know any better, you almost seemed nervous too? That possibility sends his mind reeling in excitement. Perhaps you also feel something here?

The shrieking sound of a party blower has him wincing, the plastic hits his cheek as Wade sneaks up right next to him with a wide grin, "Sugar bear! Don't mind me, I overheard you tell Yukio about your date tomorrow. Now, spill. Who is this mystery man and does he have a twin by any chance? Brother or sister - daddy's not picky."

Logan's initial reaction to harshly shove the man aside dies in an instant when you laugh rather bashfully at the question. He prays to god it's another one of Wade's fucking jokes. However, that hope flies out the window as you hesitantly ramble on about this guy. Excusing himself, he leaves the apartment, ripping the party hat off in agony - not witnessing the guilt eclipsing your emotions.

Droplets of sweat linger at the ends of his hair as he places the last of Laura's cardboard boxes on the floor of her new apartment. After weeks of mulling it over, she decided to move a little further away, complaining about how rent was becoming too crazy. Logan offered to support her financially till she was good on her own, yet she strongly refused just as he expected.

Since she was no longer your neighbour, the chances of running into you dwindled over time. He saw you in passing last month when he came over to help Laura with apartment hunting. The logical part of his brain convinced him to not stick around, desperately clinging to the idea that you're not interested. But catching your expression fall as he dismissed your presence nearly made him run back to wrangle you into his arms, to whisper apologies and beg for forgiveness.

After an especially tiring day, Logan returns home, crashing onto the couch with a sort of emptiness as he stares at the ceiling. Both his roommates are muttering in the corner, afraid to call out his incredibly irritable mood of late - instead, walking on eggshells whenever he's around. It seems that Wade loses the hushed argument, settling a good arm's length away from him.

"Peanut." He drags, slowly, "Al and I are... worried about you. As much as this brooding, tough guy act is really doing wonders for my sexual wellbeing, I just can't let you Debbie-Down-Pour all over this parade."

"The fuck you want me to do?"

"You need a one-way ticket to pound town-" He chirps, and when Logan grunts angrily, Wade shrieks, shielding himself from any incoming attacks, "Don't hurt me!"

The aroma of coffee tingles his senses as he takes an exaggerated sip, ignoring the need to continue such an aimless, one-sided conversation. Across the table is one of Vanessa's acquaintances, Karen or Kira - he can't remember - mindlessly explaining why her previous dates didn't work out. Logan forces a nod here and there, humming in pretend acknowledgement while he concocts some plan to seriously bash Wade's head against the nearest wall.

In all honesty, he didn't know how the hell that bastard persuaded him to entertain this woman for the night, making a note to check his alcohol for any suspicious substances later. What he did know was that this was going as terribly as he thought. And while he might be awfully rusty in terms of dating, Logan's certainly not oblivious to basic body language cues. Deciding twenty minutes of this torture is enough, she hastily rushes out the building and that's the last of Karen he ever sees.

The grocery bags feel like cinder blocks in your hands as you walk down the street. Mentally scolding yourself for postponing this chore till the last minute, you huff in exhaustion, adjusting your grip every few seconds. A woman nearly bumps into you on her way out, you stagger backwards, watching her storm off. Startled by her rashness, you turn to glance at where she came from, gasping when you spot a familiar face.

“Logan?”

He snaps up, recognising that particular voice - your name leaves his lips softly. Mixed emotions swirl around his mind, yet, he can't help the way his heart jumps as you fill his senses, “Wha - what’re you doin' here?”

“I was just passing by... saw you through the window.” Your gaze drops to the half-finished cup of coffee opposite him, “Were you on a date?”

“Uh Wade - he...” Logan stutters for a moment, dumbfounded that you're even talking to him after his childish behaviour the last few weeks. He nods lightly as the unmistakable bullet of regret pierces his insides.

“It’s her loss anyway.”

God, he wants to apologise so badly. Your friendly attitude only serves to make him feel worse, but Logan thanks his lucky stars that you don't hate him. He definitely wouldn't have been able to handle any sign of resentment on your part - no matter how much he deserves it.

“What’s with the eggs?”

You laugh, looking down at the several cartons peeking through your bags, “I’m stress-baking.”

He's so lost in your eyes that it takes him a second to register your reply, nose scrunching in amusement, “Stress-baking?”

“Yes, it’s a perfectly valid activity.”

That draws a chuckle out of him. He raises his hands in defense, “I ain’t judgin’, doll.”

A comfortable silence takes over and Logan realises just how happy he is to see you again - how much he's missed you all this time. He opens his mouth to spill something out of pure impulse when you beat him to the punch.

“Why don’t you join me?”

It doesn't take much convincing and he's already fallen into a steady pace as you walk together - his fingers effortlessly hooking onto all the grocery bags. His chest threatens to explode when you lean towards him, moving aside for people brushing by. Logan wills his entire strength to not drape his arm across your shoulders in an effort to keep you safe.

Time becomes irrelevant when you're around. The frequency of his own laughter shocks him at first, but he's not really thrown off by the joy you bring out of him because - well, of course, you do. It's safe to say that Logan can't bake to save his life, though he doesn't mind this particular weakness as you giggle at his dreadful attempts to mix the cookie dough. Shamelessly, he watches you come closer, breaking into a tangent about proper kneading techniques - if you ask him to repeat any of it, he'd be stumbling over his words like a fool.

Eventually, he makes something that somewhat resembles your example. He dips his finger into the dough and lifts a small piece in your direction, "How's this?"

When you gently grasp his hand to lick the sweet mixture straight off, he thinks he's trapped in some wild daydream. Logan stares at you in surprise, cheeks turning into a telltale shade of red. Your hums of approval fall onto deaf ears as he remains frozen, wondering how you're so quick to move on from that bold gesture.

Every little thing you do stains his mind - from the way you dance around to soft music playing in the background, the way you focus all your attention on him whenever he speaks, even the way you warn him about the oven as if he could get burned.

His expression must've turned serious by how you suddenly pause, peering at him in concern. Bearing a rush of emotions, the words pour out of his mouth without hesitation, "I am so sorry."

"I was an idiot and I... avoided you 'cause I couldn't deal with these damn feelings-"

He stops.

He's revealed way too much. And judging by your face, that was definitely a mistake. Logan shuts his mouth, jaw hardening as he fights something heavy crawling up his throat. His eyes land on the door and all he wants is to escape from this shrinking room.

A whisper of his name fractures the glass cage he's built up around his heart. His boots seem to be cemented to the floor, unwilling to break free even as you still in front of him - a mere breath away. Your hands rest against his cheeks, slowly turning his head so he's compelled to meet your tender gaze.

Not a single sound slips out of him before your lips are on his. His heart pounds in his chest, burning at sensation. Logan leans into the kiss, hands settling on your waist, holding you as close as he can. Relief washes over him, he tilts his head slightly to deepen his movements - his breath nearly giving out when you whimper softly.

The loud ding from the oven has you pulling back with a faint chuckle. Logan smiles too, letting out a sigh as he lays his forehead against your shoulder. He presses his lips to your collarbone, whispering against your skin, "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"The cookies... or us?"

He gently pokes your side at that comment, mirroring your dazed look. Between the quiet exchanges of laughter, he knows exactly what this means - what you mean to each other.

His muscles feel looser with each stride, embracing the breeze tangling with the warmth pooling inside from your touch moments ago. Logan makes his way home with a kind of ease he hasn't felt in forever, chewing on a cookie you insisted he taste.

As he walks through the door, Wade rests his chin on his hands, “So… how did it go? I see you’re enjoying the post-bang baked goods.”

Logan rolls his eyes, not wanting his mood to be spoiled. He grumbles under his breath, your name accidentally slipping out.

"You ran into angel-reincarnate?" Wade gasps, "Oh. Finally putting that horse cock to good use." Clapping excitedly, he follows after Logan, "Wait a second, this fic is tagged fluff. There'll be no fucking on my watch, partner!"

Logan slams the door to his bedroom behind him, blocking out Wade's muffled chattering.

"She had you cosplay as Paul Hollywood all night? Goodness! The power she possesses. I must gain all her secrets."

"Fuck off."

Wade grins to himself, quickly pulling his phone out to shoot off a text.

Wade: Project-Wolvie-Gets-Pussy is a go!

Laura: We are NOT calling it that.

[norrisainz33]

dream job || ls18

summary: you are starting the 2025 season in your dream role, as a f1 journalist and end up meeting a certain aston martin driver who sweeps you off your feet

pairing: lance stroll x journalist!nonfamous!reader

fc & warnings: none & some hate comments

requested: yes! thank you for your patience anon!!

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

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liked by yourbff, friend1, friend2, friend3, coworker, skysportsf1, yoursibling, and 432 others

ynuser: grwm for the first day of my dream job! so excited to cover f175 with skysportsf1 today 🤍

p.s thanks to friend3 for letting me borrow my outfit and yourbff for the hair and makeup

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yourbff: thats my best friend!!!! here before you become the most popular journalist in the game

ynuser: an og fan! thank you sm bestie

friend3: outfit looks so good omg 😭

ynuser: thank you 😭😭 i appreciate you so much

friend3: couldn’t let my bestie go out there and not serve tf

friend1: soooo coool!!!!!! [liked by ynuser]

skysportsf1: can't wait to see you there!

ynuser: looking forward to it admin 🫶🏻

friend2: i will be watching the red carpet to try and get a glimpse of you bb

ynuser: if you see me please take a picture 😫

yoursibling: don't blow up and pretend you don't know us no more pls

ynuser: how could i ever?!

ynuser has posted to their story

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yourbff: im trying so hard not to fangirl but is that OLLIE AND ESTIE?! AND LANCE

ynuser: yes!! it is!!!!!! not fangirling was incredibly hard. you'll also NEVER guess what happened

yourbff: screaming already - what happened?!

ynuser: after we stopped recording lance told me that he really liked the questions i asked and that he hopes to see me with the media at the races

yourbff: SHUT UP! GIRL

ynuser: and then ofc i forgot how to be normal and told him that he hasnt seen the last of me and then he said and i quote 'i hope thats true.' and then left

yourbff: if i didnt know any better id say he was flirting?

ynuser: literally no way he was just being nice

yourbff: its ok bestie ill be delulu enough for the both of us

friend3: ollie bearman the man that you areeeeeee

ynuser: he was so goofy silly im such a fan

user1: fire content this is going to do numbers on f1twt

friend1: OMGOGMOGMMfgajfgg

ynuser: same

friend2: I SAW YOUR INTERVIEW WITH LANCE!!!!!! AND LANDO??!!?@?@?@?@??@? A N D THE LEWIS HAMILTON????

ynuser: ahhhh you saw them?!?!

friend2: yes!!! you're all over socials for making lance and lando giggle

ynuser: that would explain all the new followers hahaha but seriously all of the drivers were so kind im so excited for the rest of the season. bahrain can't come soon enough

yourcoworker: never gonna get used to this

ynuser: me neither. definitely going to take time to sink in

user3: loved your interview questions! truly such unique ones and you can tell the drivers really appreciated it!

user33: how the heck did u get this job

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estebanocon: why do you need this information mon ami?

lance_stroll: science! research!

estebanocon: mate

chloestroll: ..... care to share w the class what this means?

lance_stroll: nope :)

chloestroll: you know that’s not gonna fly

lance_stroll: 😔

chloestroll: TELL ME!!!!!!

lance_stroll: fine!!!!!

lance_stroll: skysports got a new interviewer and she asked really good questions and was really pretty and we chatted a little and i can’t stop thinking about her ok. let a man live

chloestroll: 👀 trying to be nonchalant about this

lance_stroll: see this is why i didn’t want to tell you

pierregasly: kika says it was y/n y/l/n! that is if you mean the girl that asked the funny but really good questions

lance_stroll: yes thats her! thanks pierre or should is say thanks kika xxoo

pierregasly: she says you’re welcome but that you’re gonna have to spill the beans abt what is going on here next time we hang out

lance_stroll: deal

flavybarla: 🤨

lance_stroll: 🤭

fernandoalo_oficial: ask the social media team they'll know

lance_stroll: i'm scared to bc you know they'd make me do like 2 tikoks in return for the info

fernandoalo_oficial: fair

ynuser has posted to their story

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yourbff: obsessed with the duality of the groutfit from target and the insanely fancy drinks you're drinking in this last slide

ynuser: i felt a bit out of place in the restaurant in my little tj maxx dress but he was so insanely sweet it didn’t matter

yourbff: i’m sure you looked stunning bestie. PLEASE spill the beans about your DATE

ynuser: if you had told me it was a dream i would have believed you! like we’ve been texting for a couple weeks but idk i was worried about how it would be in person but talking to him was so easy it felt like we had know each other for forever

yourbff: 🥹🥹🥹 obsessed. are you going to see him again?

ynuser: he did ask me if we could go out again 😭

yourbff: YESSSSSSSSSSSSS I STAN THIS SO HARD

user33: man didnt know being a journalist meant you could afford 5 star restaurants... must be nice

lance_stroll: thanks for taking a chance on me and coming out tonight

ynuser: thank you for inviting me out! i had a really lovely time getting to know you better

lance_stroll: likewise! i’d really like to keep getting to know you 😅

ynuser: it’s a good thing i feel the same way

friend3: was this the dinner and drinks with you know WHO?!

ynuser: yes and it was incredible 😭

yourcoworker: longest day of my entire life. running from the airport directly to the track is not for the weak

ynuser: no for real. our sleep schedules are going to be crazy but it’s going to be so worth it

user1: looking forward to seeing your interviews!

friend2: what is your life these days... a jet setting super star u have become

ynuser: pleaseeeee i am still just little old me

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user28: you’re really spoiling whoever this is

user18: SOFT LWUXNHEVFOW NG IRNG

user18: sorry let me calm down

chloestroll: looooook it’s my favorite girly

lance_stroll: already trying to steal her from me huh

chloestroll: yes! she’s the sweetest little thing ever 🥹🤍

user19: the miami gp better be good to you this weekend i swear

ynuser: i love loving you

lance_stroll: these past few months have been the best of my life

ynuser: same 😭🤍

user33: did you…… get this girl a birkin?????? gotta be a gold digger im

estebanocon: i’m really happy for you mate

lance_stroll: i appreciate you so much mate. thanks to you and flavy for making her feel so welcome last weekend 🤍

estebanocon: you both are always welcome to visit us when we have time off ❤️

yourbff: who is that cutie

lance_stroll: my girlfriend 😉

yourbff: she was mine first 😔

user21: how will i ever survive knowing you’re off the market

user29: i’m taking bets that this is that journalist from skysports

ynuser has made a post

liked by astonmartinf1, yourbff, user1, skysportsf1, your coworker, lance_stroll, chloestroll and 11,345 others

ynuser: imola - you were a dream. make sure to catch my interviews from the weekend over on skysportsf1!

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user1: you’ve really bewitched me this season i think you’re my new favorite media person [liked by ynuser]

lance_stroll: 😍 [liked by ynuser]

ynuser: ❤️‍🔥

user18: i’d know that lance stroll hair in slide 3 anywhere

yourbff: LOVEEEEE this pretty girl

ynuser: bestieeeeeeee thank you 😘

user33: the glow up you’ve had is interesting….. wonder where all these nice things have come from….. seems like a certain billionaire..

flavy.barla: obsessed actually

ynuser: and i’m obsessed with you 🥹

skysportsf1: catch y/n recaping the weekend over on our page! [liked by ynuser]

user12: need outfit details stat

friend3: there are so many people here not sure how to act normal

ynuser: just be you bbgirl

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user33 and 18,375 others

f1gossip: flavy, alex and y/n have all arrived at the monaco grand prix! y/n y/l/n, sky sports correspondent, is rumored to be the girlfriend of lance stroll and has been spending a lot more time in the paddock and with flavy and alex when she’s not reporting.

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user1: god they’re so beautiful

user2: the ultimate trio

user3: i wish i could be part of their friend group

user33: i s2g this girl is just using lance for his $$$

user1: get a life and leave her be

user99: i have noticed that he’s very clearly giving her stuff. like if you look at her posts before they were together she was not dressing like the rest of the wags and now suddenly she is?

user28: this is the happiest i’ve seen lance in like literal years stfu and stop being mean to her

user33: she just wants the influence.. have you seen how much more traction her interviews get now?

user19: being mean isn’t gonna make lance like you user33 like be so for real rn

user18: omg y/n made the wag page this is huge

user20: pleasseeee someone tell me where alex’s dress is from

user11: they’re all literally glowing wow

lance_stroll has made a post

liked by astonmartinf1, ynuser, estebanocon, chloestroll, fernandoalo_oficial, pierregasly and 523,496 others

lance_stroll: with love from summer break ft my favorite person in the whole world 🤍

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fernandoalo_oficial: looks incredible! hope you two had the best time 💚

lance_stroll: we did! looking forward to seeing you soon mi amigo

user18: looks like the vacation of a life time

ynuser: i love you my handsome man

lance_stroll: i love you gorgeous girl

yourbff: cutie patooties i love you both so much

lance_stroll: we love you so much

ynuser: 🤍🤍

chloestroll: thanks for letting me crash your vacay for a few days

ynuser: seeing you was one of my favorite parts 🤍

lance_stroll: it’s always wonderful spending time with you and scottyjames31

user11: honestly this is my royal family. you two are goals idc what anyone else has to say

user23: i can’t wait to see you back on track

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!!! likes and reblogs appreciated🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[trashytracktales]

omg I LOVE your writings, its my first time ever requesting one, hope u can write it (if u dont like it i would completely understand)

i was thinking about some lando thing, where his girlfriend is reading some spicy book and he accidentally reads some lines and the room gets hot lol, and when everything its done he is just the fluffiest boyfriend of the world

hope u are doing good🩵

By the book | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── I genuinely had so much fun with this one, thank you so much for the request. Hopefully this is a nice first experience 😉🤍

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── When boredom leads him to a new world, intense and full of possibilities, Lando wants to prove to his girlfriend that despite the perfect moments in her erotic books, the real deal is still better than fiction.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, established relationship, fluff & smut, descriptive language, fingering & oral ─ (f)receiving, unprotected sex, swearing, edging, teasing, roleplay elements, Max F. cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 3.7k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 19, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Guys! I’ve got a couple more one-shots coming your way before the year wraps up, and I just wanted to thank you all so much for your patience and support. It means the world to me 🤍

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE FAINT GLOW from Lando’s monitors is the only light in the room, casting faint shadows over his side of the bed. It’s pretty late — later than it probably should be for him to start a streaming session — but Max insisted, and Lando figured it was either this or mindlessly scrolling through his infinite feed until falling asleep. His headset lies next to his keyboard, untouched, as he waits for his best friend to finish whatever pre-stream rituals he’s currently busy with.

From the en suite bathroom, the sound of running water echoes like ambient noise, muffled by the walls yet delicate, while his girlfriend showers. He glances at the door, thinking about how she had kissed him on the forehead just a few minutes ago, hair piled on top of her head in that messy bun he secretly loves. She had told him to have fun streaming, flashing him a sweet smile that made him wish she weren’t about to leave him alone to his boredom.

Lando sighs, spinning slightly in his chair, his gaze randomly falling to the nightstand on her side of the bed. A stack of books rests there unbothered, as it always does, each spine a different color. She goes through them so quickly that he can never keep up with what she’s reading now versus what she finished last week, that's why, normally, he doesn’t pay them much attention. But tonight, in the thick silence, with Max still not ready and the hum of the bathroom as his only company, he reaches for the book at the top of the stack.

The cover is intricate and inviting — soft, watercolor-like strokes of flowers in muted tones frame a bold, serif title. There’s no hint of what it’s about, and when he flips it over, the description on the back isn’t much help, either.

“Vague as hell,” he mutters under his breath after reading it.

He flips the book open, thumbing through the pages, noticing that she's halfway through it, with a scattering of sticky tabs peeking out from various places. A glance at the pages confirms his girlfriend’s habit of underlining sentences and jotting tiny notes in the margins. He smirks to himself, picturing her curled up on the couch, pen in hand, diligently marking her favorite parts, as she always does.

He stops at one of the tabs — a pink one — curiosity getting the best of him. The text beneath is neatly underlined, with a couple of notes scribbled faintly in the margin. His eyes skim over the words, and then he freezes, blinking at what he’s just read.

His hands roamed my bare skin with a deliberate slowness, mapping every curve, every dip. I gasped when his fingers dipped lower, teasing just enough to make me squirm beneath him. “Patience, my love,” he murmured against my neck, his voice rough with desire. “I'll give you what you need.”

Lando’s mouth goes dry, while his eyebrows shoot higher on his forehead. His fingers tighten slightly on the book as his eyes dart to the highlighted lines. She’s underlined “I'll give you what you need” and scrawled something next to it — he squints to make it out.

‘OMG. The tension here is insane,’ it reads, followed by ‘On. My. Knees’.

His pulse quickens, and he feels a flicker of heat low in his stomach.

Suddenly, Lando realizes how intimate it is to rummage through her annotations, as they are pure, unfiltered emotions, evoked by scenes that obviously awakened something in her when she read them, and now he feels way too guilty to continue.

But not enough to stop.

He flips ahead, stopping at another pink tab, as if he's on autopilot, guided by sheer curiosity alone.

My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, until there was no space left between us. His mouth was everywhere — on my lips, my collarbone, the sensitive skin of my nipples. I trembled as he kissed his way lower, his tongue leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I moaned his name, breathless, as he looked up at me with a smirk that promised more.

Lando swallows hard. He shifts in his chair, hyperaware of the heat creeping up his neck. He tells himself to stop, to close the book and put it back, but he can’t seem to help himself.

“You liked that, don’t you?” he asked in a whispered tone. I whimpered in response, my nails digging into his shoulders as my body arched into his touch. “You did, my good girl,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. “Keep being good, and you'll get to cu—”

He sucks in a sharp breath, snapping the book closed. His mind betrays him, conjuring images of her beneath him, her breath hitching the way it does when he teases her, her hands clutching at him as she whispers his name in pleasure.

His jaw clenches, and he drags a hand through his hair, all too aware of the way the air has changed inside the room. Luckily, the vibration of his phone on the desk jolts him back to reality. He startles, nearly dropping the book in his lap.

Scrambling to grab his phone, he sees a text from Max:

“Shit,” Lando mutters under his breath.

He rushes to put the book back where he found it, his movements momentarily clumsy. He’s acutely aware of the way his body feels now — tense, restless, hot — as he makes himself more comfortable in his chair, tugging his headset over his ears.

The monitor flickers to life as Max joins the call, his voice loud and cheery in Lando’s ear. “Finally, mate! Thought you fell asleep or something.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando replies, his voice a little strained. “Let’s just get started.”

By the time she's done with showering and coming out of the bathroom dressed in one of his oversized t-shirts and towel-drying her hair, Lando is fully immersed in his racing game. She pauses in the doorway, watching him for a moment with a small smile on her face, and he catches her eye briefly, following her as she crosses the room, the t-shirt swallowing her frame entirely. He gives her a quick nod before returning his focus to the screens, while she climbs onto the bed and grabs the book from her nightstand, settling in against the pillows to read.

At that, Lando finds himself smirking.

It’s hard not to, knowing what’s tucked between those pages now. His fingers twitch on the steering wheel, but he keeps driving, throwing himself into the rave to avoid getting distracted.

“Mate, you’re lagging behind,” Max calls out through the headset, breaking Lando’s focus.

“Yeah, mate. Don't worry, I’m here,” he replies, steering his car to catch up.

Time passes in a blur of laughter, strategy, and the occasional curse as he and Max trade wins and losses. At some point, she gets up from the bed, her book left open and facedown on the comforter. Lando watches out of the corner of his eye as she pads over to him, stopping just out of frame.

“Want some tea?” she asks quietly, her voice careful not to interrupt his live stream.

Lando glances up at her briefly, his lips curling into a small smile. His hand leaves the steering wheel, trailing to the back of her thigh, his fingers traveling up slowly, squeezing the soft curve of her ass.

“Yeah,” he whispers, the word leaving him on a smirk.

Her breath catches in her throat at his touch, and she shoots him a pointed look, though the pink dusting her cheeks betrays her.

She swats his hand away lightly, protesting quietly, “Behave,” before disappearing into the kitchen.

TWO HOURS LATER, the game session finally winds down. Lando thanks the chat, throws a parting joke at Max, and shuts down his stream with a satisfied sigh. He swivels in his chair to find his girlfriend still awake, her book now resting on her stomach while she scrolls idly on her phone.

She glances at him and smiles kindly, watching as he heads to the bathroom, but when he gets back a few minutes later, he’s wearing nothing but a fresh pair of boxers and a wide smile. His skin glows faintly from the shower, and water droplets cling to the sharp angles of his collarbone.

Lando approaches the bed slowly, his gaze fixed on her. She looks up from her phone as he slides in beside her, his presence warm and familiar. Without a word, he takes the book from her stomach, his fingers brushing hers lightly as he closes it and sets it back on the nightstand. Then, he leans down, brushing his lips over hers in a kiss that’s soft but full of intent — definitely not the kind that he uses to send her to sleep. Quite the opposite. It makes her hum against his lips, her hand coming up to rest lightly on his chest as she kisses him back.

“You’re still wet,” she notices, pushing Lando lightly to look at him.

When he pulls away, his voice drops, small but teasing. “We can both be,” says Lando.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes, “Yeah, not tonight, buddy. You took too long, and I’m sleepy from all the reading.”

“Come on, just wrap your legs around my waist, and pull me closer, until there is no space left between us,” he murmurs the words deliberately.

For a second, her heart skips a beat, her eyes widening slightly as she registers his sentence. Blood rushes to her cheeks and beyond, her pulse quickening.

“What?” she asks, giving him a puzzled look.

Lando’s smirk deepens. He leans closer, letting his breath fan over her ear as he continues, his tone overly suggestive. “What? You don’t want my mouth everywhere? On your lips, your collarbone, the sensitive skin of your nipples?”

Her breath hitches, and her lips part in surprise. Her mind starts spinning as the words he’s quoting — the ones she underlined so carefully in her book — fall from his mouth.

“Lando,” she says cautiously, her voice shaky.

“Hm?” he asks innocently, his fingers ghosting over her hip beneath the t-shirt. “I hope it's okay, I’m just trying to remember what you liked so much. What else was there? Something about… good girls?”

She swats at his chest, but there’s no real force behind it. “You’ve been reading my stuff!”

His laughter is quiet, but there’s heat in his gaze as he leans down to kiss her again, this time deeper, as if he has a purpose.

When Lando pulls back just enough to catch her gaze, his eyes are glinting with mischief. His hand trails up her side, his thumb slowly brushing the soft curve of her waist through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

“And? What’s that about, baby?” he asks. “Don't you want to be my good girl?”

She lets out a soft laugh, a mix of flustered and amused, and presses a hand to his chest. “For the record, you’re not allowed to touch my books anymore,” she says, trying to sound stern but failing miserably when her cheeks flush under his intense gaze.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls, leaning closer, his lips brushing her skin. “I think I learned a lot. Like how you’re into being told what to do, and being touched like this,” he continues, tracing the pads of his fingers up and down her body.

“Lando,” she protests, but her voice wavers, her breath hitching when his teeth graze the sensitive spot just beneath her earlobe.

“You marked all the good bits for me,” he says, his mouth trailing along her neck, placing soft, lingering kisses there. “Made it so easy, really.”

She shakes her head, trying to maintain her composure, but the warmth of his lips and the purposeful way his hands roam her body make it impossible. “You’re being ridiculous,” she whispers.

“And you’re so cute when you’re blushing,” he counters, his lips hovering just above hers. His tone shifts, teasing, giving way to something more profound. “Just know that if you ever want to recreate something from your books... all you need to do is ask, yes?”

Her breath catches as Lando’s fingers find the hem of her t-shirt and tug it upward. She lifts her arms without hesitation, letting him pull it over her head and toss it aside.

