#the last time this happened was with shadow but I was so firm in my hcs and characterization of him that I just. pumped out my own content | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dollgxtz · 1 month ago

Note

I gotta know when you’re posting the Zayne CNC fic??? I’ve been checking your blog multiple times a day for it!

But realistically, no pressure 😂 I know writing is hard, and I can wait, lol. It’s worth the wait. I just want to show support for you and your craft. ❤️

Also, I love your yandere!Sylus fic! I’m only on chapter four and I see so many asks about it and I have to physically stop myself from spoiling it for myself, lmao. I’m so excited to read more! Your writing and your tics are a highlight of my day. 😊🥰

Edge Of Control

Word Count: 6.2k

Tags: zayne x fem!reader, cnc, cutting, tw slight blood, scalpel play, choking, biting, degradation, blowjob, degrading names, pet names like darling, pain play, home invasion roleplay, primal play, aftercare in the end

AN: Hi everyone! I know this was a LONG awaited fic but I wanted it to be absolutely perfect for my second husband ^0^. Also ty anon for the very sweet words! I hope this fic makes up for the amount of time you had to wait!!!

It was well past midnight, and the house felt eerily quiet without him. You lay on the couch, wearing nothing but a pair of Zayne’s boxers, the soft fabric a small comfort in his absence. A half-empty bottle of wine sat forgotten on the floor beside you, each sip doing little to calm the restless energy humming beneath your skin. The TV flickered, casting shadows across the room as you absentmindedly flicked through the channels, though nothing could hold your attention.

Your mind kept wandering back to Zayne, a dull ache settling in your chest. He was on another one of those grueling shifts—long hours with no word, no way to reach out to him. The pit of anxiety in your stomach tightened. You didn’t know exactly what his job as a surgeon demanded of him, but you could see it weighing on him more and more. His face had grown tired, the usual sparkle in his eyes dulled by exhaustion. You noticed the way his shoulders remained stiff, tension knotting in his body like a rope pulled too tight, barely holding it together.

Every time he came home like this, you saw it—the frustration simmering just beneath the surface. His body brimming with pent-up energy, adrenaline coursing through his veins with no way to let go. He was so tightly wound, like he was carrying the weight of a world you couldn’t fully understand. And every time you saw him like that, it broke something inside you. You wanted to help him. You wanted to be the one to take that edge off, to give him the release he so desperately needed but would never ask for.

You remembered the last time he came home with that storm in his eyes. Desperation had driven you to plead with him, to offer yourself as an outlet for all that tension, that frustration. You had begged him, your voice trembling, to let go, to take what he needed from you. But he refused. The worry in his eyes had cut deep, his voice firm but laced with guilt as he told you he didn’t want to hurt you.

That memory lingered now, thick in your chest. He was always so controlled, so careful. You knew he loved you, but there was a part of him that he kept locked away, too afraid to unleash it. But you wanted it—you craved it. You wanted him to feel safe enough to lose that control with you, to trust that you could handle it. That you wanted to handle it. But no matter how much you tried to reach him, he kept that wall up, afraid of what might happen if he let himself go.

You took another slow sip of wine, feeling the warmth of it spread through your chest, slightly loosening the anxious knot that had taken residence in your stomach. You always drank more when he was away—needed it, really. It dulled the sharp edges of worry that kept you up at night, made sleep feel a little less impossible. Without him beside you, the house felt too empty, and your mind raced with thoughts you couldn’t control.

Your eyes drifted shut, and the thought crossed your mind again—he could hurt you, if he wanted to. God, he was strong enough. His hands, so skilled and sure in the operating room, could easily push you beyond your limits if he ever let himself go. He knew the human body better than anyone; he understood exactly where and how to apply pressure, how to control every reaction. And then there was the scalpel—his precision tool of choice. He was so adept with it, using it in ways you’d never imagined.

You remembered the first time he’d worked it into one of your nights together, after you had begged him to try something more daring, something that would leave you breathless. He had been hesitant at first, but the results... God, the results. The thrill of that sharp edge glinting in the dim light, the cold metal kissing your skin before it pressed just enough to break the surface. You shivered as the memory washed over you, your body tingling with the vivid recollection.

The pain had been brief, but it was the anticipation, the unspoken threat, that had driven you wild. You could still feel it—the delicate line of fire it had traced across your shoulder, a stinging reminder of his control. And then the blade had hovered at your throat, a silent promise lingering in the air between you, making your pulse race and your breath catch in your throat. In that moment, you had never felt more alive, more his.

Your hand had barely slipped down to your heat when the sharp trill of your phone cut through the quiet. Heart pounding, you snatched it up, the suddenness of it snapping you out of your haze.

“Hello?” you answered, your voice a little breathless, still tangled in the memory of him.

“Is that offer still on the table?” Zayne’s voice poured through the speaker, low and worn, with that familiar undercurrent of exhaustion. But there was something else this time—something darker. His words dripped with a kind of danger, smooth and sweet like black honey, making your stomach flip.

You swallowed hard, a spark igniting low in your belly. “Uh, depends which one,” you managed, trying to play it cool as you sat up, bringing the wine bottle to your lips for another sip. Your heart was racing, anticipation thrumming under your skin.

“The one where I use you.”

The words hit you like a jolt of electricity, sending a thrill straight to your core. The raw need in his voice was unmistakable, and it struck every nerve you had. You faltered for a moment, caught off guard by the intensity of your own reaction. You tried to cover the sudden loss of words with another drink, the wine sliding down your throat as you let the tension stretch between you.

One more sip—just one more for courage. Then, finally, you answered, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Yes.”

“Is the wine good, darling?”

The question hung in the air, and your heart skipped a beat. “What?” you murmured, glancing around the dark living room. The flicker of the TV had left your eyes hazy, still not fully adjusted to the shadows creeping through the room. How did he know you’d been drinking wine?

Your breath caught as an icy chill swept through the house, raising goosebumps on your skin. Instinctively, your gaze darted to the front door, and your stomach dropped. It was wide open, swaying slightly as a gust of wind pushed against it.

You hadn’t heard a thing. Not the lock turning, not the door creaking. Nothing.

How had he gotten in without you noticing?

You stared at the door, frozen in place, watching as it swung shut on its own, the soft click of the latch echoing through the quiet. A chill ran down your spine as the realization hit—you hadn’t heard him enter on purpose. He wanted you to know he’d slipped in unnoticed, that he’d been watching you this whole time. Your mind spun with the thought: How long had he been there?

The phone slipped from your grasp, and you barely registered the sharp whine of the line going dead, drowned out by the thundering pulse of your heartbeat in your ears.

The soft but deliberate sound of shoes against the ceramic floor snapped you back into focus. Your senses sharpened, instincts kicking in. He was coming closer—fast.

In the low, flickering light of the TV, you saw him emerge from the shadows. Long strides brought him swiftly across the room, his form cutting through the dim light with an air of purpose. His form caught the harsh glow—the broad shoulders of his body, the sharp angles of his face—only partially revealed, but enough to make your breath hitch.

Then, without warning, the TV blinked out, plunging the room into complete darkness. The sudden silence was deafening. The sound of his footsteps, which had been closing in on you, vanished as if he’d disappeared into the night itself.

But you knew better.

He was there, somewhere in the blackness, waiting for you to realize it. The tension in the air was thick, every hair on your body standing on end as you strained to hear the slightest movement, feel the faintest brush of his presence.

You held your breath, every muscle in your body coiled tight. The tension crackled in the dark, your senses heightened by the weight of his silent presence.

Suddenly, the TV blared a sharp noise from the movie, flooding the room with light for just a second. And there he was, Zayne, only a few feet away—moving like a shadow, so silently it made your skin crawl. His face was bathed in the cold glow, and the way the light played off his sharp features made him look almost predatory. His expression was intense, dark, and unreadable, as if he was walking a line between control and something much more dangerous.

Your brain screamed danger. Fight or flight surged through your veins, heart hammering against your ribcage as self-preservation took over. Without thinking, your hand tightened around the neck of the wine bottle, the glass cool and smooth in your grip. Before you could second-guess it, you raised it high above your head and hurled it straight at him, instinct driving your every move.

But then—he catches it. Effortlessly. The bottle freezes mid-air, his hand snapping up to grab it as if it were nothing more than a tossed pillow. He doesn’t flinch. His stride doesn’t break. His hazel green eyes, burning with that same dangerous intensity, never leave yours for even a second. The best defense you could muster didn’t even make him blink.

Calmly, as though the act hadn’t fazed him at all, he places the bottle on the side table, his gaze still locked on you. The silence between you feels deafening as he closes the distance, his steps slow but deliberate.

Panic shot through you like a wild animal, adrenaline making your limbs tremble. But something else flared right alongside it—something that sent a pulse of heat straight to your core. It was fear, raw and visceral, but it was tangled up with desire, twisted into something you couldn’t quite understand but craved all the same.

You held your breath, every muscle in your body coiled tight. The tension crackled in the dark, your senses heightened by the weight of his silent presence.

Like prey trapped in the gaze of a predator, you couldn’t move.

Couldn’t look away.

And you almost didn’t want to.

You whip around, adrenaline taking over, and try to run—but you barely make it a few steps before it’s too late. You don’t even hear him behind you. The silence is terrifying, disorienting. Then, out of nowhere, his hand clamps around your elbow, and a startled shriek escapes your lips, cut off as he uses your momentum against you, spinning you sharply into the wall.

Your back collides with it hard, knocking the breath from your lungs. A whimper slips out, unbidden, from the shock of the impact. Before you can recover, Zayne’s voice, low and commanding, hisses in your ear.

“Don’t fight it,” he growls, the words sharp like a promise. “You asked for this.”

Panic surges through your body, instinct screaming at you to get away. “Let go!” you cry out, fear pulsing hot and fast through your veins. But your voice is weak, barely masking the excitement that’s battling for control inside you.

He doesn’t. Instead, he’s on you again, his mouth descending on your neck with a hunger that makes your pulse quicken. One of his hands grips your jaw with rough precision, calloused fingers pressing into your skin, holding you in place. You try to twist away, but he holds you firm, his touch demanding, possessive.

His lips travel down your neck, finding your pulse point first, then moving lower, grazing the soft curve beneath your ear. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and despite the panic swirling in your chest, a desperate whimper escapes. Your body betrays you, your hips instinctively rocking toward him, already aching for his touch. The heat between your legs flares, want burning through the fear.

His tongue traces a line down your neck, the warmth of it lingering only for a moment before the cool air chills the wet skin. Then his teeth sink into the muscle above your collarbone, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to make you gasp in pain. You wince, your body tensing as the sharp sensation rolls through you.

Your hand flies up to his head, fingers tangling in his hair as you try to push him off, your grip weak and trembling. But Zayne doesn't budge. His strength overwhelms you, his body pressing against yours with an intensity that leaves no room for escape. His breath is hot against your skin as he continues, relentless, leaving you caught between fear and an overpowering need that consumes you both.

"Zayne," you whimper. He releases his teeth from your neck with a chuckle that curls fear inside you…

His hands take your wrists, leading them above your head. You try to squirm out of his grasp. Partly because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of pinning you. Partly out of the fear of what he could do if you can’t push him away, his entire aura shifted to something more angry and dangerous than usual.

"Don't pretend like you don't like it," he says into the angle of your jaw. He leaves soft kisses there while he effortlessly pins your arms above your head. He holds them there with one hand.

The other gropes and squeezes it’s way down your body. Your chest, your side, your waist. He grabs a hold of your hips, thumb perfectly lining up with the dune of your hipbone. He pulls your hips towards him harshly enough to draw a noise from your lips. He works his knee between your thighs, then pushes them open. He swallows any attempted protests with a kiss. His knee presses against your sensitive cunt and you whimper against his lips in response.

“Oh, what happened to all the struggling?” Zayne mocks you, punctuating his words by squeezing your wrists hard enough to bruise. His hand comes up under your t-shirt and you shiver against the sensation of his fingers on your bare skin. You melt. Fucking putty in his hands.

You open your mouth to protest, to say anything that might break the tension or reclaim some of your control, but before the words can form, Zayne grinds his knee into your core. The pressure sends a jolt of raw pleasure through your body, and the only sound that escapes is a desperate, breathy whine. His reaction is immediate—he hums with satisfaction, his lips curving into a smug smile. He does it again, harder this time, and you can feel him reveling in the control, in the power he has over you.

Your mind scrambles to catch up with your body, which is already responding in ways you can’t hide. You try to meet his gaze, desperately wanting to say something sharp, something biting, anything to regain your footing. But the moment your eyes lock with his, whatever witty retort you had dies on your tongue.

His face is half-hidden in the darkness, but his eyes... there’s something in them that makes your heart stutter. Not just the hunger, not just the dominance—it’s deeper. There’s a flash of genuine anger simmering beneath the surface, something darker that you hadn’t expected, and it sends a ripple of unease through you. The intensity of it levels you, catching you off guard.

Suddenly, this feels like more than just a game. Warmth floods your chest, your body still responding to him in ways you can’t control, but a new sense of apprehension takes root. You’re playing with something dangerous, something unpredictable. The heat between you is no longer just desire—it’s the burn of real fire, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for the flames.

Your breath comes faster as you take in the sight of him. His chest rising and falling, his lips parted slightly, the way his muscles tense beneath his skin. You’re mesmerized, caught between the fear of what he might do next and the undeniable pull he has over you.

You take him in, eyes sweeping over the familiar lines of his body now that he’s standing in front of you. His white lab coat is gone, discarded somewhere behind him, leaving him in his crisp white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows as if he couldn’t be bothered to fully undress. His shirt is buttoned neatly up to the collar, accentuating his thick, muscular frame in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. The tie around his neck is still knotted, slightly loosened from a long day’s work, but there’s something disheveled about him now—something raw and untamed lurking beneath the polished exterior.

His dark slacks cling to his legs, perfectly tailored to his build, emphasizing his long leg now settled between your core. The soft fabric sways with his movements, while his polished shoes make almost no sound against the floor, their silence unsettling given the tension simmering between you.

His arms cage you in, closing off this small corner of the world to just the two of you. It feels like there’s nothing outside this moment, no one else but him—towering over you, his strength radiating off him in waves. The air between you feels thick, charged with tension and unspoken desire. Your gaze travels back to his face, meeting his intense eyes, and despite the weight of the moment, you can’t help but smile mischievously.

Without a second thought, you turn your head and sink your teeth into his arm, biting down just enough to feel the resistance of his skin, tasting the salty warmth of him. At the same time, you grind your hips down against him, pressing into the hardness beneath his slacks.

You expect him to react instantly, to snarl an insult or degrade you for your boldness. To throw out one of his usual threats—punishment, discipline—his voice dripping with disdain for your insolence, for the way you always push his boundaries. You brace yourself for it, for the sting of his words, the sharp crack of his tone that would send heat rushing through your body.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead, he goes completely still. The tension in his muscles shifts, tightening under your bite, but his silence unnerves you more than anything. You can feel it—the raw power coursing just beneath his skin, his body vibrating with restraint. His muscles flex under your teeth, taut with the effort of holding something back. You release your grip slightly, confused, nervous. But Zayne says nothing. He’s a coiled spring, quiet, calculating, like a predator biding its time.

Methodically, he moves, his hands sliding down your arms, his touch precise, controlled, like he’s performing surgery. Each motion deliberate, calculated. His fingers glide over your skin, and with each inch he covers, the nervousness inside you builds. His control feels absolute, every movement designed to unsettle, to leave you wondering what’s coming next.

Then his hands reach your head, enveloping it completely. His fingers curl around your skull, not rough but firm enough to make you feel small, trapped in his grip. His thumbs rest near your temples, steady, as if he’s taking his time to savor the way your breath catches. The weight of his touch presses down on you, making it impossible to move.

With one harsh movement, he’s pushed you down onto your knees. He undoes his belt and pulls himself free, his beautiful cock glistening with pre-cum. One hand presses hard into your jaw. Harder. His thumb pressing against the muscles there until you open your mouth for him. The head of his cock comes to rest against your lips.

The taste of salt and Zayne’s soap is too tempting to resist. He was usually such a giver, and when you went down on him, he always liked it slow. You lick up the length of his cock and he shivers in response. He drops his hands to your shoulders and you watch his forearms flex in pleasure. Your tongue swirls around his soft tip, and then you take him into your mouth soft and sweet.

Except... this time he doesn’t respond with shaking breaths and high pitched whimpers. Not even an utterance of your name. Insecurity flashes through you - you were sure this is how he usually liked it. Were you not doing well enough for him? You cast your eyes upwards for guidance, barely able to see him in the dark.

“You really think that’s going to cut it?” His voice is cold and hard. Then his hands are on the back of your head, pushing you down onto his cock so fast and deep you almost gag. You pull away to drag a sharp breath into your lungs, abdomen muscles flexing.

“You want to be fucked like a slut, you’re going to have to earn it.” He pulls you back down onto him.

