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doromoni · 8 months ago

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Clash of Champions | LH44 , MV1

Act 2 . Part 3 : The Champion’s Weapon

Ships : Lewis Hamilton x Engineer! Reader , Max Verstappen x Engineer! Reader

Genre : Drama , Angst , Romance

Warning : Morally Grey Characters , Swearing , Insinuation of Forced Drug Use,

A/N: Forgive me for taking so long. University had me by the neck.

Summary : The rivalry between the titans of Formula 1 goes off track and only one will reign victorious

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Act 2. ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The sudden exit of Y/N L/N had put immense pressure on Mercedes. Investors had started pulling out and stock shares were dropping by the second. The influence behind your name was something that Mercedes had never accounted for.

Your move to Red Bull has been one of the most shocking news of Formula 1 since Sebastian Vettel’s move to Ferrari. The name Y/N L/N had always been strongly associated with the German racing team — No one outside Mercedes had expected the sudden team shift.

From the outsider's perspective, Y/N L/N and Mercedes were a package deal. Your supposed initial start at being Nico’s head engineer had turned heads. Then you suddenly transferred to Lewis’ team without explanation and had the paddock talking. But are you leaving Mercedes to move to their rival, in the middle of the most competitive season? All of the motorsport is in the question of why.

You were the best race engineer of your time. Every other team would kill to have you in their pit wall. Now Red Bull had you and your addition to the team was forecasted to be monstrous on the grid.

Nothing was set, but rumors had spread that you were going to be Max’s engineer as soon as possible.

The rumors were not baseless. You were ready to go and wreak havoc on Mercedes. And if that meant being with Max at Red Bull, then you’ll do so with a smile.

The excitement and eagerness of a new start was seeping off of you as you entered Red Bull Racing Headquarters. Your red-bottomed heels resounded with every step you took. Each step confident as the last one.

Red Bull’s factory was a sight to behold, the atmosphere felt very much alive and bustling. People in uniforms and iPads fly in and out of rooms like worker bees.

Each one greeted you with smiles, waves and with some stopping and talking to you as if you weren’t the enemy just a few races before. The feeling and interaction were so foreign, you have forgotten that not every motorhome was as toxic as Mercedes.

Your eyes linger towards the ginormous 2 story wall of trophies. It was not short of impressive. But what caught your attention wasn’t the number of trophies … but the empty section on it.

Then suddenly, you were pulled into a warm embrace. Your back is tucked into their chest, and a strong pair of arms are wrapped around your waist loosely. The scent of sandalwood, spice and bourbon filled your senses.

“Christian said that section was for me. For future wins and all. ” Max spoke down to your ear, his breath sending your stomach spinning in every good way possible. His thumb gently brushed over your hips.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as he said that. Leave it to Horner to show his favor towards the Dutch Driver.

Although you enjoyed being in the comfortable and warm hug of the Dutch driver, you realized that you were still in the middle of the lobby.

So you reluctantly removed yourself from Max’s hold. Your eyes suddenly turn your attention back to the bewildered Red Bull employees and staff who are watching you and Max wide-eyed.

Shocked at the display of affection from their usually stoic 1st driver. What's more, it was towards the beautiful race engineer with a reputation of being merciless. The news of what happened at the party didn’t help your odds.

The situation suddenly dawned on you. People just saw you and Max.

“Shit! Max people are looking ” You looked at the Dutch driver, alarmed. The memories of Lewis denying your relationship to all of Mercedes came back to you. And you couldn’t lie, it still stung.

“Yeah, I know. Why, what’s wrong Y/N? ” Max was so nonchalant and unconcerned. You and Max haven’t talked about what your relationship was and what it would mean for the both of you when you were to become coworkers. Your mouth went ajar at his calmness.

“What’s with that expression? Should I be concerned?” Now Max looked at you confused as he surveyed the environment.

“You don’t care? “ You asked. Max just shrugged and muttered a no. His hand finds its way toward your waist again.

Laughing to yourself, finding the circumstances extremely funny. A huge smile then blossomed on your face. While Max was looking down at you with amusement.

“Why should I care if people are looking? Is it weird to hug my girlfriend?” Max called you his girlfriend as if were natural. He said it with so much assurance

“I'm your girlfriend?” You asked, now a smile wide on your lips. You were teasing the driver, but you had butterflies. You felt giddy as you gazed at Max.

“If you’ll take me as your boyfriend and wouldn’t mind me taking you out and spoiling you. Then yeah, you’re my girlfriend” The look on Max's was smug, and he had every right to be. Max’s charming ways did things to you and he knew it.

“Hmm , I don’t know. I’m not sure if I should be dating my driver. Conflict of interests, you know?” You played along — a glint in your eye that Max surely got.

“Maybe you're right, I’ll move to Mercedes then” Max joked back. You laughed along making sure to slap his chest with faux disapproval.

Your humor matched Max’s and learning each other’s boundaries was easy.

“Oh, you better not!” You exclaimed exaggerating. Max continued to laugh along.

“Seriously, Y/N. Will you please be my girlfriend officially ?” Max’s voice then held seriousness and a little bit of uncertainty. He looked directly into your eyes, never breaking eye contact.

You took a deep breath.

“In one condition, we will not keep our relationship a secret. If we are truly to do this, we are not hiding from anybody. “ your voice started to tremble as you went on.

A soft understanding smile fell on Max’s face. He knew exactly how much you’d suffered from your previous relationship.

“ I want everyone to know that you’re mine and that they have no chance with you. You’re mine to keep. Schat”

Your face burned red. You didn’t think that Max calling you pet names would be that attractive. But you were so wrong.

You loved how Max said it, loving how he was solely looking at you as he uttered the endearment in his mother tongue.

“Well then, boyfriend. How about we talk about it with our boss? Hm,” You insisted, for your sanity’s sake. You hoped that Max understood your dilemma.

“Already did” Max grinned down at you. Your eyes grew wide. Max did what your ex couldn’t do in years. You were frozen in shock.

And he took the opportunity of your surprise as his hand found its way to yours, and he pulled you somewhere.

“I was interested in you for a while, but you were with Lewis. But when you broke up, I took my chances and I already notified Christian just in case.“ Max explained as he continued to gently guide you somewhere.

“Well I didn’t know that Max Verstappen had a crush on me” As you said those words, Max suddenly stopped causing you to hit his back.

Then he started to look at you with both astonishment and disbelief. And you find the expression cute on Max.

Suddenly, he took your face in his hands and squished your cheeks — shocking you in the process.

“Y/N L/N . I was flirting with you every chance I got. When you visited me at the clinic after my crash, I thought that I was hallucinating ” Max said seriously, his piercing blue eyes gazing into yours.

“You probably were hallucinating a tiny bit, that was a big crash” You added —Max recognized the guilt in your voice. You still blamed yourself a little bit for that.

“Y/N, Schat. That was not your fault. Please stop blaming yourself. Now come, We’re going to Newey, He wanted to talk to you” Max’s hand found its way to your lower back, guiding you towards the double doors that lead to a glass office.

You felt goosebumps travel up your arms. Max’s attention made you feel cared for and you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies in your stomach.

“Wow…. Adrian Newey wants to talk to me. Wait, but how about Christian? He’s probably waiting in the lobby! “ you suddenly remembered that you were supposed to be waiting for your team principal in the lobby.

“I’ll let him know that you’re busy with Newey,” Max said as he kept nudging you into the office towards another door near the back.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, F1 drivers did tend to be spoiled. And Max wasn’t immune to that. Not when everyone at Red Bull loved their champion contender.