“And if you can't tell me, just underline the scenes,” he continues, smirking down at her. “I'll figure it out.”

“Lando…” her voice is much softer now, her eyes searching his, but he silences her with another kiss. Slow and lazy, his tongue dancing with hers on a rhythm only they know.

His hands move over her bare skin, stopping on her waist, then continuing until one of them curls around her neck, “My good girl,” whispers Lando against her lips, echoing the words from her book. “What should I do with you?”

She laughs softly, but it turns into a gasp as his lips leave hers, trailing down over her collarbone, while he squeezes lightly at her neck. He pauses to nip at the delicate dip at the base of her throat, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin. She smells like her vanilla body lotion, a faint scent that drives him wild.

“You don’t—” she tries to say something, but his mouth moves lower, and her words dissolve into a soft moan as he presses kisses across the swell of her breast, moving his hand on top of it to squeeze the flesh there.

“Relax, baby,” he says, looking up at her briefly, his expression a mix between adoration and pure need. “Just let me play by the book, yeah?”

Her cheeks burn at the intensity in his gaze, but she doesn’t look away. Her hands find his shoulders, holding onto him as his kisses travel lower, across her stomach, his tongue darting out to trace wet patterns against her skin.

When he reaches the waistband of her shorts, he glances up again, his fingers toying with the elastic. “Can I?” he asks softly, his voice full of want.

She nods, her breath shaky, and lifts her hips to help him slide them down her legs.

Lando kisses along her inner thighs, taking his time, savoring the way her body reacts to every little, torturous touch. She’s already trembling under him, anticipation coiling in her stomach as he hooks his arms around her thighs, spreading her legs wider.

“So ready for me, hm?” asks Lando, reaching for a pillow, and sliding it beneath the small of her back, adjusting her gently until she’s perfectly positioned for him. “Every time I open your pretty legs, fucking hell.”

She nods, chewing on her lower lip as she feels his hot breath falling over her skin. The first swipe of his tongue along her slit has her gasping, her head falling back on the mattress, unable to keep her eyes on him. Lando groans, the sound reverberating through her, his movements teasing, as always.

Her hands find his hair, threading through the damp strands as she arches toward him, desperately wanting to feel the heat of his tongue on her.

He looks up, his lips glistening while smirking. “Better than your book so far?”

“Mhm,” she breathes, her voice catching as he dips lower, his tongue working in a rhythm that has her eyes rolling.

He breathes heavily as he runs his tongue over her clit, teasing her hole with the tip. It's too much for her, yet still not enough to make her body shudder, but only ache for more instead. Luckily, Lando doesn’t stop, his hands gripping her hips to hold her in place as he gives himself entirely to her, the soft sounds she makes driving him on.

Patiently, he brings his fingers between her folds, opening her even more, little by little. When he pushes in the second finger, she moans his name again, which encourages him to curl them inside her, feeling her pussy tighten around him, the sound alone making him so painfully hard.

Lando’s mouth doesn’t leave her for a long while, drawing every gasp, every shudder from her as if it’s his life’s purpose. His tongue flicks, teases, and presses, his movements confident and practiced but still reverent, like he’s savoring her in a way words could never describe.

She’s close, and Lando knows it from the way her thighs tighten around his shoulders, and the way her fingers tug at his hair, grounding herself as the pleasure builds higher and higher. It makes him hum against her wetness, the muffled sound forcing a loud gasp out of her. But right when she approaches the edge, his mouth pulls away, leaving her breathless and shaking.

“Why did you—Lando!” she starts to protest, but her words are cut off when he moves up her body, kissing a heated trail along her stomach, her breasts, and up her neck.

“Patience, baby,” he whispers, the word heavy with intent. “Isn’t that what your book said?”

She squeezes her eyes shut, her breath hitching as she remembers the very scene he’s playing out now. “I couldn’t care less about my book right now, Lando.”

He smirks, his hand sliding between her legs to tease her hole again, his fingers brushing over her sensitive heat with a featherlight touch. “Tell me what you want, then. I want to hear you say it.”

Her heart pounds, her mind is spinning, and the tears are so close from slipping out of her eyes. He's still quoting her stupid book, when he should be fucking her into oblivion instead. Even though now those words feel entirely different coming from his mouth, spoken in that low, rough voice that sends shivers down her spine, only makes her cry in protest when his fingers keep playing with her clit. The pressure he applies is measured enough to just keep her on the edge, but never pushing her over it.

“I want you,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Need you, please.”

“And if I ask you, pretty please, to say it again, will you?” his soft voice forces another moan to slip from her lips, his fingers dipping into her pussy, slow and teasing, feeling her walls constricting around them.

She nods, swallowing hard, “You,” she repeats, louder this time, her hips rolling against his hand. “I want you.”

Lando hums in approval, his lips curling into a satisfied smile as he leans down to kiss her, his fingers moving with more intent now. “So good for me, aren't you?” he asks against her lips, and the words make her whimper, heat pooling in her belly.

It doesn’t take long for him to position himself between her thighs, his body fitting against hers like they were made for each other. Unfortunately, he takes his time, teasing her with his length, dragging himself over her wetness, his eyes never leaving hers.

“So good and needy, is that why you read those books?” he asks, mostly curious than anything. “You need something to keep you stimulated all the time? Because if that's the case, we can—”

“Please, Lando,” she begs, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, while breathing heavily.

He chuckles, satisfied, “I've got you, baby, you know I do.”

His restraint snaps at her plea, and he pushes into her hard yet measured, his gaze locked on hers as he fills her inch by inch. Her head falls back, a broken moan spilling from her lips as he bottoms out, his hips flush against hers.

“Fuck, you wrap around me so good,” he mutters, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. He waits for her to adjust, his hands running soothingly over her thighs, her waist, and her breasts.

“Move,” she whimpers, her voice breathless as she drags her nails over his back.

He obeys, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm that has her arching beneath him, her body responding to his every thrust. He leans down, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that’s as much about love as it is about hunger — a desperate desire to show her that he can be whatever she needs him to be.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he breathes against her mouth. “Every inch of you.”

Her body rises to meet his with every thrust, their movements fluid and desperate as the tension coils tighter and tighter. His name falls from her lips like a prayer, and he drinks it in, his mouth finding the sensitive spot on her neck once again.

“Lan…” she cries out, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him even deeper inside her.

“Yes, baby. Wanna hear you,” he continues, his hand slipping between them to find the bundle of nerves that has her crying out again, her body trembling beneath him as his thumb circles around her clit. “Let go for me, come on.”

She shatters beneath him, her release washing over her in waves as she clings to him, her nails raking down his back. He follows moments later, her name a rough groan on his lips as he spills into her, his body shaking with the force of it.

This will always be better than anything, she realizes — better than any fantasy, any scenario, and any book. Just them, sharing each other in every possible way, then taking their time to come down. Together.

Their bodies are still tangled when Lando asks, “So? Was it better?” his voice is rough, but playful as he brushes a strand of hair from her face.

She laughs, her cheeks flushed, and pulls him down for one more kiss; of course he knew what she was thinking about.

“I think it might’ve been,” she teases.

“Oh? Might’ve?” Lando scoffs, his grin widening. “Guess we’ll just have to try again and make sure, then.”

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

MASTERLIST

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[jollyhunter]

24 Kinky Days with Dean x reader - Day 22.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW - MDNI! - includes explicit sexual content, Dean being naughty and goofy, teasing, praise kink, bit of fingering, a lil' spankin', biting, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it before u tap it!), softdom!Dean, Dean guiding you through a new s♡x-position, fluff, aftercare and also there's pizza (yes, that's a warning) - no use of Y/N - there's probably more so just let me know if I missed something - English is not my native language and I’m dead on my feet Contains brief reference to Dec.9 (Whip Stroke) and Dec. 16 (Roll Over Rule)

Summary: Your ideas of 'self-care' couldn't be more contradicting: Dean's craddling a pillow and munching on his cold pizza, while you go through your yoga routine next to the motel bed. The entire time he's watching you stretch and bend and arch your back with lingering eyes... until he decides you've had enough yoga. Time for a 'fun way' to relax.

Words: ~6,500 (yeah, I know, prepare for a lot of teasing, but it'll pay off)

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! Let me know in the comments what your favorite part was! <3 A/N: At this rate, I give up on the order of the prompts / days. 🥲 But I definitely want to complete the challenge! (Sorry for the long wait y'all!)

22nd Dec. - Yoga, Kama Sutra - potato, potahto

“Of course pizza beats yoga.” Dean scoffs, his eyebrows pinched together with a lazy shake of his head in disbelief. Like the audacity of you even questioning the superiority of fast food? Unbelievable.

“But- how can you even compare the two? That’s junk food. And this is like…” You think for a moment until you remember the right term, “Self-care. You should try it once.” You try to argue in hopes that this conversion might still turn to your favour. But you know you’re pulling on threads by now.

“Oh I do self-care.” He retorts gruffly, his eyes flickering down at you. And to proof his point, he stuffs a big bite of pizza into his mouth, munching on it while he continues, his words halfway muffled, “Food and beer’s my self-care, baby.”

“But-” You groan with a roll of your eyes but stop yourself there. If that man wasn’t halfway as fit as he is, you’d at least still have the trump card of health factor left. But truth be told, despite that, you didn’t have any more arguments, and you both knew it.

So in Dean’s eyes that settled it. His way of self-care is superior to yours. End of discussion.

His focus shifts back to his pizza and the old TV boxed in by a pair of wooden chairs. The smell of cold junk food mingles with the musty carpet that's infiltrating your nostrils everytime you get a bit closer to the floor. Gratefully the sweet cinnamon smell of one of those Christmas candles you had lit the moment you returned to your room, covers up most of the motels stale stench.

After Dean has been channel zapping through various Christmas movies, he finally gave in and tossed the remote control aside on the bed. The TV is running some ads in the background now and Dean is on his stomach stuffing his face with pizza, while you are on the ground next to the motel bed, doing your yoga session on a mat. "To relax," as you had explained to him. "Desperately needed after this case had turned out to be a damn goose chase all along." You added. And on top of that, the hard mattress you had to put up with for the past week did little to ease your bad mood or aching back pain.

By now, Dean had become used to your sporadic yoga sessions whenever time allowed it. Although it was still a mystery to him how this ‘weird hippie stuff’ was in any way relaxing to you, he always enjoyed watching you. And he’d made it a habit of his own to comment with a lick over his lips – perhaps even a low, appreciative whistle – and shamelessly lustful eyes taking in every detail of your body as you’re going through your routine, “Have I ever told you how lucky I am? Like jesus – you’re so fuckin’ flexible. Like some friggin’ contortionist. I bet you can even hook your foot behind your head.”

So, naturally, Dean isn’t really paying any attention to the TV. Even though the intro sequence of “Die Hard”, one of his favourite movies, is now playing.

As always his eyes are lingering on your stretchy outfit and how tightly your favourite colour wraps your body, highlighting every curve of yours, no matter where. The thin shimmer of sweat on your exposed skin and the way you seemed so in control and at the same time at peace. To him it felt like a big contrast to the moments of action where you’d cut down a vamp or plunge a stake through a pagan’s ribcage, your movements quick, precise and face and clothings always covered in the red aftermath.

He takes another bite of the pizza, attempting to distract himself, but his gaze keeps drifting back to you. Your rear in the air now as you switch into the Downward Dog pose. The soft moans and heavy breaths that slip your lips makes him chew slower. His mind now imagining you arching your body in other ways rather than yoga moves, while moaning his name and – Damnit, Winchester, get your mind out of the gutter.

“You having fun up there?” Your teasing voice rips right through his rather explicit picture of him going through some yoga poses with you at his mercy and he almost chokes on the mouthful of pizza. He forces it down with a swig of beer, while he gathers his thoughts sufficiently to reply with a cocky smirk, “Just enjoying the view.”

“Of course you do.” You roll your eyes but can’t help a soft chuckle before you switch to another pose.

From the corner of his eyes, he watches how you effortlessly stretch your legs apart just to roll over onto your stomach where you continue with propping yourself up on your hands, arching your back and then tipping your head back while pressing your stomach into the mat.

“Tell ya what,” he suddenly speaks up before he interrupts himself, stuffing the rest of the pizza crust into his mouth and swallowing it down. “You could probably do the whole Kama Sutra without breaking a sweat.”

You hold the Cobra pose when your chest briefly heaves from the huff that slipped your nose. “Horn dog.”

“Yoga, Kama Sutra – potato, potahto.” He snorts with a mocking tone, clearly starting to get annoyed from his fruitless efforts to distract you so far.

He shifts on the bed, propping his head up on the pillow in the crook of his arm to get a new angle on your curves. After watching you for a moment, he decides it’s time for a new approach.

He clears his throat before he muses in a sultry tone, “There’s also better ways to relax than yoga.”

While he licks his greasy fingers clean, he can’t help but appreciate the way the tight fabric of your yoga pants stretch over your curves again.

Still playing deaf, huh? A playful Cheshire smile forms on his lips when he finishes to suck his last digit with a obscene pop. He then continues in a demanding voice, “C’mere.”

“I’m not done yet.” You reply curtly, muffled slightly by the mat, your head now dropped down with your forehead resting on your folded hands.

He lets out an amused hum, “Oh yes you are.”

Within seconds he rolls off the motel bed to move on top of you, straddling your thighs and pressing down on you, pinning you against the mat.

You let out a surprised gasp, “Dean!”

But the only response you get is a cheeky “Heh-heh”.

When you feel his warm hands cup your butt cheeks and starting to squeeze and massage them, you lift your head to glance back over your shoulder at him. You give him your warning ‘seriously now?’ look, which he just deflects with a mock-innocent grin of his that said ‘what?’.

The way his palms squeeze firmly against your butt cheeks makes him let out a low satisfied hum in his throat. One hand moves to rest next to your head, supporting him as he leans down. His breath’s hot against your ear when he mutters, “This’ a lot more fun than that bullshit yoga.”

You want to bite back with a snarky comment about it not being bullshit at all – but your thought gets cancelled the moment his lips brush over the sensitive skin behind your earlobe, tracing a path of open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck. You let out a low shuddering breath, instinctively tilting your head for him.

But then a waft of his junk-food-slash-beer-laced breath hits your face and it instantly makes your nose scrunch up in a cute fashion.

“De, you smell like a dumpster.” You chuckle and reach with your hand over your shoulder to playfully shove his face away.

“Oh yeah?” He retorts with a smirk. Meanwhile his free hand snakes to the inside of your thighs, tight fingers sliding up under the stretchy fabric of your yoga shorts.

“Huh… only one way to solve it.” He mutters before he nips at your hand which had been pushing his face, giving the tip of your middle finger a short sharp bite that makes you gasp and immediately pull away.

He chuckles at your reaction and then straightens up to sit back on your legs. He inches further down to your calves, his eyes darting from his fingers wiggling under your short pants, up to your face again with a smirk on his lips. “I know what you’re thinking, sweetheart…”

Your anticipation’s building quickly. Feeling his fingers tracing so teasingly along the rim of your panties made the heat pool in your stomach and your mind throw all other plans for your remaining yoga session out the backdoor. And he damn well knew it the moment he brushed against the damp stain in the centre of your thin patch of fabric.

But then you let out a frustrated huff. He’d suddenly pulled his hand from between your legs to pat your ass with it, his glinting emerald eyes never leaving yours as he continues with a drawled “Nuh-uh.”

Then he leans over to the bed, his hand sliding into the pizza box where he fishes a remaining slice out. “Open wide.” He orders with a grin as he reaches with his hand over your shoulder. There he prods the tip of the pizza slice against your cheek, “C’mon, down the hatch. Commit a sin for me.” He quips with a feigned serious tone.

When you still look at him with that expression of befuddlement, he chuckles, his grin widening, “Take a bite, sunshine. Your breath’s my breath.”

You’re torn between being turned on by his words in some dirty twisted way and being utterly amused by them. It’s not like you were on a diet – heck, you sometimes eat so much junk food with all the cheap diners you’d hit every day on the road, it was a damn miracle you hadn’t gained weight yet.

“C’mon, Say aaaah.” He hums, still grinning from ear to ear as he prods the pizza slice against your lips.

After an amused snort, you can’t help but crack a grin of your own, “You’re a silly man, Winchester, you know that?” You finally give in and open your mouth enough to take a bite of the cold salami pizza.

“Yeah, but I’m your silly man.” He replies as he discards the pizza slice back into the box.

You swallow the bite down when his finger swipes over your bottom lip to clean away a streak of tomato sauce. His eyes follow his thumb’s movement, his touch gentle but the expression on his face more mischievous when he watches the tip of your tongue licking out to chase his finger to catch the bit of sauce.

You hold each other’s intense gazes, eyes darkened with something more. The sudden shift in atmosphere had you both still in your movements, taking in how the air between you had suddenly charged up.

Dean finally can’t take the tension any more and lets out a low growl from the back of his throat. He withdraws his finger, before giving your cheek a soft pat. “There’s my good girl.”

Your lips curl into a proud smile at his praise, “Only for you.”

A soft chuckle slips over his lips as he straightens up to sit back on your thighs again. His hands run down your back until they wrap around your hips, fingers trailing the hem of your yoga shorts. He hooks his fingers into the elastic band, slowly starting to pull them over your butt cheeks.

Your breath hitches when the cold air makes contact with your exposed rear. Next moment you feel his teeth dig into the soft flesh of your left bum cheek which triggers a short surprised yelp of yours.

“It was just too tempting.” He chuckles against your skin before he lets go of your butt with a wet-smooch to the red mark and straightens up again.

He pats the spot where he’d just claimed you, with his hand, “Lift up your hips, sweetheart.”

As you wiggle underneath him, he gets up on his knees, his weight now lifted off you to aid you with it. He leans forward to get a better hold on the fabric to properly pull the yoga pants along your panties down towards your knees.

“There we go… Now hold still for me, sunshine…” He mutters while his hands move along your skin.

A shiver runs through your body as you feel the only thing between you and him being taken from you, how you feel the fabric brush down your legs until you are completely exposed for him. Exposed and at his mercy. And damn it made your breath hitch from feeling vulnerable, as much as excitement.

After his hands had traveled further down, taking your pants and underwear with him, he discarded the redundant pieces of clothing to the side.

Finally satisfied, Dean slides down your legs again until he’s sitting on your calves, his hands on the back of your thighs. “Now where was my good girl’s cute little butt again.” He comments as he gently palms the soft globes of your cheeks with his smile never leaving his lips.

You groan softly and your eyes flutter closed, your body practically melting into the yoga mat under his touch.

“Oh, right, there it is.” He squeezes, his large hands massaging the flesh before he suddenly gives you a firm spank.

“Jesus-!” You yelp up at the unexpected sharp smack, your eyes wide open now as you whip your head to the side to stare back at him.

“Hey, you’re in prime spanking position here. What am I supposed to do, just admire the view and do nuthin’?” He mutters behind a teasing chuckle, his green eyes glued to the spot on your butt that was now slowly turning a light shade of red where his palm had hit you. “Plus, I know ya like it. Or you want me to get out the leather crop and remind you of our spankin’ session last week?”

Your thighs twitch involuntarily at the reminder of that evening. And the heat in your core is tingling from the vivid memory of that sweet-burning sensation that had taken over your body every time the leather smacked down on your skin.

“Guilty as charged.” You mutter while you have to force a moan back down your throat.

Dean’s lips curl into a cocky grin, “Knew it.”

You playfully narrow your eyes at him as you glance back over your shoulder to keep an eye on his sinful hand. But Dean stays unperturbed, if anything, your warning look just spurs him on even more.

“That’s for looking too damn good in those tight-ass yoga leggings.” He continues, giving your butt another firm slap before he reaches between your legs and your breath catches in your throat. His thumb traces the outline of your dripping folds, “And this-” His fingertips just graze over your centre, “That’s for being my good girl.”

He takes a moment to enjoy your gasp and how your head had dropped to the mat, your breath shaky already. His tongue darts out to lick his lips before he orders in a more gravelly tone, “Now be a good girl and spread your legs for me. I need to taste you.”

A shuddering exhale leaves your mouth, followed by a curse that luckily gets swallowed by the yoga mat you’re breathing into. You bend your knees slightly outward, as far as his hips pinning down your calves allow you to go.

“That’s it sweetheart…” He murmurs before his large hands grab the inside of your thighs, guiding your legs to part even further while his head slowly starts to sink down between them.

Your thighs begin to shiver from his warm breath hitting your soaked slit, desperately begging for his attention. Your hands blindly search for the edge of the mat, your fingers clutching it on each side as you prepare for him to dig into you.

Dean of course notices your anticipation and can’t miss the chance to comment on it.

“You’re gonna grab that mat nice and tight for me, sunshine. And you’re gonna hold still, keep those legs spread, and stay nice and quiet.” He instructs, his tone taking on a more commanding one, but still with a mischievous edge to it.

He then lowers his eyes again to admire the slick flesh between your legs where your folds are already parted, practically gleaming in the dim light of the motel room.

“Damn, look at you all nice and wet and open for me.”

Dean shifts his weight to brace his left elbow on the floor next to your hip, the other hand splayed out on the small of your back to hold you in place.

“You’re like a damn waterfall already, sunshine.” He murmurs in awe. The way your body reacts to him never ceases to fascinate him. He leans in, and you feel his hot breath coming in short puffs as he places a gentle kiss on your hooded clit, before he pulls back again.

As you immediately lift and tilt your head to look at him, he lets out an amused hum, “Now now, head down, sweetheart. Remember, yoga’s about relaxing and focusing on your body.”

“Smartass.” you manage to groan out.

“Eatsass.” he corrects you and before you get to be smart with him again, he proofs his point by suddenly parting your slick folds with his tongue, drawing it all the way up until he pulls it back into his mouth with a smack of his lips.

A low moan ripples through your chest, finally feeling that long desired friction that has you melt into a puddle of a blubbering mess. “Please- Dean- don’t stop- I need more- please-”

He grins at your pleading words and dives right back in. Licking, prodding, tongue lapping across your glistening folds, drinking your juice like its the only thing that keeps him sane. He moves up, his tongue circling your clit before he wraps his lips around it. Your legs suddenly tense up and a pathetic mewling-yelp erupts from your parted lips when he starts to suck at your bud like he’s finishing off a flurry through a thin straw.

Your hips jerk back and involuntarily try to pull away from the onslaught. But in vain as his large palm presses down on the small of your back to keep you in place and in reaction to your attempted escape, he just increases the borderline painful pull on your clit even more.

The foam gives in under your clawing fingers, feeling yourself near your climax. You’re close to a scream - until he finally loosens his grip around your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re relieved and frustrated at the same time. Your clit’s now swollen and overstimulated and oh so close to pop you off the edge.

“P-please…” you whimper and turn your head to the side against the mat to be able to look back at him, “De… please – I-… I’m so close-”

“You want to come on my face… or my fingers, hm?” Dean hums with a cocky sound to it.

“Both- anything- please,” you beg now, your chest heaving under the weight of your body, your breaths grown ragged and heavy.

“Such a greedy little thing,” he growls, his tone laced with pride, knowing exactly that he can always drive you mad with need if he wants to.

He shifts his weight, his chest resting between your legs and his free hand snaking over your thigh to join him. His fingertips reach between your legs, running through the folds, as he lets his finger circle around your entrance for a moment. At your muffled whimper, he effortlessly pushes his middle finger inside. “But first, I wanna see if I can make those legs of yours quiver from just one finger…” Dean states, his tone low with a raspier edge, and darkened eyes fixed on your dripping hole.

You gasp at his words, his gravel tone sending a shiver down your spine. But after a moment of enduring his finger’s tantalizing strokes, your patience snaps and you regain your voice.

“Oh fuck you.” you groan in protest, your teeth clenched from frustration. One finger after all this teasing? This was just pure torture now and he knew it.

“What? You want me to go in full house?” He chuckles knowingly, enjoying your worn down patience way too much for your liking, “Want me knuckles deep inside you again, is that it?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, but instead quickly jams his index finger inside you, pumping them both in and out while his lips enclose around your clit once more.

You don’t even have the time to gasp for air when you feel your walls clenching and gripping onto his curling fingers. A few seconds of intense onslaught of his is enough to send you flying over the edge with a loud guttural moan. Your nails dig into the mat, your legs are shaking and your walls fluttering around his fingers while he helps you ride out your height.

Once you fall limp and try to catch your breath, Dean slowly withdraws his two fingers to raise them to his mouth and suck them clean. He grins, wiping his face with the back of his hand before his tongue swipes over his lips, kingly as he does so, savouring every last drop of your taste.

He shifts on top of you to move a hand next to your waist on each side, leaning down to grab the hooks of your sports bra between his teeth. With a swift tug, it falls open and he leans in to kiss you between your shoulder blades. You let out a low hum, enjoying the soft affection with eyes fluttered close. He moves again to gently tug the last piece of clothing over your shoulders and arms until he flings it over his shoulder, where it lands next to your other things.

You feel the rough fabric of his shirt graze your skin, and the buckle of his belt makes you shiver when it lowers down on the nape of your back. Just below it, the growing bulge behind his jeans rubs against your butt when he rolls his hips against you.

“You feel how hard I am just because of you?” He murmurs against your skin, the words almost lost in a stifled groan. But you still answer with a low confirming hum. He continues to plant kisses along your back, taking his time to explore every single inch. His lips send small shivers down your spine and all the way to your core again, each one of them like a spark along your fuse.

“Babe?” He mutters between hot kisses lining up to your ear now.

“Mh?” You hum into the yoga mat while tilting your head slightly for him.

“You ever heard of the elephant position?” He asks innocently.

The what? That name earns him a surprised giggle of yours. It was nothing unusual that Dean would randomly hit you up with some sex-position he’d like to try out with you, but this one was a new one to you. “Are you seriously talking about how elephants mate? Or are you trying to impress me with the yoga pose?” You tease him. Clearly he wasn’t talking about the latter. “Or, let me guess, it’s a Kama Sutra thing.”

He plants another open-mouthed kiss right under your ear, “Mmm-hm,” and his throat rumbles against your neck, his lips lingering there for a moment while he murmurs, “That… Ever tried it?”

With the side of his face he nudges your head further aside before he dives down to take the skin of your neck gently between his teeth, pinching it enough to make you gasp.

At his question, though, you look a bit sheepish and you shake your head, “No… is it… good?”

Dean beams at your admission – he simply loves it whenever he can show you something new, especially when he knows how much pleasure it’ll bring you.

He perks his head up like an excited dog, “Oh you’ll love it, baby. I promise. It hits all your super-sensitive spots.” He leans back in to nibble on the soft flesh of your neck before he continues in an eager tone. “You wanna try it?”

“Uh,” you lift your head now to glance back, meeting his glinting green eyes above his wide smile. Your lips curl upwards at the sight of his excitement and you respond, “Yeah, will you, uh, will you show me?”

“Of course, baby.” He leans back to lower his hips on your thighs again, his eyes raking up and down your buck naked body. “I need you to stay just like this- uh – whatever pose this is.”

You chuckle and raise yourself on your elbows. “The sphinx.”

“Yeah, right, okay, sphinx.” He mutters and pushes himself off you for a second, “Stay. Don’t move.”

He reaches for his belt buckle, the sound of the metal clinking while he unbuttons his jeans and slides the denim along his boxers off his hips. The heavy, worn jeans quickly land somewhere next to your yoga outfit, and his shirt follows seconds after.

“Yeah, that’s better.” He mutters to himself before climbing on top of you again, his knees straddling your legs as he lowers himself down. He runs his hands up and down your sides, his firm pecs brushing against your back. “’M not crushing you, am I?” He asks, his tone softer for a moment.

“No, all good. Don’t worry.” You reassure him before you angle your shoulders to nuzzle your nose against his jawline, feeling the scruff prickle your skin.