Suppressing the urge to gag brings tears to your eyes, and it isn’t long until they’re falling down your cheek, mingling with the saliva making a mess of your mouth and chin. Wet, choking noises echo into the empty hall. When you start to slow, whimpering from the effort, he’s quick to pick up the slack. He thrusts his hips forward, pinning your head between him and the wall. You choke and gag around him, struggling to adjust around the brutal pace he sets, fucking your throat like you're nothing to him but a toy. Your hands come up to his hips, but he wrenches them away with a furious grunt.

He pulls out suddenly, thick strands of saliva dripping off his cock. His breathing is hard and sweat rolls down the lines of his ab muscles. Your shoulders slump and you try to catch your breath. You’re absolutely spent. How humiliating that he didn’t even have to touch you to keep you wet for him, a vague sense of disgust emanating through your core.

“Was that good enough?” you weakly ask, but you might as well be begging him to fuck you for the look in your eyes. You don’t even bother to wipe the spit from your chin or the tears from your cheeks. You hope the sight gets under his skin so he can fuck you just as rough as he did your throat.

“I don’t buy it,” he says. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and frustration.

“What?”

“I just don’t buy that you want me to fuck you.”

You’re about to ask what you can possibly do more to prove it when something hard presses against your warmth, pushing your soaked boxers against you. You look down do see Zayne presenting his shoe. Polished and tightly tied, the mere sight of them gave obvious impression of what he wanted from you. But why?

You look up at him, but all he does is look back at you, expectantly. Your can feel the heat creeping up your neck as you adjust to straddle his shoe. You keep hoping he’ll just end your suffering by mocking you for even considering it, but it never comes. The cold, hard leather against you sends a wave of electricity through your body. Your hips are moving on their own. Your body desperate for anything it can get, chasing it’s high no matter how humiliating. You turn your face away from him, unable to stand him looking at you like this. Grinding against his shoe...

“There they are. My desperate little darling,” his voice has the first touch of warmth it’s had all night. It’s enough to spurn you on, the heat coiling in your abdomen. You pick up the pace against your will, your body chasing ecstasy like an uncaged animal. And Zayne just watches you, expression never changing, never reaching down to touch you. God, were you really going to cum on his shoe while he looked at you like that?

He kneeled down to one knee, doing his best not to disturb your work. His strong hands take hold of your hips and push you harder against his shoe, dragging your hips up and down. You moan, tears collecting in your eyes again. You can’t believe you’re enjoying this. Even - no, especially because it hurt. You were getting closer, your moans coming faster.

“Beg for it,” Zayne orders.

“Please let me cum, Zayne, please!”

“Tsk. Not that,” he pulls his shoe away like he's disgusted and you whimper in protest. Then, as if you were light as a feather, he’s tossing you to the side. You catch yourself on your elbows and feel them scrape against the ceramic floor. Your hips grind against the air as they searched for any friction at all that would send you over the edge. They found nothing.

“Silly girl.” He sounds bored as he stands to his full height above you.

You watch as his hand pulls a scalpel from his pocket. It captures his full attention, glinting in the light of the TV behind him. When he speaks, it's almost to the room.

“Isn’t this your favorite part? Where you try and fail to escape?”

You don’t move. He flips the scalpel in the air, catching it by the tip of the blade, and then again to catch it by the handle. He admires it as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world.

“Start crawling,” he suggests.

You push yourself onto tired, shaking limbs and try to get up. They give out on you. You pull yourself forward on your elbows instead. You hear the nearly silent creak of his shoes. The another. Then another. You feel small crawling beneath him, listening to the gentle whirl of the scalpel as he tosses it in the air. His shoes creak again, then again.

You turned to look at him. You were almost overwhelmed at how he towered above you. His broad shoulders blocking out the light in the hallway. One hand busy toying with the scalpel, the other pulling his pants further down his hips. He was clearly taking his time.

“You ever wonder why you like to fight so much?” You watch shoe follow shoe in lazy strides until they were at either side of your ribcage, standing above you.

“Should I let you get away again?” he asks, but then he’s dropping to his knees, pinning you beneath him. Fear takes hold of your vocal chords and you make a desperate noise, pushing at his legs. “Will you just give in already?”

With a calculated shift, Zayne turns your body to face him, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst from your chest. The tension between you crackles in the air, and before you can fully process what’s happening, his hand finds your neck, fingers wrapping around it with unyielding force. His palm presses against your throat, squeezing just enough to send a jolt of pain through you, sharp and undeniable.

"It takes about 10 seconds for pressure to the jugular to result in unconsciousness," Zayne says calmly, his voice low, almost clinical, as if reciting a fact from one of his textbooks. His grip tightens again, harder this time, and the sensation of control he wields is overwhelming.

The edges of your vision blur almost immediately, the world around you starting to fade. You feel lightheaded, like the ground is slipping away beneath your feet, your body caught in the thin space between pain and pleasure. But beneath the intoxicating sensations, panic begins to swell. The lightness in your head grows, and then you feel weightless, disconnected from reality as the darkness creeps in around your sight.

Your body starts to respond, instinct driving you toward the rising sense of panic. The pleasure and thrill that had mixed with the danger of it all suddenly feel too real, too much, as Zayne relentlessly pushes you to your limits.

You bring your hand up weakly, your fingers trembling, and tap his arm three times. The motion is small but deliberate, your safe signal.

For a brief, terrifying second, you wonder if he’s noticed.

He releases and you gasp for air. He lets you catch your breath, and for a minute you’re almost angry. But the growing wet between your legs betrays you to yourself, forcing you to admit you liked being pushed to the edge. An exhilarated smile picks up the corners of your mouth and Zayne, intently waiting for you to lead, just watches.

“More,” is all you need to say, and he’s on you again. Hand lighter on your throat, he brandishes the scalpel to catch your eye. It makes contact with your skin and you fight to control a shiver.

It glides around your shoulder, then down your collar bone. The razor sharp point leaving a thin, red cut beneath the bone. You gasp, back arching into the sting. He withdraws.

“If you keep squirming, I’m going to hurt you for real.” It’s as much a warning as it is a threat, and the dark rasp of his voice sends a chill down your spine.

Then you go still again, he continues. The scalpel crosses your chest, taking it’s time tracing each and every one of your ribs. He draws a bead of blood there, before lifting the blade again. You moan, squeezing your thighs together to keep from moving your hips. The anticipation almost too much for you. But the movement catches his eye. He pockets the scalpel, and then he’s prying your thighs apart so hard you feel the ache in your hips. You try to shimmy away, but his hands hold your thighs fast against him.

“I said hold still,” he grunts, squeezing his hands around the squish of your thighs hard enough that you make a noise. "What part of stop squirming do you not get?"

Your hand comes up to his hips, trying to hold them at a distance, but it doesn’t help. He pulls you closer to him and you feel his cock hard and leaking over your boxers. Fuck, you almost come undone all over again. Feeling him pressed against you like this... his cock easily reaching your belly button, reminding you how deep inside you he could be.

“Zayne, please,” you whimper.

“Please what?” He asks. You feel the cold blade against the tender, exposed part of your thigh.

“Please fuck me.”

He grunts, a noise that commits to nothing. He pulls the fabric of your boxers off your body and slips the scalpel beneath it. He cuts the thin fabric off of you in a show of strength and skill that intimidates you.

He leans over you slowly, his hips pressed flush against yours, his cock pressed against where you want it most. A hand comes up to your face then, holding your jaw hard as he turns your face away from his. The scalpels beautiful surface approaches your cheek. Your breath picks up, fear coursing through you. He says nothing, and it makes it all the more terrifying. Your instincts freeze every muscle in your body.

“You asked for this,” he reminds you, tracing the curve of your cheek. You bite your lip.

He pockets the scalpel once more, and you realize then that he's still entirely dressed, his pants only pulled down enough to fuck you. He shifts his hips, lining up with your needy hole. You’re already moaning for him.

“Begging me to use you like this, begging me to hurt you like this.” He pushes into you, your cunt struggling to adjust to his size. He only makes it a couple inches. He pulls out of you, then thrusts again, moaning as he does. This time when he pushes into you, he completely fills you. You both release an almost victorious sigh.

“Always fucking struggling. Can never just make it easy,” he growls, that angry look in his eye. His jaw flexes. Your cunt tenses around him.

He thrusts into you again, and again, so hard it feels like he could fuck you in half. He dips his face into your neck, moaning.

"You want me to force you onto my cock." His voice tightened with effort, but never lost that black-honey edge. "Can't say no to you. Do this because I love you."

You reach up and cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric. His words shouldn't thrill you, but they did. Your eyes flutter closed. Your body shook beneath him.

“This is messed up,” Zayne’s hips start to pick up their pace. You wrap your legs around him, encouraging him, pulling him deeper into you. You find yourself moaning his own words back at him; so messed up, so messed up.

Fuck, he felt so good. The two of you dissolved into senseless babbling, saying whatever it took to push each other closer to the edge. A meaningless cloud of fuck and just like that and you begged for this until neither of you could form words at all. Your pace became erratic, moaning into each other’s necks, limbs tightening around each other as you both approached your highs.

“Fuck, fuck, m’so-” you barely manage, panting and moaning through your words. Your thighs tighten around him and he groans in response.

And then you’re coming undone together. His hips driving his cock as deep as they can with the primal need to fuck his cum deeper inside you. You take it, greedily, breathlessly as your own climax rocks through your body like an earthquake.

He rests his forehead against your chest while he pulls out of you, then collapses onto the cool ceramic floor of the hallway beside you. He turns you onto your side and buries his head against your back, forearms tight against your chest while he hugs you close to him.

“I didn’t think,” you take a deep breath, trying not to pant through your sentence, “that when I asked you to use me after your work shifts, that it’d be like that.”

“Bad?” He asks, his voice uncharacteristically small.

“No, no,” you rush to recover the situation. You lace your fingers with his, “Of course not.”

He says nothing. You turn to look at him, and there’s that distant, tired look on his face.

“Are you okay...?”

“I will tell you about it soon, darling” he says. You hum as acknowledgement, wishing you could say anything, but feeling like nothing was the right thing to say. Instead you just let him hold you for awhile.

Zayne held you close, his body a solid, comforting weight against yours, his bodily warmth gradually soothing the whirlwind of sensation still buzzing under your skin. But then, you felt him shift. His fingers, cold and precise, began to ghost over the cuts he had made, tracing the delicate lines he’d etched into your skin with surgical precision. You shivered at his touch, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

His eyes softened, and in a voice barely louder than a whisper, he said, “I need to tend to these.” His words were gentle, but firm, a quiet reminder of the care he always took with you, even now.

He pressed a tender kiss to your temple, the warmth of it contrasting with the coolness of his fingers, and then he pulled away. You watched him button his pants, his movements deliberate but unhurried, before disappearing down the hall. Even through the exhaustion weighing you down, you heard the faint sound of him rummaging in the bathroom, retrieving what he needed.

When he returned, Zayne knelt beside you, his medical kit in hand. His usual calm, professional demeanor was still there, but this time it was softened with a tenderness only reserved for you. Gently, he began to disinfect the cuts, his touch as light as it was thorough. The sting of the antiseptic bit into your skin, making you wince, but his hand found yours, his thumb brushing reassuringly over your knuckles. It was a silent promise: I’m here, I’ve got you.

With every stroke of the gauze, every carefully placed bandaid, Zayne’s focus never wavered. His gaze remained trained on you, on the cuts he was tending to, but there was something deeper in his expression—something protective, almost reverent, as though he was caring for a part of himself.

When he finally finished, he sat back slightly, his hand resting on your arm, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you were truly okay. You could see the tension from earlier still lingering in the set of his jaw, the concern etched faintly into the lines of his face.

“I’m okay, I promise,” you murmured, your voice heavy with exhaustion, your body finally giving in to the weight of the night. Your limbs felt like lead, but your heart fluttered at the care he was taking with you, the gentleness of his hands now so different from the intensity you’d felt earlier.

“I’m just…so exhausted now” you sigh, briefly closing your eyes as another wave of tiredness washed through you.

Zayne’s expression softened into a small smile, one so full of adoration it made your chest tighten with affection. He stood, helping you up with careful hands, supporting your weight as he guided you to the couch. His arm stayed wrapped around you, keeping you close, steadying you as he laid you down gently, as though you were something fragile.

He settled in beside you, his body curling protectively around yours, pulling you against his chest. “We’ll clean up later,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead in a soft kiss. The warmth of his breath and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you, the scent of him comforting, grounding you.

You nestled deeper into him, the tension of the night melting away in his embrace. Wrapped in his arms, in the safety of his presence, your exhaustion finally caught up with you. Your eyelids fluttered closed, the world around you fading into the soft haze of sleep. And there, in the quiet of the night, you both drifted off together, tangled in each other, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the quiet rise and fall of his chest.

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eroselless · 3 months ago

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─────────────── somebody else // 2

series summary: you just work in hospitality for McLaren and he’s their star driver. what happens when your paths cross and you find yourself questioning your feelings for each other? [3.8k]

[lando norris x reader]

masterlist | previously

warnings: language, suggestive content, drunk almost hookup, slightly possessive lando

note: ehm, I absolutely did not mean for it to get that long, my bad guys. I’m trying to update a little faster and write in bigger chunks. I have a trip coming up soon and I’m not sure I’ll be able to update as fast and regularly as I’d like to. But as always, happy reading!

In the days that follow, you find yourself pulling back even more. You stack your walls up even higher as you try to keep that feeling of uncertainty away. You hyper focused on your work, trying to maintain a professional facade but each day that came and went it became harder than ever. Lando was still there, still kind and attentive but he could tell. Your heart was miles away, under lockdown and under constant supervision. He could see it in your eyes, how they would be distant and vacant at times, a haze coming over them whenever he came around. The easy banter had shifted, replaced by a tension that neither of you would acknowledge but could cut with a knife.

One afternoon, after a particularly busy day at the track, you found yourself alone in the hospitality area once again, cleaning up after the last guests had left. You were lost in your thoughts, replaying the events of the last few days and seeing the same image of Lando’s eyes, pooling with emotion as he watched you under the darkening sky.

“Still here?” Lando’s voice is light, but there is an edge to it that catches your attention. It pulls you from the neverending cycle in your head.

You turn to see him leaning against the doorframe, eyes fixed on you. He’s still wearing his race suit, it hangs low on his waist, orange contrasting with the black of his fireproofs. There was an air to him tonight, maybe it was the glossiness of his eyes, the five o'clock shadow beginning to form on his face or maybe something else entirely—it makes your pulse quicken.

“Just finishing up,” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual.

He walks over to you, gaze never leaving you. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

It wasn’t a question. It lingers in the air, thick with the weight of unspoken emotions. It makes you freeze in your spot, a dirty rag trapped in your fingers. His eyes search you for an answer, one you weren’t ready to give. Your heart pounds in your chest, the tensions building to almost unbearable.

“I haven’t—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Yes, you have,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And I want to know why.”

You swallow hard, searching for the right words. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” you repeat quickly, the lie slipping from your lips before you can fully think it through. You force a smile, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “I’ve just been really busy with work, that’s all.”

He studies you, eyes narrowing slightly as if he could see right through you. “Busy with work?” he echoes, skepticism lacing his tone.

“Yeah,” you nod, looking anywhere but at him. “You know how it is, especially with the season in full swing. There’s always so much to do, and I didn’t want to get distracted.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything just watching you as you stand there. Distracted. It had been a word you had said to him before, a word he was seemingly starting to hate after hearing you say it a second time. Your heart could burst from your chest as he continues to look at you with a piercing gaze. Your mind scrambles to come up with something—anything-–that would make your excuse believable. But under the weight of his stare, any lie you thought of felt flimsy, crumbling the second you even considered saying it out loud.

“Right,” He says slowly. You could tell he wasn’t convinced but were grateful when he didn’t press any further nodding at you he spoke again. “I get it. It’s a hectic time for everyone.”

You mimic his actions, trying to keep your expression neutral, even as your stomach twists with guilt. You hated that you were lying to him, hated the way it made your chest feel like it was caving in and most of all hated how the wall you were building up to keepsafe your feelings was now coming between you. But what else could you do? Admitting the truth—admitting your feelings, that you didn’t trust them— felt too risky, too raw.

Lando sighs softly, running a hand through his damp hair. “I just…missed talking to you, that’s all. You just felt distant, and I didn’t know why.”

Your chest tightens at the shakiness of his voice, the way he sounded, the devastation squeezed at your heart. You wanted so badly to tell him you missed him too, that the distance you had put between the two of you was excruciatingly painful but the words caught in your throat.

You round the table, moving towards him. You drop the rag onto the table as you get closer. “I’m sorry,” you say, the apology sounds hollow even to your own ears. You reach over his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. It's not the first time you’ve hugged. Well, it's the first time you hugged him. You usually found yourself trapped in his embrace, head pressed briefly against his chest. You ignore how his fireproofs are slightly damp and how he slumps into you. He gives in to your touch, his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. “I just wanted to make sure everything was…you know, okay between us.”

“Of course,” you reply a little too quickly. You ignore the butterflies that bother your stomach, between us. “Everything’s fine, I promise.”

Lando nods, pulling out of your arms. He seemed to accept your words though he knew there was something else going on. There was a small wave of relief wash over you, not asking any more questions. There's guilt swirling in your stomach as he bids you goodbye, leaving you to yourself once again.