As Max opened the door, there sat Mr. Adrian Newey scribbling in his famous notebook.

You were dumbstruck, it was always a dream to work with the legend that is Adrian Newey.

Your fascination with developing and designing cars was one you held most deeply. However, even when you were a head race engineer during your time with Mercedes — your inputs were never taken seriously.

“ Newey! I’ve brought Y/N, as requested “ Max beamed as he was excited for you. He knew how much this meant.

Adrian looked up from his notebook — his eyes found Max and then it settled on you. You suddenly grew nervous and your palms started to sweat.

“Ms. Y/N! It is my pleasure to finally have you on board!” Newey smiled at you, as he offered his hand.

You quickly shook his hand, still amazed.

“It’s an honor to work with you, Sir! It’s my pleasure” you gushed like a fangirl. Max looked at you with fondness.

“Just call me Newey or Adrian, Ms. Y/N. “ He offered as he stood from his seat and went near you and Max.

“Only if you’d call me Y/N” you offered back with a huge smile still on your face

“Max, you may go. I only need Y/N here” Adrian waved his hand in a shooing manner towards the Dutch driver, who was now pouting.

“Fine, I’ll be back later. Bye, Adrian.” He said towards the developer.

“I’ll see you later Schat.” Max bid you farewell and left — but not without kissing your forehead.

“Well, Y/N I need your input towards the car I’m developing for next year. “ You suddenly grew giddy and excited as Adrian uttered those words

You were going to help in developing a car!

“ What do you say Y/N are you up for it? Will you help me with the RB18?“

“Let’s make a rocket ship, Adrian” You couldn't help but show your excitement as the smile on your face widened.

***

United States Grand Prix

It was finally qualifying. The paddock was bustling with people walking all over trying to find their seats and drivers talking to their engineers inside their garages.

It was officially your first time being Max’s head race engineer. And from the practice sessions yesterday, you were glad that everything went smoothly with Max.

You were confident in your paring as driver and engineer; he trusted in your decisions and you honored his every feedback. You two were like clockwork, everything fell into place.

And so you weren’t worried for Qualifying at all. You knew that Max was ready. You made sure of it.

You were already seated in the pit wall as Max was talking with Christian inside the garage.

When suddenly, you received a text. It was from Lewis. Your forehead scrunched as your eyes fell into the Mercedes Garage; Lewis was not inside.

After a few minutes of Contemplating, you decided to answer.

What the fuck was that??!! So many thoughts filled your mind. Was Lewis telling the truth? Was he lying Why did text he you now? Out of all times.

Was this a tactic to psych you out? To take you out of your focus and fuck with your reasoning. Was Lewis desperate enough to use such devices just to beat Max?

You knew that Mercedes was capable of using cheap shots to put themselves ahead and from what you’ve seen from Lewis recently… he was capable of the same.

You continued to stare at your text conversation. No , you won’t allow yourself to overthink. Not right now when so much was on the line.

You had to prove yourself to the world of motorsport that you were more than the Mercedes race engineer.

You won't allow them to fuck up your freedom, not again.

“Y/N? Are you ok?” You were cut from your thoughts by the radio message from Max. You didn’t realize that Q1 had already started and cars had started to come out of their garage.

“All good, thanks Max” You knew that it wasn’t the right time to tell Max. He needed to focus on— he needed to take pole.

And you will do everything in your power to lead him to that.

Mercedes and Lewis could wait in hell for all you’d care

“All right, Max. Just like we did in the simulation. You go first, then Checo will be right behind you”

“Copy, Y/N” Max was finally on his out lap.

“Radio check, Radio check. Final check”

“Loud and clear, dear” You didn’t expect Max to say that at all. Your face started heating up and your heart was beating way too fast and way too loud.

You knew that Max said that he wanted everyone to know but you weren’t expecting it so soon.

Trying to gain your professionalism back, you cleared your throat with a cough. You heard your team snickering from the sidelines — trying not to laugh at your flustered state.

“Funny Max, now back to focusing on the lap hmm?” You tried to play it cool.

“Will do, ms. L/N” The tone Max used was still playful.

In your other ear, you heard Crofty commentating.

“And that was Y/N L/N from the Red Bull pit wall, all friendly with Max Verstappen. It’s nice to finally have her back. It quite weird to see her in blue and red rather than silver, but everyone missed you Ms. L/N.”

Then suddenly Nico Rosberg had decided to join in with the slightly older commentator.

“She finally left her cage and Red Bull gave her wings! I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But it didn’t shock me that Y/N decided to explore more. From my time working with her, when she was my race engineer back in 2012– I was sure that she was up for greatness.

You were shocked by Nico’s statement. You were always led to think that your past with him had led him to hate you. So much ugliness had happened within Mercedes that you thought his opinion of you was bitter.

You two never had closure when he left the team so you assumed that he resented you like he did with Lewis.

And so you were more than shocked that he was praising you on live TV.

You shook your head and focused your mind on qualifying. It was your first race and it was time to earn your position at Red Bull.

“OK, Max. It’s time for a fast lap. Tyre temperature is at its optimal and there is no heavy traffic on track”

Max was a natural behind the wheel. It was as if the car was a part of him. He breezed past Q1 and Q2 perfectly, earning P2 and P1 respectively.

It was finally the last qualifying session.

“Max, how’s the car feeling?” You asked your boyfriend for feedback.

“The front could be sharper. And the rear needs to be tighter, I could feel the car snapping at turn 5” You checked your data sheet, and Max was right he was oversteering on turn 5

“Will look into it.” And with that, you and your team started to make some changes to the car, as per Max’s input.

“Abort the lap max, will do some changes to the car” you called on the radio. You knew that it was risky but you decided to gamble and do what your gut told you to do.

Your team fully believed in your call and supported your decisions till the end. Your adrenaline was pumping as Max pitted.

And without a hitch, Max was out again on an out lap.

It was almost near the Chequered flag when Max had finished his lap.

Your nerves were eating you alive and your foot hadn’t stopped tapping as Lewis crossed the line placing himself on top of the board.

You had faith in Max. You knew that he was going to earn back that pole.

Everything was down to this. One last push. Max was on his one last fast lap.

Your eyes glued on your screen, as the rest of Red Bull and the entire paddock held their breath.

Max had aced the first sector. Your heart started to pound once again, you could feel it in your throat.

The rain had started to pour in the pitlane, your nerves spiking. But you knew that your analysis was spot on — you didn’t have to worry about anything. Max was flying through the second sector.

One last sector. Your breath caught when he went wide but corrected instantly. You felt light drops of rain on your back but you did not care— as your eyes zeroed in on Max crossing the line.

Enormous cheers erupted as Max goes top of the board. He has won pole position over Lewis!

Claps and hugs were exchanged between your team. Wow, Max had won the pole position. In your first race as his engineer.

Holy shit. You excitedly radioed Max.

“That is P1 Max! Pole position. Congratulations!” You cheered for your boyfriend

“ Let’s go!! Thank you, everyone, for a mighty effort! Y/N! We make a good pair, don’t we” Max said as you saw him waving to the crowds from your screen. The double entendre not escaping you. You laughed along with your other engineers. Cheeky bugger.

The entirety of Red Bull knew of your situation with Max. How could they not? Max was like a puppy always following you in the building.

You watched as the two Red Bull drivers parked their cars in Parc Ferme in their corresponding places. You couldn’t help but fawn over the Dutch Driver as he stepped out of his car towards the interviewer. Max looked amazing in the spotlight.

The camera then zeroed in on David Coulthard and Max who was now holding a mic — a smile on his face as he went on with the post-quali interview.