“Good.” He nuzzles back into your neck, hands trailing down your arms, “Mmmh… you’re so soft, sunshine.” His hands continue their path until they wrap around your wrists and guide your arms up just slightly above your head as your chest slowly lowers back down. He places them there before he murmurs against your ear, “Keep them there for me, baby, keep them right where I can reach them, yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nod and suddenly become aware of the way the tip of his erection brushes against your inner thighs every time he moves.

“Just wanna make sure I know where those hands are.” Dean chuckles and purposely bucks his hips so that his swollen head briefly kisses your entrance.

His hands slowly glide up the inside of your arm, fingertips ghosting over your twitching skin. He brushes them underneath you, hands up the front of your chest, cupping your breasts and slowly kneading the soft flesh in his palms, “Can’t have you squirming and fighting against me while I’m trying to make you feel good, y’know.”

You arch into his hands, needy little sounds of pleasure dripping off your lips. Your core’s burning again, begging to be taken care of.

“I know baby, I know…” he coos between tender kisses, and in spite of his chapped lips, he caresses your shivering skin with soft love letters.

“Dean- please- I-” you start to plead, your voice bouncing off the pink foam you’re panting against.

But Dean finishes for you with his voice dropped to a rougher octave, while still trying to sound soothing for you, “You just want me to pound you mindless into that damn mat… I know… and I can’t wait to make you cry, sunshine… Gonna make you scream my name so loud, the folks at the front desk will hear it and think there’s a whole exorcism going on or somethin’… But first you need a lil’ patience, sweetheart… alright?”

The question was of course rhetorical. Once your boyfriend has his mind set on something, he’ll pull through with it. Or at least that’s how he’d like to describe himself. You of course know that you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger whenever you really want.

“It’ll be worth it, I promise… I’ll make sure you come so hard, you’ll be seeing nuthin’ but stars for a whole minute.” He adds while he withdraws one hand to palm his erection before he lines up behind you.

“But first… I gotta pump your tight bands of muscles up… the ones closest to your sweet, drippin’ entrance– ” He begins to explain but gets interrupted when he pulls a gasp from your lips, thanks to him suddenly biting down on your shoulder.

His words come out slightly muffled as he continues with a growl, “… get them hot ‘n aroused ‘n sore from all my undivided attention… I want you to come just from my cock inside you.”

You feel his tip tease your entrance, circling it but never pushing in like he’s waiting for the right moment. His feet then dip beneath your legs, before his calves and heels press against your thighs to keep them clamped together. “That’s it… keep ‘em nice ‘n tight.” He husks somewhere behind you while he rocks his hips again. His warm breath’s skimming over your sweat-dampened skin sending shivers of goosebumps in its wake.

Once you’re just in perfect position for him, he finally pushes his cock inside you in one smooth motion which draws a low guttural moan out of your throat.

For the next minutes, Dean does as he explained, taking his sweet time to build up your tension at just the right spots.

He pulls the ridged-band along your slick, clenching walls, slow and ordaining. When he feels you twitch, he knows he’s found just the right spot. With deliberate rolling motions of his hips he begins to push and pull the head of his cock along your g-spot.

Your face drops to the mat, a shaky breath rippling out of your throat when you feel him graze your insides. His slow motions are torturous and unbelievably pleasurable at the same time.

His strong thighs bind yours between his own while he increases the friction, now rutting his swollen tip against your tightly grasping entrance.

“You feel that baby?” He whispers huskily, his lips right next to your ear-shell.

“Y-yeah,” you answer weakly, your breath slowly picking up pace to match his hips new rhythm.

Once he notices your entrance shimmy around his shaft, he knows he’s got you just where he wants you. He swiftly pulls his length out, earning himself a frustrated whimper of yours.

“No- no please, don’t stop-” You start to plead but before you know it, he pushes back in. This time without holding any inch back.

“You did so well, being so patient for me…” He begins to mutter against your hair, “I’ll take care of you now. Let go and just feel me, sunshine.”

You groan, arch your back and raise your chest off the floor, holding yourself upright with your elbows. But you quickly notice it’s in fact, Dean, who’s keeping you from collapsing back into your pink mat.

He had his arm wrapped around your torso, pulling your back close to his chest. His large palm slides along your body until it wraps around your soft, plump flesh to cup one of your breasts, your nipple teasingly pinched between his thumb and index finger. He supports you both on his free hand pressed into the foam, the muscles of his biceps flexing relentlessly from the force of his movements.

All the while he keeps snapping his hips against your bum with precise thrusts, each time taking your breath as he meets your cervix. Each collision eliciting a twinge, like a sweet hurt that has your pupils dive under your eyelids.

He switches his supporting arm, the freed hand roaming every part of your body like he’s exploring and worshipping it at the same time. His large palm comes to rest on your ass, splayed out on your soft flesh. Then you feel him slip out of you, shifting his position as he puts some of his weight on your ass now to hold you down when he begins to pound you into the mat again.

“Oh fuck-” The new angle draws a surprised yelp from you.

But Dean quickly comes to soothe you with open mouthed kisses dancing up your spine, his teeth skimming your skin and his lips tasting the sheen of sweat clinging to your body. Arrived at the nape of your neck, he husks out, “Good girl, takin’ every inch of me… lettin’ me fill ya up all the way…” his voice drifts off when his tongue darts out to lick the sensitive spot behind your ears, sending another shiver down your back.

The new pace of his hips is slower but no less intense. He continues to slam his cock past your slick folds, pulling out almost entirely before he rocks his hipbones back into your cheeks. Over and over, each time all the way to the shaft’s base, drawing those guttural moans from your sweet lips which make him growl with pride.

He rasps out groans and praises against your neck, each spurring you on equally, “You’re taking me so well, baby- Fuck- so good for me… my good girl… bein’ so, so perfect, only for me…”

Your moans grow more desperate, breathless, feeling his cock harden against your soft walls. “D-Dean-,” you whimper as your head briefly lolls back to lean into his shoulder just before it drops forward again with a loud shuddering moan sparked by your core.

Your hands start fisting into the crappy motel rug, pulling at the loose threads of it as you desperately search for something to hold onto. Your frantic actions don’t go unnoticed by Dean who’s watching your every hitch in breath and twitch of your muscles, always making sure he doesn’t miss the signs that the pain’s still pleasurable to you.

He quickly shifts his weight as his hand on your ass darts over to your clawing fingers, doing the same with his other. He untangles your fingers from the fabrics, intertwining them with his own while his forearms come to join yours on the pink foam, supporting himself on both elbows now.

He can feel your legs tremble against the weight of his hips, which he uses to plough you into the yoga mat as he slams into you. His movements now erratic and rough. Squelching sounds mix with your combined moaning and panting. Driving each other closer to the edge with every sound.

“Y-you close, baby?” He growls against your ear, already knowing the answer. He can feel your fluttering walls gripping him tightly, “Fuck-” he groans, his hands squeezing yours and pinning them there when your body starts to buckle and shudder beneath him. He’s now driving his cock inside you with primal need.

“Oh God-” you whine, face pressed flush into the foam as you feel the knot in your belly tighten up and your muscles go tense.

“F-fuck yeah- that’s it- squeeze and come on my cock, come for me-” He growls, his voice dropped to a gravelly, rumbling tone. He runs his nose along your neck, across the trail of red marks, when he suddenly sinks his teeth into your flesh once more.

And that does it for you. Your knot explodes into waves of pleasure rippling through your body. Stars take over your vision when you scream his name. Your walls flutter around his cock, pulling him over the edge along you and coating your walls with his warm seeds. The climax keeps crashing down on you in multiple shock waves until your body finally falls limp, your limbs twitching as if you’d been struck by a lightning bolt.

Dean collapses on top of you, his breath ragged and hot as it wafts against your sweaty skin. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, his biceps just barely able to keep his body from completely burying you under his weight.

“Damn… that- wow…” You whisper breathlessly, still trying to regain your vision and collect your thoughts.

“You were amazing, baby.” Dean praises you with a hoarse voice, his lips lingering on your temple.

You tilt your head to catch his lips in a soft, but purposeful kiss. When you pull back just enough to speak, you catch a glimpse of his eyes briefly widen at your words, “No, you are amazing.”

♡

For a moment you both enjoy each other’s soft breaths and the way he hugs you tightly as he wraps his body around you like a heavy blanket. You keep nuzzling your faces into each others hair while you let the silence be filled by your affections. Silence except for the TV which’s now playing the final scenes of “Die Hard” in the background.

After some time, Dean pushes himself off you, gently sitting back down on your bum as he takes in the sight of you in front of him. His hands are kneading the flesh of your ass as he watches you with hooded eyes. Then a cheeky grin begins to form on his lips when he realizes something.

“Y’know, you’re laying down in the perfect position for me to do somethin’.” He states with a full-out grin now.

“Huh-?” Before you can even process what’s happening, his fingers dig into the skin where he knows you’re the most ticklish.

“Dean!!” You squeal like a mouse – but the sound quickly hitches into a high-pitched giggle while you desperately try to wiggle away from him. “St-stop it- y-you jerk!” You stutter between gasps for air and the tears gathering on the rim of your eyes. You kick your legs, throwing him off and not wasting your chance, slipping away to scramble for an escape.

But you quickly find yourself back on the motel rug with a gasp and a thud, thanks to Dean pulling you back by the ankle. His smile has turned into that smug grin of his when he taunts you in a commanding voice, “Where d’you think you’re goin’, hm?”

“Th-that’s- unfair!!” you protest, but your words dissipate in another round of giggles as you turn onto your side, trying to free yourself. But Dean has his calves wrapped around your knee to lock it while his fingers skitter across the heel of your foot. You grapple with his free hand but he effortlessly evades your flailing limbs and grips you by the hip before you get to wiggle away again.

Next moment, you find yourself unceremoniously flipped back onto your stomach and his weight dropped down on your ass to pin you down bellow him. His thighs straddle you, this time reverse as his hands dart out to snatch one of your ankles, bending your leg back so he can continue his assault.

“Unfair? Me?” He lets out a deep chuckle, lips pursed in mock-innocence, his head tilted to glance back down at you over his shoulder. He stills his teasing fingers, waiting for your reaction.

You try to catch your breath while you narrow your watering eyes at him, daring him to go on.

Of course that sly bastard musters the audacity to answer your threat with a wink of his emerald eyes glinting with mischief and his lips flashed into that cocky smirk of his.

“Never.”

A/N: Dean going from goofy to smut to fluff to rough sex and back to fluffy and goofy like 📈 Idk I just see him like this, a caring 'n goofy softdom horn dog who loves it when he can show you new things.

Let me know what you think and if you got to enjoy it my sweet vixens ♡

Masterlist of opened windows:

1st Dec. - Sunshine 2nd Dec. - Spell Book 3rd Dec. - Lights Out 4th Dec. - Tickle 5th Dec. - Dirty UNO 6th Dec. - (TBA) 7th Dec. - Candlelight 8th Dec. - Hex Play 9th Dec. - Whip Stroke 10th Dec. - Barbie World 11th Dec. - Temptation ... (check the masterlist for more!)

Kinky Advent Calendar Tags:

@ariasong11 ♡ @deansjacket ♡ @literallylexa ♡ @lmpala1967 ♡ @foxyjwls007 ♡ @impala67rollingthroughtown ♡ @aylacavebear ♡ @jc-winchester

[ashtheketchum]

TCM characters in this situation:

A/N: It´s been awhile since I´ve posted something for the TCM characters! But now I´m back! :D If you want more with these type of situation´s maybe you can request them (With a pic if you want-) <3

Warning: Mention of blood, broom (if you know, you know), insults, fluff, they/them for Bubba, GENDER NEUTRAL Reader, +16 Content

__________________________

Bubba Sawyer:

Would make a extra mask for you to kiss them

They would be so excited they would barely be able to sit still

Bubba´s hands would be on your hips the entire time

Would let out a small coo or squeak sounds

Once you're done, Bubba would hang the mask up in their room and stare at it when they needs to calm down

If anyone caught you giving Bubba the marks, Bubba would squeak louder and immediately cover the mask with their big hands

Drayton would just hiss in annoyance and leave, while Nubbins and Chop Top would crack jokes, take pictures and laugh at you two

But you wouldn´t care

You and Bubba sometimes share a lipstick, but you bought a new one especially for that

You also like to kiss their hand or arm so that there is a mark too

Drayton Sawyer:

"Don' annoy me with tha' shit, kiddo!"

Not a fan of it

Pouting wouldn't help you either, as he'll just turn away and carry on with what he was doing

You tried it secretly once while Drayton was sleeping and it worked

He only noticed when Chop Top and Nubbins made a stupid comment

"Kissy monster, kissy monster, kissy monster!" ~Chop Top

Be prepared for punishment afterwards: 🧹

Still, Drayton thinks you look good with the lipstick (No matter what colour)

He doesn't tell you though-

He only accepts a kiss on the lips if he knows the lipstick won't stay on him

Nubbins Sawyer:

He would giggle the whole time

Once you're done, he'd take hundreds of photos

After that, he'd forget to wash it off his face

"L-l-let me m-mark you t-too, Y/N!" Takes a dead animal out of his bag and wants to smear the blood on your face

He'd show it off to his brothers

He'd especially want to show it off to Drayton because he found a partner before the "old cracker man"

If he didn't forget, Nubbins would still walk around like that all day long

With that it feels like you're always with him

Once when you were sick and couldn't kiss him, Nubbins took your lipstick and tried to trace the kissing marks himself

It didn't look good-

Chop Top Sawyer:

Chop Top wouldn't want the kissing marks to be in one color

He would want them in red, purple and blue

While you kiss his face, Chop Top would sometimes pinch your sides or massage your butt

Of course, some music is playing in the background (mostly his)

Drayton always complains that you two should be working and not doing something "useless"

Sometimes he also eats something from his scalp

When he offered you something, you had left the room

"J-just a snack, Y/N! Your lips m-must hurt from the kissing!"

He keeps wanting you to make him new ones

When the old ones fade, he wants you to make him new ones

Thomas Hewitt:

He doesn't see any useful purpose in it

After Thomas sees how happy it makes you, he agrees

Although he kept his mask on, you still kissed places that his mask didn't cover

To show that you loved everything about him

You only kiss his old mask because you can see him better through it

Hoyt always laughs at Thomas and calls him a "pussy" for letting you do that to him

Luda May thinks it's cute, though

One time a victim was so confused by the kissing marks on Thomas' face that they didn't really run away

Thomas always washes his face before he goes to sleep, though

It disappoints you, but you're more excited that you'll be able to give him new ones soon

[mononijikayu]

chapter (2) — the feels

GENRE: alternate universe - actors/celeb au!

WARNING/S: not safe for work (nsfw), r-18 and above, actors/singers au!, romance, fluff, minor angst, slow burn, humour, slice of life, will they won't they, light-hearted, flirting, playful, possessiveness, teasing, explicit content, possible, kissing, sexual content, innuendos, drama, feels, hurt/comfort, falling in love, love, happy ending, actor/singer! sukuna, actress/celeb! reader;

WORD COUNT: 4.4k words.

NOTE: everytime i look at the drafts for this, i get butterflies. this story is really fun for me to write no matter what. i genuinely enjoy exploring the dynamics. i hope you enjoy it as much as i do!!! anyway, sukuna is definitely a simp for reader. like genuinely, he's down bad. but tbh so is reader. they're matching each other in everything!!! but well.....are they dating? who knows?

TAGLIST: @kunasthiast, @midnight-138, @v3nd3ttal3on;

masterlist

hey lover! series

HE DIDN’T EXPECT TO COME ACROSS IT. But it was that one afternoon on his day off, while Ryomen Sukuna was out running errands, he found himself finding a piece of you. It was just a regular day for him, one where he indulges himself as he strolls through the supermarket, casually picking up snacks and drinks he wanted. 

He doesn;t get to do it often because of how busy he is. But when he has the time, he indulges it and enjoys it a lot. He thinks if you were with him, it would have been more enjoyable, though. You liked going and doing mundane things like this, as much as he does. He noticed that a lot since you both were always going out and eating together after shoots in Tokyo.

It’s been a few weeks since Jujutsu Kaisen Season 1 did the final reshoots. And he thinks he missed you. You both texted a lot last night, sure. But it’s a different thing when you both are together.

But right now you are enjoying the holiday you’re taking. And judging from the photos you sent him so far, you were happily enjoying it. From what you told him last night, you said you were waiting for your flight so you could visit family back home. You won't be back in New York until maybe next week.

Ryomen Sukuna could only sigh at himself. He has become so fond of your company that he can’t help but crave even more of it. He supposes that it’s just how good you were with him, how good for him. He hadn’t really had anyone be that good to him, he supposed. You’ve just brightened up his day to day, even if it was just to think of you. 

As he turns the corner into the magazine aisle, something catches his scarlet eye and he stops— it was one of those glossy magazines, one that were for high fashion brands. In the front of its bright poppy cover featuring the ever beautiful shining you with a stunning smile, the headline reading, “Y/N L/N: Rising Star of Jujutsu Kaisen!”

His first thought is a mix of pride and mischief. He couldn’t help it. You were everywhere. And he just can’t help but feel warm about it. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he mutters to himself. Grinning, he picks up the magazine, flipping through it.

I should probably promote this. Doll worked hard on this, hm? he thinks, already plotting a plan. He pulls out his phone and goes live on social media, knowing his fans would be eager to join him for this impromptu session.

“Hey, everyone! So, I’m at the supermarket, and guess what I just found?” he announces, holding up the magazine for the camera, your face shining brightly on the cover. “Really pretty picture the editor chose really. I really love this one. I think everyone can agree!”

The chat explodes with comments.

“OMG, Y/N!”

“IS THAT A MAGAZINE?!”

“CAN WE GET A CLOSE-UP?!”

"MY WIFEEEEE SHE LOOKS SO GOOD!"

"CAN YOU FIGHT SUKUNA???"

"OH MY GOD, ONE CHANCE PLEASE PLEASEEE Y/N"

Sukuna chuckles, basking in the chaos as he starts to read some of the article aloud, his voice teasing. “Let’s see what the article has to say about my favorite rising star. Let’s read it together.” he begins, pretending to be a serious news anchor.

“‘Y/N has taken the entertainment world by storm with her captivating performances and undeniable charm, both on screen and on stage.’ Wow, they really nailed it, huh?” He glances at the camera, a playful smirk on his face. “They must’ve been taking notes from me. I mean, she is spending time with the best.”

The comments continue to flood in, fans egging him on.

“THIS IS SO CUTE! SUKUNA, KEEP PRAISING YOUR WOMAN OMG!”

“Please stop, I’m dying! He’s this love struck?”

“Is he flirting with her through a magazine?”

"He's never beating the 'im obssessed with y/n' allegations omg???"

"If my partner isn't like this, i genuinely don't want him, you guys???"

"How is Sukuna real? Like, how is he the only man to ever exist?"

Sukuna can’t help but lean into the banter. “Oh, it gets better. ‘Her recent work in Jujutsu Kaisen has captured the hearts of many, including veteran actor and co-star Ryomen Sukuna.’” He pauses dramatically, pretending to think deeply. “How does that feel? Being able to capture me, Y/N?”

The comments explode again.

“OH NO HE DIDN’T! RYOMEN SUKUNA, YOU’RE INSANE FOR THIS?????”

“IS HE FLIRTING?! GUYS GUYS CHAT IS THIS REAL????”

“THEY ARE SO CUTE TOGETHER! EVEN WHEN THEY’RE APART OMG”

"GOD PLEASE GIVE ME SOMETHING LIKE THIS PLEASE!!!"

"HIS EYES ARE JUST SO FULL OF LOVE WHILE STARING AT HER PICTURE OH MY GOD IM GONNA THROW UP???"

"HE'S DEFINITELY BUYING THE MAGAZINE AND STARE AT IT FOR A WHILE CAUSE???"

He continues reading, “Known for her ability to bring depth to her characters, Y/N is also a self-proclaimed cat mom.” He raises an eyebrow, grinning at the camera. “Noodle better watch out; he’s not the only one who’s going to be in the spotlight!”

Sukuna reads a little more, then leans back, looking directly into the camera. “Honestly, if you’re not following her yet, what are you doing? My doll’s the star of the century! She’s talented, funny, and—” he pretends to whisper with a grin. “—way cuter than I am.”

The comments go wild, with fans practically screaming in excitement.

“HE SAID IT! HE CALLED HER MY DOLL???”

“HE’S SO SUPPORTIVE OF HER OMGGGGGG!!!!”

“CAN YOU GUYS JUST DATE ALREADY?!”

"THEY'RE DEFINITELY DATING GOD IM JUST???"

"GIVE US THE CONFIRMATION FOR THE WEDDING ALREADY???"

"I SHIP I AM THE CAPTAIN OF THIS SHIPPPPPP!!!!"

As he wraps up the live session, Sukuna flashes a charming smile. “So, go pick up this magazine, check out Y/N, and maybe throw in a little love for me too while you’re at it. And don’t forget to tune into the next episode of Jujutsu Kaisen! See you later, everyone!”

With that, he ends the live stream, still chuckling to himself as he walks through the store, clutching the magazine. Little did he know, this playful moment would send fans into a frenzy, cementing your duo’s chemistry even further in the eyes of the public—and leaving you with a smile when you catch wind of his little stunt.

Later that evening, you’re lounging at home, scrolling through your social media feed, when you notice your notifications blowing up. Curious, you tap on your profile to find a flood of comments and tags about Sukuna’s recent live stream.

“Did you see Sukuna’s live? He was reading that magazine about you!”

“I’m crying! He’s so supportive! #Y/NandSukunaForever”

“He basically said he’s in love with you. Can you two just get married already?”

"Y/N, please. give him a shot already. That man is too in love with you."

"This man is doing promos for you like he's trying to save the planet. He's a good man, Savanah!"

"He's literally crazy about you, like??? Stopping in a supermarket to do a live to promote your magazine??? He's in love with you???"

You can’t help but grin, your heart racing at the thought of Ryomen Sukuna casually promoting you to all his fans. You scroll through the clips of his live, laughing at his playful banter and over-the-top expressions. You couldn’t help but just feel happiness beyond comprehension, knowing someone takes care of you even from afar.

Suddenly, a direct message pops up from him. Did you catch the live, doll?

You quickly type back, I did! You’re ridiculous! I can’t believe you read that whole thing.

His reply is immediate. Had to promote my favorite, cutest rising star! Can’t let Noodle take all the love in this three soul family, don’t you think?

You chuckle, imagining Sukuna strutting through the supermarket, holding your magazine like it’s the Holy Grail. What’s next? Are you going to host my fan club?

A few moments later, he replies, Absolutely! First meeting will be at our next sushi date. Wear something nice, doll.

Your cheeks flush at the thought. Then you better look sharp too, bub.

You just know he was smirking when he sent you the reply. When you opened it, your face turned even redder. Oh, of course, doll. I like making sure I look pretty enough to get your praises and kisses. You’re my doll, after all.

You could feel butterflies for a moment, and for a good while, you were just trying to keep yourself together. You couldn’t look like this while you were having dinner with your parents.

As the conversation continues, you can’t help but feel a warm flutter of excitement. Not only is he supporting you, but he’s also finding creative ways to keep the teasing and flirting alive in front of everyone.

The next day, you decide to take advantage of the buzz. You ended up in a book store where they had your magazines. You post a cute selfie of yourself holding the magazine, your expression playful and bright.

Thanks to my bubs @RyomenSukuna for the promotion! If you haven’t checked out this issue yet, what are you waiting for?

Almost instantly, your comments explode.

“YOU LOOK AMAZING! WE STANNNNNN”

“GET IT, GIRL! WE LOVE TO SEE IT!!!!”

“HE’S NOT WRONG, Y/N IS A QUEEN!”

"Y/N DOMINATION FR FR!!!"

"SUKUNA CAN YOU FIGHT CAN YOU FIGHT SUKUNA???"

"NAH CAUSE IF Y/N AND YOU AREN'T TOGETHER, IM SHOOTING MY SHOT!!!"

A few hours later, you see another tweet trending: “Sukuna’s magazine live should win an award for Best Promotion. Guys, if you’re not doing this for your girls, we don’t want you!”

You can’t help but laugh, picturing him reading through those thirsty tweets like a comedic genius.

Later that evening, as you prepare for bed, your phone buzzes again. It’s a video from Sukuna, looking slightly mischievous.

“Hey, everyone! Just wanted to follow up on my earlier live stream. The magazine is flying off the shelves, and I’m not saying it’s all because of my charming face, but… Okay, it’s mostly because of Y/N. You know how it is. Now, don’t just stop there—go buy that issue! And let’s be real, you’re doing it for me, but mostly for her! So, keep giving my doll all your love, okay? Thanks everyone! I’ll see you in the next live tweet for Jujutsu Kaisen!”

He winks at the camera, and you can’t help but smile. He’s just so endearing when he gets into these promotional modes. The next few weeks, it’s all the media could talk about.

They just catch wind of the buzz surrounding your magazine feature and Sukuna’s live stream. They keep getting more and more curious about you and Sukuna. After all, both of you were a mystery to them. 

You’re both invited to a morning talk show to discuss the recent developments, and you can already sense the excitement and chaos that awaits.As you both sit on the couch, the host teases you both about the “flirting” and “couple energy” that everyone seems to be picking up  on.

“You two are definitely giving off some serious vibes!” the host says, leaning in. “Sukuna, what do you have to say about the ongoing speculation?”

Sukuna grins, leaning back. “I mean, can you blame them? Who wouldn’t want to be with someone as talented and cute as Y/N? Can you blame everyone for being as dazzled about her as me?”

The audience erupts into cheers, and you can’t help but blush.

“Okay, but I’m just grateful for him.” you chime in, trying to regain composure. You grinned at him. “Sukuna’s just really is such a great supportive soul for me.… And such a darling to me. You always are, aren’t you, bub? Dramatic too, but well. Love you all the same!”

“Dramatic? Me? Never.” he replies, feigning innocence while smirking. “I’m just here to make sure everyone knows who the real star is. And well, who the real star of my day to day is, don’t you think?”

The banter continues, and by the end of the show, your dynamic has captured the hearts of viewers everywhere. Social media is ablaze with clips of your interview, further fueling the speculation and excitement.

As you leave the studio, you can’t help but think about how much fun this whole experience has been. The teasing, the playful banter, and Sukuna’s unabashed support have created a whirlwind of excitement that you never expected.

Later, you check your phone one last time before bed. A new tweet catches your eye: “Sukuna and Y/N have officially made it onto my ‘favorite couples’ list. The world needs more of this!”

With a smile on your face, you finally drift off to sleep, dreaming of what other adventures await you and Sukuna in this unexpected and thrilling journey together. 

➽──────────❥

YOU WERE STILL SLEEPY. But well, what could you do? Life goes on, with how your schedule is today. The day of the big fashion show had finally arrived, and excitement buzzed in the air as you and Sukuna prepared to strut down the runway.

The energy backstage was palpable—models hurrying to and from makeup stations, designers giving last-minute instructions, and the rhythmic clack of high heels against the glossy floor echoing in the room.

Sukuna, leaning casually against the wall, shot you a knowing glance. He had that smirk on his face, the one that hinted at his unshakable confidence. He was effortlessly cool, and you couldn't help but feed off that energy.

The theme of the show was glamorous rebellion—a fusion of elegance and edge, where bold designs and striking details were the focus. You were dressed in a breathtaking ensemble that turned heads even before the show began.

A sleek, figure-hugging dress with shimmering embellishments, its dramatic cut-outs giving you just the right mix of sophistication and daring. The heels you wore? Absolutely lethal—sky-high stilettos that elongated your figure, giving you the sensation that you could conquer not just the runway, but the world.

Meanwhile, Sukuna, in a custom-tailored suit that hugged his broad shoulders and accentuated his muscular build, was the perfect counterpart. The deep crimson of his suit jacket contrasted sharply against his black shirt, and the subtle metallic details gleamed under the runway lights. He exuded power and charisma, each step deliberate and commanding.