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As time passes, your routine settles back into its regular pace. You still find yourself emotionally distant from him, just more aware of your actions. You reassure him sweetly every day that you’re ok, coming up with more excuses. I’m just a little tired, today was super busy. You make sure not to muddle the mood, keeping up a facade whenever you need to.

A few weekends later, after another high-intensity race, he approaches you with an invitation. “Hey, a few of us are going out later. It’s going to be a bit of a party—want to join?” His eyes are wide, the adrenaline from the race still high in his bloodstream.

You hesitate for a moment, considering all possibilities. The allure of a night out, the chance to let loose and the opportunity to see Lando in a different setting makes it harder for you to decline. “Sure, I’d love to,” you accept, nerves pouring out again. With a quiet squeal you’ve heard from him before, he bids you goodbye, letting you know that he’ll text you all the information. He quickly presses a kiss to your head, which leaves you reeling, before running out and leaving you to finish.

You can feel the base of the song in your chest as you step into the club, the heavy beat reverberating through the floor and up into your bones. The lights pulse and swirl around you in shades of blue, purple and red. They cast shadows over the crowd of people moving rhythmically to the music. You find yourself alone, surrounded by strangers, their laughter and chatter blending into the music, creating a vibrant but overwhelming atmosphere. Pushing through the sea of bodies, you navigate your way across the club, your eyes scanning the room for a familiar face. Anxiety prickles at the back of your neck, and you pull out your phone, nervously checking to see if you’ve missed any messages from Lando. But the screen is empty, and you feel a pang of unease. The crowd presses in around you, and for a moment, you’re unsure of where to go or what to do.

Scanning the room over once again, you finally spot him. Lando is standing on a step near the back, surrounded by a group of drivers and their girlfriends. He’s got one arm looped around Max’s neck, the two of them bouncing to the beat of the music, lost in the energy of the moment. The sight of him makes your heart skip.

Lando spots you almost immediately, his eyes lighting up as he waves you down with his free arm, a grin spreading across his face. Max rolls his eyes good-naturedly at Lando’s enthusiasm, giving him a playful shove as Lando nearly topples over in his haste to reach you.

Before you can react, his arms are around your shoulders, pulling you tight against his chest. The scent of Christian Dior mixed with tequila hits you, a surprisingly intoxicating combination that makes your head spin a little. His navy blue button-up clings to his frame, the top few buttons undone to reveal a hint of his tanned chest. The chains around his neck clink softly against your own as he holds you close, his embrace warm and firm. “I missed you,” he murmurs into your ear, his voice thick with the effects of the alcohol.

You let out a shy giggle, your heart fluttering despite your efforts to keep your emotions in check. “You saw me a couple of hours ago,” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt, the words barely audible over the music.

He shakes his head, pressing his lips closer to your ear. “It hasn’t been soon enough,” he insists, his breath warm against your skin.

The sentiment makes your heart skip, and you have to bite down on your cheek to keep from smiling too widely. The weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, tugs at something deep inside you. Before you can say anything else, he pulls back slightly, his hand slipping down to take yours.

“Come on, let’s get you a drink,” Lando says, guiding you through the crowd towards the bar. He insists on covering your drinks for the night, his generosity both endearing and dangerous. The alcohol flows freely, and soon enough, you can feel your earlier resolve melting away. The tension that had been knotting your stomach eases as the alcohol loosens your limbs and your thoughts, making everything feel a little less serious, a little more carefree.

After a few drinks, you find yourself swaying to the music, your body moving instinctively to the beat. Alexandra and Lily are close by, the three of you forming a small circle as you dance together, shouting the lyrics to the songs that blast from the speakers. There’s a joyous energy between you, a shared camaraderie that makes the night feel lighter, more fun. You’d built a rapport with them over the last few races, their curious faces eager to meet the girl that had Lando disappearing before and after every race day.

A familiar song comes on, and you lock eyes with Alex, both of you squealing in delight. You move behind her, your hands on her hips as the two of you bounce together, laughing and singing at the top of your lungs. The music is loud, the bass heavy, and you lose yourself in the moment, your bodies moving in perfect sync with the rhythm.

Across the room, Lando watches you, his gaze fixed on the way your dress clings to your curves. The orange fabric, vibrant and bold, catches his eye, and a slow smile spreads across his face as he takes notice of the fabric of the dress. Papaya orange. There’s something about seeing you in that particular shade—his color—that makes his chest tighten with a strange sense of pride and possessiveness.

His eyes trail down your body, watching the way you roll your hips in time with the beat, the smooth, sensual movements captivating him. He can’t tear his gaze away, mesmerized by the way you move, so free and confident. The sight of you, so different from the professional, composed version he usually sees, makes his heart race.

Lando finally pushes through the crowd, making his way back to you, his movements slightly unsteady as he navigates through the crowd. When he reaches you, he drunkenly sends Alexandra a nod and a wink, pulling you away from her. His hands find your waist, pulling you close as you continue to sway to the music. His touch is firm, but there’s a gentleness to it that makes your breath catch in your throat.

The ghost of his lips brushing the shell of your ear sends a shiver down your spine. The soft whisper of your name ignites a heat deep in your stomach. His touch is familiar, yet it feels entirely different from anything you’ve experienced before. His chest is pressed against your back, both of you covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and your mind begins to wander to places you’ve been trying to avoid for months. Images of the two of you flash through your mind—intense, unrestrained, his hands gripping your hips as his lips explore every inch of your skin.

A voice in the back of your head urges you to stop, but the alcohol blurs its edges, and you find yourself leaning further into him. His hands slide up your body, fingers curling over your ribs, a possessive touch that cradles the underside of your breasts, drawing a soft laugh from his lips. He presses his nose to your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your perfume. It’s addictive, intoxicating, driving him wild.

He lowers his head, his lips tracing a slow path over the racing pulse in your neck. He pauses just below your ear, murmuring into your hair, “You know you’re driving me crazy right now, don’t you?”

A hum escapes your lips before you reply, “I had no idea.” The words are tinged with a bitter truth, your usual restraint slipping under the influence of the alcohol. His lips resume their slow, deliberate assault on your throat, even as you continue to sway to the beat. You move your hips in time with the music, grinding into him, and he lets out a low, guttural sound, biting his lip as a wave of heat surges through him.

His hands slide lower, settling on the crease where your legs meet your hips. He tries to guide your movements, pulling you closer, but you push back, teasing him. His head begins to spin, the alcohol, the sweat, the heat, and most of all, you, overwhelming his senses. He presses his forehead against your shoulder, struggling to keep his thoughts in check.

A breathy gasp escapes you as his fingers dig into your skin. You can feel him stir, the hard press of his arousal against your back. He pushes your hips away slightly, only to pull you back firmly, the back-and-forth sending your head spinning. Whether it’s the thought of him enjoying the teasing closeness, the drinks, or a mix of both, it only fuels the need burning between your legs.

His breath is hot against your skin as he starts to murmur directly into your ear. The noise of the club fades away, the music and the crowd dissolving until only his voice and his body remain. The heat radiating from him seeps into you, making you cling to him as the tension builds.

After a few more songs, the tension reaches a boiling point. Lando’s voice is low and rough as he whispers, “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

You nod, letting him take your hand as he leads you through the crowd, weaving between the dancing bodies until you reach the hallway leading to the restrooms. The space is dimly lit, the music muffled, creating an intimate atmosphere that only heightens the tension between you. Your heart races as he closes the restroom door behind you, sealing the two of you in a moment that’s been building all night.

The air in the small restroom is thick with tension as he stays by the door for a second. He pants with his back towards you as if he’s thinking it over in a brief moment of soberness. The muffled bass of the club still pulses through the walls but here, it's just the two of you. His eyes are darkened by desire as he scans your face for a sign, a permission to cross this line that you’ve been dancing around for months.

He steps closer, his body heat enveloping you and you can feel the alcohol fueled courage roll back into him in waves. You’re both silent, the only real sound being the shallow breaths you’re taking as he slowly raises his hand to cup your cheek.

You hold in a breath as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, eyes following how it softly snaps back before locking onto yours.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers, his voice raspy, almost desperate. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes fluttering shut. His breath comes out in pants, mixing with yours. With a small tilt of your head, your lips meet his. One hand comes to wrap delicately around the back of your neck, the other encapsulates your waist, flushing your body to his. The kiss is a release of all the tension that’s been simmering between you, a collision of emotions too long suppressed. It's deep, intimate, charged with so much as his tongue explores the cavern of your mouth. He pushes you up against the sink, trying to get you as close to him as possible, the world outside forgotten. Your hands travel across his chest, fingers tangling in the chains that rest there.

He drinks you in, sucking the air out of you as he cradles your face. Pulling away, he lowers his head to your exposed shoulder, tugging the thin strap of your dress to your bicep. He kisses the skin tenderly, muttering into your skin something you don't quite catch. You trace your fingers up the side of his face, head rolling to the side as he sucks sharply at the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

He slots a leg between yours, pulling one of your legs up to wrap around his waist. You’re almost wide open for him as he rolls his hips against you. You let out a weak whimper as the shape of his cock brushes right where you needed him. You buck your hips up, chasing the mouth watering feeling once again. Just as his hands slide over your bum, fingers searching for the seam of your dress, there’s a sharp knock on the door that has you jumping.

When you don’t move from your spot, there’s another blasted knock on the bathroom door paired with the annoyed call of Max. Lando allows your leg to drop, his forehead resting against yours as he lets out a frustrated groan. The reality of the situation starts to seep back in, and you can’t help but let out a nervous laugh, the absurdity of it all hitting you at once. He sighs, pulling you into a tight hug, as if he’s reluctant to let go just yet.

“We’re coming, geez.” Lando calls out, his voice still tinged with the lingering effects of alcohol.

When he finally releases you, there’s a look of disappointment mixed with something deeper in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes your hand and leads you back out into the now nearly-empty club. Max gives you both a knowing look, his eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t say a word as Lando signals for another round of drinks.

As the night wears on, Lando continues drinking, and while you’ve switched to water, you stay by his side, watching as his playful demeanor shifts into something more subdued. He’s not the loud, rowdy drunk you’d seen over the last few hours; instead, he becomes quieter, his words slurred but gentle, his touch lingering but not overbearing. In your mind, his sudden change only confirms what you had been hearing in the back of your head all along.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” he mumbles when the night comes to a close. He hangs around your shoulders, head lolling slightly as he turns his head to get a better look at you. “Come with me? Just to hang out?”

You hesitate, knowing you should probably just call it a night, but the soft, almost pleading look in his eyes makes it impossible to say no. “Okay,” you agree quietly. “But just for a bit to make sure you get home in one piece.”

The ride back to his apartment is a blur of neon lights and the quiet hum of the city at night. Lando leans against you in the backseat, his head resting on your shoulder as he mutters something incoherent. He fiddles with your fingers, playing with your rings. It's almost as if he’s trying to commit to memory the way your hands feel in his. It's as if he knows that by morning light, everything will be gone and it'll be like a dream you can't fully remember.

By the time you arrive, he’s half-asleep, and it takes some effort to get him out of the car and up to his apartment. Once inside, you help him to his room, guiding him onto the bed as he flops down with a tired groan. He’s still wearing his clothes, and as you pull his shoes off, he watches you with half-lidded eyes, a lazy smile on his lips.

“You’re so good to me,” he giggles, reaching out to grab your hand. “Stay, please? Just... stay.”

You sigh softly, knowing he won’t remember much of this in the morning, but the tenderness in his voice tugs at your heart. “Alright,” you surrender, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But you need to sleep, okay?”

He nods fervently, already drifting off as he mumbles something about how nice it is to have you here. He continues, his words slurring slightly as he tells you what drawer to reach into for a shirt to sleep in before rolling over to wrap his arms around his pillow. You pull the covers over him, watching as his breathing evens out, his face softening in sleep. You change into an old t-shirt of his and slip into the bed beside him, careful not to get too close. Despite the circumstances, there’s something comforting about being here, about being the one to look after him when he needs it. The sobering voice in your head returns, but you blur it out as it slowly lulls you to sleep.

tags: @sltwins @sarx164 @f1fantasys

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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himasgod · 14 days ago

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Kinich x Reader

(Oh, wow. I got excited writing this. 0.9k words, it's longer than usual! Although I liked the result, I think it could have been a little more angsty :( I dedicate it to 💗, who asked me for it in a request. I hope you liked it, I hope you'll write to me again sharing your opinion <3)

Where Kinich breaks up with you before going to War, but you make him listen to you

Twilight covered Natlan in a blanket of red and orange hues, a cruel irony for Kinich, who felt the heat of the fire and the weight of duty burning in his chest, almost to the point of burning him. He had spent his entire life preparing for this war, for the battle against the Abyss, but he never thought that facing danger would mean giving up what he valued most in his life: you.

The decision had been clear when the clan elders made it. The modern heroes, each a bearer of the Ancient Names, must march to the Night Kingdom, that dimension where the shadows of the Abyss were stronger, fiercer, and where Natlan's very nature was at risk. Although the Pyro Archon had returned, the Ode of Resurrection was weakened. This time, there was no guarantee of returning, not even for him, one of the promising warriors.

He waited for you under the shade of a tree, his gaze lost in the landscape that could be the last he would see. When you finally approached, he swallowed hard, his words stuck in his throat. He loved you, and that made it harder, more unbearable.

“Kinich, what’s wrong?” you asked softly, noticing his tense expression. You’d seen Kinich in battle, on hunts, in times of fighting, but you’d never seen him so dejected. He looked as if he carried the weight of the sun itself on his shoulders.

Kinich let out a heavy sigh, unable to look directly at you. He wanted to take you away from the storm, from the uncertainty, protect you from the anguish that an endless wait could bring.

“I’m going to go to war,” he said, his voice rough, his words like stones falling to the ground. There was no time for you to respond before he continued. “And I’m not going to ask you to wait for me. It wouldn’t be fair to you. It’s not safe… If I don’t come back…” It seemed like Kinich was talking to himself at this point. He focused, though, his gaze turning colder as he looked away.

"Nevermind. I'll say it straight. I'm breaking up with you."

Your silence was a blow. You knew of the war, you knew the stories of warriors lost in the Night Kingdom, trapped by the Abyss, waiting without a glimmer of hope. But the Kinich you knew was not someone who gave up so easily.

“Do you think you can decide that for me?” you asked, intense sadness coloring your words. “I don’t want you to disappear like a shadow in history, Kinich! Not after everything we’ve been through together!”

He pulled away slightly, his eyes staring at the ground, as he struggled to put into words the fear that tormented him.

“I don’t want you to suffer waiting for something that might not happen, do you understand?” he said in a whisper. There was an echo of vulnerability in his words that was rare for him, someone who had always faced adversity with his head held high. But this time it was different. This time, fear was a shadow he couldn’t chase away.

You hesitated only a moment before taking a step towards him, raising a hand to touch his face, forcing him to look at you. His gaze was a storm of emotions; fear, love, guilt, and something deeper, darker.

“Listen to me, Kinich,” you said, your voice firm even though your hands trembled slightly. “Natlan has survived because of warriors like you, but also because of those left behind, those who remember. Don’t ask me to forget you, or ask me to prepare to lose you without even trying. If you decide to leave, you will do so with the promise that I will do everything in my power so that, whatever happens, your Name will never be forgotten.”

Kinich closed his eyes, feeling the weight of your words. It was a promise and, at the same time, a plea. For a moment, he imagined what it would be like to let you go, to erase the trace of shared memories and think of you only as a distant figure, a dream he had given up on. And that thought tore at him.

“Why can’t you let me do this?” he asked in a low, almost desperate tone. It wasn’t an accusation, but a confession of his helplessness.

“Because…” Your voice broke, and you took a deep breath before continuing. “Because I love you, Kinich. Because this isn’t just a war; this is our life, and if I lose you in the Night Kingdom, then I will lose a part of me as well. If you fall, you will fall knowing that someone here will remember you. I don’t want a life without you, even if it means waiting, even if it means risking it.”

Those words finally broke through Kinich’s defenses. He felt the resolve he had built crumble, and he hugged you, a gesture that contained all the fragility he had tried to hide. The weight of the war, of his responsibilities, vanished for a moment as he felt your closeness, as he absorbed the comfort you offered, even if it was only temporary.

“Promise me that if I come back, there will be no regrets,” he murmured, searching for some certainty amidst the uncertainty.

You stroked his hair gently, whispering your words with a devotion that gave him the strength he needed.

“I promise you, Kinich.”

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

#genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #kinich #kinich angst #kinich x reader #kinich x you #natlan #idk how to tag this again #genshin #genshin kinich #genshin x you #idk how to tag this

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delirious-donna · 6 months ago

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The Demon King & His Princess [Sebastian Michaelis]

an: I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for months and it’s time I had a clear out. This demon could tell me stories any night he wants…

pairing: Sebastian Michaelis (demon king AU) x female reader (princess)

warnings: nightmares, storytelling turned steamy, fantasy AU, smut, NSFW

Masterlist

The darkness was pure—heavy and suffocating. It wrapped like a noose around your slender throat and squeezed tighter and tighter. You couldn’t draw air, couldn’t struggle from the iron-tight hold.