“Congratulations on the pole position, Max! That’s your 7th one this season! How are you feeling?” David questioned Max.

“I feel great! Another lovely position for the team with me Checo in front of the grid. The team’s effort was extremely excellent today, I have no complaints. And we hope that we can turn this pole into a win tomorrow” Max answered like how he was trained to do. The PR team will be celebrating this as well.

“We’ve heard that you had a change of your head race engineer to Ms. Y/N L/N, how are you finding the shift?” David continued to gauge the Dutch driver

Everyone at Red Bull held their breath. It was decided that your relationship with Max albeit not kept secret to anybody — it would be best to keep it on the low. Until everything with your issue with Mercedes dies down.

Ironically, you agree with them. You didn’t want to drag Max’s name along with yours. You needed to set things straight with Mercedes first. Cut and burn bridges that didn’t do you any good.

You waited for Max to answer the question.

“Y/N has been an absolute delight. The learning curve and transition were seamless, She knows what I want in the car and she delivers.” Max answered with a smile.

“Well Max, congratulations again on the pole! Thank you so much and good luck tomorrow “

Then the camera zoned in on Lewis. He got P2 on the race and he seemed pissed, like anytime he’ll explode.

“Lewis, congratulations on P2! That’s the front row for you! You were two-hundredths of a second behind Max. How was the car for you?”

Lewis’ composure was dissolving by the minute as he tried to answer.

“ I had issues on the last sector, the car was a little too sharp for my liking. But we will utilize what we have” He gruffly answered.

“ I assumed that your change of race engineer hadn’t been as smooth as you expected. How is it working with Bonno instead of Y/N?”

Lewis’ jaw tightened as his hand flexed over the mic that he was holding. People had started to murmur and suddenly the camera panned on Toto then it was suddenly in you.

You were shocked, but you didn’t let anyone see. You looked directly into the camera tauntingly and smiled — innocently waving your hand. Dressed proudly in your Red Bull uniform and your headset lazily hanging around your neck.

“Bonno had been great. He just right for my style of driving.” Lewis plastered a smile. You saw right through Lewis’s lie. No one could fully understand Lewis driving other than you.

You couldn’t help but smirk and you looked back at the data sheet on your screen.

Mercedes didn’t know what’s coming to them.

***

“Why do you suddenly need the medical records , Lewis? You and the other drivers did something stupid. You got high It’s best to keep that buried” Lewis was inside the Mercedes clinic talking to the resident doctor.

He couldn’t seem to push it aside. Everything seemed weird. He was so sure that he just drank and he didn’t participate in anything like drugs.

“You don’t understand, James. Someone framed me and slipped something in my drink”

James , looked at Lewis in both shock and confusion.

“ Are you sure? Lewis this is a serious accusation. We might need to bring this up to the FIA” Lewis only nodded

“I’ll contact the Doctors from the other teams. I’ll report back to you. But when I do find something,..I need to tell Toto. “

“Fine”

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amirasainz · 8 months ago

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hey! do you think you could write something where charles starts dating baby sainz after alex, and for a change she really doesn’t like baby sainz, or even a random oc ex gf of charlie and he gets annoyed whenever anyone says anything bad about baby sainz, and just wants her to himself? Thank you! ❤️

Ok so first things first. This is just a fic and not supposed to be hate towards Alexandra.

Now please enjoy reading and don't hesitate to send requests.

-XoXo

The better Girlfriend

The breakup between Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mleux was far from friendly. Their relationship had been plagued by cheating rumors, and the truth eventually came to light. Alexandra, a 21-year-old art history student, had kissed another guy during a girls’ night out. When this news reached Charles, their relationship came to an end

But Alexandra’s behavior during their relationship had already caused friction. She openly expressed disdain for Charles’s job in Formula 1, even going so far as to claim it wasn’t a real sport on live TV. Her rudeness toward fans and unreasonable demands put her in an unfavorable light. Charles endured his worst F1 season while they were together, and the media and fans didn’t hesitate to express their disapproval of her.

When Charles finally broke up with Alexandra, he received overwhelming support from the F1 paddock. His fellow drivers rallied around him during this difficult time:

Lando played games with him to keep his spirits up.

Pierre offered a sympathetic shoulder to cry on.

Max made sure Charles ate proper meals.

Carlos helped him navigate the PR drama.

And his “Grid Dads”—Sebastian, Lewis and Fernando offered invaluable advice.

In the midst of the drama, Charles found solace in the camaraderie of his fellow racers, proving that the racing world extends beyond the track and into the bonds of friendship and support

But there was one person, that helped him the most. Amira Sainz, the unsung hero in Charles’s life. While others lent their support, it was Amira who stood by him, often without uttering a single word. During Charles’s tumultuous relationship with Alexandra, Amira remained an enigma—a girl he wasn’t allowed to befriend due to Alexandra’s jealousy. But now, free from those constraints, their paths converged.

From strangers to friends, and then lovers—their connection felt destined. The media dubbed them the “it-couple,” and fans followed their story with respectful fascination. Initially, Carlos wasn’t thrilled, but time softened his heart. With Amira, Charles discovered a happiness he’d never known before—a beautiful girl who became his world.

And Charles reciprocated her love in every possible way. Each morning, breakfast in bed; after races, flowers to brighten her day. He listened to her fears and troubles, making her feel cherished and protected. But Amira wasn’t just a passive recipient; she left post-it notes in his luggage, their apartment, and even his car. She comforted him after bad races, helping him navigate his emotions. Together, they shared a dog—a symbol of their bond.

Their love wasn’t hidden; they proudly displayed it online. Fans embraced them as the “it-couple,” and Charles and Amira reveled in their shared journey. In a world of engines and speed, their love story unfolded.

Alexandra, Charles Leclerc’s ex girlfriend, stumbled upon one of their date posts. What she saw ignited a fire within her—a seething rage that drove her to spend the next five hours stalking the couple and dissecting their relationship. But Alexandra’s fury didn’t stop there; oh no, she took it a step further. In a desperate attempt to reclaim her own narrative, she created not one, not two, but seventeen fake “Alexandra and Charles forever” accounts on Instagram.

The internet, however, is a merciless place. Within minutes, eagle-eyed users ridiculed her fabricated accounts, exposing the charade for what it was. Alexandra’s attempt to rewrite history crumbled under the weight of public scrutiny. Perhaps it was a desperate cry for attention or a futile bid to regain control, but either way, the digital world had spoken: “Fake news!”

And so, as the engines cooled down and the F1 tracks took a breather during the summer break, Alexandra found herself caught in a whirlwind of her own making. Meanwhile, Charles and his new love interest, Amira Sainz, continued their blissful journey, oblivious to the storm brewing behind the screens

The pitlane buzzed with anticipation as Alexandra, fueled by anger and resentment, strode toward the Ferrari garage. Her eyes blazed with determination, and the photographers snapped away, capturing her every move. Lando and Max exchanged shocked glances—what was she doing here?

The Ferrari team, despite Carlos impending departure, held a special place in their hearts for the Sainz siblings. Their camaraderie and dedication had left an indelible mark. But now, Alexandra—the wicked witch, as some whispered—had infiltrated their sanctuary.

As she stepped into the garage, the once-happy atmosphere vanished. The air crackled with tension. Alexandra’s gaze swept over the familiar red cars, the tools, the mechanics—all part of the world that had embraced Charles and Amira. She clenched her fists, vowing to tear apart the relationship that had blossomed in this very space.

If it was the last thing she ever did.