As you both stepped onto the runway, the atmosphere changed. The lights flashed in rhythm with the music, casting you and Sukuna in a dazzling, almost surreal glow. The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement infectious.

The music pulsed through your veins, and with Sukuna by your side, you felt invincible. His smirk widened as he caught a few admiring gazes from the audience, and with each stride, the energy between you both grew, palpable and electrifying.

Each step was flawless. The click of your heels against the runway, perfectly timed with Sukuna's strides, created a symphony of dominance.

You could feel eyes on you, admiration and awe blending with envy, but none of that mattered. In that moment, it was just you and Sukuna—a force to be reckoned with. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a mischievous glint playing in his gaze, as if daring you to outshine him.

But this wasn’t a competition. It was an effortless partnership, the two of you ruling the runway together. Every turn, every pose, was perfectly synchronized, as though you had rehearsed this a hundred times over.

The lights continued to flicker, cameras flashing from every direction, immortalizing this moment. And as you reached the end of the runway, Sukuna extended his hand to you in a gentlemanly yet teasing manner. You took it, lifting your chin slightly, knowing that together, you had owned the night.

But halfway down the runway, disaster struck. One of your heels snapped, sending you wobbling dangerously to one side. You gasped, struggling to maintain your balance as you tried to recover. Just as you thought you might tumble, Sukuna swiftly reached out, his grip firm around your waist.

“Got you, doll!” he exclaimed, pulling you closer to him as he steadied you. The crowd gasped, and in that split second, you realized you were more grateful than embarrassed.

With a quick wink and a playful flourish, Sukuna helped you regain your composure, but the damage was done—your heel was officially broken. You could feel the adrenaline rush as you both finished the walk, the crowd cheering wildly, clearly enamored by the unexpected moment.

After the show, backstage was a flurry of activity. You hopped on one foot, trying to assess the damage to your broken heel when Sukuna, still riding the high of the show, turned to you. “You know, you could always go for a more comfortable look, doll.” he joked, gesturing toward his own stylish shoes.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “And give up my fashion moment? Never!”

But as you tried to walk towards the exit, it became clear that you weren’t going to make it far without some help. Sensing your struggle, Sukuna stepped in, effortlessly scooping you up into his arms.

“Let’s get you to the car, fashionista.” he said with a playful grin, carrying you like a princess, drawing surprised looks from the crew and other models.

As you both exited the venue, a photographer snapped a picture of the moment. You could hear the clicking of cameras as people captured the scene—Sukuna, the effortlessly cool actor, carrying you, the fabulous rising star.

That single picture ended up circulating online like wildfire. The caption read: “Is this the most romantic moment of the fashion show? Sukuna carrying Y/N after her heel broke!”

The fan reactions were immediate and overwhelming.

“OMG, I can’t handle this cuteness! He genuinely loves her so much!”

“HE CARRIED HER! SOMEONE CALL THE AMBULANCE, I CAN’T BREATHE!”

“Y/N is literally living my dream. Sukuna is such a gentleman!”

You couldn’t help but smile as you read through the tweets, watching the fan base collectively lose their minds over the moment. You glanced up at Sukuna, who was now scrolling through his phone, clearly amused by the frenzy.

“Look at them go, doll.” he chuckled, a mix of pride and mischief in his eyes. “They’re all acting like we just starred in a rom-com.”

“Maybe we should consider it, bub.” you teased back, leaning your head against his shoulder as he carried you toward the car. “I mean, we both get the same rom-com lead offers. We might as well try.”

“Hm, I’ll think about it.”

“You better!”

As you reached the vehicle, Sukuna gently set you down, but not before the paparazzi snapped more pictures, capturing the laughter and playful banter between you both. You felt like the luckiest person in the world, surrounded by glitz and glamor, but even more, you cherished these moments with him.

Later that night, as you sat together scrolling through the flood of posts about the fashion show, Sukuna turned to you, a smirk dancing on his lips. “So, you think I should carry you everywhere now?”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Only if you promise to be this charming every time.”

“Deal, doll.” he replied with a sly smirk on his face. “But only if I get a kiss each and every time.”

You returned his sly smile. “You drive a heavy bargain, you know?”

“Well, I like good compensation, doll.”

“Hm. I’ll think about it, darling.”

And just like that, another adventure in this whirlwind of a journey began, one where fans eagerly awaited every twist and turn of your ever-evolving story. 

The following days were a whirlwind of activity, with the aftermath of the fashion show still buzzing across social media. Every time you opened your phone, there were new memes, edits, and posts highlighting Sukuna’s chivalrous act of carrying you out. 

One particularly popular meme featured a split image: on one side, a picture of you in your stunning outfit with the broken heel, and on the other, a screenshot of Sukuna’s smirk as he effortlessly carried you away. The caption read, “When you break a heel, but your knight in shining armor has your back.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you scrolled through the threads filled with comments like, “Where do I sign up for a carry from Sukuna?” and “No, but I need someone to love me like this. I need someone to lovingly help me in my fashion emergencies!”

“Looks like you’ve become a trendsetter, doll.” Sukuna teased, plopping down next to you on the couch. “Maybe we should make this a regular thing—fashion shows and heel emergencies.”

“Only if you promise to always be there to catch me, darling.” you shot back, smirking.

As you both continued to scroll through the chaos, an idea struck you. “We should do a follow-up interview about the fashion show! Imagine how much the fans would love to hear us talk about it, especially the heel incident.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You think they’d want to hear about our dramatic moment on the runway? You falling apart and me swooping in to save the day?”

“Absolutely!” You nodded, enthusiasm bubbling up. “I mean, it’s practically a rom-com waiting to happen. Plus, we can spend time together and promote our upcoming work together!”

“Alright, I’m in. But only if you let me wear those ridiculous heels next time….so you know, you can catch me too, doll.” he grinned, nudging you. 

You laughed out loud. “Alright, darling. Let’s find you a pair when we go shopping today.”

“Oh, that’s going to be a challenge then.”

“Hm, why not? It’s fun when we’re together in challenges!”

The next day, you both headed to the studio for the interview. As you settled into your seats, the host couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw you both. “So, the world has been going crazy over your little ‘heel disaster’ at the recent fashion show. Sukuna, what was going through your mind when you scooped Y/N up?”

Sukuna leaned back with a playful grin. “Honestly? I just thought it was a great opportunity to show off my impressive muscles and save the day. Plus, someone needed to make sure she didn’t fall on her face in front of everyone. I’d do anything for my doll, right here, you know?”

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “He’s so humble, isn’t he?Like, darling — come and get your credit too! It was more like a dramatic rescue scene, complete with the swoon-worthy soundtrack.”

The interview continued, with the two of you sharing laughs and stories about your experiences. Fans in the comments couldn’t get enough of the chemistry, throwing out heart emojis and excited remarks.

“Do you think you two will collaborate on a fashion line next?” one viewer asked, prompting a wave of excitement among the audience.

“Maybe we’ll do a ‘Y/N & Sukuna’ collection, won’t we, darling?” you said, leaning in. “You know, something chic but also… practical for when you break your heels!”

Sukuna feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. “Practical? I’m all about the drama! But I could see us doing something fun. Maybe some ‘Sukuna-approved’ footwear that won’t break under pressure? I think you’d love that, doll.”

As the interview was winding down, the host leaned in with a mischievous smile and asked the question that everyone had been waiting for: “So, any truth to the rumors that you two are dating?”

You barely had time to process it before you and Sukuna exchanged a look. Without missing a beat, both of you burst into uncontrollable laughter, the kind where you had to clutch your stomach and wipe away tears. Sukuna’s laugh? A deep, rumbling sound that somehow made the entire situation even funnier.

“I mean, who knows?” you said, still giggling as you tried to regain composure. “We care a lot for each other, though. But, you know, that’s our business!” You flashed a playful wink at the camera, trying to keep things light, but it was clear you were having too much fun with the moment. "Though, who wouldn’t want a guy who carries you when your heel breaks? My darling here is great with helping me out.”

Sukuna, not one to let you steal the spotlight, leaned in closer to the camera with a sly grin, his voice dropping an octave as he added, “I mean, who wouldn’t want to go and carry you and take care of you, doll?” He tilted his head in mock seriousness. “I love caring for you.”

The comment section immediately went into overdrive. The fans couldn’t handle it.

“THE FLIRTING?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

“STOPPP THIS IS TOO MUCH MY HEART CAN’T TAKE IT.”

“If they’re not dating, then what's the real point of my life in this world, you guys?”

“Someone pls send help I’ve forgotten how to breathe.”

“Sukuna saying ‘I love caring for you’ like it’s casual?!? They’re married and I know it.”

“Can they just admit it already? WE KNOW.”

After the interview wrapped up, you both waved to the camera, still giggling, as the host thanked you. As soon as the cameras cut, your phones exploded with notifications. It seemed like every social media platform was on fire, fans spiraling into a frenzy over the playful banter.

There were memes of Sukuna carrying you like a princess, edits of the two of you in wedding attire, and screenshots of the moment Sukuna leaned into the camera like he was making a declaration of eternal love.

“I told you this would happen, bub.” you said, showing Sukuna the screen full of memes.

He glanced over and chuckled. “What, people can’t handle a little chemistry?” He shrugged nonchalantly, but you could see the hint of amusement in his eyes. He was enjoying this just as much as you were.

“Well, I guess we’re just going to have to keep them guessing.” you replied, throwing him a teasing grin.

Sukuna leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “Or maybe we just keep giving them something to talk about.”

“Well, I love talking about you anyway.” You look at him with a smile. “Don’t you like doing the same?”

He pauses for a second, but grins. “But don’t you already know that?”

“Yeah, I do. I just like hearing it.”

“Cheeky one, aren’t you, doll?”

You grin even wider at him. “Well, my favorite act of love are words of affirmation.”

As you walked out of the studio together, Sukuna looked at you with a smirk. “But you know, I think I could get used to this whole ‘carrying you’ thing. It really keeps the fans on their toes.”

“Oh, for sure.” you replied, nudging him playfully. “Just wait until they start shipping us harder.”

“Let them do their thing.” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ll just keep carrying you around. I’m like a knight in shining armor, after all.”

You both laughed, knowing that the playful teasing and affectionate banter were only part of the adventure you were embarking on together. As the days went by, the trend only grew, with fans eagerly anticipating every new development in your story.

With each passing moment, the excitement around your dynamic seemed to intertwine your lives more and more, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something truly special.

[goldsainz]

THE COOLEST DRIVER — one shot.

pairing: lando norris x reader

MASTERLIST.

summary: when you introduced lando to your siblings, you didn’t think they would become so attached.

request: “Lando × reader. Your younger siblings who are 2 and 3 are crazy about Lando. Lando is amazing with them they don't like when you to hug/ kiss him Though. "No he's mine!" Your sister says as she pushes you away. When you go for a kiss. "My Lando time" your brother says. Snuggling into Lando. You find it adorable but annoying. Fans love it.”

warnings: im pretty sure that none

NOTE: thank you for requesting!!!! so this is short and sweet, and i also added a little smau at the end 🫶 i’m in my lando obsessed era. so if you suddenly see a lot of lando content posted, just let it be. silverstone grand prix has me so so excited, can’t wait… also fingers crossed lewis gets podium🤞

[ word count: 737 ]

Lando and you had been going out for quite some time now. It was as serious as a relationship could get, and evidently, he had met your family. 

It was no surprise when your siblings got obsessed with him and just about followed him everywhere. They wanted to go to every Grand Prix you went to, because if you could, why couldn't they? It took quite some time for them to understand that you were an adult, and as such could do what you pleased. 

Your brother adored Lando. He tuned in for every race and Lando quickly became his idol, even though he would never really say it out loud. Suddenly, he wanted to be a driver too. Your boyfriend was more than happy to help him out with his dream, and since he was so little, he could have a shot at doing it for a long time. 

Your sister however, seemed to like Lando in a completely different way. Whenever she saw Lando he would hug him while burying her face in his neck, hiding her smitten face. There was no way you could ever kiss or even be too close to Lando if she was present, not if you wanted to avoid the tantrum she would throw. Claiming Lando was hers, and that you were stealing him from her. 

Lando loved your siblings. It was refreshing to have such support from little humans, who idolised him and always got excited to see him. So it was no surprise when for this year’s Silverstone Grand Prix, his home race, he invited your whole family to the paddock.

When you broke the news to your siblings they ran to hug Lando, their excitement almost pushing him off balance as he attempted to hold both of them at the same time. It was a sight to behold, and you wished you would've gotten it on camera because it was just too precious. 

“Go pack your bags!” You told them, watching as they scrambled to their rooms.

“I can’t believe they are coming.” Lando says, one wrapped around your waist, pulling you in for a side hug.

“They can’t even believe it themselves.” 

You watched your parents talk with Lando over the schedule, all while holding you in his arms. They both couldn’t stop expressing their gratitude, and your boyfriend just repeated that it was his pleasure and there was nothing he would love more than having all of you there. 

His sweet words made your heart rush, and you turned to face him just for a quick peck since your parents were still around. You should have known what a bad idea that was, because all of a sudden your siblings appear in the room and they cannot hold in their disgust. 

“Ew!” Your brother shouted, covering his face with his little hands.

Your sister ran to push you off of Lando, not liking the sudden closeness. Your mother rolled her eyes at the dramatics your siblings loved to display. Lando just brushed off your mother’s concern, more amused at the reaction than anything. 

“Hey! We’re not going to Silverstone if you behave like that.” You tell them, you know you’re lying because there is no way you are not taking them. Not when you know how excited they are.

“No!” Your sister screeches, wrapping her arms around Lando’s leg as if to show how much she wants to go.

“Did you pack your bags?” Lando asks your sister, kneeling down to her level. 

“Yes.” She says, her voice muffled now that she has thrown her arms around him.

“And your brother?” 

“I think so.”

Your brother takes his hands off of his face the moment he hears he was mentioned. Moving to sit beside Lando, an annoyed look passes his face as he watches his sister.

“You excited to go to Silverstone?” Your boyfriend asks, knowing full well your brother is bursting at the seams of excitement. 

“Very!”

“Is there anyone you’re excited to meet?” 

“Lewis!” 

“Lewis?” Lando asks, a smile creeping onto his face as he hears the emotion on your brother’s voice. 

“He’s so cool!” 

“Is he?”

“Yes!” A giggle pushes its way past your brother’s lips, suddenly bashful at the admission.

“Cooler than me?”

“No, silly.” He says with an obvious tone, face palming himself as if the answer was obvious, “You’re the coolest driver ever!” 

“That’s what I like to hear!” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Novice 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, , age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your first job brings a lot more work than you could anticipate.

Characters: Loki Laufeyson, Lloyd Hansen

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at

Your first job. That's what this could be. Admittedly it's late but better that than never, as they say. You don't think your father would agree but he'd be happy to hear you got something.

That's if you get it...

It's still a big question mark. As you find your way to the third floor and stop before the sign marked L&L, you pause. You peer through the glass door to the row of pretty women sitting in stiff acrylic chairs. The answer to that question seems stamped in red as you search for the courage to enter.

No turning back now. You are a bad liar and you have to at least try. You can't handle your dad throwing another conniption. Even after all these years, his yelling and slamming makes you feel like a child.

Twenty-five. You should really be a lot further than you are. That self-reproach accompanies you through the door. You offer a nervous smile to the waiting women, your fellow candidates, as you claim an empty seat. None of then look up from their phones.

You have your cell firmly tucked into your purse. You don't want to give a bad impression and be caught in a dazed stare at absurd memes. You clutch the folder containing your resume and cover letter and bounce your legs as you wait.

It's going to be so bad. The other women are so pretty. Perfectly highlighted hair and tailored skirts and dresses. All those things your father said you could have if you got yourself a damn job. In his mind, you just don't try, but in your experience, you just can't win for trying.

You look down at the plain white folder and sniff. You're the only person wearing trousers. You like the wide-legged wool that cinch at the waist to give you a bit more shape, though the thrifted blouses doesn't quite fit you right.Still, compared to your competition, you're gunning for last place.

Your eyes wander along the walls, a blinding shade of white. The doors are all thick glass trimmed in silver. It's all very pristine and prestige. A post-modern corporate utopia.

A door opens and a women taps out in her heels, strutting like a model down a runway as she goes. The next is called; not you. A six-foot-blond with perfect beach waves stands and greet the black-haired man with an outstretched hand. Your lips move silently and you curl your fingers. You should remember to do that. At least pretend you believe in yourself.

The woman in the next seat sighs and you catch her glance at your jittering knees. You still yourself, tapping your toe instead as the fidgeting itches under your skin. You stop from chewing your nails and peek at hers. A perfect french manicure. Your short and filed nails are so basic.

Another candidate emerges. The next rises and the script continues. You wait with your head down. Your interview is for 12:15 and it's past that. You wonder if they overbooked.

It's ninety minutes before the other chairs are empty. A few who arrived after you were called ahead of you. You start to squirm. Is this the wrong place? Did you misread the email?

The lithe black-haired man does not call another name as he sends off the last candidate invited inside. Your heart drops. What happened? He sends you a look before he spins and strides back through the door.

You sit, paralysed. Should you just go? He didn't look confused at your presence. But why didn't you get called? It doesn't make any sense.

You wait five minutes then stand. You should leave before you cry. The door opens as you get to your feet. You peer over at the man who pokes his head out. It's not the same man. This one has brown hair and a matching trimmed mustache. Where the black-haired man had sleek locks combed back behind his neck, this one sports shaved sides. He steps half out and snaps his fingers.

"Come on. Let's get this over with," he commands.

You blink and nod. You agree with the sentiment. Get it over with and go home and fall apart. As you near, you wipe your hand on your trousers then offer it to him with your name.

He turns away without shaking it. You trip over the threshold behind him as you enter at his back. He stands aside as you pass him and he shuts the door. He clears his throat and points to the empty chair on one side of the long conference table. The black-haired man sits on the other side and drags his fingertip over a tablet. He doesn't look up.

The other man sits on the end of the table, bending one knee as he keeps a foot on the floor. He watches you as you sit. He sucks his teeth.

"Laufeyson," he snips. "You don't swiping right?"

"Mm," the black-haired man hums and sets down the tablet, sending the other a sharp look. "Hansen."

You're invisible as they glare at each other. You set the folder on the table and pick at the edges. The noise of it draws their attention.

"You have no experience," Laufeyson intones. You see your resume on his tablet already.

"Well, sir, no, but I can learn--"

"This isn't a school," Laufeyson interjects.

You flinch, "I understand, sir. But you'll see, I've taken some courses--"

"Free courses. Uncredentialed," he insists.

Your mouth opens slightly and you look between him and the other man, Hansen. The latter only sits and watches. You try not to frown. You must have a rather tortured expression.

"I..." you gulp. You couldn't afford real school and your dad refused to pay. Like a snake eating its tail; you don't have the education so you can't get a job, you can't get the education because you don't have a job to pay for it. "That's true." You slip your fingers under the folder. "I realise I've wasted your time. I'm sorry--"

"Nah, come on, Laufeyson, look at it this way. Blank canvas," the other man speaks at last. "No bad habits to break."

Laufeyson sighs, "the others had experience."

"And? That means they'll think their way is the right way. You know you hate being wrong," Hansen argues. "Not that you ever are, buddy." He turns to you and smirks. "Besides, desperation makes for hard work."

You wince. He's right. You'll do whatever you need to to keep the job, if they pity you enough to give it.

Laufeyson runs his fingers through his hair and raises his chin. He reaches to black the screen of the tablet. "Fine, hire her. But any questions, you will answer." He stands and swipes up the tablet, "I've spent enough time on this parade."

He struts around the table and leaves the door open in his stead. His soles carry a steady tempo down the hall. Your furrow your brow and look at Hansen.

"Does that mean..."

"You got a job, baby cakes," he pushes off the desk.

"Awesome, I mean... thank you," you get up. "I really appreciate it."

"Ha, don't thank me yet. I'm a hard ass and so's the serpent," he chuckles. "Let's get you started."

"Right now?" You cheep.

"Yes, now," his grin falls. "Come on, move it, cheeks."

You flutter your lashes. Cheeks? You touch your face and tilt your head. He laughs again and waves you out the door.

You go into the hall and stop, looking one way then the other. He grabs your shoulders and you squeak in surprise. He marches you down to the space by the door. An empty white desk awaits you. You hadn't noticed it amid your panic.

"Go on, lamb chop," he lets go of your shoulder and taps your ass, "get to it."

You stumble away from him, your bottom tingling at the unexpected swat. That's not appropriate. You won't say so. You'll just try to forget it.

You go around the desk and put the folder and your purse down. You look at him.

"Don't you dare ask me what to do," he points at you. "You said you'll learn, so figure it out." He leans on one heel, "oh, I put my neck out for you, don't fucking blow it."

You flinch at his language. He's not very professional, is he? You might not have an extensive resume, but you know better than to curse in the workplace. You don't even do so at home. Your father would lose his mind.

He leaves you with a whistle and you look around. You sit in the white leather chair and examine the desk. A large flat monitor, a mouse that's almost as narrow, keyboard too; a pen cup with the white pens. It's all white, white, white. You feel like a stain.

You wait and listen for any noise. Just the click of another door. You grab your purse and dig out your phone. The internet is a wealth of knowledge, right? You type; 'how to set up a new work computer'.

The desktop has no password. You start by making one. Then you go through the list on the first suggested webpage. You don't know the business email. That will be something to ask. Later, when you have the chance. You download all the relevant apps. Your phone buzzes. A message.

'Login folder attached.' That's it. You can assume one of them got your number off your resume but you can't guess which. You open it and find a list of accounts by program. You don't know which ones you'll need.

It takes longer than you would expect to get it all done. Some applications block you out as you aren't permitted access outside the admin device. You take the hint that those aren't your domain. When at least you feel like there's a semblance of direction, you bring up the website for L&L Agency. You reviewed it enough in preparation for the interview but now you'll really need to have it down pat.

An email chimes in. You open it. You go back to the inbox. Oh. There's a lot. You see your name labelled on most of them. Right, that probably means you're supposed to deal with those.

The first one is a mystery... you don't know how to answer the question about rates. You don't have any sort of reference for prices and the website says 'contact for rates'. You feel like if you had pretty beach waves and glossy lips, you'd be able to ask questions. No, you're just blaming other people for your issues again.

Your phone rumbles again, reverberating through the whole desk. You look at the ID. It's your dad. You pick up.

"Hi, um, hi, dad," you eke out.

"Where are you?" He barks.

"At work," you answer.

"Work?" He sneers.

"Yeah, I told you, I had that interview. It went well. I got it."

"Mm," he growls. You wait. He doesn't congratulate you. "You flipping burgers?"

You shrink down and swivel the chair to face the wall, "I'm... a secretary..."

"Oh, you remember how to read. That's great," he scoffs.

"Dad, I..."

"When are you going to be home?"

"Um, I..." you look at the clock. It's four already. "I'm not sure."

He huffs, "I trust you will be before dinner time."

You murmur, "yes, dad."

He didn't actually care you weren't home. He only wanted you to make him supper. You swallow. The line clicks. Oh. Guess that's all.

You turn and put down the phone. You jolt the chair on its axle as your eyes meet another pair; green and gleaming. Laufeyson stands with arms crossed, his posture suggests he's unimpressed.

"I need these alphabetized," he nods. There's a filing box on your desk.

"Yes, sir," you reach for the box.

"No personal calls," he slithers.

He doesn't give you a chance to answer before he disappears back down the hall. You don't take it to heart. You shouldn't be answering calls on work time. Besides, as cold as these men are, your father prepared you for the storm.

[ilovechuuy4]

⋆｡°·☁︎ When you hold me, its always better.

Husband!Fyodor x Gn!reader

Warnings; Possible OOC || Nothing

A/n; This is specifically for my bsf @luvfy0dor / @luvfy0dor-main there isn't anything special going on just personal stuff :3 I love you so much ur the best of friends and I hope this cheers you up just the more ૮₍´˶• . • ⑅ ₎э (All lace / dividers by @anitalenia )

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ Fyodor is the type of Husband to hold you and tell you everything is fine after an overwhelming and stressing day.

You hated this feeling, it was overwhelming and suffocating. The stress and angry swallowing you whole, everything today was sickening, from the people at work to how unwell you felt. But you had to admit, the comforting yet bitter contact of Fyodor's icey hands was enough to help you relax. The two of you snuggled up in the bed bodies pressed against one another, cause for the past 2 hours he'd been calming you done from your stress high. Your head resting one your husband's chest, dozing off a bit. "Mhm, myshka. If you're tired don't you think you should go get ready for bed?" He asked, his voice underlined with that thick Russian accent that you loved so much.

No, I don't want to sleep. Keep talking to me." You hummed softly, shivers running down your spin at the feeling of his fingers soothingly rubbing your nape. A smile etching onto his face as he looks into your eyes. "Oh, sweetheart. Don't push yourself too much, if you're sleepy, sleep. I'll be here." He spoke, massaging your neck slowly as you look up at him. You sit up in his lap reaching up and threading your fingers through his dark, raven hair. "I'm not that tired. It's just it gets really comfortable." You said with a smile, scooting closer to the Russian man as you let your arms wrap around his shoulders. His slim arms tentivley encasing over your waist, his face nestling into the warmth of your neck.

"Whatever you say, my myshka." Fyodor huffed, pulling away from you, his deep, violet eyes staring into your e/c ones. His eyes were filled with unspoken love, he didn't even have to tell you how much he adored you, cause you knew already. Your hand cup his pale face, thumb rubbing the corner of his mouth as you lean in, peppering kisses to his nose, under eyes, and the corner of his mouth a a gentle smile on your face. "Come here, stop teasing me like that." He said, a slight pout under his tone, you couldn't have but laugh quietly, leaning in as your lips meet his. A content hum rumbled in his throat as he kissed back, fingers massaging your hip bone soothingly.

After a minute or two, you pull away with a cheeky grin, your eyes meeting his. They were full of love and affection as he stared back at you with a down pulled smile. "I adore you, I adore you more than I ever thought I could," He let out a shaky sigh before continuing. "You deserve so much more than l offer. You're too sweet for the world." He cooed, his voice full of sincerity as he slumped his body against yours. "Oh, Fedya. Don't think like that, you're more than enough." You reassured, hand soothingly rubbing up and down his back that was cover in a thick, smooth knitted sweater. A quiet groan was heard against your neck causing you to let out a soft scoff.

"Don't get all pouty and whiney now." You teased causing him to jerk up from where he slumped into your body. "I'm not, I'm just simply.. Touched. By your way of words." He said with a huff. It made you smile, seeing some real emotion on such a dull yet loving face. You enjoyed times like these. "Cmon, let's get to bed now, my love." He said, pulling you close and pulling you down to his side. This was a dream to you, one you never wanted to wake up from. "Goodnight, myshka. I love you truely." He cooed one last time, his voice filling your ears as you dozed off.

A/n; THIS IS SORTA RUSHED I GUESS I HOPE IT DOESN'T FLOP˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART THREE !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 6.4k

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!leon, yandere!ada, yandere!jill, yandere!carlos, suicidal themes, grief/death, weapons, violence, blood, maladaptive daydreaming, implied masturbation, drugging, kidnapping, unhealthy & unrealistic religious themes.

carlos oliveira's yandere traits are . . .

worshiper, delusional, & nurturing

──── Carlos Oliveira hates the scent of ink. Yet still, his hands are covered in the excess of the relentless use of such.