You jolted upright. Fire burned in your lungs as if you had been suffocating in your sleep and you touched feverishly at your neck but felt nothing amiss. Disorientation made your head spin, eyes scanning back and forth in an attempt to make sense of your surroundings and what had happened.

In bed.

You could feel the mattress beneath your backside and legs, the heavy weight of a rich duvet covered your midriff. That was at least a comfort. If the only one you could find. The beat of your heart ached against your ribs. It hurt to take each shuddering breath as if you had broken the surface of icy waters. The air froze in your chest, and you clutched blindly at the sweat-dampened nightgown in desperation.

Your saviour was not far…

A presence at your side made you jump anew, but soon your shoulders sagged with relief as two familiar hands held you tight. The touch was cool and soothing. You let yourself be drawn into a strong body whilst you continued to tremble like the last autumn leaf.

Slowly, and with the utmost care, you were lowered back to the sheets. Soft-spoken words sounded distant, called over the crashing waves of your fear but as the seconds ticked on, they became clearer.

“Come back to me… can you hear me, little one? You are mine, come back.”

Sebastian.

It was Sebastian who pressed his face into your hair and whispered gentle yet firm words into your ear. It was he who wound his arms around your chest and lodged his body tightly against your back. His warmth chased away the shivering chill from your skin and the even beat of his heart that settled your own into a normal rhythm.

“Sebastian…”

“I’m right here,” he soothed in his low authoritative voice, barely above a whisper. Deft fingers stroked the apple of your cheek. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Your chin tucked low into your chest, a shy shame washing over you for goodness knows why. A nightmare was out of your control after all, so why try to deny it? Sebastian slid a finger between your chin, bringing your face back up to his. At last, you nodded slowly and averted your eyes.

“Want to talk about it?” He asked.

Whatever had caused such a blinding panic had already mostly melted away, the memories new fleeting and entirely disjointed. In honesty, you couldn’t quite recall the events of the dream, other than remembering the sensation of being choked of breath.

“I… can’t remember. I think I’d rather forget.”

You pressed your eyes shut, snuffing out the lone candle on the nightstand that illuminated the darkness of the bedroom. At heart you wished away the sense of lingering panic that beat just beneath the surface, threatening to surface at the smallest jolt.

The Demon King hummed a faint melody, a tune that seemed reminiscent of one you had heard many years prior.

His long dexterous fingers massaged at your skin through your silky nightdress, the midnight black fingernails a stark contrast against the pure white.

“Shall I tell you a tale? It might help you to… forget.”

In your disarray, you missed the faint trace of heat in his voice. Had you noticed, would your answer have been any different? Not likely. Be that as it may, you accepted his offer regardless and his smile was not merely comforting any longer—not that you could see it with your face tucked into his chest.

With a soft sigh, you rolled back your shoulders to better settle yourself into his protective embrace. The flicker of the candle painted long shadows upon the nearest wall, and you glanced up at your handsome beau without a trace of fear. His hair fell in a black curtain around his face, eyes closed as if at rest–although you knew better–and his smile had returned to docile.

“Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who loved to roam the lands her family ruled over. Her curiosity was mischievous and might have been considered reckless for she often wandered unaccompanied.”

Sebastian spoke in soft dulcet tones, and you wondered where this story was headed. It sounded rather familiar, intimately familiar…

“One day,” he continued, aware of your narrowed eyes aimed in his direction but ignoring it in favour of speaking calmly, slowly. “The princess came upon another person out in the forests near her home.

Yet, to her bewilderment he was not a person, but a Demon. She should have been scared, fearful of a creature she had been warned was wicked with only evil in their heart, but she wasn’t.”

He smiled indulgently. Reminiscing fondly at how brave you had been that day. In honesty, he would call it foolish, but luckily for you, this particular Demon was instantly enamoured with you.

“Instead, the sweet yet naïve princess befriended the Demon and soon they would spend hours traversing the lands with the Demon showing her places she didn’t even know existed. Sharing secrets that his kind would likely condemn him for brazenly putting his trust in the young mortal.”

Butterflies erupted in the depths of your stomach, flitting around in energetic bursts at the memory of those long-ago days. The hours that easily slipped into days, the warm sunshine on your face and the excitement of newly discovered secrets. You would forever be grateful for the trust Sebastian placed into the cradle of your hands, the knowledge he chose to share when you warned it might be frowned upon.

He pressed a kiss to your temple as if he sensed your gratitude. “It wasn’t long before an attraction grew between the pair, and in short, the Demon was besotted by the exquisite beauty of the princess and the purity of her heart and soul. At this realisation, he revealed himself as not simply a Demon, for he was the Demon King. A Demon King in love with a mortal princess.”

You squirmed against his strong body, heat warming your cheeks. Sebastian wouldn’t allow you to turn in his arms, tucking you further into his hold. He planted his hands on the soft curves of your waist whilst he continued to purr his story into your ear.

“Sebastian…”

He shushed you softly, his lips traversing the gentle slope of your shoulder to press a gentle kiss to your sweet-smelling neck. You could feel his smile against your skin, knowing and growing wider when your pulse began to race faster.

“The Demon King rejoiced in the knowledge that his attraction and love were returned in equal measure, and the night he first took her to his bed was a night he would never forget… Not in all his long years of existence had a night so special occurred and might never again.”

You could only moan, the sound long and drawn out when his hands roamed your plush curves. One palm stroked up and down your side until the fairly modest hem of your nightgown was drawn high enough that his fingertips could ghost lazy patterns on your skin.

The other cupped your breasts lightly through the shimmery fabric, his warm breath caressing and causing you to shiver deliciously from his attention. These shivers were different to the ones caused by your earlier nightmare—now long forgotten. They tingled pleasantly and led to a growing wetness between your clenched thighs.

“The princess was supple beneath his touch and reciprocating to his actions. Despite the power he wielded, the Demon was gentle in his exploration. He whispered of the naughty deeds he wished to enact, and of how he desperately wanted to open her up like a blooming flower to bathe in her arousal. When his touch reached her most intimate area, the Demon King had growled aloud, finding her wet and wanting. His restraint tested in a way he hadn’t experienced to date.”

Sebastian’s melodious words mirrored his actions to perfection. A low growl that sounded like distant thunder echoed within his chest, and you gasped—thrilled. One bold finger swiped over the seat of your cotton panties and found how your lust had soaked it through.

Your eyelids fluttered shut, hips undulating eagerly. Waiting… wanting… just like the princess.

You reached out an arm, blindly searching behind and finally sinking your hand into his long lustrous hair. You played with the strands, tugging them impishly until your fingers delved deeper so your nails could scratch against his scalp.

“His cock had throbbed for the princess, straining against his undergarments and desperate to find solace in her tempting heat. Of course, he had to ensure she was properly prepared for such an intrusion,” he whispered, pausing for a moment to tug on your earlobe with his teeth.

His hips drove upwards, making you painfully aware of how hard and ready he was right now, never mind in the story. A dark chuckle floated to your ear; the amusement halted the subtle glide of your lower half, but it was only a moment until he guided your hips back into a slow rhythm against his clothed cock.

“The Demon King had ripped through the princess’s panties to her shrieks of surprise, for surely she had not known the strength of the male she had allowed to touch and taste her virgin body.” You groaned in memory. How nervous you had been, but so very ready, almost desperate.

“Her breasts were perfection, filling his palms exactly. With pebbled nipples so sensitive to the fingers that played with them, rolling the delicate buds between finger and thumb before tasting them in turn. A firm hand supported her spine which she arched to press herself further into his greedy mouth. The suckling sensation made her dizzy and mewl like a cat in heat. He turned her skin sticky and shiny with his spit, biting and nipping at such tender flesh until the princess tugged boldly on his mane of hair.”

Your fingers twitched in mischievous want to fist his silken black hair, to haul his sinful lips to yours and silence the story in favour of creating a new one. “The lovers spent an age exploring their bodies, learning what made them moan and what caused their toes to curl in delight. When it was time to taste her sweetness, the Demon King felt like a youngster again, worried he might come undone before he could take her fully. Never had he seen a pussy so pretty and perfect–made for him alone.”

On these words, Licht finally rolled you to your back and let your lips unite. The yearning between you was palpable, your fingers grasping and clutching at his strong shoulders until you were twisted like ivy around his lithe frame.

The brush of his cock–still concealed behind his pyjama trousers–against your bare slit was electrifying. The ripped cotton from where his finger had pushed through the fabric clung to your slickness, and you did indeed rub on him like a cat in heat.

Sebastian worked his hand between your bodies, spreading your open and smearing the sticky strands of your arousal over your skin until he was toying with your jittering little clit. His mouth was hungry slanted atop yours, devouring and commanding the space you shared.

You weren’t quite the shy little flower he described in the story; experience had strengthened your resolve and bolstered your confidence. Enough so that you sucked his bottom lip between your own, drawing the skin taut before releasing it with an audible pop. He growled low in his throat, admiring your shuttered eyelids and smug little smile.

Gods, how you wanted him, but he broke away, much to your frustration, to continue his story. A slow methodical finger circled your soaked cunt, grinning when you clenched around nothing but air.

“The enamoured Demon softly stroked over the princess’s unsullied silky folds, so pretty and engorged from the pumping blood of her desire. Slick rushed to meet his fingers and he couldn’t resist sucking one into his mouth for a taste. With that, he was addicted. He knew that he would never get enough.”

Sebastian held back a moan as he spoke the words. He could feel the weight of them, the truth that lay behind each syllable. To this day, he wasn’t certain you understood the magnitude of his love. He was a creature who most believed incapable of loving anyone but themselves, but he could find no other way to describe how he felt about you.

“Please…”

Eyes of regal burgundy flashed in the dark room and it shook a breathy whine from your throat. On a slow thrust, two fingers slide inside to stroke your velvet walls. His honeyed voice deepened, one forearm braced directly next to your head whilst a knee spread your legs further apart and his fingers fucked you with strokes that quickened hastily. Sebastian was losing control and that tightened the desire in your belly all the more.

“Mm, that’s it. You’re sucking me in, can you feel that? Such a greedy pussy, you want something other than my fingers, beloved?” he asked with a smirk.

You rolled your neck against the fluffy pillows, sinking deeper and deeper into decadent pleasure. “Mhm, please,” you admitted, biting deep into your bottom lip.

“The Demon King brought the beautiful princess to orgasm using only his mouth and dexterous fingers. Stretching out her tight walls in readiness for his throbbing cock. How he had hissed when she had tentatively touched it, dainty fingers encircling the girth and giving an exploratory pump with her fist.”

As he narrated, you complied with the words and reached down to free him from the confines of his sleepwear. Your thumb swiped through the beads of arousal and used it to coat his shaft.

Sebastian was heavy in your hold, a groan echoing from the depths of his chest. “Do–do you remember how the story ended?” he asked, thrusting into your grip at the same pace he thrust his slick-soaked fingers into your pussy.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” you managed, sounding far more composed than you actually felt, “But I’m certain that the devastatingly handsome Demon King–you missed that part out–made love to the princess until the sun broke over the horizon.”

With ease, Sebastian withdrew his fingers and sucked them into his mouth until they were clean. His weeping cockhead notched at your entrance and your hips strained to force him inside.

“Mm, indeed. Let’s reenact that part, shall we?”

His pelvis met yours in one forceful push. Your spine bowed off the mattress when his head dipped to suckle on your pert nipples through the taut satin of your gown.

Your eyes roamed his handsome face, his expression veiled as it often was, but it slipped when your legs wound his lean waist to push him even deeper. The mask dropped to expose the control he was struggling to hold on to. The Demon King was leashed to your hand, a power he had never given to anyone else in his centuries of existence. He was yours as much as you were his.

Sebastian remained true to his word; he worshipped you exactly as he had on your very first time together. Nothing could truly portray what had transpired on that fateful night, the unity and promises made, but it still brought tears to your eyes to be reminded. Your Demon lover stole the air from your lungs, the sanity from your mind and the love from your heart.

From that night forward, you made a conscious effort to ask for more bedtime stories and not only on the occasions you had nightmares.

What wicked words could fall from the prettiest of lips…

#delirious writes #sebastian michaelis #sebastian x reader #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis smut #black butler x reader #black butler smut #black butler fluff

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lendeah · 9 months ago

Text

Wounded Love

Summary: Astarion and Tav are both struggling with their emotions as they journey through the Shadowlands. When Astarion gets injured, Tav takes it upon herself to nurse him back to health, in more ways than one.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader.

Word Count: 5.3k

Tags: Astarion gets hurt, Emotional Constipation, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Massage, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Tav takes care of Astarion, sub!Atarion, Light Dom/sub, bordering minimal really, Porn With Plot, Biting, Blood.

a/n: this is an old draft, so forgive me if there are any typos! Love ya🤍

WARNING! +18 CONTENT, MINORS DNI

It had been a stray hex, a capricious twist of magic that had hurt him, as told by the doctor responsible for his care in the Last Light Inn. The tendrils of the hex had woven an intricate spell, rendering him unconscious. Right now, as his chest rises and falls rhythmically, you feel something like pain and protectiveness stir in your chest. Although you are aware that your connection is currently purely physical, you can't help but feel a flutter every time your eyes meet or a tightening in your chest whenever he faces danger.

Looking at his peaceful sleeping form, you reach out to touch his hair, keeping it out of the way of his eyes. Your fingers trace the contours of his face and down his jawline. You wonder what kind of dreams come to him in these tender moments. Dreams you would love to share. To know all the things that go through the elf's mind.

His eyes suddenly open, and you get slightly startled, your hand hanging mid-air.

"What are you doing?" He raises one judging eyebrow, and squints at you through his eyelashes, but doesn't move out of your touch. His lips are curled into a small, tight grimace, probably still in pain from his recent wound.

You reach for the mug of water near the bed. "You look so peaceful when you sleep. Maybe you should spend more time like that. I like you way more when you are quiet," you say, a teasing tone lacing your words.

Astarion rolls his eyes, but he's also smiling a little.

"Yeah? Well, if you're so keen on me sleeping why not do me a favor and knock me out? The pain is unbearable as of right now," he says, but his voice is still soft and quiet, almost as if talking is painful You know there is a bit of truth there. He takes the mug and gulps down the water, then sets the piece back down on the bedside table.

He does appear miserable, even though his beauty remains as striking as ever. His eyes, usually filled with energy and mirth, seem drained of life, carrying heavy bags underneath. Though he is already pale, right now he looks paler than ever, and even his distinctive white locks, typically immaculate, fall disheveled and unkempt over his shoulders.

Your chest tightens at the sight, a vivid flashback of watching him fall during the combat flooding your mind. One moment, he was bravely battling alongside Karlach and the next, he was sprawled on the ground, so unnaturally still that it hinted at something had gone fatally wrong. The memory of that moment lingers—the scream tearing from your throat, the frantic dash to reach him—where the world outside, the lurking shadow monsters, and your companions; all became a blur, drowned out by the overwhelming fear of losing him.

You release a shaky breath, and try to appear nonchalant "Well, I happened to leave my Warhammer outside, but if you give me a moment, we could arrange it," you say, a hint of playful sarcasm masking the genuine worry beneath.

Astarion snorts. "Please, I don't need the Warhammer. Just a firm slap should do it." He says while shifting on his bed.

The movement makes the bedsheets rustle and reveals the bandages encasing his torso. His chest had sustained the most damage, with a deep cut that refused to heal and oozed a dark, murky liquid.

"You were out for a tenday," you inform him. "A stray hex hit you during combat and left you out cold. The wound didn't close, even with your vampiric and elf powers, so it had to be taken care of manually."

"Well, that's just great." Astarion mutters. Then, he speaks up again, this time seemingly with some concern, "I'm alright, right? I'm not going to die? I mean, I know I can't die, but..."

You chuckle softly at his words, a mix of fondness and relief washing over you. "Not under my watch. I am an incredible healer, after all".

"And quite humble, at that," Astarion mutters, but there is a small smile on his face. Then, there is a beat of silence, as both of you take a moment to collect your thoughts.

Astarion's smile fades, and his eyes search yours for something, a reassurance perhaps. You can see the vulnerability hidden beneath his usual facade of confidence and charm. It's rare to see him like this, stripped of his usual bravado. Leaning closer, you reach out again to gently brush a strand of white hair behind his pointy ear.

"Hey," you say softly, placing your hand on his cheek. "You're going to be alright. We took care of your wounds, and Halsin says you just need some time to recover." You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you reach out and gently grasp his hand, intertwining your fingers. "You scared me, you know," you admit softly. "Seeing you fall like that... I thought I had lost you."

Astarion seems to freeze in place at that, as if he is unsure of how to react. You chuckle nervously, realizing you may have unintentionally crossed an unspoken boundary. Emotions are not your forte, after all. For a moment he simply stares at your intertwined hands. Then, he looks up to meet your gaze, and you see a flicker of some unreadable emotion there.