And so, the pitlane witnessed a battle of emotions—a collision of love and hate, fueled by jealousy and wounded pride. The engines roared, but the real drama unfolded in the hearts of those who watched.

She looked around at the quiet garage and immediately spottet Charles and his plaything. The tensions were high as she strutted towards them. "Charles" she tried to say in a seductive voice. When she went to hug him and kiss his cheek, he stepped away. "Alexandra, what are you doing here?" he questioned sternly. "What? Can't I see my favorite athlete" she harshly asked. "Does the stupid bitch not allow you to talk to other women?" She turned to Amira. "No wonder she doesn't, I mean look at her. I truly don't see what you see in her. She dresses like a slut. I'm sure she also sucks your dick like one and-"

“Enough!” Charles’s voice boomed, cutting through the tension. “Don’t you DARE disrespect my girlfriend. You destroyed our relationship. You used me.”He stepped closer to her, eyes blazing with anger. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll never step a foot in the paddock.” With that, he turned away, leaving Alexandra standing humiliated in the middle of the room.

The air crackled with the aftermath of his words—a collision of emotions, hurt, and the finality of a chapter closing.

#formula 1 #baby!sainz!sister #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x alexandra saint mleux x reader #carlos sainz x sister!reader #formula 1 x reader #no hate

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pretzel-box · 2 months ago

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It was agony, a suffocating darkness that seeped into Sebastian's very bones. The air was cold, damp, and reeked of iron and decay, clinging to his skin like death’s breath. Fine droplets of water dripped from the cracked ceiling, each drop echoing in the silence as they ran down his tangled raven hair. He lay sprawled on the cold, unforgiving concrete floor, every breath a battle, his claws dragging uselessly against the ground. The sound of nails scraping the floor was sharp, almost desperate, as though he could claw his way out of this nightmare.

But there was no escape.

His body twitched involuntarily, wracked with pain, his muscles burning from the strain. Each tremor was a reminder of how far he had fallen, how close he was to the end. The walls of the Blacksite hallway felt too close, like a cage collapsing around him, suffocating him. His chest heaved, breaths shallow and ragged, trying to grasp onto the impossible hope that this didn’t have to be the last moment of his life. Then, the silence was shattered.

The metallic click of a safety being disengaged, the distinct, final sound of a shotgun being loaded.

His heart lurched in his chest. His head lifted weakly, the effort alone almost too much. You stood before him, an imposing figure in the dim light, the edges of your form blurred in shadow. Your presence was suffocating. He tried to meet your eyes, to search for a trace of mercy, but they were hidden beneath the shadow of your hood, obscured by the darkness. He didn’t need to see them to know—they were cold. Empty. Devoid of any humanity.

He was nothing to you.

“M-Mother… save me…" His voice cracked, barely more than a whimper, trembling with fear and desperation. His mind slipped back to a distant memory—his mother’s warm embrace, her fingers gently stroking through his hair, her soft voice soothing him.

“The monsters won’t hurt you now, my angel. You’re safe."

But that was a lie.

There was no safety here, no warmth. Just this cold, terrible place. The walls seemed to inch closer, pressing in on him, trapping him in this corner like an animal waiting for the slaughter. His pulse roared in his ears, the gun’s barrel now inches from his forehead. The metal was ice-cold, digging into his skin. Your grip on the weapon was steady, your movements deliberate. The way you held it—calculated, calm, merciless—made his stomach twist in terror.

He wasn’t a god here. Not anymore.

The breath hitched in his throat as he tried to speak, his words breaking into a pitiful sob. "Please—"

The blast of the shotgun echoed through the hall, cutting off his plea, shattering the fragile hope that lingered. And then, silence.

#roblox pressure #pressure #sebastian solace x you #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace fanfic #pressure x reader #pretzelthoughts #sebastian solace

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theealbatross · 7 months ago

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love is the most twisted curse of all (shadow trio headcannon)

Plot | How the Shadow Trio expresses their love and the price they willingly pay for it.

Tags: |dark-ish, unhealthy friendships/relationships, platonic (or not depends on your interpretation), codependency, manipulation, aged up, implied crimes, implied murder, slytherins can't love normally, implied seb x mc if u squint, traumatized!slytherins can't accept healthy love, seb and mc are dark wizards, auror!sebastian, my opinion only, might be ooc

[A/N: Photos (except two) are not mine! This is something short I wrote because i can't get it out of my head lol]

Ominis Gaunt: The Heir

. Ominis loves by doing what is necessary.

. A perfect Slytherin through and through, Ominis (whether he is aware or not) lives the closest truth to the Slytherin motto. Anything that is 'his' is protected at any and all cost.

. There is no heaven high enough he won't reach or a hell low enough that he won't crawl in if it meant saving the people dearest to him.

. Like the perfect slytherin heir Ominis is akin to a snake, his morality slithering and bending to fit his narrative. His bones creak, skin stretching as he wraps himself around his loved ones until they are untouchable.

. He is aware of his flaws but he is not so honorable to fix it. He knows the real world -- the darker side of the wizarding world's high society, one that his companions aren't too familiar with -- and he will move hell and high water to protect them from it in the shadows.

. Dark Spells being used a bit too closely in where Sebastian is stationed? It must be those damned dark wizards, Minister. Isn't Auror Sallow so gallant in facing those pests?

. Poacher corpses leading a trail to you? Surely, such stains of the wizarding world wouldn't be missed. The Hero of Hogwarts did us all a favor, it would be a shame to condemn such heroics.

. Suspicious rumors following his friends? Not while he was at the top of high society, manipulating reputations and snuffing out nonbelievers. Any tongue that rises against them will be cut.

. He is a Gaunt, and as much as he loathes the dark history behind his name -- he knows how to wield its power. He is the only one who can properly wield it and it is a sword he is willing to use -- if necessary.

Sebastian Sallow: The Prodigy

. Sebastian loves by monopolizing.

. As a boy who lost too much at such a young age, his entire world surrounds the few people he considers his own. And if you are one of his people know his whole world will surround you.

. He has to have access and knowledge of his loved ones at all times. In-depth, illegal, background checks on all people his pretty witch associates herself with? Fair game, it's for your safety, darling. Charmed pieces of jewelry that lets him know of your location at all times? Christmas and birthday gifts from him to you, wear it at all times or he'll charm it so it never gets removed. A ring that will transport Ominis to his side at the first sign of danger? Ominis you are far too important a person to put your life on mere Aurors hands, I'll handle it.

. Normal people would be put off but after all the things the three of you have been through, putting your lives and safety in Sebastian's hands is the best course of action. It is for your own good, after all.

. Sebastian is fully aware he has unfortunately been cursed with having brilliant friends with bounties in their heads in the underworld. Therefore, the best course of action would be the one to rule it.

. Living a double life as the honorable Head Auror and a dark wizard was not for the weak but Sebastian has always been used to compartmentalizing different faces for different facets of his life. A brilliant student, a delinquent, a doting brother, a traitor, a partner in crime, a merciless murderer. He'll wear any and all masks and become the monster he is required to be if it meant he got to keep you.

. Sebastian doesn't have a lot of people he loves so he will not ask for forgiveness in how he protects those that is willing to be loved by him. They're his -- his to love, his to protect, his to consume.

. And he'll let all the curses and corpses pile up into a mountain of sins before he'll lose anyone ever again.

MC: The Hero

. She loves through devotion.

. Once you consider them as a friend they can do no wrong in your eyes and if they do commit mistakes you will dig the deepest pit to bury it in with your own bare hands.

. Being told you were special, you were different, you were powerful at a very early age fractured your reality. The world is your oyster, it will be whatever you deem it to become.