It stains everything. His ragged clothes, his fingers, the top secret documents he couldn't be bothered to care after. Despite his loathing of the material, it somehow seems to follow him with every step he walks. It doesn't take away the sheer relief he feels when he uses the same ink to jot down everything in his journal. While Carlos is far from home and occupied with his position as a Corporal, he fills pages upon pages of entries assigned to you. From how he swore he heard your laughter at lunch that day to obsessive hours spent writing your name over and over again, he finds it soothing, in an odd sense. Everything the ink touches revolves around you in some shape or form.

Y/N L/N. The name he will never forget.

Carlos remembers your aromatic sweat, your intoxicating breath, your perfumed skin; he will never forget how you ended his life in Raccoon City. It was persephonic, the last day of his life. Through the maze of chaos and gore, he found you, his little taste of heaven before he would face his demise. However, he is still shamefully alive. And selfishly, Carlos wishes that he had died that night. He should be grateful, as insinuated by the thousands of innocent lives lost and his family thanking the universe for sparing their boy. But, he just isn't. He can't, as much as he tries.

Even though his heart still beats, something within him has been dead for these past five years. He tries to heal his soul which decomposes with every day that goes by, but his efforts are brought to no avail. As much as he attempts to write out the fairytale he desperately wishes would materialize into reality, the truth sits and rots beneath a canopy of pretty lies.

You are dead and there is nothing he can do about it.

If Carlos thinks too much about it, he'll be brought to tears. And he can't afford another days-long meltdown filled with unruly sobbing and staggering guilt. He just can't. Instead, he defiles his brain with dreams of you that he deludes himself into believing are real. Writing his sweet spouse letters while he is away from home, buying you trinkets and clothes from foreign places, and leaving behind warm plates of food for you to enjoy. The truth of your well-being dances in the back of his head like a ghost in an attic. However, fully acknowledging you are gone would just about kill him. Carlos will prolong it as long as it can, no matter how fast the inevitable truth gains on him.

"My honey, My sweet, My lover. I will be home soon. Please wait for me, my bumblebee." Ink stains Carlos' fingers as he jots down yet another letter to you. He wonders if you also hate the way ink stains your fingers when you finally write back to him. His heart swells when he imagines you receiving his letter all safe and cozy in the home you share together. One day, he'll receive a letter back from you. The ghost of the truth lurks in the mind, but he turns his back to it. One day, he'll receive a letter back from you.

Five years without you and all that sunshine and wit he used to possess has depleted. Now, it's impossible to know when the ticking time bomb that is Carlos Oliveira may explode.

Unbeknownst to his peers, every emotion expressed is a manifestation of you, whether good or bad. After working the day away, Carlos becomes agitated after such treacherous hours without being able to bathe his mind in the light of you. The anger suffocates whatever room he walks into, causing the people within to recoil from the energy alone. No one has forgotten the time when a few colleagues had poked the bear after a single day Carlos spent unable to return to the thought of you. This inevitably caused an hour-long outburst of broken bones, furniture thrown about, and an eruption of unconsolable tears and horrifying threats. The memory still sends goosebumps across the skin of witnesses and no one has dared to cross the man ever since.

All Carlos needs is to venture back to the lustrous haven within his head. Just you and him, together in extraterrestrial bliss. It's all he needs, please let him have it.

All he needs is indulge in the heavenly sights of you at this moment. Instead of the blood-stained reality that is his life, let him spend his days out in the wild with you. Breezy Summer days where the sun beats down and soaks you in its golden, empyrean hues. Carlos sits with his back against the trunk of a willow tree and you lay on a blanket with your head resting in his lap. The enchanting, peaceful state he has found himself in is almost enough to lull him into a slumber. But, how could he dare shut his eyes when the astonishing sight of you sits right before him? Carlos traces his fingers among the tracings of sunlight that peek through the branches and rest upon your face. Beautiful. How irrevocably, indubitably, catastrophically beautiful you are.

A picnic out in an empty field where the day would be spent letting the world fall away as he looks down on the love of his life. Your lips, ever-so appetizing, are dusted with sugar from the numerous treats Carlos made for this exact date. His hand cups your cheek and he caresses your cheekbone with his thumb, your smile growing in response. And the way it tugs on his heartstrings is almost as if your mere happiness was playing him like a string instrument. He gazes at you with so much wonder, it's practically baffling how in love a man could be. You offer him a bite of the pastry in your hand, but he declines. The heat of the season's temperatures and the burning love within Carlos is more than enough to keep him satiated.

Safe, content, and alive with love. There couldn't be a more perfect way to describe this precious moment with you. Safe, content, and alive with love.

A hand waving in his face brings him back to his unforgiving reality. No more sunshine, no more birdsong, no more you. The dread that permeates his entire being could rival the pain of being stabbed in the heart. Carlos jumps in surprise and casts his eyes upward to find Tyrell, whose worried eyes peer at him through the glasses perched on his nose. His body is tense, terrified of treading over a boundary and causing another outburst. Only this time, he fears the several guards with syringes that were able to make him comply before would fail this time. And Tyrell wouldn't be able to escape Carlos' wrath with his life.

However, in the head of Carlos, he can't fathom why his colleague was suddenly so afraid of him. Maybe it was the way his expression was entirely unconscious. Maybe it was the way his eyes were wide and distant, in a completely different world. Maybe it was the way his lips would twitch into a smile that would be deemed creepy or maybe it was how he whispered unintelligible sentences under his breath. All of this remains unknown to Carlos, as he was far too busy in la-la-land to pay attention to his surroundings. Tyrell then motions to the ground, where Carlos finds how his pen had managed to roll across the floor and how his journal was now sitting face-down against the concrete. When did he drop those?

"Are you okay, man?" The question echoes as if he was standing miles away from him. Is he? Is he ok? These days, it never really feels like it. Only when he can escape to his paradise does he truly feel okay.

"You kept saying something. Over and over again." Carlos can barely render the words spoken by his friend.

"Y/N. Who is that-?"

Something snaps within Carlos. The fireworks you have ignited inside him have been snuffed out like a cigarette; the skipping of his heart trips over itself like a child sprinting down a jagged sidewalk. Your name alone sitting on someone else's tongue is more than enough to send him spiraling into an envious frenzy. You've never even met this poor man, but Carlos' brain infests his thoughts with visions of you and Tyrell together. This parasite paints images of you in the same field, in each other's arms, hopelessly devoted to one another. Happy with one another. And the stifling jealousy practically makes Carlos maniacal. It should be him, it should be him. He doesn't deserve it, but it should be him with you. Not Tyrell, never him, please not him please choose me please just choose me I will do anything baby please-

Carlos doesn't even think before he's swinging his right arm back and surging it forward to Tyrell's face. He can't win, he can't win, he can't. Permeating pain flashes like a flickering light and it courses through his entire arm. This sudden flare of weakness grants Tyrell the opportunity to block the attack before it lands. He now just stares at his friend in complete horror. Carlos falls to the floor of the infirmary and inspects the source of pain, finding that his right bicep has been covered in thick gauze. What was once white and clean is now tattered with blood-red stains. The memories hit him like a train. How could he have forgotten? Was he so caught up in his fantasies that he failed to recall what happened mere hours ago?

One of the most prominent and more so realistic fantasies (in his opinion) Carlos has is of you in heaven, watching over him like his own personal guardian angel. To finally accept your death would shatter him entirely, but to think of how your soul has lived on and is now living in promised eternal bliss calms his stuttering heart. His relentless acknowledgment of this fantasy has caused disastrous side effects, however. Behind the scenes, he has caught himself on many occasions contemplating death. To indulge in his demise and to see you on the other side, Carlos knows it shouldn't make him this exhilarated. Still, he continues to wallow in the celestial phenomenon of joining you in the clouds.

He refuses to fulfill these suicidal tendencies for the sole reason of how you'd perceive him afterward. You had ever so bravely lost your life to the wreckage of Raccoon City; you died a fucking warrior. Whom would Carlos be if he simply ended the torment by slitting his wrists? The echo of your voice barking of how much of a coward he'd be for killing himself over such dramatic, puny reasons makes Carlos recoil in shame. This obsession of his has accelerated to a degree where he'll purposely slack off during missions, hoping that he'll be fatally caught in the crossfire. A bullet through the brain and he'd wake up beside you, where you'll praise him for his bravery and how he died a hero.

To reunite with you — that is the only thing Carlos could ever want.

Today was no different. Yet, while his comrades shout for him to take cover and question why he is being such an idiot, it finally happened. Barrelling through the air is a bullet, which buries itself into the flesh of his right arm. The force sends Carlos to the ground. When others try to take hold of him and drag him to safety, he swats them off like they're nothing but pesky mosquitoes on a humid July afternoon. And he laughs so loudly and so manically, it could almost convince the enemy that the Corporal is secretly the Joker.

It all makes sense now. You had broken your right arm five years ago and now, Carlos has been shot in the exact same arm. This must be you! This must be your way of lending your hand through the sky, guiding him to join you in heaven! You are here with him and Carlos can't restrict the genuine smile and streaming tears from forming on his face. Now, however, the wounds your tender heart left have now been cared for. These doctors have defiled your mark on him; they have sullied the gift you have so kindly given him. And the fury that bubbles inside of Carlos in response is nothing short of harrowing.

Through the heaving breaths of the man he once considered to be his friend, Tyrell finally speaks up with a waver in his voice. "You-You need help, Carlos. I don't know who Y/N is, but-"

"YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" Carlos' outburst explodes and the ringing of it settles like a blast wave. It bounces off the walls and reverberates through the ears of both men.

The anger is practically palpable. What Tyrell failed to notice through that rageful veneer was the pieces of Carlos' broken heart that lies beneath. With every passing second, this phantom within him reminds him of the state of your well-being. You're dead, you're gone, I won't see you ever again. With naivety Carlos excuses as the truth, he continues to ignore this voice. He has been stuck in a five-year-long chase with his logic and will continue running for five more if he needs to. And slowly but surely, this endless race is tearing him apart.

Tyrell leaves without so much as another breath. One question stays heavy on his mind, though. Whoever you are, Y/N, what the fuck have you done to him?

The patient must be given PTO to avoid another breakdown that could potentially accelerate into lethal violence — that was the "excuse" the doctors gave to the Sergeant regarding Carlos' wellbeing. This leaves him here. Alone and driving back to his estate. Meanwhile, his brain is blooming with iridescent fantasies he claims to be memories. Driving home to you after a long day of work and bringing you all the money and love you could ever ask for. He wonders, would you wait for him to come home? Would he find you asleep on the sofa, succumbing to your drowsiness before he'd be able to open the door? Or would you be in the bedroom? The soft glow of the lamp light framing your face as you peel back the covers, welcoming him into your idyllic embrace?

The tires of his car begin to skid off the road. Carlos is brought out of his imagination, where he then jerks the vehicle back into its proper position in the lane. You may just be the death of him, he muses. And when he finally arrives home, he tries to ignore the love letters he sent to you piling in the mailbox, the trinkets and clothes he bought you collecting dust, and the dinner he left for you that is now putrid and overwhelmed with mold. He tries to avoid how much it actually kills him. But still, this aching sense of dread rots in the pit of his stomach. It isn't until he glances at the calendar pinned on the wall does the devastation finally settle like fresh snow.

The date today was September 28th, 2004.

Six years.

It's been six years since he survived Raccoon City; it's been six years since he met you and lost you on the same night. This isn't the first revelation that comes to mind, though. Instead, he feels absolutely mortified by his own negligence. It's your sixth-year anniversary, how could he have forgotten? What kind of person, boyfriend, husband is he to forget this day? He should have brought home chocolate, flowers, shit, maybe even taken you on a month-long vacation to a resort across the world. God, how could he be so fucking stupid? You two could have been at each other's side during the most important day of the year (besides your birthday, of course). But no, he just had to get so caught up in his head that he forgot the anniversary of the day that made him the man he is today.

Another epiphany, one of the much more luminescent standards, hits Carlos once again. This must be why you had never written back to him. You aren't dead, you're simply upset with him! All the letters, all the gifts, all the plates of food, everything you have neglected — it was just your way of expressing your anger. Ha, take that, brain! And despite the circumstances, Carlos imagines the scowl on your face and is absolutely giddy from the vision alone. You're upset with him, yes, but you're alive. His sweet lover is here with a beating heart and an angry head. And God, does it make Carlos practically shiver with glee.

He then storms through his house, looking into every nook and cranny in search of you. "Y/N? Honey? Honey, it's me! Look, I know you're upset, but I promise I will do everything I can to make it up to you!"

"Where would you like to go? Hawaii? Paris? Shit, Italy? Wherever you'd like, Y/N!" With each room left devoid of you, that wrenching misery returns piece by piece and yanks on what is left of his heart. His voice begins to crack as he continues to shout for you. "Y/N, please! Please come out, honey! I'll do anything, Y/N... Please..."

Carlos then collapses to the hardwood floor, his body crushed with the sobs now protruding from his chest. Tears pour down his cheeks with uncontrollable force before landing on the ground beneath. And he cries so violently that he fears his ribcage may shatter from the force of it alone. He can't accept it, he can't, he can't, he can't. Even if this is what the rest of his life looks like, just veiling the truth with delusional fantasies, Carlos will never face the honest conclusion. He just can't.

"Please, bumblebee... I need you..." It's a final, desperate prayer. For your presence or for mercy, Carlos isn't exactly sure which.

He then digs beneath the collar of his shirt and fishes out the necklace he has worn for six years now. Swung upon a rusted chain is the charm of a bumblebee, the yellow and black shades now decayed with age. Carlos (as forgetful as he now realized he is today) will never forget when he first received the necklace. It was right before you had boarded the subway train that would eventually lead to your departure from life. How you enveloped him in your sugar-sweet hug and the way your natural musk sat on your skin still drives him nuts after all these years. The memory brings him great comfort on restless nights spent tossing and turning in bed.

At that moment, however, he never realized how constricting his hold was on you until he hears something snap. Opening his eyes and awakening from the stupor of his cartoon-esque infatuation, he finds how he had underestimated his strength and crushed the clasp of your necklace. The state of your beloved jewelry piece is left oblivious to you. Carlos wasn't given a second to process what had happened before you're peeling your arms off of him and boarding the train. In his hands are the remnants of the necklace you left behind.

The insect symbolizes perseverance, which he finds is a perfect way to describe his life today. Persevering through every day until he can finally let his body rest six feet under; persevering through every day until he can join his honey, his bumblebee through the gates of heaven. Carlos presses another kiss of millions to the pendant as he sits in his lonely house, pretending it is your skin beneath his lips instead of the rusted metal. His heart is shattered, his body is weak, and his brain is infested with every kind of mayhem he has ever known, but he will push through it. He will push through any and all kind of chaos knowing you are at the end of the finish line. Waiting for him.

The quick tune of an email alert brings Carlos out of his lovesick, grief-burdened daze. Suddenly being torn away from the thought of you makes rage flood through his veins. He stomps over to shut his computer off, maybe even throw the monitor against the wall in the process. When he catches a glimpse of what is on his computer, he hesitates. A loud gasp then escapes from him.

On his computer is an email from an old friend.

Carlos is able to fly into the country in less than twenty-four hours. He has to take several deep breaths in order to eradicate the black dots dancing in his vision as he races to Jill's apartment. Seeing her face and the present relief in her expression, the all-too-overwhelming revelation settles. Carlos is surprised he hadn't blacked out right there on her doorstep in response. It's time to finally get you back.

And just like Jill and Carlos had orchestrated after two weeks of planning how they'd release you from Umbrella's clutches, one sip of the cup of tea in your hands and you were out like a light. Your collapse was harsh, evident in the loud thud that permeated when you landed. Fortunately, you had your blanket-cape there to cushion your fall. It doesn't stop the two from bursting the bathroom door open and rushing to your aid, however.

Without your knowledge, Jill and Carlos then proceed to take you far, far away from the place you had once called home.

"What the fuck?"

Despite knowing you were sleeping soundly just several rooms over, your sudden presence still manages to have their breath locked in their throat. The way you look at one another contradicts each other in such discrete ways, it's almost comical. You're hyperventilating, staring at the scene in front of you with eyes blown in crazed shock. Six years of grieving through the most traumatic night of your life, why is it now you find out they have been alive this whole time? These two, however, stare into your soul with so much wonder, you're almost convinced they thought they were looking at some sort of mythological creature. It's almost as if they're hypnotized. No movement, no response — just pure amazement at the sight of you alive and looking at them with eyes full of life.

It isn't until you take a cautious step back does it trigger them to escape their state of captivation. You venturing further away from them, even just a pace — they can't let it happen. Never again. While Jill resorts to calmly approaching you as if you were a stray cat, Carlos makes an abrupt dash for you. You take several more steps backward before the man you presumed to be dead became inescapable. With another onslaught of tears brimming in his eyes and a whimper fleeing from his throat, Carlos practically tackles you into a tenacious embrace.

The hold he has on you is ridden with disbelief and desperation. He's shaking against your body like an Autumn leaf drifting through the wind. Burying his nose further into your neck, he inhales the musk that sits on your skin as if he had been trapped underwater and you were a pocket of air. God, Carlos wasn't even able to look at you for more than one second before he started blubbering like a baby. The man is so absorbed in the moment of finally reuniting with you, he almost misses it when Jill smacks him on his arm and growls through clenched teeth for him to "get his fucking shit together." But, Carlos refuses to budge. He is ready to beg Jill to let him stay here, to please let him revel in the fact that this isn't another fantasy someone will wake him out of.

He somehow nestles his face further into the crook of your neck and brings your body closer to his, almost as if he was trying to mold you together as one. And at this moment, Carlos has yet another revelation. Years upon years of imagining what heaven looks like, he was entirely incorrect. There are no clouds, no birdsong, no vibrant gardens. This. Right here in this moment, this is what heaven is. To have you, the partner of his dreams, so close to him is nothing short of heavenly. For six years, he has dreamed of this moment. And if he were to die at this moment, Carlos would be elated to know he died the happiest he has ever been in his whole life.

Meanwhile, you're thrashing in the tight hold of his constricted strength. It's almost hard for you to breathe with how hard he’s squeezing you. The woman you see over his shoulder is collected, but only a fool would miss the way her shoulders tense and nostrils flare with rage (and a sliver of possessiveness, too). She receives your silent plea and grabs a fistful of his mop-head of hair, using all the might in her arm to pull him away from his own bear hug. Carlos reluctantly loosens his grasp on your form. However, he then resorts to checking you for any and all signs of life.

The past six years have been spent dodging the logical answer to your disappearance. Now, however, the sight of you alive is just too good to be true. He begins thoroughly checking your body for a pulse, listening intently to any irregularities in your heartbeat. Anything to assure him you are actually alive and breathing. When every sign and question points to 'yes' over if you are here, Carlos can hardly contain it. Finally seeing you walking, looking, talking, alive — it's like the crescendo of a beautiful song.

Jill, as collected as she is, does not differ from Carlos' state of emotion very much. She has thought of this moment at least a million times, rehearsing every syllable and breath to make the moment all the more perfect. Now, however, every perceivable thought in her head was robbed the second you entered the room. How desperately she wishes to reassure your safety, inform you of the lies you were told, and vow to never let another soul lay a single hand on you ever again. But, with her racing heart and this grizzly bear of a man latched to you like a leech, her idea of the perfect reunion has been spoiled. Still, for six years she has longed for this. Whether it's a steamy kiss beneath the moonlight or caught in Carlos' mess of tears, she couldn't be more elated to finally have you again.

Much to your dismay, your empty stomach then grumbles its frustrations into the silent air. In response, your face grows warm in embarrassment. You had been so occupied with the current events and battling your shock, the dinner you had missed out on the night before had gone overlooked. The two, however, react much differently to your perceptible hunger than you. Without a mere second to waste, they're fawning over you as if you were some powerful deity and they were your humble, loyal servants. Their infantilizing treatment of you makes your skin burn with even more heaps of humiliation.

"Oh? Are you hungry? I've almost finished breakfast!" Carlos breaks physical contact to return to the stove and you have to restrain yourself from expressing your perceptible relief.

"I... I didn't have dinner last night." With an exhale of dry laughter, your attempt to lighten the mood only does the opposite. How could they have let you go hungry? They brought you here to care for you the way they deserve and they have already failed!

A gentle hand on your lower back causes you to jump in startlement. You find Jill beside you, who helps guide your trembling legs to the kitchen table. Though, it doesn't take a genius to notice the way her hand lingers. Finally free of any unsolicited touch, you sit down at the end of the table. The only way you can bring yourself to any state of ease is to ignore the relentless cooing of the woman beside you and the furious scraping of a spatula against a pan. Almost as if Carlos was speeding through the process of cooking in order to get back to you sooner. Jill then sits beside you, taking your hands into hers. Being free of physical contact was good while it lasted, you joke to yourself.

"You're real... You're real, my butterfly, you're real." Jill indulges in the reality of your genuine touch, before shaking her head as if to wobble her rationality back in place.

A plate is soon served before you. And it is easily the most delectable dish you had ever seen; it looked like something straight out of a magazine, despite the frivolous efforts made by the chef. A gourmet omelet sits in front of you, steam pervading the air in invading your nostrils with its mouth-watering aroma. Adorned with spinach, tomato, and feta cheese, you could have easily downed the delicious serving in one gulp. Nausea swaying in your stomach like a boat on sea prevents you from doing such. You thank Carlos through stuttering breaths and almost miss the way his body softens from receiving your gratitude.

Always so possessive, Jill reverts your attention back to her. "There is so much you are unaware of, Y/N. But, we're here to help. You don't have to be afraid a second longer." Her reassurance does little to calm your nerves. "Right, Carlos?" He only nods weakly, completely dazed as he stares at you in adoration. Had he even heard what she said?

"We will not let anything happen to you." The gravity of her statement practically touches your bones with its weight. It scares you, the severity of the declaration.

Terrified of angering them (even though there is not a single thing you could do that would ever irritate them), you grasp the fork laid out for you on the pristine table. Your efforts are halted by Carlos, who sits down beside you, opposite of Jill. To satiate his gnawing need for you to be close, he pushes his chair to touch yours until you are both shoulder-to-shoulder. After all, you must be so terrified upon being kidnapped by such an evil corporation. It is his touch and comfort you need to lull you back into a place of tranquility, he's sure of it.

Carlos then takes the fork from your hands, nearly passing out when your thumb grazes his hand. To your horror, he plucks some food onto the utensil and holds it up to your lips, ushering you to let him feed you. Almost as if this was some romantic anniversary or something. Reluctantly, you open your mouth and let him place the bite of food on your tongue. And you would be a liar if you said this wasn't the most delicious meal you have ever eaten. Your tastebuds adorned in succulent food and flavorful seasoning, you joke that this dish is compensation for all the turmoil this morning has brought.

Slowly, as Carlos was painfully milking the moment for as long as he could, your hunger is satiated. The joy he garners from merely feeding you radiates off of him like a campfire against the dark night brume. Once the plate is wiped clean of even the smallest crumb (despite your assurances to him that you were full), Jill then wipes the corner of your mouth with her thumb. Your holy attention is reverted back to Carlos when he pokes your lips with a straw, once again, ushering you to let him nourish your stomach. "To wash it down" he excuses, with far too much exhilaration hanging heavy in his tone.

Indulging in the cold, fresh water as it cascades down your throat, you miss how Jill brings her thumb, now adorned with bits of food and your saliva, into her mouth. And she just relishes in the absolute taste of you. Her vision goes hazy and her eyelids droop from the ecstasy. She would have let herself completely fall into the arms of enrapturing oblivion if it weren't for the fact you were right beside her. Carlos takes notice, however, and a sneer forms on his lips as he looks at her in disgust. Jill bites her tongue, holding herself back from pointing out how he is no different. So easily, she could inform you of how after your intimate bath together, she found him inhaling your sweater with his eyes rolled back into his skull and his hand stuffed into his pants. If she were to voice this, however, the man would easily throw himself over the table and attack her like a feral animal. She can handle him, but you don't need even more stress.

Upon being thrust into the middle of this mess, the only thing you can do is watch as the obsession of Jill and Carlos play out before your very eyes. And the physical manifestation of your return has caused disastrous consequences. Six years and you're ashamed to say you have forgotten what their facial features looked like. The memory remains as a blurred, distorted mess of blood and grime. An expression of all the trauma you all have endured. Now, however, you'd be damned if those were two expressions you could ever forget.

Carlos and his dark goo-goo eyes, adorned in overwhelming heaps of drowning devotion that could swallow you whole with one glance. They're affixed with teardrops, adding onto everything cherubic, holy about the way he looks at you. Despite the sheer display of sadness leaking from his eyes, his lips exhibit the biggest, most genuine smile you have ever seen in your life. The way he looks at you, it's almost as if God himself had descended from the heavens and graced Carlos with his presence. All from just the mere act of feeding you. It was deranged, you thought to yourself.

His smile vanishes, eyebrows raising as something seems to click in his head. He then takes your right arm gingerly into his grasp, fingers treading amongst the field of goosebumps blossoming on your skin. "Your arm, you poor thing... Are you okay, honey?" The worry in his voice makes you shiver with convulsion. It takes you several seconds to compute that he was referring to the injury you endured six whole years ago.

Jill and her cheeks that are blazon in hues reminiscent of two ripe cherries, appending a sort of childish innocence to her always-stoic expression. The way her eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed displayed a sense of fury — presumably toward the man clinging onto you like a lifeline. When she looks at you, however, her features perceptibly soften as if beams of sunlight had enveloped her after years of being in the depths of Winter. It was deranged, you thought to yourself.

"You... You kidnapped me..." Even through all the violence and torment these two have endured, nothing had cut deep than those three words. The waver in your voice, the emotions brimming in your eyes, the trembling frown plastered on your lips. God, it killed them right then and there.

They begin to ramble and deny your accusation. All as if it wasn't a lie coming out of their mouths. And in their heads, it was anything but a lie. They truly believed that they saved you as if it was a genuine fact. Somehow, they manage to inch closer to you. The empty air around you becomes suffused with their waving hands and panicked explanations. All to convince you that they would never hurt you. Never.

"You're upset, Y/N, we understand. But you have to know that this was for your own good!" Jill remains the voice of reason, if that's what you would name it. Meanwhile, Carlos throws shambles of assurances such as, "It's not true!" and "I need you!" your way, hoping that something, anything will mend your fears.

And poor you. So confused, so terrified, so bewildered. All you could want at this moment is to go back twelve hours ago. To leave with your friend the second they entered the room, to scrutinize what in your home had caused you to black out, to burst down the front door and beg the the surrounding security guards to save you. Even though the truth of your “home” simmers just beneath the surface, itching to claw its way out, you still find yourself aching to go back to the way things were. Even if it is all just a fat lie. Anything is better than this.

Miles upon miles away, the three of you are completely unaware of the fourth presence treading closer to their secret. Suspicions high, Tyrell can't help but use some of his free time to venture into why Jill and Carlos had suddenly vanished. For the umpteenth time, he looks through more footage from the security system Jill was so insistent on receiving. And what he finds is horrifying. The two people he had once considered his friends were seen climbing through a window, to where they escape moments later with an unconscious body.

A flare of guilt spreads through him. Unwillingly, he had actively played a part in this. Whoever you were, he felt inclined to take full responsibility for helping these two take this innocent life away. To be kidnapped, murdered, he doesn't know. What Tyrell does know, however, is that he feels to be partially blamed for this. When he does further research, his heart sinks even deeper into the pit of his stomach. Reports of a missing patient were sent around the establishment. Y/N L/N, a potential runaway was actually the body nestled tight in Carlos' arms. He remembers how he had spoken that name and the reaction it garnered from Carlos; he remembers seeing the name on the door of the room Jill relentlessly paid him to receive footage of.

With that, Tyrell reports the incident. An investigation commences and two major clues are found. A shattered mug that had been filled with sedation-induced tea and specks of blood on the bathroom floor that have been tested positive for matching one of the assailants. Now, a manhunt is in play for Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira.

At his desk that was overwhelmed with littering documents, Tyrell eavesdrops on a conversation between his two colleagues.