"Lost me? Come now, you should know by now it takes more than a measly hex to finish me off." His tone aims for nonchalance, but there is an edge to it that gives away his vulnerability. You offer a small, sheepish smile.

"Yes, well, you didn't die. So quit that moping and drink your water, or I'll let Shadowheart take a crack at healing you."

"From my point of view, this just means you just have to keep a closer eye on me from now on,"

You let out a small sigh and give him an exasperated look "I think I have done my fair share of caring for some time."

A look of realization crosses his face as if a puzzle piece has finally fallen into place. "Wait, did you stay here for the entire tenday?" he murmurs, his eyes widening with surprise and curiosity.

You clear your throat awkwardly "I mean, you were unconscious. Somebody had to keep guard, keep tabs on you, change your bandages..." you say, with a casual wave of your hand "Plus, I wanted to make sure you were alright. I'm not a complete monster."

But you are aware that it's not the whole truth. The real reason is that the thought of him lying in bed, wounded and vulnerable, causes a pain in your chest that you don't want to acknowledge.

Astarion's eyes widen slightly at your words, surprise mingling with something else. Gratitude, perhaps? It's hard to tell with him sometimes, but there's a softness in his gaze that tells you he appreciates your presence more than he lets on.

"Well, I suppose I should thank you then," he says, his voice softer than before. "I wouldn't have expected you to stick around."

You shrug nonchalantly "Had to make sure you didn't get yourself killed again," You reply teasingly, attempting to lighten the mood.

Astarion chuckles a sound that warms your chest. "Ah, so it was purely for selfish reasons then."

"Of course, can't have our token charming vampire biting the dust just yet"

Astarion rolls his eyes, a smile on his face "Charming vampire, am I? You really know just how to flatter someone."

"You're also our only rogue," you reply.

Astarion smiles. "So not only am I charming, but I'm essential too. Guess the group just couldn't do without me. Perhaps you should write me a thank you note instead."

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "Oh, don't worry. I'll be sure to draft up a heartfelt ode to your indispensability."

His smile widens, the playful back and forth easing the tension that lingered between you. It feels good to see him like this, even if he's still recovering from his injuries.

You've been through so much together, fighting against the darkness that threatens your world. And in those moments of battle and chaos, there's a strange comfort in he familiarity of this banter, with its playful jabs and sly remarks. You do this routine a hundred times, dancing around each other's feelings and skirting the edges of any true intimacy. And yet, it's still nice to pretend sometimes. Still nice to pretend there's nothing underneath all the playful words, that maybe this is all you need. But for once, when you are looking at him, you want to reach out to him. To tenderly kiss his forehead, rest your head on his strong shoulders, and be enveloped in his embrace and not just for physical pleasure. But you know better than to act on those desires. He has been so wounded in the past and it's not just the physical scars that linger. His past is a complicated web of pain, betrayal, and mistrust. You've seen the way his eyes darken when certain topics are brought up or how he flinches away from certain touches. So you will wait patiently until he opens up when he is ready, relishing in these small moments in the meantime.

"Well, charming vampire, it looks like I'll have to find some more enemies for you to sink your fangs into for breakfast," you say with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Astarion grins, a little wolfishly with his fangs on display, "Oh, I think I know just who to take my fangs to," he says, his eyes appraising your neck.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze. You roll your eyes and smirk. "Oh please, Astarion. I'm not that easy to sink your fangs into."

He leans forward, with a wicked smile on his lips "Oh, is that so?" Astarion says smoothly. A twinkle of desire flashes in his red eyes as he speaks, which only ignites your own thirst. You feel your heartbeat quickening, breath hitching in your chest. "You want to put that to the test?" His voice is lower now, a bit of a growl starting to creep into his tone.

You can feel the bed's cool, smooth sheets against your skin as you lean forward, your chest brushing against Astarion's. The energy between your bodies feels like a tangible force, one that you can almost reach out and touch. His face is so close, his red eyes bright and mouth slightly open, showing off two sharp fangs that would terrify most people but only send shivers of anticipation down your spine. There's something primal in the way you're looking at each other, and you can't help but feel a familiar wave of excitement and fear wash over you. Astarion's eyes flicker to your lips for a moment. You are waiting, wanting him to make the first move, your breath shallow and quick.

"Well? Still think you can bite me that easily?" you quip, teasingly, although your heart is pounding so loud you are sure it's deafening for him.

A mischievous smirk plays on Astarion's lips, his red eyes sparkling with amusement. Despite his injury, he moves gracefully and with supernatural quickness, catching you off guard. In the blink of an eye, you are pinned to the bed beneath him. Your back sinks into the soft mattress as Astarion's weight presses down on your body. His left arm is pressing into the skin of your collarbones, as his other hand holds your wrists above your head. Every touch from him sends electric jolts through your body.

Astarion's breath is hot against your skin as he leans in closer, his lips grazing your ear. "Oh, I am more than capable of biting you," he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "I might even leave you with a few bruises," he adds, his voice an intimate rasp that sends shivers down your spine.

Your heart races at his words and the thought of what he could do to you, at the weight pressing down on you.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Astarion murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck and leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You let out a soft gasp as he nibbles on your skin, causing goosebumps to rise along your arms. His touch is electric and every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire. Without hesitation, Astarion's fangs sink into the soft flesh of your neck, and you let out a gasp as a mix of pleasure and sharp icy pain courses through you. You can feel yourself growing lightheaded as he feeds from you, his fangs sinking deeper and his grip on your wrists loosening as he savors the taste of your blood. The sensation sends waves of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

Time seems to stand still as you remain locked in his embrace, your bodies tangled together on the bed. As he finally withdraws his fangs from your neck, he lingers for a moment, his lips brushing against the wounds he's left behind. You can feel the slight throbbing where his teeth had punctured skin seconds ago. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you feel him press his forehead against yours, his breath fanning against your skin.

You giggle a little, still coming down from the high of vampire venom.

"I will never get tired of that," The words slipped from his lips in a breathy murmur, one that was filled with awe and contentment.

"All it takes is a little blood to make our wounded vampire happy," You tease, giving him a small peck. His lips still taste a bit metallic, but you don't care in the slightest.

Astarion chuckles, "Ah, darling, we both know I am not the only one who enjoys that…"

He presses his body against your own, his lips suddenly ravishing yours with an intensity that steals your breath. The heat of his mouth sears through you, igniting every nerve and sending primal shivers down your spine. You cling to him desperately, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer until your bodies meld into one and your hands tangle in the soft curls of his hair. At this moment, nothing else exists except for the electric chemistry between you, overwhelming and all-consuming.

Out of nowhere, he recoils and lets out a sharp hiss. Concerned, you examine the bandage on his chest and notice a small black spot forming. "Oh shit," you curse under your breath.

You quickly slide out from under him and stand next to the bed. "Lie down," you tell him firmly, "I'll take care of it."

"I'm okay," Astarion lies, but complies, lying down on the bed with a sense of resignation. The soft sheets crinkle beneath his weight as he settles into a comfortable position. You hurriedly gather supplies before returning to his side, adrenaline and concern fueling your actions. With skilled hands, you begin tending to his wound as Astarion watches on with curious eyes.

"If you keep ogling me like that, I may just end up with a hole in my head," you quip.

The corners of both your mouths turn up in matching grins. The intensity of your gaze locks and it feels like the air is alive with electricity. With precision and care, you unwrap the bandage and clean the wound, hands steady despite your worry. As you finish dressing the wound, you can't help letting out a sigh of relief after realizing it was just a small tear, nothing too serious.

It's then that you notice you have been straddling his body over the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed and your cheeks flush furiously.

Astarion looks at you with a cheeky smirk, "Something the matter, dear?" he asks, his voice low and sultry.

You can feel your face turning even brighter red, but you try to shrug it off. "No, nothing's wrong."

Astarion lets out a low laugh, enjoying your flustered state. "Oh, I beg to differ," he teases, sitting up and leaning against the headboard.

"Shut up," you mutter, trying to keep your embarrassment at bay.

Astarion chuckles softly, a warm sound that makes your heart flutter. Why does he always make your heart flutter?

"Well, I have seen you in way more compromised positions than the one you are in right now," he says, a hint of mischief in his tone. "You're not one to be shy."

You can't help but blush even more at his words. His hand starts caressing your thigh, and your breath hitches slightly.

"I must say," Astarion continues with a sly grin, "I've never had such skilled hands tending to me before."

You roll your eyes at his flirting. "Well, I have been trained in basic care since I was young," you reply with a smile playing on your lips.

He raises an eyebrow in surprise. "And how else are you planning on taking care of me, exactly? Because I remain deeply wounded." he says with a mock pout.

A mischievous smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth as you reply, "You'll just have to wait and see."

Meeting his intense gaze, you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. A sudden spark of inspiration ignites within you and you eagerly suggest, "How about a massage? I have been told I am really good at those."

He raises an eyebrow, "A massage, huh? It doesn't sound too bad."

A chuckle bubbles up from your chest and you swat him lightly on the shoulder. "Only 'not too bad'? I'll have you know, I'm excellent."

Astarion smirks, "Prove it then," he challenges, stretching back onto the bed, arms folded behind his head in a display of pure ease.

Squaring your shoulders in determination, you stand from the bed and walk to the other side of the room. You rummage through a drawer filled with various herbs and oils until you find what you're looking for - a small vial of calming lavender oil you had seen Halsin storing a few days ago. You just hope he won't miss it too much.

"You better not fall asleep on me," you call out teasingly as you make your way back towards him, shaking the vial in your hand for emphasis.

In response, Astarion chuckles lowly and flips onto his stomach without a word, waiting for your touch. The scent of lavender fills the room as you rub your hands together, warming up the oil before applying it to his skin.

As your hands start kneading into his tight shoulder muscles, he releases a sigh that is half groan, half purr. "Your touch is simply divine," he moans, his voice low and husky. "You really do possess a gift for caressing."

With a proud smile, you continue to massage his shoulders and neck, feeling the tension ease away. His eyes are closed, lost in the pleasure of the moment. Your heart swells with happiness to see him so content and relaxed.

You lower your hands slowly, massaging along the curve of his spine and drawing another low moan from him. The rhythm of your touch, the scent of lavender, and the quiet of the room come together to create a sense of calm and tranquility. You let your fingers brush against the edges of his scars, caressing them tenderly. Instead of flinching away, he leans into your touch, allowing you to continue your gentle exploration.

You continue to knead his muscles, working out any remaining knots and tension. And then, you lower your head and press a soft kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder, right above the bandage. Astarion lets out a surprised gasp at the unexpected touch of your lips. He turns his head slightly, his eyes opening to meet yours.

"Can't resist taking advantage, can you?" he teases with a small grin.

"I simply relish having you at my mercy for once," you whisper against his spine, taking in the sweet scent of lavender oil on his skin.

Astarion's lips curve into a playful smirk at your words. "Oh, do you now?" he asks in a husky voice, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You nod confidently, trailing light kisses down his spine and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "I always enjoy being in control," you reply, your tone laced with teasing.

He lets out a low chuckle, "And I always relish when you take charge," he purrs, his eyes closing in satisfaction.

With a last kiss, you gently pat his side.

"Now you turn for me."

Astarion eagerly flips onto his back, his eyes shining with anticipation. As you straddle him, you notice he has been affected by your previous ministrations, his hardness pressing against your core. A triumphant smile tugs at your lips. Astarion merely smirks up at you, not bothering to hide his interest.

"Seems like your skills extend beyond basic care," he teases, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

You choose to ignore his comment and instead focus on the task at hand. Pouring more lavender oil onto your hands, you begin to knead his pectoral muscles, applying firm and steady pressure, avoiding the bandage covering it. Your hands roam over his chest with practiced ease until they find their way to his abdomen. You glide your fingers over each taut muscle, taking delight in the way his body responds under your touch.

"Enjoying yourself?" Astarion teases with a smirk.

A warm rush of joy spreads through you as you trace your fingers along the curves of his navel, softly giggling. His hands instinctively tighten around your hips, a desperate attempt to regain some control of the situation. A sly, self-satisfied smirk spreads across your lips as you slowly slip your hand lower down, teasing the sensitive skin just beneath the waistband of his trousers, towards the source of his growing excitement.

His breath hitches at your touch, his eyes now wide with surprise. "Oh, I see what's happening here," he says, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "You're getting into this caretaker role, aren't you?"

Your smirk deepens as you gently massage his hips, ignoring the suggestive implications of his words.

"I did say I'd take good care of you, didn't I?" you reply nonchalantly, as I continue with my performance.

Astarion lets out a soft chuckle and reaches up to cup your cheek affectionately.

"You certainly did," he murmurs, gazing up at you in admiration. "But what about you? Who takes care of you, dear?" he mumbles.

Your heart fills with sadness, at the thought of him only thinking of sex as an exchange, more than a pleasurable thing. You lean in to press a soft kiss into his neck, feeling his skin cold under your touch.

"Just trust me," you whisper, voice low and sultry, "I want to make you feel good." His breath hitches again, and you can feel him growing harder beneath your touch. "Trust me," you repeat softly.

You press your lips against his, softly at first, then deeper as he responds with equal fervor. Your hand swiftly opens his trousers, digging inside to grab his hardness, and starts a rhythmic movement, gliding up and down the full length of his member. As it reaches the tip, you twist your wrist slightly, eliciting a whine from deep within his chest. It's a sound you've never heard from him before, one that sends shivers down your and makes your core throb.

His body tenses beneath you, the feeling of your hand wrapped around him drawing a low curse from his lips. He arches into your touch, his grip on your hips tightening as he struggles to remain composed. He presses his lips against yours, the kiss becoming more fervent and demanding. His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you closer to him, as if he can't get enough.

"Easy," you coo softly against his ear, an intimate tone wrapped around the single word as if it were a promise. Astarion's hands flex on your hips repeatedly, fingers digging into your flesh in a bid to ground himself. "Let me take good care of you," you assure him again, your voice low and breathy against his skin. His body tenses under your touch as he lets out a groan.

His breaths come in ragged gasps, punctuated by small moans of pleasure. "Faster," he pleads with a desperation that ignites a fire within you.

"My beautiful baby, so good for me," you murmur into his ear, your voice rough with desire and adoration. Without hesitation, you bring the pointed tip of his ear between your lips, savoring the delicate contours as you run your tongue along its edges. His body shudders in response, a high whine escaping from his throat as he gives in to your touch.

"Oh, sweet hells," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.

You release his ear and lay back to take a good look at him, and you smile to yourself when you see his disveleshed hair, and red eyes hooded. And then, without hesitation, you sink down between his parted legs as your lips part and encircle his throbbing member. The taste of him fills your mouth, a mixture of salt and skin and something uniquely his. You take him fully into your mouth, relishing the sounds of his moans and gasps as you move your lips up and down his length. You swirl your tongue around him, teasing and coaxing every delicious sensation from him. His hips thrust upward, and his hands grip your hair, pulling you closer, but you resist, teasing him with your tongue. Your own body is humming with need and desire, but you push it aside to focus completely on him.

You slowly remove him from your mouth, teasingly drawing out the moment. "Beg for me," you whisper seductively, reveling in the power you hold over him.

Astarion's breath hitches as you pull away, and he meets your eyes with a mix of surprise and desire. He moans a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through you, and his hips buck upward, thrusting into the air. His hardness stands tall and proud against your palm, straining for release. It’s slick with your spit, and with a reddish hue that reveals his recent feeding. So damn beautiful.

"Please," he pleads "Please, please," he tries to repeat, but his words come out in a garbled, unintelligible moan as you take him deep into your throat and swallow hard, feeling his member pulse and throb slightly in your mouth.

His entire body trembles, his breaths quickening to the point where they are almost non-existent. His hands clamp onto your hair, yanking you towards him with a savage strength as he thrusts relentlessly, pushing himself deeper and deeper inside of you until it feels like he might tear you apart.

"Oh gods," he cries, arching his back and groaning in a way that makes you want to keep going. "That's so good, hells."

His words only drive you further, and you begin to pick up the pace, slobbering and sucking on him like a starving man to a feast. His body tenses as his release approaches, and you can feel him pulsing in your mouth.

"Please, please, oh my god" His words are now a jumbled mess, spewing out of his mouth in a frenzied stream. His eyes roll back into his head, a sign that he is close to releasing everything he has been holding in. "I can't... I can't take much more," he whispers hoarsely, "Please, please, let me cum. Fuck, I need to cum."

With this plea, you can feel the surge of his release, and your body responds with an exhilaration that threatens to overwhelm you. You can feel your body responding to his, your own arousal growing, and you rub yourself through your clothes, imagining the feel of him inside you. But that can wait - right now he needs you to take care of him. It's clear he's getting close now - his breaths are shallow, his moans low and desperate, his hips thrusting upwards in short, sharp jerks. With a final cry, you feel him tense, his entire body convulsing under your touch. You swallow hard, feeling the hot liquid spurt into your mouth, coating your tongue and throat in his essence. You can't help but groan in pleasure as it fills you, and you continue to suck and slurp, greedily devouring every drop he has to offer. His hips thrust upwards, bucking wildly as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. You continue to suck and stroke him, milking every last drop from his throbbing length.