. For what is power if you can't even help those you love the most?

. Do you want me to take care of 'it', Omi? You know I hate it when you strain yourself with politics. Someone tried to take Sebastian to court for excessive violence? Who is it? Are you going to handle it or should I? Why can't they just let him be?

. You will follow them blindly at whatever corner of the earth they are calling from. Anything that has to do with them is a priority of the highest order as far as you are concerned-- so much so that people have to go to Ominis and Sebastian first to convince them to convince you to help.

.There is no such thing as a good or bad anymore -- you will stand on whatever side they are on, and the rest of the world can decide if they want to stand with you or against you.

. There will be no such thing as a consequence if you had anything to say about it. And you had the final say about everything.

. All will always be well for you and everyone you love. You will make sure of it.

.You are special, after all.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow headcannons #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt headcannon #sebastian sallow x reader x ominis gaunt #sebastian x reader x ominis #shadow trio

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snowyarcher · 9 months ago

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I thought about Astarion's life before he was turned, because it's fun to speculate about things we know very little about.

So, before Cazador he was a corrupt man in the ultimate position of power and justice - a courthouse. As a magistrate, he dealt verdicts according to his prejudices and ruthlessness. He doomed men, women and children. We don't know if he was taught to be that way. We don't know if he had a terrible relationship with his family. We don't know if someone broke his heart and made him into this merciless person.

One thing is for certain though, he was cruel before everything willingly. Then, Cazador happened and with him came a time when Astarion had to be cruel and doom even more souls to survive.

Yet, despite all that Astarion sees himself very clearly. He tells us all the things that we need to know about his past. He doesn't hold back on his cynical view of life or his thirst for power. He says that nobody ever cared for him or looked out for him. Nobody came to his rescue when he needed a way out. That's objectively true. He also admits his wrongs, if we don't ascend him. He says that he can be better than Cazador. He frees the Gur children and all the other victims. They deserve a second chance and they don't have to suffer just because of what he and Cazador did to them.

Sebastian was one of the few, he recalls, who was shy and innocent. He almost looks back at his first meeting with him with a bittersweet feeling. In a sort of "Maybe in another life..." manner. In his torment, Astarion was capable of perceiving the goodness within people. There were terrible people he seduced and there were also good people. And he chooses to free them all anyway.

The power of his redemption doesn't lie within our ability to empathize with a rough childhood or isolated existence. We don't need to know the past to deem him worthy of redemption. He proves us that he is worthy over time.

I love this character so much.

#somebody get this man out of my head #i hope his writer is well and creating more characters like him #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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fandomfluffandfuck · 28 days ago

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I can't stop fucking thinking about premature ejaculation today, literally, I've been so distracted from everything, and it's probably definitely K's (@howdoyousleep3 's) fault with this fucking post (plus her broader, totally understandable, fixation with it 👀) that will haunt me for the rest of my days. So. Evanstan filth.

Chris was slotting his key card into his hotel room door but he isn't anymore and he doesn't know, honest to god, how he got from standing outside the room to lying flat on his fucking back on the plush, tightly made bed of that same room without remembering even a single rushed step but he is, he is, it's not even been a full minute, he swears, and ohhh--

Sebastian is here.

He's not supposed to be is the thing, though, he's got a thousand other places he's all but contracted to be right now; their schedules have been hell the last few months between their competing, demanding press tours for movies with such laugably different tones. Sebastian is doing two fucking press tours at once for Christ's sake, he doesn't have time for even a quickie. Chris feels like they've hardly heard each other's voices, seen each other's faces--they've not been calling, certainly not FaceTime-ing, just texting back and forth between the circuses of their limelight lives, just trying to keep it together while the world spins too fast around them.

Chris' head is spinning off his shoulders now. He's slammed his head back into the overstuffed pillows, his hair fanning out around him with a strand of it sticking to his forehead, sweating when, shit, he can't have been in the room for more than a minute or two, tops. He doesn't know if he pushed or Seb pulled--who led who to the bed? How'd they get here? How'd it become this?

Not that he can complain, he doesn't know and he doesn't fucking care how they ended up on top of each other, tangled together, knotted and beyond coming apart easily. He can't care because he's not even fully out of his shirt--it's half unbuttoned, pulled apart and pulled down to expose the upper half of his chest, flushed, normally pale skin and dark ink and a forest of hair, his necklace left astray, heated to his feverish body temperature and sizzling where it rests in the pit of his neck. That's not all, though. His shirt is rucked up to display even more of the scattered art across his skin, his abs clenching tight. He lost his slacks somewhere. Shoes, too. He was wearing shoes when he got in here, right? He had to be. Definitely. He wouldn't've--

It doesn't matter.

A moan comes tumbling out of Chris' mouth, and it doesn't fucking matter. His toes curl without even half of a muttled thought spared to investigating the sensation to rediscover if he's still wearing socks or not. And, oops, his boxer briefs are gone, too, now. Sebastian is stripping him of them impatiently, his hands frantic, greedy, as they slide down over his skin.

Bared, his cock hits his exposed stomach and Chris makes a sound that doesn't even make sense.

His mouth is open, somehow both too dry and wet with spit--almost drool. His bearded jaw has dropped so fucking wide it would be embarrassing if he could comprehend such a concept as embarrassment at a time like this.

This--

One leg bent at the knee, foot flat against the mattress, and the other leg curled indecently over his lover's shoulder as Sebastian's lips glide, slick and hot and unfairly erotic, against his cock, he's so hard so fast--responding to Seb's mouth like a subject of Pavlov, a damn dirty dog--that he's not even sure he was ever soft. How could he be soft when Sebastian is tilting his whole head into it? Getting fucking into it.

Woof.

He's merciless, mouthing at his dick, moaning like he fucking missed it. The weight. The taste. The mouthful. He must've missed it bad with how he's going at it, licking, dragging his tongue over it broadly, outrageously, then resting it heavily on his tongue, mouth open, sloppy, letting the tip slide against the soaked velvet inside of his cheek, bulging out pornographically, moaning, sucking on the tip, letting it slide deep shiveringly, impressively quickly. He's hungry--starved even.

And Chris' entire body clenches, uncontrollably, his muscles tight, helpless to not be swallowed up by it all. Then, just as involuntarily, Chris' hips buck up jaggedly.

Sebastian lets them, only groaning messily as Chris is enveloped deep in that lush mouth, deeper into that wicked throat.

Seb hardly even gags.

Fuuck.

Chris' neck arches harder, fighting and losing the battle against the flood of pleasure, feeling the sweet, hurting pull in his muscles and tendons past their usual use. Gasping, he can't get in enough oxygen to feed the bonfire Sebastian has sparked from just a match but grew impatient with, dumping gasoline on the whole fucking thing instead. Lighting. him. up.

Shit.

God, fuckin'--

It feels sofuckinggood.

His mouth.

Chris missed his mouth desperately, he missed him so badly, he was going crazy without him, now he's here and Chris can't understand it, did he take a plane? Did he drive from whatever fucking stop he was on with press? When? How long do they have? How is Chris supposed to think, to ask, when he can't even shut his fucking mouth. Groaning and gasping, then moaning. Endless. It's pure adrenalin and shock. Pleasure coursing through him so suddenly that it fractures him into a million tiny pieces.

Guh.