"You won't believe who they've gotten to take over Carlos' spot for this mission!"

"Who?"

"Leon Kennedy."

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 ۫ you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ WE WERE WILD AND FLUORESCENT

COME HOME TO MY HEART . . . ❞

this is what i imagined the necklace carlos stole borrowed from you to look like. however, you can imagine it as whatever you'd like!

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 12

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Another chapter as promised. Prepare for Finnick to enter his trust issues era…

Content Warnings - people were tortured, someone canonically attempts to kill Katniss (Peeta *cough cough*)

You wake up on a hovercraft, unsure of what happened. Peeta, Johanna and Annie are also in the room, but only you are awake. Was Annie also in the capital? She must have been. You’re thankful she looks unharmed.

Peeta and Johanna did not seem to get the same treatment as you and Annie. Peeta is extremely malnourished and is covered in cuts and bruises. Looking at Johanna, you would have thought she was dead if it wasn’t for the slow rise and fall of her chest.

One of the soldiers notices you are awake and slowly approaches you. It’s not till he does that you notice they cuffed your hands and you’re chained to the wall.

“Miss Y/L/N,” the man states as he crouches down to your level. "My name is Boggs and I’m from District 13. We rescued you and the other tributes from the capital and are bringing you to 13. Do you have any questions?”

“Can you take these off?” you ask him, holding up your cuffs. He looks a bit surprised at your question.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he states. “Based on your file it states that you are to be restrained as you may be a danger to others, especially when waking up.” He seems to be reading this information from an electronic tablet he’s holding.

“I bet it also says I don’t talk,” you mutter.

“That would be correct…” he says, realizing that you are talking to him.

“Well I don’t need these anymore,” you state. “I’m not a danger to anyone. The capital fixed me. I’m completely harmless.”

“I’m afraid my orders state you must remain cuffed until you are cleared by the doctors in District 13,” he replies.

“And how long will that be?” you ask.

“We will be landing in an hour,” he responds.

An hour feels like eternity when you are waiting for your freedom. Boggs confirmed to you that Finnick is alive in District 13 and somewhat well. Apparently he’s been having a really hard time coping with your absence and is excited for your return. He really missed you.

District 13 is chaotic when you land. Annie is allowed to walk off of the hovercraft on her own but Johanna and Peeta are loaded up onto stretchers and whisked away to the hospital.

Even though you tell them that you can walk just fine, the doctors make you sit in a wheelchair so they can chain you to it while a soldier pushes you. Nobody here trusts you not to act out.

“Where’s Finnick?” you ask the soldier pushing your wheelchair.

“Not sure,” he grunts. “They won’t allow you visitors until they decide you aren’t a threat.”

You arrive at your room and they transfer your restraints to the metal bed.

“Oh I’m not the one you should be worried about,” you tell the man. “Peeta on the other hand…”

You’re cut short by the sound of someone yelling out for you.

“Finnick?” you yell back. “Finnick!”

The blond comes sliding into view when he’s held back by two District 13 soldiers. You want to cry at the sight of him. He looks like he hasn’t slept or eaten in days. His fingers are bloody from the rope in his hands and he looks like a lost puppy.

“Y/N!” he calls out. “Let me see her!”

“I’m sorry Mr. Odair,” one of the guards says. “She is not allowed visitors until she has been cleared by our doctors.”

“Oh god doctors?” Finnick asks. “She hates doctors. If anyone is going to set her off it’s a doctor. She killed two of them in the capital.”

The soldiers radio for backup, thinking you’re even more of a threat.

“Let me see him!” you yell. “I won’t hurt anyone. They fixed me.”

“I’m the only one who can calm her down,” Finnick explains. “If she gets out of hand I’ll sedate her. Give me some sedatives.”

The doctor outside my room agrees to Finnick’s plan and the soldiers finally let him in. He shoves the sedatives into his jumpsuit pocket before bursting into the room.

“Finnick!” you exclaim, holding your chained arms as far out as they can reach. You need to hold him, to make sure he’s real.

“Y/N,” he sobs, finally breaking down. “I’m so sorry. I missed you so much.”

“Come here,” you tell him, motioning for him to sit on the bed next to you. He hesitates before reaching out to gently touch your hand.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes now get over here,” you state, nearly yanking him on top of you.

He climbs into your small bed and you nuzzle up against him. The cuffs dig into your wrists but you don’t care.

“I’m so happy,” you hum.

Suddenly chaos erupts down the hall and a soldier bursts into your room, gun pointed at you.

“Mr. Odair,” he states. “Step away from Miss Y/L/N.”

“No,” you state, holding Finnick closer to you. “He stays.”

“Something is wrong,” the soldier tells Finnick, ignoring you. “Mr. Melark just tried to kill Katniss.”

Finnick tenses up at this news before slowly climbing out of your bed and backing away from you.

“That’s because the capital trained him to do that,” you try to explain. “They didn’t do that to me. I’m not going to kill anyone.”

“There will be no visitors to any of the rescued victors until they are individually deemed safe,” the soldier states. “Mr. Odair you are wanted in command.”

Finnick gives you a worried look as he leaves, wondering if you might turn on him at any moment.

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[jupipedia]

summertime ! — t. fushiguro. ↳ toji can't focus on anything as he is too busy imagining what's under your pretty little sundress. ↳ content warning : nsfw ( minors do not interact! ), black!reader, implied plus size! reader, or*l ( f. receiving ), faces*tting, unprotected s*x ( don't even think about it. ), cre*mpie(s), an*l play ( f. receiving ), c*rvix f*cking ( she's always here )c*m-eating ( y'all lol ), praise, p*ssydrunk toji, overst*mulation ( both receiving ), groping, idk what else fr.

shiu has been talking to toji for at least the past ten minutes and toji couldn't repeat anything he said. he was too focused on you in your pretty blue sundress.

well, more so what under it.

he could tell you weren't wearing a bra as your nipples were prominent through the fabric that clung to your figure. he nearly drooled at the sight of his initial sitting snug between your breast, dangling from the dainty gold chain wrapped around your smooth neck. he nearly groaned once you turned your back to him completely, visualizing the tramp stamp that sat above you plump ass. he assumed you weren't wearing any underwear as well, not seeing the panty line that should cover the swell of your ass.

he knows that you were aware of the effect that the sundress had on him. he could tell by your sneaky smile when you caught his stare. you even had a calculated switch when you walked by him, the jiggle of your ass begging for his undivided attention. he almost regrets not cancelling the cookout after seeing you in that flimsy material.

"you're not even listening to me, are you?" shiu asked, noticing toji's lack of reaction as he spoke.

"nope. i have to take care of something. find some new company," toji said, not sparing his acquaintance a second glance before heading in your direction.

he didn't give you a chance to excuse yourself from your conversation, opting to grab you shoulders and lead you in the direction of your shared home.

"nigga, what are you—" you asked, trying to turn around and rejoin your company.

"shut up or i'll fuck you in front of all of them," toji's gruff voice caused your stomach to pool with arousal. you allowed him to continue to lead you away, suppressing an excited grin once you reached the back door. once it was locked, the two of you sprinted up the steps, taking them two or three at a time. you scurried into your shared bedroom, dodging the wandering hands of your husband as he tried to hike up your dress.

toji wasted no time once the two of you entered your shared bedroom, scooping you up with his hands grasping the fat of your ass. his lips left no part of your neck unmarked as he kissed along your throat, leaving stinging marks in his wake.

"you and this flimsy ass sundress. you're killing me out there, sweetheart," he grumbled, kissing the tender spot under your ear. an aroused sigh left your lips as you tangled your fingers in hair.

toji adjusted his hold on you in order to slowly strip you of your dress, taking his time to grope at the globes of your ass and fat of your hips. you started to hiss at him after hearing the slight rip of your sundress, him responding with a dopey smile and faux apologies.

once you were left bare before your husband, toji leaned back to take in your nude image. you were a sight to see. his eyes trailed from the valley between your breast to your navel and stopped at the mound of his favorite place to be. he couldn't rip his eyes from you as his eyes trailed back up to your face and noticed your almost bashful smile.

"getting shy on me, hm? after all these years," he teased, smirking as you turned away from him. he moves forward, grabbing your chin in his hand to force you to look in his eyes. "wanna do me a favor, pretty girl?"

you hummed in response and his smirk widened. "sit on my face, yeah? wanna see my girl up, close, and personal."

he doesn't offer you any time to question his favor as he lets go of your face and lays back onto the bed. he allows you to take your time maneuvering to straddle his face, grinning once your glistening cunt came into his view. he clicked his tongue as you remained hovering, always hesitant when it came to sitting on his face. he took matters into his own hands, pulling your cunt to his tongue and holding you firmly in place as you squirmed at the contact.

"f-fuck, toji," you choked out, gripping the headboard as your hips buck towards his mouth. he had barely started and you could feel yourself becoming a mess for him. your thighs twitched around his head as he plunged his tongue in your tight heat, collecting all of your essence and swallowing loudly, slurping you for all you could offer. he groaned wildly into your cunt, savoring your heady taste. as you felt yourself approach your orgasm, you tapped on toji's chest and attempted to lift your hips from his face, only to be forcefully pulled back down towards his hungered mouth. "shit, i'm gonna cum if you don't let me up."

"then cum," are the muffled words that leave toji's lips as he never paused his ministrations. your hips jerk a few times before your entire body began to shake as you came into his mouth, your encense dripping onto his awaiting tongue. "mmm, good girl."

toji's hold on your love handles loosened after a few more swipes of your core. he shuffled you down to his bare lower half, having removed his pants while eating you out. he chased your lips as your face came into view, tongue caressing your own in his hurry.

"my pretty girl," his mumbles on your lips, his breathe mingling with your own. "need you to ride me."

he maneuvers you to slip down his stiff cock, immediately groaning as your vice wrapped around his leaking tip. a shiver ran through your body as you engulfed his cock, pleasure pooling in your stomach as he filled you. you took a few seconds to savor the feeling of being completely full before lifting your hips and dropping yourself back down. you moaned loudly, removing one hand from his chest to cover your mouth, hoping to muffle your sounds. it was ineffective as your volume continued to rise the more that you rode him.

"fuck, you feel like a dream, doll. always so tight for me," toji's rough hands found their way back to your hips as he guided your hips, controlling the tempo of your movements. his mind was clouded with thoughts of you and your body, thinking of all the different ways he wanted you right now. he couldn't care less about being a bad host, not when he was lost in the feeling of your warm, leaking pussy sucking him deeper into you.

your release blindsided both you and toji as your body tensed up once more and your pussy tightened around his dick, triggering his own release. toji's head swirled as he continued to rut into you, having planted his feet on the bed to take over.

you inhaled sharply as you felt one of his hefty fingers circle your clenched muscle. you looked down at the man under you and met his dazed stare, still aware enough to wait for your permission. you gave him a slight nod and fell against his chest, placing your face in the crook of his neck. his finger prodded at your hole, slipping in with more ease than expected. a whine escaped you as you grew fuller, the pleasure and pain of overstimulation being amplified at the intrusion.

you were reduced to babbles as toji continued to fuck up into you while toying with your asshole, having added an additional finger once he deemed you lose enough.

"i can't get enough of you, angel. you're too good f'me. always so obedient. lettin' me take what i want. mmm, s'pretty, baby," toji said, words slurring together as lust and love clouded his mind. he flips the two of your over before resuming his thrust, this time with more fervor. he keeps his eyes on your contorted face, loving the way your eyes watered from the pleasure.

"toji! fuck~ i l-love you! please ah- please! 's too m-much! feels too good! don't stop," you gargle your words, drool falling down your chin as you took the harsh thrusts that toji gave you. he hiked your leg over his shoulder, this new angle knocking the wind out of you as he began to kiss your cervix. a guttural groan falls from toji's lips as your entire body begins to tremble and clear streams begin to escape your pussy. toji slurs your name a few time before thrusting into you once more, filling your pussy with a second load.

"fuck, mama," he sighed, dropping his head into the crook of your neck before placing kisses along the column of your throat, light bruises being left in his wake. he stops at the top of your breast before pulling back to take in your spent image. he slowly pulls out of you, groaning at the sight of his cum spilling out of your pussy. he scoops your mixed releases onto two of his fingers and places them in his mouth, groaning at the taste.

toji quickly shuffles his body down the bed as he come face to face with your heat once more. he kitten licks your entrance, gathering more of the essence on his tongue before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. he smiled dopily at the sound of your whines before diving in completely.

"you can give me another, right? can't you, beautiful?" he mumbled into your mound, your clit twitching with new excitement. he was so occupied with cleaning you out and bringing you to another climax that he didn't hear the chime of his phone.

from : shiu

you're fucking gross, by the way.

© jupipedia. do not repost, plagiarized, or falsely claim my work. likes, comments, and reblogs are welcome!

[nevernonline]

✧.* what’s your number?; kmg

synposis: after finding an online article about the number of sexual partners a woman should have, your day with your neighbor turns into him being lucky number eighteen.

paring/s: model! mingyu x afab! reader, ft. little brother! chan.

genre/s: humor (sort of lmao), neighbors2lvrs vibes, fuckboy&girl reader and gyu.

warning/s: alcohol consumption, sexual content (minors - dni), talks of broken bones, oc has female genitalia

word count: 3.8k

content: seggsy times, idiots being besties, reader loses her job, all the vibes.

note/s: loosely based on one of my fav movies, what's your number with anna ferris. lmao enjoy. also def unedited so srry. xo.

“Miss. Y/L/N. I’m very sorry but we have decided to let you go.” 

Your boss put down a brown cardboard box that once held wine from a staff party about a week ago. You stood in silence, why were you being fired? You’re one of the only executives who does their job. All of the other employees sit around and drink whiskey and flirt with the other women on your floor on company time, go home to their wives, and make six figures. 

“Sir, can I ask why?” 

“Budget cuts, sorry honey.” 

Honey of course. Not only is he himulating you, he’s also being condescending. 

“Why not fire Ted? He does nothing but use his company card for ‘business expenses’ like taking his different fucks to exotic vacations and restaurants.” 

“Our female clients like Theodore. Sorry it has to be this way. Here’s a check to keep your rent underway and for any troubles. Good luck.” 

You picked up the brown cardboard he handed it to you and dumped the white envelope into your bag as you stormed out of his glass chamber. 

Perfect timing, your brothers getting married and you’re getting fired. Your mother will surely love to hear about this. 

After gathering the contents of your desk you found your way back to your white and gray covered apartment, sinking down into the perfect couch you bought yourself as a reward for your first month in the job. 

Pulling your laptop from the pocket of your work bag, you scrolled through the news on your side widget . Coming across an article written in some stupid lifestyle magazine about ‘the appropriate number of sexual partners for women.’ 

“Okay, so society is regressing.” 

Curious enough you scrolled through to a small section with a quiz, childish, but probably suitable for women over 50 or under 21. 

Following your finger down the various categories that pertained to you until it came to the bottom of the page pointing out your result. 

“15 and over, women with this number often have difficulty finding a spouse and are unlikely to ever settle down. Are they fucking serious? Men can fuck 50 women and still are fine.” 

A vibration came from your phone, a text from your neighbor. 

[3:44pm]. 

Mingyu: Mind helping me out? New girl won’t take the bait about my “emergency” 

Y/N: what’s the issue with her this time? 

Mingyu: nothing, just too clingy. I’m expecting you in five, say our dad fell in the shower. Thank you, owe you. 

Y/n: got it see you in five. 

Mingyu and you met often when you were ushering out hook ups or crazy exes show up to your door. You didn’t know much about his life, other than he’s a model, and obviously has bad luck with women. 

Pulling yourself up off your couch and throwing a blazer back over your shoulders you strode off down to the other end of the hallway. 

“Mingyu? Mingyu seriously answer your phone? Hello!” 

The door opened revealing a semi-naked girl, she was pretty sure, blonde, tall, nice eyes, but boring. 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

“Mingyu’s sister, who the fuck are you?” 

“Oh my god! So sorry, hi so nice to meet you, I’m Ailee his gir-“ 

“My friend, y/n. What’s wrong?” 

Letting yourself passes the bra sporting blonde you looked Mingyu straight in the face and pulled out your best crying face, it was easy today being that you’re pissed about work and that stupid fucking quiz. 

“It’s dad, he fell. I don’t think it’s good, we have to go.” 

“Oh. Okay, let me change.” 

Mingyu pulled in his jeans and a white t-shirt, grabbed his fancy leather wallet from the counter and pulled you through the front door of his condo. 

“Ailee, let yourself out okay?” 

“Call me?”

“Uh, maybe it sounds like this is bad, maybe we should stop seeing each other? I’ll call you.” 

The truth is Mingyu was never going to call her, he said that to all the others. Yet, you never saw them again. 

Silently you open the door to your place and shut it behind you. 

“She seems nice.” 

“Yeah trust me, she’s not.” 

“Noted. But, better than that crazy red headed girl, Cass was it?” 

“We don’t have to talk about her.” 

“Missing that jacket still?”

“Yes.” 

Mingyu took his place on your leather armchair and sipped the coffee you had initially made for yourself. 

“What is this? What’s your number?”

“Oh my god. Stop looking at my shit.” 

You whipped the lid of your laptop close and stole it out of his hands

“Do you really think anyone cares how many people you sleep with? Isn’t that kind of fucked up?” 

“You can only say that because well, one your a man and two you’ve fucked basically half the women in this city.” 

“Not true, we haven’t fucked.” 

“Right and we will not.” 

“Sure, sure keep telling yourself that. So what is it? 12?” 

“Do you really need that answer?” 

“Yes. And I will bother you until you tell me.” 

“17.” 

Mingyu laughed, not because he felt bad for you or that you were going to hell for fucking 17 people, but because he didn’t see the big deal. 

“Oh come on, that is not that bad.” 

“What’s yours?” 

“Maybe 20?” 

“We are way too close in number for me to not feel weird about it now.” 

“Because it doesn’t matter, why do you think you couldn’t get a husband or boyfriend or whatever the fuck you want because of that?” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t until today I guess.” 

“Bad day?” 

The dark haired man’s head nodded towards the unpacked cardboard box sitting on your dining table. 

“Weird day. And now I have to go see my family at an overly fancy party and sit around clutching cocktails and lie that I didn’t lose my job, just until their precious boy is married off.” 

“Ah, the black sheep of a rich family huh?” 

“Shut up, no. They’re just judgmental is all. Well, my mom is anyway.” 

“I see. What are you wearing?” 

“I don’t know? What’s wrong with what I have on now?” 

Mingyu looked you over in your semi unbuttoned dress shirt and oversized trousers, sexy and sophisticated, but a little boring for a party. 

“Actually you look good. But, it’s not exactly giving a cocktail party for the sister of the groom. Especially if your mom is as judgmental as you say.” 

“Okay, go in my closet then. Work your weird model magic or whatever, Mr. Jeans and white tee.” 

“Anything for you, rich girl.” 

You walked Mingyu through your bedroom into the oversized walk in closet, filled to the brim of clothes, half of them with tags still on. Gifts from boyfriends, friends, your mother. 

“Wow, I didn’t expect this.” 

“And what did you expect?” 

“A closet turned into an office and like five pairs of the same pants, maybe matching pajama sets. But not this.” 

Sitting down on the small stool you let the man rifle his way through the various colors of fabric. 

“Okay, so this black dress. It’s tight but not overwhelmingly, it’ll show your figure and still make you appropriate. These tall black boots, sexy to show off your long legs and make you look even taller, a nice bag, maybe.. this red one? Or the green, just for a pop of color. Put it on.” 

“You finish quickly .” 

“Never had a woman say that to me before. Hurry up.” 

Smirking, you run back into your bedroom, out of sight from the man tapping his fingers on the marble countertop of your dressing room, sliding into the outfit he picked out. 

“Okay, I look-“

“Beautiful.” 

“Really? Don’t you think this is a little much? I mean, for this?” 

“Not at all, it’s actually really simple. May I?” 

He held up a silver chain necklace in his hands and waited until you nodded as he strung it around your neck. 

“Perfect. Now, leave your hair up. Maybe a nice bun and curl the front pieces? You look nice without makeup on, but do that cute winged liner look you do with a nude lip.” 

“Okay, since when did you become a stylist?” 

“I’m a model, I know what I’m talking about. Come on, chop chop.” 

“Okay, mom. Jesus.” 

“Dad. Daddy, actually.” 

“That's never happening.” 

Doing his instructions as he asked, you curled the front pieces of your hair letting it softly dangle in front of your face and placed the rest up on the crown of your head in a loosely tied knot. 

“Okay. So maybe you’re good at this.” 

“I know. If you need my help further, you know where to find me.” 

“You’re leaving?” 

“Aren’t you?” 

Holding up your phone you realized how much time has passed and grabbed your keys. 

“Right. Thank you.” 

“My pleasure. See you soon, y/n.” 

“Bye, Gyu.” 

Walking up to the front steps of your parents luxurious brown stone, you felt the cold sweat under your armpits before walking in the front door. 

“Y/N holy shit, where have you been? Mom is going to kick your ass.” 

“Sorry, Chanie. I had something going on. Where is she?” 

“In the dining room with Marnie and Seungcheol. Talking about wedding stuff, please save us.” 

Coming to your brother's rescue was part of the job of being an older sister. Seeing him settle down and get engaged to a girl like Marnie was amazing for you, she was everything he needed, and it was nice to have another girl in your family. 

Grabbing  a glass of champagne from the silver tray of a waiter, you strode up to your mother in your childhood home, still as nervous as you would have been as a little girl to be under her gaze. 

“Aw, my baby. Finally arrived. Hello.” 

“Hi, Mom. Hello, guys.” 

You mom hugged you giving a kiss on both of your blushing cheeks passing you along to greet your brother's future wife and his friend Seungcheol. 

“Y/N, you look amazing. Where did you get this beautiful dress?” 

“Thank you. My friend helped me pick this out actually, I don’t remember where it’s from.” 

“Friend? Which friend is this, darling?” 

“His name is Mingyu, he’s my neighbor.” 

“Gay? He has wonderful taste.” 

“No, not gay mom. He’s a model.” 

“Oh wow, can I see a photo? Why didn’t you bring him?” 

“Maybe next time.” 

After downing the first glass of alcohol you quickly look for another, Seungcheol already holding a glass in his hand for you with a wink. 

“Thank you.” 

“Anytime.” 

“Y/N, can you go find your father? Now that you're here we can start dinner.” 

“Yep.” 

Strolling throw the various rooms full of priceless knickknacks and photos of your youth, you stop at the open oak doors of your fathers study, looking at him for a moment, behind his desk, glasses on, reading his book. 

“Hello, Dad. May I come in?” 

“Y/N, yes of course. Just hiding out here until I can eat some dinner. How are you?” 

“I’m okay, mom sent me to get you to come eat. What are you reading?” 

“Oh, just some Orwell. Relaxes me.” 

“Shall we, sir?” 

“Yes, my girl.” 

You held your arm out for your father, he was always your best friend, someone who no matter what supported everything you wanted to do. He was stern, but even after parenting you he would end it with a hug and a piece of candy, seeing him grow older had your heart in pain. 

Searching the table for your placecard, it sat you right in between your brother and Seungcheol, his best man and best friend for longer than you could ever remember. 

“Are you coming to his bachelor mixer?” 

Seungcheol’s long eyelashes fluttered in front of your face and you noticed how much more mature he looked, he was always cute, but it’s grown on you now. 

“Are you going to embarrass me?” 

“I’m not the one who got drunk in college and broke her arm trying to dive into the fountain.” 

“Ouch. At least I haven’t shit myself drunk as an adult and embarrassed myself in front of the girl I liked.” 

“I did not shit myself. It was a fart.” 

“A fart with a little poop, a shart if you will. What did they call you? Shart Seungcheol?” 

Your mother interrupted the light flirting you two were enjoying and gave a speech about how lovely it is to see her baby marrying a second daughter and so on and so on. 

After everyone downed their salmon and fancy finger food, you got into the silly party bus along side the rest of the bridal party, moving on to the night of drinking ahead of you. 

“Guys let’s play a game on the way to the bar.” 

Your brother's fiancé spoke, turning down the music and passing around multiple bottles of tequila and glasses. 

“Everyone right down a confession on your paper. If we guess whose it is, they have to drink, but if you get it wrong you drink.” 

Looking down at the small pink sheet of paper you wrote about your day, your sex number, and you losing your job. Maybe nobody will get it, maybe nobody will care because they’ll be equally as drunk. 

The game went on as your anxiety grew and nobody had chosen your confession yet, that was until your brother pulled one of the last sheets of paper out from the bowl. 

“Today I lost my job, I let a stupid magazine article tell me how women who have sex with more than 15 men means they’re unloveable and unwanted. I can’t wait to get fucked up. Congratulations! Well that’s my sister.” 

“What? How did you guess that?” 

“I know your handwriting dumbass, drink, everyone drink.” 

Your night continued, nobody mentioned your failure as a person, they just celebrated the happy couple. 

More and more drinks in, maybe the same amount of people you’ve had sex with. You took it upon yourself to get people on the dance floor, when you felt a pair of hands coming up on your hips, turning around to curse them out, you recognized the eyes staring back at you. 

Mingyu. 

“What the hell are you doing here!?” 

“Birthday party, we always come here. What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Mixed sexes bachelor party.” 

Mingyu's hands were still resting on your hips, on top of the very dress he helped you pick out hours before. 

“Exciting. Want to get a drink with me?” 

“I have one.” 

You held up the half empty glass of your Negroni and Mingyu snatched it from your grip, downing it for you. 

“You’re paying.” 

“Yes. That was the plan.” 

His hand pulled out off the dance floor and back over to a pair black leather bar stools, waving the bartender over. 

“Two whiskey sours please.” 

“No, one whiskey sour. I’ll have a whiskey neat.” 

The bartender nodded working his magic for the two rocks glasses. 

“Here you go, tab Mingyu?” 

“Yes, thanks John.” 

“Wow first name bases?” 

“I told you we like to come here. Who’s the pale dude staring at us?” 

You turned around to look at your brother, cheering you from across the bar. 

“My brother, Chan. His wedding party.” 

“Yes, I remember. I meant the one next to him?” 

“Ah, Seungcheol. Best man.” 

“He wants to fuck you, maybe he’s lucky number eighteen.” 

“Maybe he was lucky number ten back in the day.” 

“Do you remember his number?” 

“No, but I’ve already fucked him. In college.” 

“Ah, I see. Still on the hunt?” 

“Not at all actually, I’m celabte now.” 

“No way, I bet you could find many dudes who’d want to fuck you here.” 

“It’s a matter of if I want to fuck them no?” 

“Touchè” 

“What about him?” 

Mingyu pointed to a tall blonde, long hair, and pretty lips. 

“Gorgeous. But not my style. I’m not really in the mood to get laid.” 

“And let my work go to waste?” 

You smiled, sipping your drink and feeling the warm liquid enter your body. 

“You didn’t give me my beautiful face and fat ass, you just put it in a dress. And as my dad says, leave them wanting more.” 

“You’re a very funny drunk, she shocks me even more.” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Do you ever get tired of having me save your ass from all those girls? Don’t you want to settle down and not have your neighbor coming over to rescue you all the time?” 

“Maybe the reason I do it is so you’ll save me.” 

“Shut up.” 

“No. I’m serious. I like hanging out with you, I enjoy seeing you, and you’re very entertaining. I like role play.” 

“I see, you have a kink.” 

“All jokes aside, I like seeing you.” 

You were surprised by his gentle voice and nature, you always knew him from the outside, a beautiful guy who has bad luck getting girls out of his apartment for whatever reason. 

“I like seeing you too.” 

Mingyu's hand rested on your thigh as he looked towards the same dance floor he pulled you from before, basically begging you with his eyes to come back out with him. 