Finally, he goes lax, his body slack and exhausted while his breath comes in ragged gasps. You gently remove his now limp member from your mouth, wiping the remnants of him from the corners with your thumb. As he comes down from his high, his body relaxes onto the pillow, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. You lay next to him, your heart filled with a sense of contentment and satisfaction. You trace patterns on his chest with your fingertips, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths as he continues to recover from his release.

A spark ignites in his eyes as they lock onto yours, and for the first time, you see a glimmer of something. There is a tenderness and adoration in his gaze as if you are the most precious and captivating being in all of Faerûn. You smile and sprawl over his healthy shoulder, looking up at him.

"And here I thought I was the master at lovemaking," he teases. "Ever so surprising, my dear."

"Oh, you're easy to please, my love. But I do admit, you taste absolutely divine." You giggle and place a soft kiss on his lips.

He chuckles deeply, running his fingers through your hair. A moment of silence passes between you before you find the courage to break it with a quiet question, "Did you truly enjoy it?"

Conversation after sex is rare for you, but something about today feels different, almost intimate. Like something has shifted, an unspoken understanding or connection.

There is a pause, and Astarion looks at you, seeming a bit awkward. He appears to be having some sort of internal struggle at the moment. But then, he relaxes a bit and nods his head.

"Yes, I did," he says. He smiles at you. "It was... mediocre. Which is quite good for your usual performance"

You raise an eyebrow in mock offense. "Excuse me? You were practically begging me to cum moments ago!"

"Was that begging?" he asks innocently, "I thought I was just doing a demonstration" His eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked at you, his lips curling up into a smirk.

"Oh, really?" You raise an eyebrow playfully. "Well, you sure seemed to be enjoying it"

Astarion chuckled lightly, running his fingers through your hair. "I suppose I did, you know me, I can't resist a good show. And in case you're wondering, that was definitely begging. You just have a unique way of making me forget my manners."

You snuggle closer to him, basking in the softness of his skin. "I'm glad I can keep things interesting for you."

And then, to your surprise, he silently embraces you in a warm hug, pulling you close to his chest. The feeling of his strong arms encircling your frame is unfamiliar but comforting at the same time. You have never held each other in such an intimate way before, but in this moment it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

As the two of you lay intertwined and content, you can feel a sense of peace wash over both of you. For once, no worries or fears are clouding your minds - just the simple pleasure of being together in this moment. You close your eyes and let out a satisfied sigh, wondering if this newfound closeness is a sign of things to come, and the thought brings a smile to your lips, before drifting off into a peaceful sleep wrapped in each other's embrace.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #astarion baldurs gate #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader

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cordeliasdarling · 3 months ago

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Heavenly — Larissa Weems x Reader

——

Notes: My first smut for Larissa! I know it’s not great, I forgot how to write it tbh, so bear with me!

Beta read by @poulengp , you’re the best :,)

Warnings: smut, dom/sub themes, petplay if you squint.. (18+!!!!)

——

The front door opened.

Your heartbeat hammered through your body, reverberating against your bones. You shouldn't be this nervous, but this was the first time you would be letting her take control of you. It had always been the other way round, you pleasing her in every way possible, dominating her, letting her be free from all of the stress, but the way that your life had been going recently— well, she knew you needed this. You knew you needed this. That didn't make it any less nerve wracking though.

You heard the footsteps echo through the house, heels against wood. You suddenly worried that you were underdressed, maybe you didn't look attractive, or maybe your seated position on the couch wasn't good enough. You quickly got up, smoothing down your jeans— were they always that wrinkly? Sighing, you sat back down, legs crossed and arms rigid against your sides.

The handle of the door started to twist around, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

Larissa Weems entered the room, her tall figure casting a shadow against the wall. Your eyes travelled up her body, taking in every detail. The golden buttons on her vintage outfit shining from the soft lighting in the room. There she was, your beloved Larissa.

"I thought I told you to be undressed when I got home." Her low tone boiled something inside you, something really, really good.

"Sorry—" Your eyes widened because in the hurry of getting ready for her arrival, you had completely forgotten her request, the one in the text she'd sent you at work. You remembered receiving it, sitting alone in the break room and feeling a fire in the pit of your stomach at the request. Damn you for forgetting! You stood up quickly, hastily taking off your clothes, but a gloved hand stopped you.

"Allow me." Your gaze raised to meet her eyes, locking with those ocean blue irises. Watching as she removed her gloves, you tried to calm the ache inside you at the sight of her slender fingers. The varnished nails, oh, the varnished nails. How you wished for them to—

Your thoughts were cut short as her hands moved to unbutton your shirt. Heart hammering even louder, you were sure she could hear. A small hum rumbled in her throat as she laid eyes on your bare skin, save your bra. Her red tainted lips curled into a smile, flashing her pearly white teeth. Oh how you wished she would open her mouth and eat you up.

Larissa took her time, slipping off your shirt completely, sliding down your jeans so you were in nothing but the lingerie you had picked out that morning. Nothing too spectacular, much to your dismay. Why hadn't you thought ahead? Oh, right, you were supposed to be naked, like a good girl. Is that what she had called you yesterday while you planned the happenings of this evening?

You shivered, not from the temperature, but because of what it felt like to be under her gaze. When she was looking at you so intensely, it was hard to be aware of your surroundings. The usually clicking clock had suddenly stopped, or at least in your mind. How could you focus on that when this woman was looking at you?

"Knees, now." Her command had a soft but firm undertone. This was exactly what you had been craving over the last week, someone to just tell you what to do. You were sick of having to control everything in your life. That's why Larissa had come up with idea.

You obediently sunk down to your knees while she sat where you had been seated. She placed a hand on your head and smiled. "Such a good pet." Your mind went into overdrive, almost gasping in happiness at the name. You weren't into petplay per se, but this made you very excited. It caused you to shiver again, but this time it came from somewhere else; between your thighs.

Larissa noticed this and her expression was full of amusement. "Is something wrong?" You shook your head quickly, looking away, but you felt two fingers tilt your head back up, forcing eye contact. She spoke lowly. "Tell me the truth."

Something about the way she said it caused you to speak the truth immediately. "I'm just feeling.. a little turned on." You mumbled, tempted to look away again but she kept a firm grip on your chin, knowing you too well. A smirk stretched upon her lips.

"I guess we'll have to do something about that, won't we?" She whispered, then stood, walking to the door. "Crawl beside me." She commanded, and who were you to refuse? Still on your hands and knees, you followed, ducking your head as you and Larissa went upstairs to the bedroom.

"Remove your underwear and get on the bed."

Nodding quickly, you slipped off your remaining garments and got onto the bed, your legs crossed and arms covering your chest a little shyly.

"Don't go all shy on me, sweetheart." She teased, then moved to you, positioning you so your legs were spread. She moved closer, hitching up her skirt a little so she could comfortably kneel on the carpeted bedroom floor. You briefly thanked yourself for choosing to carpet the bedroom. Her lips opened, blowing her gentle breath against your aching and already wet folds. You shivered for the third time that night, gulping as you looked up to the ceiling.

"Be a good pet and look at me." Larissa said, and when you looked down, she was smiling.

"S—sorry.." You mumbled, locking eyes with her. She smirked, before she leaned her head down and started to kitten lick you. A gasp escaped your lips, eyes wide as her tongue delved deeper through your soaked folds. She hummed, not pulling away. She lifted your legs and placed them on her shoulders, strong hands gripping your thighs, nails digging into your skin leaving little crescent marks.

"Fuck.." You whispered, moaning quietly. Her tongue found your clit and expertly flicked it with her tongue. She was so skilled at that, but of course she was, after pleasing you for over four years now.

You felt the pressure build from between your thighs to your abdomen, gasping and moaning and panting. "Larissa!" Your legs tried to close involuntarily, though you didn't want her to stop at all. She knew this of course, moving your thighs back open and devouring you.

It didn't take long for you to come, shaking and twitching as you rode it out, her tongue lapping up all of the mess. She hummed again, resurfacing for air. Her lips found yours, letting you taste yourself. It was divine, you had to admit.

The night wasn't over though. It was safe to say you had another four rounds, using toys and various positions.

And God, it was heavenly.

——

#larissa weems #principal weems #larissa weems x reader #principal weems x reader #gwendoline christie #lesbian #lgbtq #smut #larissa weems smut

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inuhalfdemon · 8 months ago

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The Chain Game (3/3)

Fanart source: LycanTrophy888

Part 3

RadioApple SMUT

Part 1: Here

Part 2: Here

Brainrot into one-shot fanfiction

Rating = 18+

Word Count = 1,604 Words

Thank you all for the lovely response to this. This will be the last part to this supposed to be "one-shot" series... Please check out the sources to my brainrot credit below and stay tuned for more content. I've still got "Dirty Dealings" to wrap up but I've got more RadioApple SMUT (and....FLUFF *gasp*) ideas forming. Thanks for reading!!!

When Alastor awoke, it was to the sound of chains: rattling and clinking.

Fully coming to, he first noticed that he was actually and truly suspended from off of the floor. His arms and legs were bound expertly behind him in a hog-tied fashion; chains intricately and artfully woven so that they held him securely in this position while distributing his weight with masterful efficiency. He had been raised a good five feet off the ground: his movements upon waking causing him to - slightly but freely - swing and sway.

The next thing he noticed was that something was placed against his face; he could see the soft outline of a black leather strap wrapping just above the bridge of his nose, a cage of wire effectively encasing his mouth. He could feel soft but firm leather straps originating from the muzzle; wrapping around his head, past his antlers and his ears, fastened securely in place. Muzzled; much like someone's disobedient dog...

"You are awake, I see." Lucifer, parting the shadows, appeared before Alastor - fully naked. Alastor briefly noted then that he, himself was bare-chested but otherwise still dressed in his dress pants.

"You blacked-out there...I told you this stuff could be potent." Lucifer told him, referring to the dried Ichor that was coating his bare skin; cascading down his chest and splashed against his neck, arms and face. The wound on his shoulder had very nearly finished knitting itself closed.

"I told you what would happen if you couldn't control that rather nasty bite of yours." Lucifer was saying, approaching Alastor and hooking one clawed finger through a wire of the basket muzzle. "And, well....promises."

Alastor growled; ears laid flat against the straps that wrapped around each base.

"A shame you had to go and pass out on me like that, really." Lucifer used the finger that held the muzzle to force Alastor's head into a sharp tilt, so that he could look him straight into one eye. "I thought things were just getting good..."

He released the wire muzzle: Alastor's growl building into a snarl.

"Tell me, Alastor, do you wish to continue our little...game?"

"Yes...sire." Alastor replied; his radio filtered voice crackling throughout and into the surrounding shadows.

"A rather honest answer." Lucifer noted. "You are learning...."

The chains holding Alastor began to move. The long chain that held his legs bound and bent into his back loosened and let go just as the chains supporting his upper body shifted and pulled him into a standing position; his upper body still tightly restrained.

"And, are you ready to begin, again?" Lucifer asked him.

"Yes...your grace."

"Heh...I should have muzzled you a long time ago." Lucifer told him as chains slid to the floor, releasing Alastor's bound hands and arms from behind his back.

"And, do you plan to behave...?" Lucifer asked him, smiling wickedly up at the radio demon.

"Of course...your-" Alastor did not get the chance to finish before the chain encircling the ring to his large brimstone shackle around his neck jerked forward; pulling him down. He was brought down to his knees, shackles encasing his wrists and securing themselves tightly to the floor. The chain that kept him leashed had tightened and shortened itself so much that he could not raise himself from the kneeling position he had been forced into.

"Fuck!" Alastor snarled, realizing the very vulnerable position he had been placed in.

"Now, there is the matter of your attire. You are much too covered for what I have in mind..." Lucifer told him, approaching him from behind.

"I could just shred these fine dress pants to pieces but then... I'd like to think I'm not that much of a monster." He said, leaning down.

Alastor sent a viscous kick out at Lucifer. The angel caught the outstretched leg with ease: holding Alastor in this new position.

"Ah..." Alastor tried to jerk his leg back but Lucifer's hold was firm. Alastor's ears swept back: apprehension building now that he had been reduced to kneeling on just one knee...

Keeping Alastor's leg raised; Lucifer stepped between both limbs, pressing himself into Alastor's backside. Alastor could feel the King's erection, pressing into him through the fabric of his only remaining clothing.

Lucifer leaned himself further into him; the pressure of his member pressing just there....

Alastor shuddered; pleasurable sensations rolling like waves down his back at the contact.

Firmly keeping his erect cock pressed against Alastor's covered entrance, Lucifer leaned over still further. Alastor felt the scarred skin of his lower back make contact with the bare skin of Lucifer's chest as the angel laid across Alastor, forcing him to bare more weight onto arms and hands. Using his free hand, Lucifer dragged a clawed finger delicately across Alastor's lower stomach, sending a burning, tension directly to the demon's groin. Sliding his hand into the waistband, Lucifer pulled Alastor's fully erect penis out, shifting the clothing down further.

Leaving the quivering cock - for the moment - Lucifer continued to drag his clawed hand across the waistband of Alastor's dress pants, returning to his back and pulling them down to Alastor's knees. Lucifer paused, considering the now fully exposed long and fluffy deer tail that wiggled and wagged with jerking, nervous movements.

"You know...my own tail," Lucifer continued to pull the dress pants off of Alastor's limbs, adjusting and re-adjusting the angle of Alastor's legs to get the job done. "Well, I've found it's really rather quite sensitive..." Shifting form slightly, his black, forked devil's tail slid and wound itself across Alastor's bare leg, climbing up the thigh, over his pelvis and coiling itself tightly around the base of Alastor’s still-wagging deer tail.

"Tsk..." Alastor flinched, pulses of sensation tickling the base of his spine. Alastor's antlers, already slowly branching out and climbing higher before suddenly spread wider; rising sharply. His eyes burning green.

Keeping Alastor's one leg raised off the ground, Lucifer leaned himself back into him. With no fabric to dull the contact now; Alastor felt the tip of Lucifer's engorged member pressing against him, threatening penetration.

"Why, Alastor...I do believe I've misread you." Lucifer told him, reaching around and taking him fully in-hand now.

"Hell's great radio demon wants to be mounted...I think you might actually be dripping at the thought..." Lucifer noted, pre-cum oozing between his fingers and falling to the floor.

"Hhhnnngggh" Alastor groaned, trying to steady himself. "You talk too much." He managed.

"Careful, pet." Lucifer purred. "Or do you want me broadcasting your screams of pleasure all throughout Hell when we're done here. Imagine it… The fear in those sinners who hear them...not knowing just who could make you come undone so completely..."

Alastor answered with a moan, unable to articulate anymore.

Setting Alastor's leg down now, Lucifer leant over as he firmly gripped Alastor's oozing penis; milking what he could into his hand without setting him over the edge.

Letting go of the throbbing muscle, he pulled his pre-cum filled hand back, spitting into his palm. Leaning back slightly, he smeared the mixture along his own more-than-ready length; his own pre-cum adding to the lubricant.

Lucifer moved his hands to each side of Alastor's hips. In response: Alastor sunk himself further to the ground, hair raised like hackles; spreading his knees wider; his deer tail standing, frizzed and jerking with Lucifer's tail still wrapped and squeezing it at the base. The chain leashing Alastor to the floor and the chains restraining his wrists tightened; keeping him securely there for good measure.

Slowly, purposefully, Lucifer penetrated. Alastor groaned into the floor; claws gouging into the surface as he jerked against his restraints. Lucifer gasped at the tightness; pausing so that both of them might adjust before either of them came apart at the seams. Alastor was panting; his claws making an awful screeching; the end of his wire muzzle scraping across the slick floor. Lucifer held them there; his own claws digging sharply into Alastor’s hips, drawing blood. Alastor’s tension began to ease; his body responding and accepting this new development. Feeling the stretch and softening of muscle; Lucifer began moving – sliding his cock – in and then nearly out; in a slow and tortuous pace.

Pressed to the floor; Alastor shook with a whining, whimpering moaning.

Lucifer bit his own lip; golden blood seeping to his chin.

“You’re going-“ He huffed. “to have to stop that if-ah….-if…ahhhh, fuck…”

Lucifer’s hips jerked and Alastor pressed himself back into him; desperate for more. His deer tail was absolutely wagging at the stimulation he was feeling; his cock so fully hard and enlarged now that it was curved and pressing into his own belly. He could feel his own juices; touching him and spreading against himself.

Alastor jerked awake; afraid by what he might find.

Alastor’s tightness was sending Lucifer quickly over the edge. Feeling himself stiffen; about to unleash his load; Lucifer gave two hard and final deep thrusts into Alastor. Timing it perfectly, he pulled out; spraying cum all across the radio demon’s back. His final thrust had sent Alastor over as well; the radio demon coming undone beneath his King…

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

The room was pitch black; then a bedside light came on.

Alastor shifted awkwardly in the bed.

“What? No problem this time?” Lucifer asked him.

“No, I don’t think- Hm. Well…maybe a different kind of a problem.”

“Oh, for the love of-“ Lucifer slid out of bed, pulling a pillow and a throw blanket with him.