Sebastian is going to fucking suck his soul out of his body, going at him like that. It's not just the way he slurps and swallows and moans on his cock, though, it's how he's bobbing his head, taking it gorgeously, an inescapable, dire rush to every action, gagging, choking a little with his recklessness. He's filthy. He's gorgeous. He's--

"Oh. Oh," Chris can't stop any of the embarrassing sounds that are, just, coming out of him, spilling over, dripping down his chin, making a mess of his throat and chest. He's wet. Sweating. Spit. Dripping. "Wait," he's panting, moaning sharply, Sebastian's mouth is leaving scorching kisses down his shaft, his tongue flicking out to lewdly trace the throbbing veins, prominent on him visibly and psychologically, Chris' heart throbs in his chest, its beat pounding through his dick and rushing in his ears.

And Seb's just going, going, going--plunging deeper, getting to the base of his cock, slurping at his balls gluttonously, grazing them with his lips and teeth, sending tingling danger rushing through Chris like static.

"Baby-!"

He just keeps getting lower, using every weakness Chris has without even thinking about it, he knows his body too well, it's too, too good, so much, pulsing, rushing, boiling over.

"Baby, nno," he scrambles, his hands finding their way to Sebastian's gorgeous hair, pulling until he shivers and groans at the scalp-pin-prick pain, debauched, "I'm gonna," Chris struggles to use his mouth for something understandable, "oh, no, no-nnnghh, ugh, oh, I'm, w-we just st-AH-started! Wait!" He whines, "if you--'m gonna--"

His words turn from whining words to something entirely useless for communication, incoherent sounds of pleasure too good to not be afraid of it, razor-sharp around the edges, treacherous, all-consuming as Sebastian doesn't heed his strangled attempts at warning, burying his fucking face in him. He feels so fucking close to him that he might as well be inside him--reaching up through his gut to his chest to squeeze his racing heart--his nose pressed right up against that hypersensitive, intimate place behind his balls while his lips and tongue ravish his hole. He has no hesitation. No shame. He just--

Eats him.

He eats him out so fucking good, ravenous with that wet-dream mouth, that there's nothing Chris can do to stop it, even with his fist flying to the base of his dick to squeeze and choke off his embarrassingly early orgasm--it's all in vain. He can't stop it.

He's fucking cumming.

Spilling hard over his quivering stomach in all-consuming pumps that crash over him like storm-charged waves against the shore. His hips are pushed up so far--fighting it, squirming, trying to get away and get closer, and, shit, he doesn't even know what his body is doing as it's ripped out of him--that he nearly makes it to his bearded chin with his own release. It's wet and hot over his stomach, his chest, and his collarbones, almost his throat.

Christ.

With his chest fucking heaving, his lungs rasping, audibly struggling to get each breath out of his throat, Chris quakes through the aftershocks. Barely able to keep his eyes open enough to see Sebastian, buried between his legs, shuddering, and, oh fuck, thoughtlessly squirming against the bed, rubbing himself off against it, caught up in the same indulgent mood.

After another short, blurry, fast-motion moment, when Chris whines--again from too much pleasure, wishing for it to stop so he isn't so mortified, except for that last part, the mortification has already come, spreading itself out over his face like a proud, deep sunburn, then--Sebastian pulls away. His lips are swollen. Puffy, wet, and red. He looks as wrecked as Chris feels. Chris feels fucking scrambled. He's still half-humping the bed, whispering, heady, "Chris, Chr--" his voice catches in his throat "--Chris, Jesus," he spreads his legs wider, getting more friction, making Chris' sensitive cock jolt painfully at the obscene picture he makes, "you're so hot."

Chris feels hot. The blushing and embarrassed and squirming kind of hot, though. He kind of wants to fucking melt into the bed, it's been fucking years since he's cum with that little action and he usually prides himself on how he goddamn pleasures his partners first, then takes his, sometimes not even his own, he loves making others feel good and he's fucking good at doing it, bringing them to their knees, he's not like this, not normally; but, also, he really wants to surge forward, wrestle Seb flat onto his belly and get him back to tear into him. Right now, the best he can do, though, still recovering from the quick and dirty intensity of his shattering orgasm, is mumble, "your mouth," his face must be swollen with all the blood rushing into his tingling cheeks, "can't fuckin' help it, you drive me crazy," he excuses himself, shaky.

"Cr-crazy, nngh, yeahh," Seb echoes, losing it, melting from cocky and confident and in control to plain needy with all that good friction to his dick.

God, what a fucking sight he is, down there, between his legs, frenzied.

#fandomfluffandfuck #chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan #rpf #real person fanfiction

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starsomens · 1 year ago

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Warnings!: strong language, arranged marriage, eventual argument between couple, Noah is depicted as being cold, violence, blood mentions, mentions of attacks, (poorly written) action/fighting/ possible torture mentions/ sexual themes, tba…

Chapters: { 1 } { 2 } { 3 } { 4 } { 5 } { 6 } { 7 } { 8 } { 9 }

Synopsis:

Your family’s contract was coming to an end. No more protection, no more cover ups, no more instant money. Either you father paid the money he was given or pay with his life. He was at a dead end unless he came up with a new plan. In fact, you father had already had something in motion. Something that could guarantee his life, money and his family were secure once again. It was something he wasn’t happy doing, but it had to be done.

You were the new contract. Marrying into the biggest mafia organization in exchange for money, protection, status and anything in between. Out of his 4 daughters, Y/N, Lauren, Emily, & Cheri of course you’re we chosen to marry Noah Sebastian. He was cold, ruthless, merciless and as quick as a whip.

The longer you stared at the marriage papers, the more you hand shook, and the faster your heart raced. Or felt like you were signing your life away…well, you were in the end. And as you stare at the ring in your left hand you wonder

What is to be of my life now? A loveless marriage based on business, or could there be a soul behind those dark eyes of his?

[Taglist🥃]@darling-arwen-rose @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @lizzyanthony3 @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @missduffsblog @shilohrosechicken @sorrowsofsilence @thescarlettvvitch @twyftwyt @thefallennightmare @thecartelqueen @cind6547 @niicoleleigh @lilhobgobbler @crimson-calligraphyx @notingridslurkaccount @calleyx13 @thenoahsebastianfiles @lacktoesandtoddlerants @reader13000 @badomensls @chemicaltendancies @iknownothingpeople @thebadchic @ladispo0p @samanthasgone @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @flowery-mess @malixxxmistress @kageyasma

#bad omens #noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens band #mafia Noah Sebastian #bad omens cult #noahsebastian #badomens #bad omens fanfiction #the contract - by star✨

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freemilkshakesposts · 5 months ago

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Bathing In The Rain

⚠️Warning ⚠️: Sexual content (18+) MDNI

Levi x Reader (Smut)

Summary: A Marley soldier and the captain of the Survey Corps, a love deemed forbidden, a passion that you once believed to be genuine—a lie, a fabrication, an illusion. How could you not have seen it for what it was? Yet, perhaps, when you encounter Levi beneath the rain's relentless downpour, the true essence of your relationship will be unveiled. In other words...outdoor smut in the rain.

The night unfurled in a wild dance of grey and silver, the heavens erupting in a primal deluge to drench the world below. Rain descended in relentless sheets, soaking everything in its path, an unstoppable force of nature. Thunder roared in the distance, a feral, beastly echo shattering the fragile stillness. But in this world, peace is an illusion. There is no such thing. There must always be chaos to balance the order, a perpetual disruption to maintain the façade of equilibrium.

Levi stood outside bathed in the raw splendour of the nocturnal storm, surrendering himself entirely to it.

The rain was merciless, each drop a sharp lance of cold against his skin, like arrows piercing St. Sebastian. But while Sebastian’s torment was divine, Levi's was an earthly baptism by storm.