You agreed, holding his hands through various sweaty bodies, some you knew and some you didn’t. Dancing along with them to the rhythm of the song, holding yourself up on Mingyu's large frame 

“Surprised to see you in something other than jeans and a tee.”

“You like?” 

“If I say yes are you going to fuck with me over it?” 

“Maybe. Are you going to let me be your lucky number eighteen?” 

“If you promise you don’t have some random girl barge in your door tomorrow to get me to leave?” 

“She’ll be tied up.” 

“Let’s go. I have to say bye to my brother first. Come on.” 

Walking towards the door you spot Chan playing darts with Marnie, who was obviously kicking his ass. 

“Hey! I’m going to head out, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Is this Mingyu?” 

“Oh shit, yes Marnie, Chan, this is Mingyu. Mingyu, this is my brother Chan and his fiancé Marnie.” 

Mingyu outstretched his hand to the couple, shaking it kindly. 

“Nice to meet you man, my sister talks about you a lot. Be good to her.” 

“Chan, shut the hell up. Love you both, mwah mwah.” 

“Mingyu if you’re free tomorrow, y/n has a plus one. We’d love to have you.” 

Smiling and whisking Mingyu out of the front door, you began to run together through the light rain falling, two blocks to your apartment. 

“Sorry, my brothers, an idiot.” 

“He seems nice, his wife to be too.” 

You felt your hands shaking in nervousness riding up the elevator to your shared floor. Stepping off and standing in the hallway between your two front doors. 

“Your place or mine?” 

“Well, I picked you up didn't I? Come to mine.” 

Mingyu led you through his familiar front door and helped you out of your wet clothes, throwing them in his washing machine. 

Now standing in his living room, just in your black lace bra and panties, feeling like all those other girls before. Almost in fear of someone knocking to kick you out of his dimmed apartment. 

“Come on.” 

You giggled as he picked up your half naked frame and carried you into his bedroom. 

“Lay down. Off the edge of the bed, trust me.” 

You didn’t say anything just followed his instructions as his fingers came and wrapped themselves around your lace underwear, blowing on your clit with his soft breath as he pulled them down your freshly shaved legs. 

“Fuck.” 

His lips came in contact between your heated center, splitting his kisses between your aching parts and your thighs. 

Your hands working their way through his hair as he used his tongue to work his way around your clit and between your folds, pushing you closer and closer into your own euphoria. 

Maybe you understood why girls didn’t want to let him go, if this was his head game, you can’t even imagine what could come next. 

“You taste so sweet, I should’ve known better to be careful, I might get addicted to you.” 

“Stop with the niceties, Gyu. Can you please fuck me?” 

“Eager are we?” 

“Yes.” 

Mingyu pulled you up by the back of your neck, forcing your head near the top of his dick, waiting for you to wrap your mouth around it and get it sopping wet so he could enter in between your legs. 

“Oh, baby, that feels so good. I love watching you on my dick, but we have to stop before you get me going too much.” 

Your head turned up at him, mascara slightly spilling under your eyes, as you opened your mouth searching for the feeling of his lips on yours, before he planted in on you he spit into your mouth, and inserted himself between the same thighs he was kissing before, slowly entering inch by inch, making you wait to feel him fully inside of you even more. 

“Comfortable, baby?” 

“Yes, faster please.” 

“So polite, but as you said before, leave them wanting more and more. I want you to get riled up.”  

“Yes, sir.” 

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.” 

His thrusting became more rapid with your soft moaning, kissing your neck in the process, riding out your high with you, you felt him begging to slow down as his teeth wrapped around your hard nipples, sucking softly at them. 

“You’re so delicious, I don’t think I can last much longer.” 

“Me either, but it’s only round one.” 

“Do you want to do this again?” 

“Eighteen has always been my lucky number, now fill me up.” 

With your final words, Mingyu rode the rest of his high before finishing inside of you, placing a soft kiss on your perfectly pink lips, and dipping his head back down to your center to clean you up with his mouth. 

“Want to stay?” 

“Is that alright?” 

“Yeah, come on. Let’s shower.” 

The tall man led you into his beautiful marble bathroom and turned the water on in his shower built for two. 

“I meant what I said at the bar, you know. I like being with you.”  

Your long arms reached up to his hair, massaging his scalp with shampoo. 

“I meant what I said too, lucky eighteen.” 

“So I’m your lucky number?” 

“Yes, don’t tell my mom tomorrow.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell her that you called me sir and the ass she gave you is indeed perfect.” 

You planted a soft kiss on his lips, before pushing him back under the warm water of the shower head. 

“I dare you.” 

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards: Part 3

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 3K

Author's Note: This is the second part of what I anticipate will be a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

You continued to cling to the trunk of the tree long after the two males below had brought their fire to a roaring inferno. They finished off the food you had packed, and you looked down at the two small specks on the ground below. Stupid, you thought. You shouldn’t have stayed in the woods; you should have kept going. Finally, you let your hands move from the trunk to the branch. The ache in your arms from holding yourself up made your joints stiff as you shimmied into a sitting position, your back pressed against the trunk. Your movement made the males below perk up their ears, their heads turning to you in anticipation until they heard you settle and went back to their chattering.

“Where will you go?” Darian asked, throwing the chicken bone he had sucked clean over his shoulder into the woods. The logs in the fire cracked and snapped.

The leader shook his head, his knee pulled to his chest as the other extended in front of him, sitting on your blanket. “I don’t know. They haven’t told me yet.”

“You’ve gotta be excited, though?”

He raised an eyebrow towards his companion, who took one of his knives out of the holster and began swiping it under his fingernails, no longer looking at him. “Why would I be excited?”

Darian brought his thumbnail to his mouth, taking it between his teeth and pulling a loose piece from it before spitting it onto the ground. His eyes narrowed at the piece he couldn’t quite grab as he pulled his hand back to his mouth. “Restationing,” he said finally, spitting another piece onto the ground. “Getting out of this hellhole.”

“It’s not that bad,” the leader responded, his eyes locked on Darian, who finally put the knife back in the holster and flicked his eyes back to the male across the fire.

“Not bad?” He chuckled lightly. “It’s disgusting. There’s piss and shit everywhere. I think they actually ship the boots in covered in mud, and have you ever gone a full night in one of the tents without waking up damp and sore?”

“It’s a training camp, Darian, not exactly glamorous. Besides, they’re all the same, whether you’re in Illyria or not.”

Darian shrugged, leaning back, his forearms propping him up. “At least it’s a change.”

The leader shrugged, letting the leg he had propped up fall to the blanket. He looked up towards where you sat in the tree, peering down. “You’re sure it’s a female?” he asked.

Darian glanced upwards, “It’s either a female or a male with a round ass.” He chuckled to himself. “A really nice ass.”

The leader, still looking up towards you, chuckled. “I think it’s been a while since you’ve been around a female, Darian.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

The leader shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Your hunger is showing.”

Darian turned his palms up, mouth slightly slackening open. “What? I haven’t had a good fuck in a while.”

“What about that washer girl?”

Darian scoffed. “I wouldn’t say that was a good fuck.”

“Still, got your cock wet.”

Darian scoffed, “Warm at best.” He shook his head. “The same pussy gets old. You need something fresh and new.”

“How many times did you fuck her?”

Darian smiled to himself. “How many times did you?”

The leader chuckled under his breath. “A few.”

Darian flashed his catlike, venom-filled smile to the male across from him. “Then I would say a few as well. Most of us fucked her a few times.” His fingers quoted around the word "few." “Not like there’s a ton of options.”

Darian leaned back fully, clasping his hands behind his head as he rested it against them, staring up at the sky. “There’s a perk to restationing. Finally getting some new females to fuck.”

“You could outsource, Darian,” the leader offered. Darian raised an eyebrow and looked up at the other male. “You could start fucking males.”

A disgusted look crossed Darian’s face. “Even if I wanted to, you couldn’t pay me to fuck one of those soldiers. Most of them haven’t bathed in weeks, and they probably have fucked up dicks or some sort of disease from fucking a hole in the ground.”

The leader laughed. “I don’t know, if you’re that desperate, a hole is a hole.”

“Yeah, well,” Darian said, resting his head back, “I prefer to keep my hole and my cock clean.”

“Not sure that washer girl would agree.”

“Fuck off,” Darian chided him.

The leader looked back up to the tree. “I’ll take the first watch,” he finally said.

“Fine by me,” Darian said, readjusting himself on his hand as he brought one arm over his eyes to block out the firelight.

High above, the chill of the night hit you deep in your bones as you envied the fire below. Your teeth chattered, and it felt as though the very bones in your body were vibrating, trying to get the cold out of them. Your fingers clenched the branch, your joints aching so acutely you thought they had frozen in place as your nose ran from the cold. You sniffled, looking towards the moonlight, which seemed to be a pale blue color, and you prayed to the Mother for any help she could offer.

Exhaustion returned to your eyes as you shivered, your eyelids slowly closing. You fought it off, shaking yourself back awake, your body shifting on the tree branch as you momentarily caught your balance and gripped the branch again. As you continued to fight the heaviness of your eyelids, you heard a familiar voice echoing in your head.

“Cold, baby?” it whispered.

You scrunched your eyes, trying to bring the wall of the bond back down. But it was as though the wall had cracks, and that voice trickled its way into your mind.

“Come home,” he urged. “It’s warm. There’s a fire. I made warm roasted cinnamon apples and rabbit.”

You caught yourself licking your lips, almost able to taste the cinnamon and the oily, delicious rabbit. You shook your head, trying to push him out.

“You’ve had your fun, my love. Just show me where you are. I’ll come get you.” For a second, in a moment of weakness, you considered it. How he would arrive before morning, finding these men camped at the base of your tree, waiting for you to falter. How he would beat them, throwing them to the ground, or speak to them, claiming you as his, and with just those few words, they might back down. Then you came to your senses.

“No,” you sent back.

“It’s good to hear your voice, baby. Even if it’s being stupid,” he whispered back, his voice biting on the words.

You managed to slam the bond shut, pushing him out of your mind until it was quiet again.

The sun finally faded fully as the last bits of purples turned into blues. The two males below you continued their foul, idle chatter about this and that. But you decided not to care anymore as you considered your options.

It was clear they were too regimented to fall asleep, and after listening to them for the last hour, you knew that returning to the ground would be met with some form of assault. Reasoning with them seemed foolish. So you sat, perched on the branch, praying silently for a miracle. Every shift you made had their heads swiveling towards you, their ears primed to your movements. There would be no sneaking away. Perhaps it would be better to plummet to the earth.

Across the horizon, you saw faint flashes of light, an armada of clouds slowly grumbling its way through the line of mountains. Great, you thought. Nothing like being stuck in a giant tree in a rainstorm. The two males below seemed to realize the incoming onslaught as well.

“Fuck,” the leader huffed as Darian pulled his arms back from his face, sitting up.

Darian looked to the sky, now lit up by a crack of thunder. He turned to the leader. “What do you want to do?”

The leader paused, weighing the options of staying and hoping you’d descend in the storm or leaving for the reprieve of dry shelter. “Theron’s already told them we’re waiting it out,” he finally said. “So we wait it out.”

The smaller male seemed unhappy with that answer as he gazed up again at the clouds slowly inching across their sightline. “This ass might be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“It’s not just about that,” the leader responded, prodding the fire again.

The two were silent as you watched the gargantuan clouds slide into the meadow and towards you. High as you were in the tree, you could see every thunderous cloud ignited by the lightning and felt the crack of it deep in your bones. And then the rain started, a bone-chilling downpour that ran down your skin, freezing over the joints already hardened by the tree. As night deepened and your hold on the branch became more slippery, you noticed the slow sway of the trees as the wind picked up, howling in your ears and biting at your exposed skin. You clenched your eyes shut as the rain continued its onslaught, the weight of your body shifting as the trees ached under the wind’s push.

You couldn’t even open your eyes to look down at what the two predators below were doing, although you couldn’t imagine that in weather like this, the forest floor was much better off. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, and you began to count: one, two, three, four, CRASH. Four miles away, and still making its way towards you. Your hair whipped into your face as you finally opened your eyes, your fingers clenched tightly around the branch for dear life. When you managed a glance down, the soldiers had pulled your blanket over their heads, no longer looking up, trying to shield themselves from the downpour. More lightning, one, two, three, four, CRACK.

With the incredible tremor of the crack echoing above you, you momentarily lost your grip. Your boot slipped from under you, and your body lurched to the side. “Fuck,” you gasped, reaching out to steady yourself on the trunk. You righted yourself quickly, shooting a glance back down at the males below. They hadn’t looked up. Perhaps the wind or the rain had finally muffled your movements. You caught your breath as another bolt shot across the sky, the thunder tailing it with three counts. The storm was getting closer, the wind and rain growing more intense.

As the trees bowed, you could almost reach out and grab the adjacent tree’s branches. Slowly, a plan that seemed more stupid than daring formed within you. You would have to jump the trees, time it with the wind and the thunder to not draw attention, and then make your escape—all while the downpour continued. You peered down again; the males below were still unmoving, unaware of the idiotic feat you were about to attempt. Another crack, and you counted: one, two. The next thunderous bellow would only be one second after the lightning. You’d spent many nights, pressed under your mate while the world raged around you, counting the seconds between the lightning and thunder as you tried to crawl out of your own skin. You knew the storms now, and you knew how they were timed.

You pulled your legs up beneath you to a crouch, gripping the trunk of the tree as you focused on the outline of the adjacent one next to you, now slowly bowing in your direction. A flash of light. Your legs left the tree. The thunder cracked in your ears. Your body slammed into the neighboring tree, the impact forcing the air from your lungs. You let out a breathless, airy screech, hands grabbing blindly for any branches as your body slid slightly down the trunk. When you finally stopped yourself, you had dropped about three feet, hanging from a branch. You wrapped your legs around the trunk, pulling yourself onto the rather small perch of your new tree. Your heart pounded in your ears. Stupid. That was a gloriously stupid idea. When you finally felt stable, you looked down to see the two males still huddled together. It had worked—they hadn’t seen your leap or heard the slap of your wet clothes as your body slammed from one place to another.

You gulped down the anticipation and excitement, readying yourself for the next bolt of lightning, before throwing yourself into the next tree. Another smack of your body and frenzied scramble for a branch to hold, and you were one tree farther from the males below. But as the thunder and lightning continued to crack, the wind began dying down. By the time you had made your way five trees away, you were no longer reaching out for a tree but using your feet to push against the trunk to launch yourself forward. The rain was letting up, and now, with their fire extinguished, you could barely see the two soldiers. Your time was running out. You paused, listening for movement from below, but heard nothing. It was still quiet, even as the rain began to let up. You took a second to catch your breath, heaving heavy breaths. Your lungs felt raw from the cold, and you suspected your clothes now had many more tears than when you had first started. Each jump had brought you farther down the tree’s length, and you had now dropped a good fifteen feet closer to the earth.

As you prepared for your next leap, you realized that in the darkness you had miscalculated the distance. Your fingers barely scraped the needles of the tree as you began to plummet toward the ground. Your hands, frenzied in the dark, reached for anything but felt nothing but cold rain and wind. You let out a scream as your body slammed into a lower branch, your back arching around it before you flipped over, sliding onto another branch that struck the side of your face. It felt like you were falling forever, your hands still trying to save you, until you finally hit the ground, slamming into the muddy forest floor. Heart in your throat, struggling to breathe, you suddenly heard rustling.

“What the fuck was that?” Darian said.

You tried to steady your wheezing breath, pulling yourself up from the ground to check if anything was broken. A sharp pain emanated from your ribs, and you hissed as you lifted yourself. Cracked, if not broken. An animal noise of pain slipped out from between your lips as you heard, “She’s not up there.”

“Did she fall?” the leader asked.

You wheezed again, grateful for the continued patter of the rain, which was lessening by the second. You had to move. You had to run.

“I don’t see her,” Darian called back. He must have scaled the tree.

You gripped your ribcage as it burned and screamed at you, pulling yourself to your feet and steadying yourself against the tree. You should have broken your neck from that fall, but hitting the branches may have actually saved you.

You started moving, each step sending a lip-curling spike of pain up your back. More than just your ribs were hurt, but you couldn’t pinpoint the pain; in truth, everything hurt.

“She didn’t fucking disappear,” you heard the leader call back.

You made your way forward, a slow gait, thanking the Mother that the rain meant the males couldn’t make a fire. You let out a few broken breaths, stifling a cough as you wandered deeper into the forest, not even bothering to brush the hair from your eyes.

“Start looking, she’s here somewhere,” the leader ordered. With that, your pace quickened. Trying to run, your feet felt as if they were full of lead. You heard crashing from behind you but didn’t dare to turn around, fearing that taking your eyes off the ground for even a second would have you tripping over a vine or root. So you pressed forward, hearing the males behind you arguing as they slowly gained on you. They must have struggled to see in the rain as well, even as the lightning sporadically lit the sky.

Without being able to stop it, your body forced out a cough, leaving an iron taste in your mouth. You coughed again, doubling over slightly as you spat what you were sure was pure red onto the ground.

“I heard her!” Darian called as he began to run behind you.

You coughed again, trying to straighten, taking a few steps forward and nearly falling on your face. When you finally caught your breath, hand still clinging to your side, you began to run. You weren’t sure how, but your feet hit the wet ground with slaps as you struggled to breathe at all. At this point, you might have stopped breathing altogether.

You heard crashing behind you, sure that the two battle-trained males could and would outrun you, catching up at some point. But you pushed forward regardless, trying to hold back the coughs that wracked your body.

“Keep going!” you heard one of them call out. “I can see her!”

This was it. This was the end. They were going to catch you and kill you. It was happening.

“Stop!” you heard Darian call. “Stop!” he yelled again. Before you knew what was happening, you felt the world fall out from under you as you plummeted down into a ravine, the world spinning around you.

You felt your already battered body slam into icy water, the cold feeling as though you had been stabbed by swords. Your mouth opened, filling as your lungs pulled in water. You swung your hands wildly upwards as you realized you were submerged, swimming to the surface, unsure when you finally managed to breathe as the rain continued to pound down on you. A river. A fast-moving river, and you were being dragged down it.

Then, without warning, you felt a sharp pain to your head, and everything went black.

Thank you again for all the support! Special thanks to those who asked to be tagged in the fic going forwards, I can't express how grateful I am that you all took the time to read my writing, and enjoyed it :) @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica , @lilah-asteria , @florabelll , @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx

Also, I am out of town this weekend so may not be able to post the next update till Monday but I promise it is coming!

[ninus9607]

❝𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬❞

4 . 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓅𝓉𝟤

Pairing(s): Marvel Characters x Female! reader

Word count: 2.1K

Warning: nothing

tags l content: fluff, comfort, injury, mutual pinning,

AN: I hope you like it.... please forgive me for every mistake!! English is not my first language!

Bucky Barnes / Winter Soldier

The mission had gone wrong in ways neither of you expected. What should've been a quick in-and-out turned into chaos. The two of you barely made it to the safety of an abandoned building, panting from the adrenaline.

Bucky stumbled, clutching his side, a crimson stain spreading across his shirt. You caught him before he could hit the ground, guiding him to the nearest chair.

"Don't tell me you're fine," you said, kneeling in front of him, and pulling out your med kit.

"I'm fine," he muttered through gritted teeth, his usual cocky grin nowhere to be found.

You didn't buy it. "Let me see." You gently lifted his shirt, revealing the bullet wound that had bled through. His muscles also showed, which made your face a little red. Your heart stopped for a second, then you snapped into action. "Bucky... why? Why would you take the shot for me?"

He looked at you, his expression unreadable at first, but there was something softer there vulnerable like he wasn't sure how to say what was on his mind.

"You're... everything, Y/N," Bucky finally said, voice quieter than usual. "I couldn't let anything happen to you."

You hesitated, eyes locked on his. "But why? You could've died."

Bucky winced as you cleaned the wound, trying to steady his breath. "Yeah, well, if it meant keeping you safe... I'd take that risk every time."

There was a long pause. You were so focused on tending to him that you almost missed the raw honesty in his voice.

"Why are you doing this, Bucky?" you asked again, this time more softly.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside of that dim, quiet room didn't exist. He swallowed hard. "Because I care about you," he said, almost as if it was the hardest thing he'd ever said. "More than I should. More than I can ignore."

Your breath caught in your throat. You paused, your hands trembling just slightly as you finished cleaning up the wound.

Bucky looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the words he'd just let slip. "I know it's not... simple, and I'm not asking for anything, Y/N. I just needed to tell you, in case" He cut himself off, not sure how to finish that thought.

You shook your head, setting the kit aside and finally meeting his gaze. "You're not asking for anything, Bucky. But I'm here. And I care about you too."

Bucky's face softened, the tension easing just a little. He let out a slow breath like a weight had been lifted. "I'm not used to this, Y/N. Not used to someone... being there."

You leaned in, gently resting a hand on his arm. "You don't have to be used to it, Bucky. It's just us, okay?"

A slight smile tugged at his lips, a look of relief in his eyes. "Yeah," 

He looked into your eyes and you held your breath, slowly his hand tightened around your neck, he didn't lean in immediately, he wanted to give you a choice, but when you moved closer to him he dared to kiss you.

He murmured. "Just us."

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Wanda Maximoff / Scarlet Witch

The mission had spiraled out of control. You and Wanda were supposed to extract intel, but things got messy fast. Hydra had anticipated the Avengers' moves, and now you were pinned down. You were covering each other, but the tension was palpable.

When you saw a Hydra soldier aiming directly at Wanda, you didn't think twice. You shoved her out of the way just in time, but you took the hit instead.

Pain shot through your chest, and you barely had time to register it before you fell to the ground.

"Wanda!" you gasped, reaching for her. You saw her eyes widen in panic as she scrambled to get to you.

"Y/N!" Her voice broke. "Stay with me, please. Stay with me!"

You tried to hold her gaze, but the world around you started to blur. " Wa-nds... I- "

"Stop talking! You're not gonna die here, you can't! You promised me!" she cried, her hands shaking as she pressed against your wound.

Everything around you seemed to fade—the gunfire, the shouting, even Wanda's voice—until it all turned to darkness.

Time Skip:

You woke up slowly, your mind foggy. The first thing you noticed was the steady beep of a heart monitor. The second thing was the weight of someone's hand in yours.

You turned your head, squinting as you focused on Wanda, who was sitting beside your bed. She looked exhausted, her eyes red and swollen like she hadn't slept in days. Her fingers were tightly holding yours, and the moment she felt you stir, her gaze snapped to yours.

"Y/N," she whispered, her voice soft and shaky. "Oh my god, you're awake. I thought I lost you."

Your voice came out hoarse as you tried to speak. "Wanda... I'm okay. I'm fine."

She shook her head, brushing her hair out of her face, her voice cracking. "No, you're not. You saved me. You-" Her chest hitched as she tried to keep herself together. "You almost died."

You could see the fear in her eyes, and the way her breath caught every time she looked at you. "I wasn't going to leave you," you murmured. "I'm right here."

She wiped a tear away and squeezed your hand even tighter. "I don't know what I would've done if I lost you, Y/N. You're..." She trailed off, taking a shaky breath, and for the first time, she admitted how she felt "I'm in love with you. I love you you fucking idiot! I have been for so long, and I—"

You blinked, surprised by her sudden outpouring. "Wanda, you don't have to"

But she pressed a finger to your lips, a small smile on her face. "No. I need you to know. I love you. More than anything."

The world seemed to stop for a moment, and all you could hear was your own heart beating. You squeezed her hand, your voice barely above a whisper, "I love you too, Wanda."

Her eyes softened, a mix of relief and joy flooding her face. She leaned in slowly, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You smiled, your heart swelling in your chest. "You don't have to worry. I'm not going but I might if you're not going to kiss me properly"

she looked at you with love in her eyes, her hand on your cheek, and leaned in, the kiss lasted a moment; she was afraid she would hurt you, and when you pulled away you had butterflies in your stomach,h so you leaned in again and kissed her with passion.

Your tongues danced and fought for dominance, which she was able to win when she moved her hands to your neck...

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Agatha Harkness

The 1800s had brought change to the world, but for you and Agatha, life had stayed somewhat the same. The two of you had shared a home for over a century, living quietly and carefully. Agatha was your closest friend, someone you trusted more than anyone else in the world. What you didn't know was how much she truly felt for you.

When you told her earlier that evening you had a date, Agatha had brushed it off, a tight smile on her lips. "Enjoy yourself," she had said, her tone clipped as she turned back to her book.

You hadn't thought much of it. But as the evening wore on, Agatha sat alone in the dimly lit study, her magic sparking uncontrollably at her fingertips. She tried to focus on anything else her spells, the faint sound of the clock ticking but the thought of you with someone else gnawed at her.

When the front door creaked open, her head snapped up. You stepped inside, a soft smile on your face because you heard her heartbeat. You knew she was waiting for you.

"Aggie I'm home"

She was waiting for you in the hallway, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression was stormy, and you stopped in your tracks, confused by the energy radiating off her.

"Did you have fun?" she asked, her voice low and sharp.

You blinked, taken aback by her tone. "Uh... yes? He was nice - "

"Nice?" she cut you off, her voice rising slightly. Her hands twitched at her sides, faint traces of purple magic crackling around her fingers. "What's so nice about it, Y/N? Spending time with someone who doesn't even know you like I do?"

You frowned, stepping closer to her. "Agatha, what's wrong with you? Is everything okay?" 

Her laugh was bitter, her eyes narrowing as she looked at you. "What's wrong with me? You left me here to play house with some mortal who couldn't possibly understand who you are!"

"Agatha, it was just a date! gosh," you snapped, frustration creeping into your voice.

Her magic flared, casting eerie shadows on the walls. "And what happens if it's not just a date next time? What if you fall for him and leave me?"

Her words hung in the air, and the weight of them made your heart sink. "Agatha... what are you saying?"

She stepped closer, her jaw clenched as she struggled to rein in her emotions. But the dam broke, and before you could process it, she grabbed your wrist and pushed you gently but firmly against the nearest wall. Her face was inches from yours, her magic flickering wildly around her.

"You can't just go off with someone you barely know!" Agatha's voice was sharp, her magic sparking faintly at her fingertips.

You turned to face her, already frustrated. "You know what? I can! I'm perfectly capable of making my own choices, Agatha. And honestly? I'm tired of having this conversation."

She stepped closer, her gaze intense. "And what happens tomorrow? Will you go off with him again?"

You crossed your arms, your voice rising. "What if I do? What's it to you? Nothing. Goodnight, Agatha."

As you turned to leave, she moved faster than you could process, her magic surging as she grabbed your wrist and spun you around, pressing you firmly against the wall. The suddenness of it left you stunned, her eyes burning with emotion as she stood inches away.

"Agatha??" you snapped, trying to understand what had just happened.

"I can't do this anymore," she said, her voice trembling with both anger and vulnerability. "I can't stand here, day after day, pretending I'm fine while you walk out that door with someone else."

You blinked, completely thrown off. "What are you talking about? That was one date?"

Her grip on your wrist tightened slightly, though her touch wasn't harsh. "I'm talking about you, Y/N. About how I can't stand the thought of you being with someone else, because I—" She hesitated, her breathing uneven. "Because I'm in love with you."

Your breath caught, and you stared at her, wide-eyed. "Agatha..."

"I've loved you for so long," she continued, her voice softer now, though her magic still flickered in the air. "But I've been too much of a coward to tell you. And now, seeing you with someone else knowing that you could be theirs- it's unbearable."

You didn't know what to say, the weight of her words crashing over you like a wave.

She stepped back slightly, her hand falling from your wrist but her eyes never leaving yours. "I won't force you to feel the same. But I can't hide it anymore. I want you, Y/N. Not as a friend, not as a companion. As mine."

The room fell silent, the only sound of your uneven breathing as you processed her confession.

"Say something," she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.

You reached out, your hand brushing against hers. "I never thought that you would like me, Aggie"

Her expression softened, though a flicker of uncertainty remained in her eyes. "so?"