“Where are you going?” Alastor asked him.

“The couch.” Lucifer growled. “You can come get me when you are done changing my sheets.”

#hazbin hotel #fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #chain game #my fanfic #alastor x lucifer #radioapple #apple radio #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x alastor #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut #this was fun #lets do it again sometime

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theonottsbxtch · 20 days ago

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NO TIME TO DIE PT.3 | OP81

an: lando my sweetboy, what can i say

summary: a continuation of the skyfall series, following a peaceful few months away from the world they were so used to, they were found again. this time neither of them knew what could happen.

wc: 10k

warnings: mentions of death, comas

part one | part two |

The dim light of the safe house barely penetrated the heavy curtains, casting long shadows across the room. She sat at the small kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a lukewarm cup of coffee, the bitter taste grounding her as her thoughts swirled in chaos. Each tick of the clock seemed to echo the weight of the past week—the long, agonising days spent waiting, hoping, and working tirelessly to bring Oscar back.

After the incident in the medical room, the team had kept Oscar under close observation, sedating him whenever necessary, but he was still trapped within the confines of his mind, the programming deeply embedded. Every time she thought of him, her heart would clench with pain; she could still see the look in his eyes when he had attacked her, the absence of recognition, the fear that he might never return to her.

The door swung open, and Lewis entered, looking worn but determined. He had been working with George and Toto, analysing everything they could about Oscar’s condition, desperate to find a way to reverse the effects of the conditioning.

“Hey,” he said softly, taking a seat across from her. “How are you holding up?”

She shrugged, not trusting herself to speak. The truth was, she was hanging by a thread. Each day felt like a battle against despair, but she refused to give in. Not now, not when Oscar needed her the most.

“We’re making progress,” Lewis continued, his voice steady. “Toto and George are looking into a more effective way to reverse the programming. But it’ll take time. We can’t rush this.”

She nodded, forcing a smile. “I know. I just… I want him back. I hate seeing him like this.”

Lewis leaned forward, concern etched across his features. “We all do. But pushing too hard could do more harm than good. You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“I can’t think about myself right now,” she replied, her voice stronger than she felt. “Not while he’s… stuck.”

Lewis sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. But we can’t afford to lose you, either. You’re going to need your strength for whatever comes next.”

She leaned back in her chair, staring at the table. “Next? What’s next? More waiting? More hoping? What if he never comes back to us?”

“Don’t think like that,” Lewis urged, his voice firm. “We’re working on a plan, and we’ll do everything we can to bring him back. Just hold on to that hope a little longer.”

Before she could respond, George entered the room, his expression serious. “We need to talk. Toto has some new intel about Zak’s operations. It might give us an advantage.”

She straightened, her heart racing at the mention of Zak. “What is it?”

“He’s planning a shipment of high-tech weapons,” George explained, his eyes scanning the room as if checking for eavesdroppers. “We think it’s happening soon, and it might be our best opportunity to gather intel. But we’ll have to split up. It’s dangerous.”

Her heart sank at the thought of more danger, but she also felt a surge of adrenaline. “We can’t let Zak continue this. We need to take him down.”

“Exactly,” Lewis chimed in. “But we need to approach this carefully. The last thing we want is to put ourselves at risk—especially with Oscar still recovering.”

As they discussed their strategy, she couldn’t shake the feeling that if they could dismantle Zak’s operation, it might create a distraction that would give her the chance to work on Oscar’s recovery in the chaos.

“Can we use the mission as a diversion?” she suggested, her voice rising with excitement. “If we can draw attention away from him, maybe I can slip in and try to get to him while everyone’s busy.”

Lewis and George exchanged uncertain looks. “It’s risky,” George warned. “What Zak kills you on sight?”

“I have to try,” she insisted, her heart racing with determination. “I can’t just sit here. I need to do something.”

“Okay, but we’ll need a solid plan,” Lewis replied, placing a hand on hers. “We’ll help you, but promise us you’ll be careful.”

She nodded, a newfound resolve swelling within her. “I promise.”

As night fell, they gathered to finalise their plans in the safe house’s dimly lit living room. Maps and blueprints were spread out on the table, the atmosphere charged with urgency.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Toto said, his voice commanding. “We’ll split into two teams. One will create a distraction near Zak’s main facility while the other infiltrates to gather intel. If things go south, we need to be able to regroup quickly.”

She listened intently, her mind racing with the possibilities. But the thought of Oscar still weighed heavily on her.

“Where will Oscar be during this?” she finally asked, her voice steady despite the anxiety gnawing at her.

Toto glanced at her, his expression conflicted. “We’ll keep him under guard in the safe house. It’s the safest place for him right now.”

“Safe?” she echoed incredulously. “You’re planning to put him in a place where he can wake up and not know what’s happening? I can’t let that happen. I can’t risk him being left alone with guards who don’t understand his situation.”

“We need to prioritise the mission,” Toto countered, his voice firm. “If we’re successful, we can deal with Oscar afterward.”

“Afterward?” she repeated, her voice rising in disbelief. “No, I won’t let you do that. I won’t leave him behind.”

Toto sighed, rubbing his temples as if fighting a headache. “You’re being irrational. This is about strategy, not emotions. We need to be practical.”

“I’m being practical! If I’m there when he wakes up, he’ll have a better chance of recognising me. I can help him. I can talk him through this.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but Lewis stepped in, holding up a hand. “Toto, what if you stay? He knows you and we’re more than capable of holding our own.”

Toto looked at the three of them and settled his gaze on her knowing her mind wouldn’t change. Looking down at the map one more time, he took a deep breath. “Fine.”

That night, as the team prepped for their roles, she felt a mix of nerves and anticipation. Lewis and George would be part of the distraction team, while she would go in and deal with Zak herself

The boat rocked gently on the dark water, the soft lapping of the waves a deceptive contrast to the electric tension in the air. She stood at the helm, the moon casting silver reflections across the surface, illuminating the night just enough to see her own breath. This was no ordinary mission; this was a high-stakes operation that could bring down one of the most dangerous figures in their world—Zak.

As she crept through the dimly lit cabin, her senses were heightened, attuned to every sound—the hum of machinery, the distant chatter of crew members, the echo of her own heartbeat. She felt the weight of her team’s hopes resting on her shoulders. After everything they had been through, she was determined to see this through.

Turning a corner, she was startled to find Lando standing there, leaning casually against the wall, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He raised a finger to his lips in a silencing gesture, an unexpected and unsettling calm radiating from him.

“Lando,” she whispered, confusion washing over her. “What are you doing here?”

He merely smirked, his expression enigmatic. Then, without a word, he stepped aside, allowing her to pass. She hesitated, caught between instinct and curiosity. She had no idea why he let her pass so simply. But time was short, and she couldn’t afford to dwell on the oddity of his actions.

Pushing the encounter from her mind, she focused on the task ahead. The path narrowed as she moved deeper into the boat, dim lights flickering overhead. The air felt charged with anticipation, her pulse quickening with each step she took.

Finally, she found the room she had been searching for—a cramped space at the rear of the vessel, where Zak was likely plotting his next move. She took a deep breath, steeling herself before pushing the door open.

The sight that met her eyes sent a chill down her spine. Zak stood at a table littered with blueprints, maps, and weapon schematics. His back was turned, but she could sense his self-satisfied energy, as if he knew he was always a step ahead.

“Zak,” she called out, her voice echoing off the walls, strong yet laced with anger.

He turned slowly, a calculating smile creeping across his face. “Ah, the brave little spy has come to face me. I was wondering when you’d find your way here.”

“What have you done?” she demanded, her voice rising with indignation. “Your operation is over. I’m not letting you escape this time.”

“Escape?” He chuckled softly, a sound that grated on her nerves. “You don’t understand, do you? This is just the beginning. I’ve built something bigger than you can imagine. You’re just a pawn in a game far beyond your comprehension.”

“You’re delusional,” she spat back, fists clenched at her sides. “You’re hurting people. This needs to end.”

Zak stepped closer, his expression shifting from amusement to a cold menace. “And what makes you think you have the power to stop me? I control everything now.”

She held her ground, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “I’m not afraid of you, Zak. I came here to finish this.”

Suddenly, there was a deafening bang that shattered the tension in the room, shattering the glass. Zak staggered back, eyes wide with shock, his hands instinctively reaching for his chest.

“Wha—” he gasped, confusion etched on his face. Then he crumpled forward, crashing onto the table, knocking over the maps that had guided him for so long.

“What the hell?” she breathed, her heart racing as disbelief washed over her.

But before she could react, she glanced out the now shattered window and felt her stomach drop. There, standing in the shadows, was Lando—his rifle aimed precisely at Zak’s fallen form. The realisation hit her like a punch to the gut.

“Lando!” she shouted.

He straightened from his position, rifle still smoking. With an almost theatrical flair, he saluted her, a grin spreading across his face. The light flickered, casting eerie shadows on his features. Then, without warning, he toppled backward off the edge of the boat, disappearing into the inky black water below.

“No!” she screamed, rushing to the edge, dread pooling in her stomach. The chaotic swirl of emotions made her head spin. “What just happened?”

As her mind struggled to process the events, she looked back at Zak's body, the horror of his lifeless form sinking in. Why had Lando done that? Was this part of some twisted plan?

Her comms crackled to life, Lewis’s urgent voice breaking through her shock. “What’s happening? Report!”

“Lando shot Zak!” she shouted into the device, her voice trembling with disbelief. “He’s dead! But Lando—he’s gone. He just fell into the water.”

“Get out of there! We’re coming to you!” Lewis ordered, urgency evident in his tone.

The room felt like it was closing in on her, the weight of the moment settling heavily on her chest. She turned her gaze back to the water, her heart racing. Was Lando really gone? What was happening? The implications of Zak’s death and Lando’s actions churned in her mind, a whirlwind of confusion and dread.

“Copy that,” she said, trying to sound steady. “I’m moving out.”

As she retreated from the room, adrenaline surged through her veins. She had to escape, to regroup with her team, and to figure out what had just transpired. She dashed down the narrow corridor, her footsteps echoing in the silence.

Panic surged as she made her way toward the exit, the weight of what had just occurred pushing down on her. She had lost Zak, but what had Lando’s actions meant for her?

Just as she reached the exit, an alarm blared through the boat, red lights flashing ominously. Her heart raced. They knew she was there. The mission had been compromised.

Rushing onto the deck, she scanned the horizon, looking for her team. In the distance, she could see the faint outlines of their boat approaching, but she needed to buy herself time.

Suddenly, gunfire erupted from behind her, bullets whizzing past as she ducked for cover. Her instincts kicked in, and she moved swiftly along the edge of the boat, using the crates as shields. The chaos surrounding her felt surreal, the adrenaline surging with each heartbeat.

“Stay low!” she shouted into her comms as she crouched behind a crate. “I’m pinned down!”

“On our way!” Lewis replied, his voice steady despite the situation.

She could see shadows moving on the deck, agents sent to intercept her. They were closing in fast, and she knew she had to make a choice.

Drawing a deep breath, she steadied herself and sprinted toward the railing. With a leap, she dove into the water, plunging beneath the surface, hoping to evade her pursuers. The cold enveloped her, and she kicked hard, propelling herself away from the boat, desperate to reach the safety of her team.

Surfacing, she gasped for air, her heart pounding. The distant lights of their boat flickered like stars in the darkness, a beacon of hope. As she swam toward it, her mind raced with questions.

What had Lando’s actions meant? Why had he let her go? Was he playing a double game, or was there something more complex at work?

When she finally reached the side of the boat, hands gripping the edge, she hoisted herself up, gasping for breath as she clambered aboard. Lewis and George were waiting for her, concern etched on their faces.

“What happened?” Lewis demanded, urgency in his tone.

“Zak’s dead. Lando shot him,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “But I don’t know why he did it. He just… vanished into the water.”

George exchanged a glance with Lewis, confusion evident. “And you’re sure he’s gone?”

“I saw him fall,” she insisted, a knot tightening in her stomach. “But why? What was his plan?”

“First things first, we need to regroup,” Lewis said, glancing back toward the now-quiet boat. “We need to figure out what just happened and how we’re going to deal with the fallout.”

“What if he’s not dead?” she muttered, her mind racing with possibilities. “What if this was all part of his game?”

Lewis shook his head. “We can’t think like that. We need to focus on what we do know: Zak is out of the picture, and that’s one less threat we have to worry about.”

“Let’s get back to the safe house,” she said, determination settling in her chest. “We need to figure out our next move.”

As the boat sped away from the scene of chaos, its engine roared as they made their way back to the safe house. The atmosphere was tense, filled with the unspoken questions swirling among the team. She leaned against the side of the boat, heart still racing as she tried to piece together the fragments of what had just happened. One thing was sure.

Shit just got complicated.

“Do you think Lando was playing us?” George asked, his brow furrowed. “Or was this all a setup?”

Lewis shook his head, clearly frustrated. “We need to focus on Zak’s death for now. If Lando shot him, it changes everything. We need to report to Toto. He’ll know how to handle this.”

As they arrived at the safe house, a modest cabin tucked away in the woods, the familiar scent of pine mingled with the anxiety that hung thick in the air. She stepped inside, scanning the room, her heart still heavy with uncertainty.

Toto was already there, pacing back and forth, the shadows dancing across his worried face. “What the hell happened out there?” he demanded as soon as they entered, his eyes narrowing at her.

“Zak is dead,” she said, voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “But Lando—he shot him and then just… disappeared. I have no idea why he let me go.”

“Disappeared?” Toto echoed, disbelief flashing in his eyes. “Lando is a loose cannon. He shouldn’t have been there in the first place! He’s always been unpredictable, but now this?”

Lewis stepped forward, urgency evident in his tone. “He shot Zak, but we have no idea where he is or what he’s planning. We need to find him before he decides to make another move.”

“Lando has always seemed to have his own agenda,” Toto said, running a hand through his hair, frustration mounting. “I’ll contact our sources. We need to know if he’s gone rogue or if he’s working with us.”

She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. What if Lando was working with them? What if he had a plan of his own?

Before anyone could respond, Lewis opened the door to the kitchen, all heads turned to the sound they heard, guns instinctively drawn.

But what they saw stopped them cold.

Lando sat casually at the table in his tactical gear, hair wet, legs swinging like a child’s, a half-eaten biscuit in his hand. He looked utterly relaxed, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few hours.

“I really thought you were better at this,” he said with a playful smirk, taking another bite of his biscuit.

“Lando!” she exclaimed, shock mixing with anger. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

In an instant, all of them had their weapons trained on him, fingers hovering over triggers. Toto’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “You shouldn’t be here. We thought you were—”

“Dead?” Lando interjected, chuckling softly as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “No need for any of that.” He leaned back slightly, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I come with the antidote.”

“Antidote?” Lewis echoed, still aiming his gun at Lando. “What are you talking about?”

“For Zak’s plan,” Lando replied, the lightheartedness fading from his voice. “I knew he had something cooking up—something dangerous that would have put all of you at risk if you hadn’t stopped him. I just didn’t think you’d be this reckless in the process.”

“Reckless?” she snapped, frustration boiling over. “You shot him! What’s your angle?”

Lando shrugged, still relaxed. “I didn’t want him to have the chance to activate whatever he had in place. That’s where the antidote comes in. I’ve got the means to reverse his effects—he had plans for you, you know. Something that could’ve turned you into a puppet for him.”

The room fell silent, confusion mingling with curiosity. She could see doubt flickering in Toto’s eyes, and it was clear that Lando’s presence had thrown them all off balance.

“What do you mean?” Toto finally asked, lowering his gun slightly, though still on guard.

“Zak had an entire operation designed to brainwash agents,” Lando explained, his tone now grave. “You wouldn’t have even known you were under his control. I had to take him out before he could flip the switch.”

“Why should we trust you?” she challenged, her heart racing. “You’ve been a wildcard this entire time.”

Lando sighed, clearly exasperated. “Because I’ve saved your asses. Zak was a threat, but he wasn’t the only one. I couldn’t let you fall into his trap. If you think I’m playing both sides, then fine. But I’m here to help, whether you believe it or not.”

“What’s the antidote?” Lewis asked, scepticism still evident in his voice but curiosity piqued.

Lando leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers. “I’ve got the formula, and I need your help to distribute it to the right people. We need to move quickly. The longer we wait, the more dangerous this gets.”

She exchanged glances with her teammates, weighing their options. Could they trust him?

Finally, Toto nodded, his decision made. “Alright, let’s hear what you have to say. But know this, Lando: one wrong move, and we won’t hesitate to take you down.”

With that, Lando leaned back, a hint of a grin returning to his face. “Now that’s more like it. Let’s get to work.”

As the tension in the room began to ease, she felt a flicker of hope. They might have lost Zak, but if Lando was telling the truth, they had a chance to stop whatever he had planned next. The stakes were high, and the clock was ticking.

“Let’s get the details sorted,” she said, determination flooding her voice. “We need to be ready for anything.”

As they gathered around the table, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of a much larger game—a game that would test their loyalties and strength in ways they had never imagined.