The stinging rain was his punishment, embedding into his flesh, each droplet tracing his face with a crystalline touch. It slipped down his form like ghostly caresses, drenching his uniform, transforming the fabric into a darker, richer shade, while his dark hair clung to his forehead.

Yet, amidst the sting and the chill, there was a purity to the moment—a delicate, immaculate tableau. He stood in solitary watch, consumed by the storm’s relentless embrace.

"Levi," a voice called out, shattering the serenity of the moment, its barely audible murmur struggling against the storm's fury. "We need to talk."

He pivoted towards the voice, the rain continuing its onslaught, each drop slicing into his skin with the precision of tiny, cold blades. His gaze shifted, a nearly imperceptible softening in his eyes as he took in your disheveled state.

Your hair, plastered against your face in limp, damp strands, resembled wet seaweed. The drenched fabric of your shirt adhered to your form like a second skin, highlighting the curves of your breasts. Harsh creases marred your long, black coat, revealing the frailty of your soaked clothing underneath. You were utterly drenched, the rain's relentless, unyielding assault rendering you a sodden, vulnerable figure in the storm.

As you approached him, heavy droplets cascaded down your cheeks, blending seamlessly with the tears you fought to mask.

"Why did you come out here? Shit, look at you, completely soaked." His voice was low, edged with a chilling steel. "You might as well come inside to dry off; can't have you catching a cold." His grip tightened on your wet, cold shoulder, steering you towards the entrance with an unsettling calm.

You shoved him back instantly, your hand pressing firmly against his chest, eliciting a shuddered gasp from his throat.

“N-no,” you stammer, the quiver in your voice betraying the fortress of your resolve. You gasped internally, catching a glimpse of his eyes—eyes ablaze with a malevolent inferno, scorching your skin with their crimson heat. The raw power of his gaze almost consumes you, drawing you into submission. But then the cold rain, relentless and unforgiving, lashes at your face, a brutal reminder of the grim necessity of this act. Fuck it. You've bled and suffered, lost everything on this deranged quest for him, for this twisted mirage.

Drawing a deep breath, you force the truth up from the depths of your being. "Our whole relationship was nothing but a lie."

Levi's eyes narrowed, the rain beating down on his furrowed brow. "What are you talking about?"

It all became clear. The pieces had fallen into place: his sudden interest, the probing questions—questions you’d never answer to anyone else—and the frequent absences. Your heart tightened with the realisation that the man you had come to love had seen you as nothing more than a tool.

"You know exactly what I mean," you hiss, taking a deliberate step closer. "All this time, you've been using me, haven't you? Gathering intel, manipulating events—whatever fits your agenda. I'm nothing but a pawn for the Corps, a worthless rag for you just to squeeze dry for information on Marley."

The rain fell harder, each droplet crashing against the ground with such force it felt as though the world itself was convulsing, on the verge of disintegration, crumbling into a void.

Levi's gaze wavered, a flicker of something-guilt, regret?-crossing his features.

"I did what I had to do," he replied, his voice betraying a slight tremor as he struggled to maintain a veneer of control. "For the sake of humanity. For the mission."

You shook your head, the rain blending with your tears, searing your eyes with an almost exquisite agony. "Was any of it real then?" You asked, your voice trembling. "The nights we spent talking, the moments we shared...did your ever care for me, or was it all just a part of your elaborate scheme?"

The silence that followed was a deafening void, punctuated only by the storm's unyielding wrath. Rain hit against the trees with relentless brutality, flooding their limbs in a cascade of ruin, submerging the leaves in an unforgiving torrent. The once-refined petals of fragile blooms wept in mournful surrender, their fragile beauty annihilated, petal by petal.

Levi stepped forward, his hand extending to brush against your faintly reddened cheek. The chill of the air clung to his touch, an icy whisper that sent a shudder rippling through you, urging you to instinctively draw back.

"I never meant to hurt you," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the storm, tenderly tracing the contours of your face. "But this world... it doesn't allow for love. Not for people like us."

His words sliced through your chest like a precision-honed blade, extracting the vibrant, pulsing crimson of your heart until only void remains.

He's correct.

In this world, all that is beautiful is inevitably marred, unable to endure the unforgiving verities of our existence. This brutal equilibrium.

But inside, a primal urge festers—to be selfish, one last time. Selfish enough to annihilate that equilibrium. That's what you crave, what you deem necessary: obliterate the balance, reclaim and preserve that elusive beauty once more.

Without hesitation, you surged forward, seizing his cold, wind-battered face, pressing your lips to his in a desperate, punishing kiss.

He matched your intensity, his arms ensnaring you, yanking you closer.

The rain, now a relentless deluge, crashed over you, submerging your entwined forms on the sodden earth, both of you consumed by the downpour.

Your lips clashed, battled, and devoured each other with a ferocity so violent it was as if you were each other's last meal, a sacrificial communion.

You broke the kiss, gasping for breath, your eyes searching his. "Tell me this is real," you pleaded. "Tell me it wasn't all a lie."

Levi’s eyes softened, and for the first time you saw the man behind the soldier, the vulnerable soul beneath the hardened exterior. "This," he said, his voice quivering ever so slightly as his icy hands gripped yours, "this is real."

From those words something fractured deep within you, the final vestige of restraint, utterly incinerated.

Your shaky fingers wrestled with the buttons of his shirt, the rain turning the simple act into a battle against the elements. Frustration built within you, but Levi was there, his hands guiding yours with unspoken urgency, and soon his shirt lay discarded on the slick ground. In a swift motion, Levi began to yank the long coat from your shoulders. His hands slid beneath your own shirt, tearing at the buttons and pushing the fabric away, leaving you exposed to the relentless storm. As the cold air hit your skin, he shoved you against the wall, the icy stone biting into your back—a brutal contrast to the searing heat of his form.

His fingers began to glide along the curve of your spine with a soft touch, each touch a stroke of reverent artistry, like a painter spellbound by the sublime beauty of their subject, consumed by an all-encompassing need to possess it. As your body arched into his touch, the warmth of his mouth followed, tracing a burning path down your neck towards your chest. His lips found your left nipple, sucking gently, drawing soft gasps from you as his hand moved to massage your other breast, kneading it tenderly with each rhythmic pulse of his thumb.

It was clear that all semblance of propriety was swept away in the torrent.

He tore his mouth from your left nipple, lips now seeking yours again with an almost predatory hunger. The kiss that followed was desperate, devouring-his lips demanding, yours eager. It was a collision of mouths, breath mingling in a frantic exchange.

Your hands wandered without grace, pulling him closer, as if to meld into one being. A low groan escaped you, lost in the wet heat of the kiss, as his tongue probed beneath your teeth, slipping past your lips with audacious confidence. Fingers gripped your hips, digging in with a fierce possessiveness, as if this moment were the last chance to claim you. But then, he withdrew from the kiss, leaving only a thin, glistening strand of saliva bridging the distance between you both.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me,” he implored, his voice now laden with a desperate yearning that mirrored his pleading gaze.

This time you reassured him: an immediate breathless "Yes" slipping from your lips.

Levi suddenly swept you off the wall, causing you to gasp as he effortlessly spun you around, laying you gently on the damp grass. The cold ground stole the searing heat from your body, turning it into mist as you gazed up at the dark sky, breathless and captivated.

He moved to hover above you, his presence a cocoon of warmth that drew you inescapably into his orbit. Levi's eyes were dark and enigmatic, locking onto yours with a fierce intensity, a hunger that shattered any illusion of restraint. It was almost frightening, yet you couldn't deny that he was the very essence of seduction incarnate.