" Aggie, I've been in love with you for so long..."

Her smile was beautiful, and she kept pushing me against the wall and it was super hot, my fangs slid out and she was super happy about it.

She leaned over and pressed her lips to mine, her hands pulling me to her. It felt wonderful, her tongue lapping my mouth, her dominance was so strong.

"You're mine," she murmured, her voice filled with quiet determination.

"And you're mine," you replied, smiling against her shoulder as everything finally made sense.

She put her hands under my thighs and said jump, I jumped up and wrapped my legs around her, she kissed me all the way and until we were in her bedroom. 

She laid me down on the bed, and the whole time she was on top of me, one of her hands was next to my head, the other on my waist."I love you", she kept whispering to me as she left love marks on my body and continued to explore my body with her lips and...

(wink wink)

AN: WOAH I LOVE ALL OF THIS

XX

[sinnabarmoth]

Worthy of Devotion (7/9)

Pairing: Sea God|Rafayel x Worshipper|Reader (fem)

Summary: The temple is finally restored and Reader's time on the island is at its end. She wants to leave nothing unsaid this final night with Rafayel.

Content Warnings: Adult language. Loss of virginity. Fingering. Handjob. Cunnilingus. P in V.

Length: 6k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (8) (9)

Read on AO3

You finally found your way onto the roof. You ended up having to build a really tall ladder to get up there but it worked. You got yourself some rope and tied it around the supplies you needed and pulled it up after you. You figured that Rafayel would not be happy with you for this, he had thought the idea of you going on the roof at all was a bad idea. So you waited until one morning he wasn’t around to execute your plan. It was early in the morning and the sun was just starting to rise over the sea.

From the top of the temple it was a breathtaking view. No time to admire it though, you had work to do. So you went back to work and started lining up planks of wood to cover the holes in the roof. Hopefully when you returned to the mainland you could get some people who actually knew how to do this kind of work to make this something more elegant.

The repairs didn’t actually take that long. By the time the sun was directly overhead you were pretty much done. There were just a few smaller holes that you could fill in with spackle. Which meant one more trip on the ladder. You dusted yourself off and went to the side of the roof where you had left the ladder.

“Huh,” you looked around, “I’m pretty sure I set it against this wall. Where did it--oh shit.” your ladder had fallen over and you were now trapped on the roof. “He’s gonna kill me.”

“Right you are, clownfish.” Down on the ground standing under the shade of one of the trees was Rafayel. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Hello,” you waved, “I was just doing some repairs. No big deal.”

“Didn’t I say I didn’t want you climbing up there? You could hurt yourself.”

“It’s fine. Nothing went wrong.”

“Except for this.” he picked up the ladder. “What if I wasn’t around? How were you planning on getting back down?”

“I was thinking of using this rope to repel down if it got desperate enough.”

He sighed and put the ladder back up. “Get down please.”

“I’m coming.” you climbed back down. “So, how is your morning going?”

“Was going well until I found my follower somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be.” he flicked your forehead. “You don’t like doing as you’re told, do you?”

“Whatever could you mean? I have never once disobeyed you.”

“Remember when you first came to this island? You were so proper and obedient and sweet, what happened to her?”

“She got trapped here for months with only you to talk to. I think it drove her insane.” you smiled, flicking him back.

He sighed, shaking his head. “And how is your progress on the roof?”

“Almost done. I need to fill in some cracks and smaller holes but this should be it. The temple is restored.”

“I see. What about the windows? They’re still missing their glass.”

“Well, I have no way to make glass so I guess I’m just going to have to board them up for now. When the time comes that I can send other followers here I’ll send them with supplies to properly fix everything I could only patch.” You sat back on the grass and stared up at the temple. Months of work finally at fruition. No longer a ruin but a temple worthy of its god.

Rafayel sat next to you. “This means that you’ll need to return home soon.”

“Not quite yet.” you shrugged. “I have to build a boat to take me back to the mainland and considering I’ve never made a boat before that is going to take a while.”

“Do you miss it? The mainland?”

“Some things, yes.” you couldn’t lie about this. “I had friends there that I miss terribly. I miss the festivals and the foods and the music. I miss the temple I grew up in and even though they were liars I miss the elders who raised me. It’s hard to believe that I’ve been away for so long and yet the days went by so quickly.

“I’m going to miss this place when I leave and…” you glanced at Rafayel. Things you wanted to say but couldn’t get past your lips stayed trapped on your tongue. “...and I’m definitely going to miss that bed and that tub. Going back to my simple cot and having to warm my own baths is going to take some getting used to again.”

“You’re going to be returning as the woman who single handedly returned the temple to its former glory and with a brand new text straight from the mouth of a god. I think that is more than high priestess worthy, and thus you can request a better bed and for someone else to draw you baths.”

“We’ll see. I can imagine I’m going to have a lot of pushback from the elders. There may be some who try to denounce everything I say to keep with the old traditions.”

“If they do, pray to me and I’ll send a storm in to set them straight.”

“Good to know.”

“One more thing.” he reached behind the tree you were sitting under and pulled out a wooden chest. He handed it to you. “Open it.”

“What is this?” You lifted the lid and nestled inside was a pile of cloth.

“Think of it as your regalia as high priestess.” Unlike the clothes Rafayel had brought you before that were nice but clearly meant for everyday toil and work this was truly something regal. The stark white material was light and soft, accented with deep blue and stitched with gold embroidery. It was beautiful but it also looked familiar. It was at that moment you realized that it was patterned after what you saw Rafayel normally wear, with matching golden jewelry and shoes as well.

“It’s wonderful.” your voice caught as you hugged the clothes to your chest. “Raf, I…I don’t know what to say. This is too much.”

“After everything you’ve done for the temple and what you’ll do when you return, it is not nearly enough.” There looked like there was something else he wanted to say but he turned away. “Come on, I doubt you had anything to eat yet today.”

“Coming.” The day passed normally from there but you could tell that you both were avoiding talking about something important. Something that could very well determine your future.

The next couple of days you finished fixing the roof, this time with Rafayel’s supervision so you didn’t up trapped up there again. You were in the middle of going from room to room making sure you had fixed everything you could when Rafayel came in and told you he had something for you outside.

“What could you possibly have brought that you couldn’t bring it inside?” you laughed as you followed him out. You walked down the beach and you heart sunk into your feet when you saw what was on the shore.

“A boat?” you turned to Rafayel but he continued to stare straight ahead. “But where did it come from?”

“I commissioned some of my people to make it for you. You said you didn’t know how to build one and if you are going to go back to the mainland I’d prefer it that you didn’t set off on a badly built raft.” Rafayel explained.

“I can go back?”

Rafayel continued to stare at the boat, his expression unreadable. “Yes.”

It was happening. The temple was restored and you had a boat. You would need to leave soon.

“Raf, I…” There were too many emotions swirling inside you to pick just one.

“Don’t think you’re getting away so easily though.” he said, turning back to you with a bright smile. “We are celebrating your last day on the island tonight. You can scamper off back to the mainland in the morning.”

There was something about the way he spoke that felt too chipper and you wondered how sincere his happiness was. This was what you had been working towards for months. In the morning you would be leaving for the mainland and start the process of restoring your religion to what Rafayel wanted it to be. In the morning you would leave as his high priestess and your time as friends would be at an end.

The day sped by far too fast as you started gathering your things and setting them in the boat so you could leave early in the morning. You had accumulated many trinkets during your time here so it took longer than you thought. All the clothes Rafayel had brought you, the board for Jumping Shrimp you’d always play, small paintings and sketches Rafayel made for you, seashells you had collected, a piece of one of the shattered stain glass windows, and other small odds and ends that held little memories of your time here.

As evening fell you and Rafayel walked along the beach, the bright light of the full moon illuminated the island. There was a quiet peace that neither of you wanted to disturb. But as his hand interlaced with yours you felt all the things you had wanted to say for weeks bubbling up again. You knew if you left in the morning without saying anything you’d regret it the rest of your life.

“Rafayel?” your voice wavered as you spoke.

He stopped, sensing the hesitation in your voice. “Yes?”

It was unfair how beautiful he was. Those mesmerizing blue eyes and way the moonlight shined off his hair. You believed with every fiber of your being that he was a god. Maybe if he looked half as handsome it’d be easier to say all this. Maybe if he was just a man and not your deity you wouldn’t feel like such a hopeful fool.

“I um…” you swallowed past the lump in your throat, “I don’t know how to say this. I don’t even know if I should. I am terrified that I will have ruined everything we’ve built but I need you to know that I…I…”

I love you. You finished in your head, unable to get the words out. They were too real, too honest. I love everything about you. I love how serene you are when you’re painting but so focused and serious when playing games. I love the way you play with me, even when you’re trying to annoy me. I love the way you hold me when we sleep. I love how passionate you are and funny and kind. I love you so much it breaks my own heart cause loving you is literally like trying to love the ocean. You’re far too vast for me to hold, but I would still drown trying to. I love you, Rafayel.

The world came to a still. There was no breeze. The ocean itself had smoothed into glass.

Rafayel cupped your cheek and tilted your face up to his, wiping your tears away. “Your prayer has been heard.” he whispered before he claimed your lips in a kiss as deep as the ocean itself.

You swayed, falling further into him as you kissed him back. You put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. His tongue pressed gently against your lips and you parted them for him. You were glad you were already holding onto him as his tongue swept tentatively into your mouth, tasting you deeper. When all the air had been taken from your lungs he pulled back slightly to let you breathe.

“Cor meum,” he murmured against your lips, “Don’t leave.”

You blinked, coming out of the daze the kiss had left you in. “What?”

“I don’t want you to leave.” he kissed the corner of your mouth. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

“Raf, I…” your heart split in two, caught between desire and duty. “It won’t be goodbye. I will still pray to you every night. You’re my god. We’ll never be far apart from each other.”

“Why do we have to be apart at all?” tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. “Was it not you who said you weren’t even sure if you wanted to return to the mainland because the other priests had been lying? Why return to that?”

“And let everyone keep worshiping you the way you don’t want to be? I need to go back. To make things right. It’s what we’ve been working towards all this time.” you held tightly to him, scared that he’d slip from you if you let go for even a moment. “If I don’t then this temple will be abandoned again.”

You could tell he was fighting for some counterpoint. Something that could make you change your mind.

“You want me to be your high priestess.” you said. “I can make real change as that. I can be a wonderful priestess to you. Isn’t that what you want?”

“I want you.” he took in a shaky breath. “Please. Stay.”

“It would be selfish if I did.” These words were breaking your heart but you knew you couldn’t escape your duty. You had promised that you would correct things, change the narrative that the charlatan priests had been spreading for centuries. You loved him, but because you loved him you knew you needed to do this. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry we can’t have both.”

“You…you won’t be moved, will you?”

You shook your head.

He kissed your forehead, breathing you in as he thought. “If this is what will happen then I want you to be mine and mine alone. My priestess, cor meum, belong to me, body and soul.”

“Don’t I already?”

“Then let me be yours as well. I want none to have me the way you do.” He swallowed nervously, “Lemuria and the mainland are too far apart. It may well be that we may not see each other again and if that is our fate then I want to spend this final night with you.”

Your heart flipped in your chest. “What do you mean?”

“I want to move with you, like the tide lapping the shore.” he pressed you closer, “I want to make love to you, cor meum.”

The air around you suddenly choked you with heat. “Aren’t priests and priestesses supposed to remain celibate?” your voice could just barely be heard over the wind.

“Because they are devoted to me. Does celibacy mean anything if the person you are sleeping with is your god?” he asked.

“I suppose you have a point there.” you wished your heart would stop beating so fast, you could hardly catch your breath. “So yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, a playful smile on his face.

“Yes, I want to belong to you in a way no others who become your followers can. I want you to be mine in a way no one else will be able to replicate. I want you to make love to me, Rafayel.”

His breath stuttered as he pulled you up off your feet and began to walk back to the temple. The closer you got the more nervous you became. You had come to terms long ago that because of your lot in life you would never be allowed to fall in love, much less have sex. Being a priestess meant that your life began and ended with your god, no one could have any other part of you. Because of that you had never worried about it before now and it was becoming alarmingly clear how out of your depth you were.

“Um, Rafayel,” you squeaked out, “Is this going to hurt? I’ve heard stories about how women hurt the first time they have relations with a man.”

“I wouldn’t know.” he said. You could see the tips of his ears burning bright red. “I haven’t exactly done this before.”

“Had sex with a human?”

The red spread to his face. “Actually…” he cleared his throat, “Something I never mentioned when we were writing the history of the Sea Gods is that they are um…bonding creatures. Whoever they partner with is the only person they will ever be with.”

“Oh.” your face heated as well. “So you’ve never done this at all either?”

“Yes.”

“And if we do this, what does that mean for you?”

“It means exactly what I said on the beach.” you were up the steps and in front of the door to the bedroom. “I want none to have me the way you do. It will only ever be you, cor meum.”

“But--”

“Shh,” he nudged the door open with his foot and carried you inside. “This is what I want. I will have only you for as long as I live. It does not matter if it is ten, twenty, a hundred years from now. I will always be waiting for you to come back to me, if you ever wish to.”

“Are you saying all this to get me to stay?”

“Partly.” he set you back on your feet. “But I know that you’re stubborn and you will do whatever you wish. I just hope one day you’ll wish to come back to me.”

You pushed yourself to your toes to kiss him again. He returned it with fervor, pulling you close so your body was pressed flush against him.

“Care to help me get this off?” you asked, glancing down at the tunic he was bunching in his hands.

“I can do that.” he stepped back slightly, finding the hem of your tunic and slowly pulling it up and over your head. Your arms automatically went to cover yourself. “Nothing to be shy about, cor meum. It isn’t anything I haven’t seen from you before. But I would love the chance to admire it in full.”

You lowered your arms again, forcing them to remain at your side. He studied you much in the same way he admired the frescoes in the temple, with reverence and awe. With a deep breath you slid the loose pants off your hips so they pooled around your legs, leaving you completely bare before him. His nostrils flared and that little spark of light was once again lit in his eyes.

“Your turn.” you said. You were shaking and couldn’t tell if it was nerves or the wind blowing in through the open windows.

“Right.” he cleared his throat and began removing the pieces of jewelry from his person one by one. He let them clatter on the ground, his eyes never leaving you as he was stripped of his adornments. Finally he reached for the golden pin that helped keep the sarong he always wore in place and took it out. The material fell to the floor and heat pooled between your legs as you stared at his dick. Anatomy lessons and statues really did not prepare you for being faced with the real thing.

“Let’s get on the bed.”

You nodded and sat yourself down in the center of the bed. He followed after you, sitting down next to you. “Let’s just take it slow.” he said.

“Good idea.”

He kissed your forehead, your left eyelid followed by your right, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. Each gentle kiss a moment to be savored. “You’re so beautiful, cor meum.” he whispered before claiming your lips again.

You pressed your hands against his chest, feeling the way his heart pounded under your palm as you kissed. He touched you gently, experimentally, his hands caressing your arms and running down the length of your spine. Each touch felt like he left a trail of fire in his wake. More of that heat was building between your legs and you pressed them tightly together to stave off the feeling.

You shifted slightly as you were rolled to your back. Your arms wove around his neck as he pressed his naked torso to yours. His skin against yours was an intoxicating intimacy you had only glanced in stolen moments when you swam together, when your clothes were plastered to your skin making you feel as if you wore none at all. But now there was nothing in the way between you and it made your head swim.

You pulled back from the kiss and dragged your lips down to the column of his throat. A deep sigh exhaled from him as you kissed along his neck. “Cor meum…” he breathed out.

“You going to tell me what that means now?” you muttered against his skin. You found the spot where his pulse thundered and you gave a small bite.

“My heart.” he moaned, “It means you are my heart.”

“Cor meum,” you tested the foreign word, the unfamiliar syllables tumbling past your lips. “Did I say it right?”

“Lemurian sounds beautiful on your tongue, my heart.” he pulled your face back to his, kissing you quick. “I want to hear how you say other things, starting with my name.”

“Does your name sound different in Lemurian?”

“I didn’t mean in Lemurian.” he gave you a rakish smile. His hands moved again, resting on your hips and moved slowly up your torso towards your chest but not further than that. He seemed to be seeking permission. You took one of his hands and moved it to you cup your breast.

“You are a wonder,” he kissed the underside of your jaw, “Say my name, please.”

“Rafayel,” you said.

He ran a thumb over your nipple, teasing it into a hard peak. A whine built in your throat. “Again.” he said, watching the way your lip quivered as small waves of arousal coursed through your body.

“Rafayel.” His name came out breathless and needy. “Rafayel, my Rafayel. Please.”

“What do you want me to do?” he swallowed, staring hard at your face. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Here,” you took his hand and guided it back down to your body where you most wanted to be touched.

Growing up you had been taught that if your goal was to be a priestess you could not indulge in any carnal pleasure. It went against dedicating yourself to your god. But as a teenager you had been curious as to what was so bad about it and decided to indulge, purely out of scientific curiosity. At least that was what you told yourself. It was strange but it also felt good and you wondered why such a thing was forbidden for the higher ups in the clergy. Your pleasure was a secret that caused bliss and guilt, because despite how nice it had felt you thought you were doing something blasphemous.

Now, it all felt so ridiculous. You were with your god, leading his hand to your core, showing him how to touch you and none of it felt wrong.

Short gasps and moans of pleasure punctuated the air as his fingers moved with yours along your slit and over your clit. Rafayel was attentive and watched what motions and which places made you writhe and moan the most. A single slender finger pushed into your cunt and you immediately clamped down around it.

He slid it in and out, curling it just so like you told him until he got the motion and added another finger to fill you and stretch you out more.

“Raf--” you bit your lip, fighting for some form of control to get the words out, “Raf, show me. Please.”

“What?” he tore his attention away from watching his hand between your legs. “What do you need?”

“I want to touch you too.” you said, “Show me.”

“Oh,” he said, eyes darting down to his dick which stood between you hard and flushed as red as his face. “I’m scared if you touch me there I might explode.”

“We have all night.” you reminded him. “I want you to feel good too.”

“Alright, give me your hand.” You gave him your hand and he brought it to his cock. A guttural groan left his lips upon your touch and you squeaked a little when his cock seemed to twitch in your hand. “Sorry,” he said. “Like I said, I’m very close to coming already. Just, grasp it like this and move up and down, firmly but not too tight.”

Your hand began to move and his head dropped forward as his breathing got more ragged. He left you to it, his attention going back to stroking your cunt. You could tell you were both nervous, both eager to please, and both trying to fight the pleasure inside you so you could go on pleasing each other. It was like a game of push and pull, and whoever came first was the loser. Unfortunately for Rafayel he was right about how close he had been. As your hand got quicker his sanity slipped faster until he was panting and thrusting into your fist.

He cursed something in Lemurian as he came, the thick and sticky white substance of his seed coated your hand and a bit had also splattered on your abdomen. His dick became soft again and he laid back breathing hard as he tried to catch his breath.

“You made a bit of a mess,” you giggled, wiping the drops off with a corner of the bedsheets.

“Your fault.” he sighed, “I told you what was gonna happen and you still insisted.”

“Of course. Do you have any idea how beautiful you look when you come? It was well worth it.”

“You still need yours.” Rafayel raked his eyes up and down your body. “And this time, you aren’t going to distract me.”

“What do you mean--” your words died in your throat as he brought the fingers that had been in your cunt to his mouth and sucked the juices off them one at a time.

“So sweet, I want to taste more.” he slid down your body. You automatically closed your legs, embarrassed that he was looking so closely at your cunt. He rested his chin on your knees. “If you don’t want me to I won’t but I’d really like to taste you. May I?”

“I uh…” he ran his hands up and down your thighs, easing you and grounding you in the moment. You took in a deep breath and let it out slowly then gradually parted your legs once more. “Alright.”

He kissed your knee. “It’s alright, my heart. I’ll do my best to make you feel good.”

His eyes drifted down and hungrily took in the sight of your cunt spread before him, already plenty wet from his fingering earlier. He slotted himself between your legs, pressing kisses along your thighs. He shot you a mischievous little smile before biting the supple flesh. A sharp squeak escaped you when he did and more arousal pooled at your core. He noticed the way your muscles flexed and he did it again, a little harder. He lathed his tongue over the bite mark before setting his sights back on your cunt.

You could tell he was being careful, the touch of his lips against your cunt was gentle and explorative. You fisted your hands in the sheets of the bed, soft moans echoing in the room as he figured out what spots and motions made you see stars. When he finally parted your folds to slide his tongue against you, burying his face into your cunt so he could lap up the arousal leaking out of you is when your composure really started to go.

You fisted a hand in his hair, unsure if you were trying to keep him there or trying to pull him off. His eyes were closed as he devoured you. You could tell you were reaching a climax but unlike the secret pleasures you had stolen back on the mainland it wasn’t a point of release followed by relaxation. Your legs were shaking, your moans growing louder than they had ever been before, and it felt as if a tidal wave was rushing towards you about to pull you out to sea.

“Raf--Raf--” your grip on his hair got stronger. “Fuck! Please! Please Raf! Please!”

You weren’t even sure what you were begging for. Was it release? Was it for him to stop? Everything was far too much. You were racing forward faster than you could comprehend and he was showing no sign of slowing. In fact, when you started repeating his name he got even faster, holding your hips down with one arm while his free hand rubbed circles over your clit.

Too much! Too much! Too much!

“Raf--” your body seized as a pleasure far more fervid and immense than what you had known before tore through you and left you panting and gasping for breath.

He pulled back almost immediately, watching the way your body twitched and rode out the intense orgasm. “Are you alright?”

“I think so…” you were still trying to get your bearings. “I didn’t realize that the climax could feel so…strong. Are you sure you’ve never done this with someone else before?”

“Positive.” he climbed back up, wiping the shine of your arousal from his mouth. “But I like to think I’m very observant, so we can thank that for what just happened.”

A giggle gathered in your throat and you tried to suppress it. “What?” Rafayel asked. “What are you laughing about?”

“Sorry, I just um…I don’t want to say it.”

“Oh no, please, what were you going to say?”

“I just thought it was funny that you said you’re very observant but apparently not observant enough to realize when you were walking into a trap when we played Jumping Shrimp.”

“And again with Jumping Shrimp! It always comes back to that with you, doesn’t it?” Rafayel pulled you close, tickling your sides as he nuzzled his face in your neck.

“I’m sorry! This is why I didn’t want to say it. I knew you were gonna get pouty on me.”

“I’m not pouting.” he bit your neck. “How could I when have you spread out like this?”

“Raf!” your face burned anew. “You can’t just say that!”

“Why not? No one else is here to hear us.” he pulled your hands away from your face and kissed you. There was something intoxicating about tasting yourself on his tongue. It made you wish that you hadn’t wiped his seed off your hand. Maybe he would have enjoyed the sensation too.

“And I’m grateful there’s no one else here,” he murmured, “I want these precious sounds you make to belong to only me.”

“Always.” you brushed some of his hair out of his eyes, “I want you to make love to me now, Rafayel. I’m ready if you are.”

“I love you.” he said, “I will only love you for the rest of my days.”

He settled between your legs, hands braced on your hips as he notched his cock at the entrance of your cunt. You had decided to fist the sheets again as means to keep you tethered to sanity as he gave you one final loving look before slowly pushing inside. A whine of discomfort burned your throat and he stopped.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, concern etched across his face.

“A bit.” you tried to relax. “I’m good. Keep going, please.”

“We don’t have to rush. We have all night.” he assured you. He pulled back just a bit before sinking in again, pushing a little deeper as your body relaxed and stretched bit by bit to accommodate him.

It still hurt but not nearly as bad as what you had expected. After what felt like forever of slowly rocking together he was fully sheathed inside you. No matter what happened now, you were bonded…forever. No one could have this and no one could take it away.

“Rafayel,” you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss you. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” his voice was deep and strained. You could feel him throbbing inside you, desperate to move. “I love you so much.”

And just like how the waves swayed your body as you laid on the surface of its endless tide, you moved with Rafayel as only lovers could. He started shallow and slow until the pain and uncomfortableness of your joining began to ebb away. You could feel pinpricks of pleasure building behind the uncertainty of your movements.

“You’re so beautiful.” he said. “Need to sear this image into my memory.”

Your body glistened with buds of sweat blossoming over your skin. Back and forth you pushed and pulled with him. Your nails dug into his back as the pleasure started to overtake the pain. The drag of his cock along your walls felt euphoric. You fit so well together, as if you had been made to slot together perfectly for one another. Maybe you had been.

Almost all your life you had been told you were blessed by the ocean. Maybe that had been for a reason. Maybe this was where you were always meant to end up. Locked together with the sea itself in a dance as old as time.

“Cor meum…” Rafayel said through gritted teeth, “You feel divine. I don’t know how long I can keep this up though. From the moment I felt you around me all I’ve wanted was to rut against you like an animal. It feels so good. Too good. But I still want you to come with me.”

“Alright.” you wanted that too. “Go a little faster,” you told him. Your hand slid down your stomach and teased your clit, “And kiss me.”

His mouth crashed to yours as he picked up the pace, his slow measured thrusts getting faster and more out of rhythm as he began chasing his own pleasure. Your legs kicked and squirmed as all the sensations came together. With the additional pressure on your clit you felt another orgasm drawing closer.

Rafayel’s mouth slanted across yours, his moans being swallowed by you as he got closer and closer. You could hardly breathe at all. Your body desperate for release moved to meet his thrusts. He took charge, grabbing your hips and moving them in sync with him so it felt even better.

He repeated your name over and over, his voice getting more desperate the closer he got. “Come with me.” he pleaded. “I need you to come with me, cor meum. Please!”

“Want to! I want to come with you!” You were just at a tipping point. So close! “Rafayel!”

His hips snapped against yours twice, maybe three more times and then he stilled as he came and the sensation was that final push you needed to come as well. Your cunt clamped down around him and you could feel the warmth of his fill and coat your insides. The feel of it sent a shiver up your spine.

You both slumped, his body pressed atop yours as you tried to catch your breath after the incredible high. His softening cock was still wedged in you but you didn’t dare move him. You wanted to burn this feeling into your brain. If could capture this moment in a bottle and keep it with you forever you would.

“How do you feel?” Rafayel was the first to speak, his words mumbled into your ear.

“Incredible.” you turned your head to kiss his cheek. “Exhausted, but incredible.”

“Same.” he gently pulled out of you. You whined a bit at the motion. Suddenly you felt far too empty. Your cunt would forever be molded by the shape of him and only him. “One moment.” he started to move away from you. You instinctively grabbed his arm.

“It’s alright, I’m not going far.” he said with a smile and brushed a feather soft kiss to your face. You noticed with some pride that he was walking awkwardly towards the bathing room. You may not have had the energy to walk but you were glad that you had thoroughly winded him too.

He came back from the bathing room with a wet rag in hand and wiped clean the mess of fluids that had accumulated between your legs. “Figured you wouldn’t want to sleep with all of that sticking to you.” After he was done he tossed the rag away and joined you back in bed.

“Thanks.” you immediately nestled right against him.

For a while you didn’t say anything. You simply laid together and breathed, basking in the post coital bliss. Maybe this night could stretch on forever.

“We are bonded.” Rafayel said, drawing your attention back to him. “Cor meum, my heart, I vow to you this, should you ever call me, I will always answer. No matter where we are, what I am doing, you will know I am always listening to you. And if one day you say you want to come home, I will bring you home.”

“I will.” you said, tears gathering in your eyes again. “One day, I don’t know when. I don’t know how long rebuilding a religion will take but I will come home to you. I promise.”

“Don’t take too long.” he whispered, holding you close. “I love you, more than anything in this world.”

“I love you, Rafayel. I always have, I always will.”

You repeated the words over and over as the day began to wear down on you and for the final night for a long time, you fell asleep in the arms of your god.