Rain clung to his lashes, falling onto your face like tiny, cool kisses. You were utterly enveloped by him, the sensation of wet mud against your skin fading into insignificance. In that moment, nothing existed but Levi.

His lips resumed their journey across your skin, each kiss upon your collarbone a jolt that stirred a ravenous need within. The cool droplets of water clinging to your flesh starkly contrasted with the searing heat of Levi's kisses, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. As his mouth wandered downward across your chest, his hands gripped your hips, steadying you. He knelt before you, his lips charting a slow, torturous path to the edge of your abdomen, lingering tantalizingly close to that aching desire that you yearned for him to sate.

"You look beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

His hands found the waistband of your trousers, seizing them and stripping them away with deliberate slowness, savouring the anticipation in the air. With the same fervent urgency, he tore away your black knickers, now damp with a delicate sheen, casting them aside to join the scattered remnants of your clothing.

He seized your thighs with a firm grasp, prying them apart.

"Already so wet for me," he murmured, the words seeming to reverberate off the tender skin of your inner thighs, as his thumb traced a lazy circle around your clit, the wetness amplifying in your ears.

His lips trailed a path down to your exposed core, each touch worshipful.

As his mouth closed around your swollen clit, a delicate gasp escaped your lips, the sensation verging on the unbearable. His tongue teased and flicked, coaxing moans from deep within, as his hands pressed your thighs back, exposing you completely to him.

You didn't care if anyone caught you; the thought of exposure was as thrilling as it was irrelevant. Your own comrades witnessing you submit to Captain Levi? It didn’t matter. This felt right—inevitably, perfectly right.

Within mere seconds, another moan tore from your lips, your hips arching instinctively toward his face as he administered a pleasure so exquisite it bordered on torment. His touch was a maddening interplay of fierce and gentle, each caress sending electric jolts through your every nerve. Your hands, almost of their own volition, ensnared his dark hair, fingers tracing the starkness of his undercut.

The swiftness of your approaching climax was both disconcerting and shameful like a delicate thread stretched to its breaking point, teetering on the edge of an inevitable rupture.

Then, the sudden warmth of his mouth vanished entirely, leaving behind an emptiness, a fullness that dissolved into nothingness.

An immediate chill settled over you, the void left by his absence creating a gaping abyss. It seemed to siphon away the invisible warmth that had enveloped and protected you from the rain, intensifying the bite of the night air against your exposed skin. Cold raindrops began to pelt your body with an unforgiving rhythm.

"Levi..." you murmured, a plaintive note edging your voice.

He drew his face from your thighs, returning it to yours, and gently placed a single finger upon your lips. His expression had taken on a wholly illicit quality. His lips were smeared with the glistening evidence of your desire, the damp sheen of your arousal staining them.

"I don't want you to cum like this. I want us to be selfish together. One more time. Will you allow me that?"

To be selfish. One more time. The notion, steeped in cruelty, dances on the edge of immorality—a siren call to greed. To be so selfish as to betray Marley, to find pleasure even with the enemy. Yet, how could one deny him now? His eyes, frantic with desperation, and the rain draping his skin in a luminous veil. He appeared insatiable. And, of course, you craved your own release... that sharp, intoxicating crescendo of pleasure only he could provide, a singular, forbidden ecstasy no one else could replicate.

You quickly nodded, finding yourself unable to form words, as your body instinctively leaned towards him again. Your legs parted with a kind of silent urgency, beckoning him closer.

Levi's lips curled into a knowing smirk as he observed your needy demeanour. He began unzipping his trousers, revealing his ardent desire, pulsing with the anticipation of being freed from its confines by the allure of your blossoming beauty.

"So tight..." He grunted, his determination palpable as he fought to penetrate the walls of your defenses, striving to reach that sacred, long-abandoned sanctuary within you-a place where he once found peace but had neglected in the name of duty and humanity, as he had so conveniently excused himself.

How much he lamented his neglect; in this moment, all he wanted was to shower you with the love you deserved, a desperate attempt to redeem himself and reclaim what was lost.

When he finally entered you, it was not mere pleasure that consumed him; it was something far more profound. His eyes dilated, and the veins in his neck pulsed beneath the pale strech of skin. This act was not a simple indulgence in physical desire; it was a dark, sacramental rite, a pursuit of redemption. To the unknowing observer, it might have seemed a mere spectacle, a cunning performance crafted to ensnare your affection and pry information from your lips. But you knew Levi too well.

The pounding rain formed a cacophony in your ears, drowning out everything but the sensation of Levi-his touch, his breath, each gasp and moan. Every thrust was a fervent prayer, a plea for more,as he surged into you with an exquisite ferocity. His movements were deliberate, forceful, each one reaching deep, pressing against the tender boundary of your cervix. His hands traced a delicate path across your skin- stomach, chest, face-a whisper of tenderness against the merciless rhythm of his thrusts. It was an intoxicating equilibrium, and you relished every moment of it.

"I'm sorry..." Levi purred into your ear, a groan lacing with his words.

Those words pushed you over the edge, sending you to your peak. The rain seemed to intensify, as if it were a baptism, washing away every ounce of the past, pain and betrayal. Your cry pierced the air, your nails digging ruthlessly into the wet earth, your body responding, convulsing around him. Levi was right there with you, his grip on your hips tightening, his breath a scorching whisper against your ear. In that moment, all restraints disintegrated, and his seed flooded into you, filling your garden. The long-barren soil of your existence was finally rejuvenated, and the once-withered flowers of your soul exploded into vivid, riotous bloom.

You both collapsed onto the grass, utterly spent, each breath ragged. Levi's head rested against your chest, his breaths shallow and feverish, their warmth searing your skin.

Glancing up at the dark sky, where menacing clouds hang like an impending judgment, fear is absent. Instead, a surge of life more vibrant than ever before courses through your veins.

Levi's restless shift upon your chest caught your attention, his head lifting languidly from its repose. Then, as if the storm itself were holding its breath, the silence was ruptured by his murmur: "I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice scarcely rising above the tempest's roar. "For everything." In response, you extended your index finger tracing the contours of his face with deliberate tenderness, guiding from the curve of his cheek to the rigid edge of his sharp jawline. You lingered there, gently massaging the tip of his chin with your thumb.

"I don't know if I can forgive you," you whispered, your gaze heavy with somber intensity. "In this world, beauty and duty must always be in balance. What we share is beauty—rare and fragile. But duty remains, unyielding. I am a Marleyan soldier, and you are the captain of the Survey Corps. To disrupt this equilibrium continually carries profound consequences."

You sighed deeply, the weight of your decision pressing heavily on the air. "Yet we are all permitted one indulgence to disrupt this fragile equilibrium, one fleeting moment of self-gratification. I have elected to be selfish with you now, to forsake duty for this transient beauty. I chose you. But forgiveness, that would mean succumbing to the chaos that inevitably follows. I want you safe... for if we transgress, we unravel the equilibrium."

Levi remained silent, his eyes steadfastly locked onto yours, yet you could discern the unspoken acceptance of these truths within his mind. He nestled his face against your chest once more sighing into it, his arms encircling your form, drawing his body ever closer, as if seeking to fuse his very body with yours.

Both of you knew this brief peace was destined to shatter, as inevitable as a raindrop meeting the earth. Yet, for now, you chose to remain entwined, savouring the warmth of your bodies pressed together. Even the rain, once a curse, now felt like a gentle caress.

As your fingers traced the sharp lines of Levi’s undercut while he slept against your chest, you understood this was the moment—the singular truth you craved, the only reality you sought to possess.

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