The antidote was handed off to the medics without hesitation, each of them glancing nervously at Toto before they hurried to Oscar’s room. The atmosphere was taut as a wire as the team waited, tension thick in the air. She stood by the door, her eyes following the medics as they prepared the injection.

“You have 100% faith this will work?” she asked Lando, voice low but seething with barely contained anger.

Lando looked back at her, his face unusually serious. “Yes,” he said firmly. “It will help him. I’ve seen it work before. Everyone has their own reaction, but it works.”

Before she could respond, one of the medics announced, “Administering the antidote.” They pressed the syringe into Oscar’s arm, and the room fell into a charged silence. Every eye was on him, watching for any sign of change. For a moment, nothing happened.

And then, in an instant, Oscar convulsed, his body seizing with such violence it took two of the medics to hold him down. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face contorted in pain as they tried to steady him. She felt her heart drop, terror racing through her as he gasped, choking on his own breath.

“What’s happening?” she demanded, her voice rising in panic. “Is this supposed to happen?”

“We don’t know yet,” one of the medics muttered, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he worked. But before anyone could say more, Oscar’s body stilled, and he sank back against the bed, his chest barely moving. The heart monitor next to him let out a slow, irregular beep.

One of the medics shook his head, looking at her with pity. “He’s slipped into a coma.”

The words were a punch to the gut. She turned to Lando, fury blazing in her eyes. “A coma?” she spat, stepping forward, fists clenched. “This was your cure? This was your help?”

Lando started to speak, but she didn’t let him finish. Rage overtaking her, she swung her fist at him, landing a blow against his jaw. He stumbled back, and she followed, pushing him against the wall as she fought the urge to keep swinging.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” she shouted, voice cracking as her hand trembled. “You said you had the answer. You swore this was the cure!”

Lando looked up at her, hand to his bruised jaw, eyes narrowed with frustration. “It is the antidote! I’m sure of it. He’s not in danger; his body just needs time to adjust—”

“Time to adjust?” she cut in, practically trembling with fury. “You said it would help him, and now he’s comatose!”

Lando’s jaw tightened as he straightened up, his expression a mix of frustration and desperation. “I didn’t want this any more than you did!” he snapped, his voice rising to match hers. “Do you think I’d go through all this just to hurt him? You’re not the only one who cares about him, you know. He’s my friend too! I’ve sabotaged my entire career, my life, over him too.”

She felt her anger falter, replaced by a raw, painful mix of confusion and disbelief. “You… what?”

Lando looked away, exhaling harshly as he struggled to control his emotions. “I did this because he matters to me,” he said, voice thick with a sincerity she hadn’t seen in him before. “I’ve been one step ahead of Zak because I knew the only way to keep him safe was to take control. I wouldn’t risk him for anything.”

She searched his face, looking for any hint of deception, but all she saw was a bitter sort of pain. Her anger cooled slightly, replaced by a tense, uneasy silence.

“Then prove it,” she finally said, voice low. “If you really care, you’ll stay by his side until he wakes up, and you’ll take responsibility for what happens if he doesn’t.”

Lando nodded, his expression resolute. “I’ll stay. And he will wake up. I promise you that.”

She held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned away, feeling her pulse gradually steady as the anger drained from her. Whether or not she believed him, there was nothing she could do now except wait—and hope that Lando’s gamble was worth the risk.

The room fell silent as the medics continued their work, each of them carefully monitoring Oscar’s every breath.

She left the medical room, her body feeling heavy and her mind whirling from the past hour. Pausing just outside, she glanced back through the small window in the door. Lando had positioned himself on the floor beside Oscar’s bed, his back against the wall, legs pulled up, and his face buried in his hands. The cocky edge he usually carried was gone, replaced by something sombre and unguarded.

With a heavy sigh, she continued down the hall to the main briefing room, where Toto, George, and Lewis were waiting, eyes filled with concern. She took a moment to steady herself before joining them.

Toto was the first to speak. “How’s Oscar?”

“In a coma,” she said, feeling the weight of each word. “The medics are watching him, but… we don’t know when he’ll wake up. Or even if he’ll fully come back.”

Toto’s jaw tightened as he took in the news. “And Lando? You still trust his story?”

She folded her arms, unsure of her own answer. “He’s… by Oscar’s side. Says he cares about him, and that everything he did was to protect him. I don’t know if I believe him, but…” Her voice faltered. “I think he’s telling the truth.”

Lewis scratched his chin, considering this. “Well, we’ve seen Lando’s loyalty to Oscar firsthand. He’s one hell of a sniper and kept Zak off our backs tonight.”

She shot him a look, her expression incredulous. “You’re not saying he should become one of us, are you?”

Lewis shrugged. “He’s burned all his other bridges. And he’s already risked his own career to keep Oscar alive. The question is whether we can use his skills and if he’d even be willing.”

George nodded, though he seemed more hesitant. “He’s ruined all his other chances trying to save Oscar. We don’t have many people with that kind of dedication. He might be reckless, but he’s got guts.”

Toto looked thoughtful, weighing their arguments. His gaze lingered on her, as though searching her face for a decision she hadn’t yet made. “If we bring him in, we’d be responsible for him,” he said finally. “You’ve seen more of him than the rest of us. What’s your call?”

She hesitated, the weight of the choice settling over her. Lando’s decision to shoot Zak had saved their lives tonight. He’d turned his back on everything for Oscar’s sake, yet the damage he’d caused left her conflicted.

“We don’t know what he’s planning,” she said carefully. “If he’s willing to share what he knows, and if he proves he’s in this for the right reasons…” She trailed off, glancing back in the direction of Oscar’s room. “Maybe we give him a shot. But only if he earns it.”

Toto nodded, folding his hands as if he’d expected her answer. “Then we’ll keep him close for now. If he wants to help, he’ll follow our rules and go through our training. But the minute he shows any hint of crossing us…”

“We take him out,” George finished with a grim nod.

She glanced one last time toward the hallway, an odd sense of foreboding mixed with the lingering weight of relief. Lando had put them all at risk, but if he truly wanted redemption—and if he could deliver on his promise to save Oscar—maybe they could turn his loyalty to their side.

Lewis’ voice broke her train of thought. “So, what’s next, then? We wait on Oscar’s recovery, and keep an eye on our new ‘ally’?”

“Keep him close,” Toto agreed. “Get him familiar with the team’s layout, but don’t let him see the real intel until we’re sure. And if he even thinks about double-crossing us, we don’t hesitate.”

As they spoke, she caught George’s eye. He gave a slight nod, something between caution and reassurance, and she realised the others had reached the same uneasy compromise she had.

Just then, a door down the hall creaked open. Lando emerged, looking worn and strangely vulnerable, as if he had left a part of his hardened exterior back in the room with Oscar. He glanced around and spotted them in the briefing room, his expression unreadable. For a moment, they all stood in silence, tension thickening the air once again.

She stepped forward, arms crossed, and met his gaze. “Lando. Toto has decided to give you a chance. But let me be clear: this is a test. You’re only here because you saved our lives tonight. But if you put us in jeopardy again, you won’t get another chance.”

Lando nodded, his eyes momentarily flickering with relief. “I understand,” he said simply, hands at his sides, an unusual openness in his demeanour.

Toto gestured toward a chair by the door, his voice sharp. “Sit down, Lando. I want to hear exactly what you know—no edits, no omissions. Start with Zak’s plans, and leave nothing out.”

Lando took the chair, leaned forward, and clasped his hands together, his gaze unwavering. “With Zak gone, a scramble will start. His lieutenants are already positioning themselves to take over. There’s a handful who have been waiting for an opportunity like this. If they consolidate control, they could be more dangerous than Zak ever was.”

Her interest piqued as she listened, nodding to herself as pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. “So we cut them off before they can regroup?”

“Exactly,” Lando replied, meeting her gaze. “One of his top lieutenants is already planning to take over. A man named Andrea Stella—he’s ruthless and has been at Zak’s side for years. If he consolidates Zak’s power base, we’ll be dealing with a much bigger threat.”

Toto considered this, a gleam of determination in his eye. “Then Andrea is our target. We dismantle what’s left of Zak’s network from the inside, starting with the lieutenants.”

Lewis cracked his knuckles, a glint of excitement sparking in his eyes. “Finally, something straightforward. Cut off the heads, and the body will fall.”

George chimed in, more cautious. “But Andrea will have protection, likely Zak’s best operatives. We need a plan that uses every bit of Lando’s intel.”

Toto nodded in agreement, looking at Lando with an expectant gaze. “This is your chance to prove yourself, Lando. You know Zak’s people better than any of us. Map out Andrea’s assets, his known allies, and his weaknesses.”

Lando nodded, already reaching for a piece of paper. “Andrea has two primary safehouses, one in Berlin and one in Prague. The Berlin safehouse is easier to access—it’s where he keeps his logistics team. The one in Prague… that’s where he’ll go if he’s expecting trouble. It’s more fortified.”

Toto looked back to the team, his expression resolute. “You have your targets. We’ll split into two groups—one to hit Berlin and disrupt Andrea’s logistics, the other to prepare for Prague in case he tries to make a run for it.”

She nodded, adrenaline beginning to stir. The mission had just taken on a new level of intensity, with Zak’s death opening up opportunities for both freedom and danger. Her mind flashed briefly to Oscar’s room, where he lay unmoving.

But if they dismantled Andrea’s power structure, Oscar’s chances of waking up to a world without Zak’s shadow grew that much stronger.

“Alright,” she said, sharing a determined glance with her teammates. “We’re doing this. Let’s finish what Zak started and make sure no one takes his place.”

PRAGUE - TWO NIGHTS LATER

The night air was sharp on the rooftop in Prague, the glow of city lights casting a soft haze over the streets below. She sat next to Lando, both watching the entrance of Andrea’s safehouse across the way. Silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the distant sounds of traffic and a lone dog barking. They’d been up here for hours, waiting for signs of movement, waiting for Andrea to show.

As the minutes dragged on, she glanced over at Lando. His face was unusually still, a hardness settled in his eyes that seemed more complex than the usual determination of a mission. She thought back to the last few days, how he’d lingered by Oscar’s side, how he’d gone against everything to bring the antidote, even at the risk of his own life. It gnawed at her, how little she really knew about him, and before she could stop herself, the words slipped out.

“Why’d you do it? Betray Zak, go against your own orders…risk everything?”

Lando didn’t answer right away. He kept his gaze on the street below, then let out a quiet sigh, as if the question had settled into him, forcing out an old wound he’d long since hidden. Finally, he spoke.

“Oscar and I… we came into this at the same time. We were both eleven when we met Zak. They don’t usually bring kids into this life that young, but we weren’t typical recruits. Came from broken homes, no family, no stability. We were Zak’s new toys. The latest in his collection. We listened, we obeyed…we did it all.”

She felt a pang of something—sympathy, anger, a sense of understanding she hadn’t expected. Zak had taken them so young, so vulnerable, moulding them into tools, spies with no choice but to follow his orders.

Unlike her, she had a choice and she took it at 18.

She wanted to say something but stayed silent, knowing he had more to tell.

“Oscar looked after me,” Lando continued, his voice quieter now. “I was older, but he always… protected me, in a way. On the days I screwed up and wasn’t allowed dinner, he’d sneak half his plate my way. Stubborn kid,” he added with a half-smile. “No matter how much I told him to take care of himself first, he just… wouldn’t. He thought of me as family, and…well, that changed everything.”

She was taken aback, her mind spinning as she pieced together the full weight of what Oscar had meant to Lando. Oscar had never spoken of this side of his past—of how he’d been moulded, of the sacrifices he’d made, even as a child. And here was Lando, older, colder, but quietly haunted by a loyalty that ran so deep it had shaped his entire life.

“What Zak did to us,” Lando continued, his voice rougher now, “I don’t think you can ever walk away from that. Not completely. But Oscar… he still found a way to be good. To care. He wanted a way out for both of us, even before we knew there was one.”

She felt something sharp twist inside her chest. Suddenly, Lando’s actions—the betrayal, the risks he’d taken to bring Oscar back—made sense in a way she couldn’t have imagined. To Lando, saving Oscar was more than just about loyalty; it was about holding onto the one piece of humanity he still had left.

She swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. “I never realised it meant that much to you.”

Lando shrugged, the hardened expression slipping back into place, but she caught the brief flicker of vulnerability. “Oscar was the only real family I had. He’s the only person I’d risk this much for. And now… with Zak gone, maybe it means he’ll finally get the freedom he’s wanted all his life.”

They fell into silence again, but it was heavier, fuller now. She felt her own loyalty to Oscar deepen, if that were possible, understanding how he’d shaped not only her but also those around him.

Just then, a light flickered across the way, snapping them back to the mission. Andrea was moving through the entrance, surrounded by bodyguards. Their momentary reprieve was over.

Lando straightened, pulling out his weapon, a renewed determination in his eyes. “We’ll do this, and make sure Zak’s legacy dies with Andrea.”

She took a steadying breath, nodding as her focus sharpened. “Alright. We’re doing this.”

She hesitated, looking at Lando, the weight of their conversation pressing against her chest. After a pause, she reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "You deserve to be happy too, you know. After everything Zak put you through… you deserve a chance to live your own life."

Lando gave a small, almost sad smile, the kind that made her heart ache. “I’ll be happy once you and Oscar get your lives back. That’s the least he deserves. I owe him that much… maybe more.”

Before she could respond, a shadow moved near the safehouse door, and they both tensed, their hands instinctively going to their weapons.

“Alright,” he murmured, glancing down through the scope on his rifle. “That’s Andrea’s main man, he’s going in. Andrea is coming around. You go down there, hold his attention. Give me a clear shot, and I’ll handle the rest.”

She nodded, steadying herself, and slipped off the rooftop, making her way down to street level. Every step forward tightened the knot in her stomach, but the memory of Oscar—and now Lando’s story—pushed her forward. Andrea was the last piece of Zak’s empire that could threaten them, and she was ready to end it.

When she stepped into the dimly lit alley beside the safehouse, Andrea was waiting, his face flickering with recognition.

“You,” he sneered, his voice low and threatening. “I should have known they’d send you.”

Feigning a smirk, she held his gaze, keeping her tone casual. “What can I say? Some of us are harder to kill than others.”

Andrea chuckled, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing as he sized her up. She could almost feel Lando’s crosshairs tracing Andrea’s movements from above. She just had to keep Andrea talking, keep his attention on her.

“I know you’re alone,” he said, voice full of confidence. “You think you’re clever, but you’re just a desperate little soldier without a leader now. And Zak’s network? It’s not going anywhere. There will always be someone else to fill his shoes.”

“Really?” she shot back, a calmness washing over her. “Because from where I stand, the empire you’re trying to build looks a lot like a house of cards. One wrong move, and it’ll come crashing down. Starting with you.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but in that instant, she saw his expression change, his eyes widening slightly. She felt the tension in the air, braced herself—and then the shot rang out.

Andrea dropped, a clean, decisive shot to the head. She looked up, catching a brief flash of movement as Lando lowered his rifle, nodding toward her from the rooftop.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke into her earpiece. “Target down. Andrea is gone. Let’s get out of here.”

Lando joined her a few moments later, his face calm but resolute. She caught his eye, a shared look of relief passing between them.

“It’s over,” he said quietly. For the first time, she saw a glimmer of something lighter, something like hope, in his expression.

She let the words sink in, a strange mix of relief and disbelief washing over her. “It really is, isn’t it?” she murmured, more to herself than to Lando. The empire Zak built, the one that had stolen her life, Oscar’s life, even Lando’s—finally, it was over.

They slipped through the shadows of the narrow Prague alleyways, leaving Andrea’s safehouse and the remnants of Zak’s power crumbling behind them before someone saw them. As they neared the extraction point, the silence between them grew heavier with unspoken thoughts, both of them reflecting on what lay ahead.

Once they reached the dimly lit side street where their car waited, Lando slowed his pace, his gaze distant.

“Do you think…” he began, then stopped, shaking his head slightly. “Do you think Oscar will be able to let this all go? After everything?”

She took a deep breath, thinking about the man she’d loved and the ways Zak had shaped him, twisting his loyalty and kindness into a weapon. But Lando was right; there was still a part of Oscar that had always hoped, always wanted something more. She smiled faintly.

“If anyone can, it’s him. He’s been through hell and still kept his heart intact.” She looked up at Lando. “But that goes for you, too.”

Lando chuckled softly, shaking his head as he opened the car door for her. “I think I lost my heart a long time ago,” he said with a smirk, but she caught the flicker of doubt in his eyes, a vulnerability that had been stripped bare over years of loyalty and sacrifice.

She turned to him, her gaze unwavering. “Maybe. But you just put yourself on the line to save someone you care about. That’s not something a heartless person does.”

Lando considered her words, giving a small, reluctant nod as he settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The car rumbled to life, and they pulled out onto the narrow, winding roads of Prague, slipping through the quiet city as it slept.

The weight of Andrea’s death, of the mission’s success, lingered in the air between them as they drove, each lost in their own thoughts. She watched the cityscape slip by, mind drifting to the future—one that felt less like a dream and more like something she could almost touch.

Finally, Lando broke the silence, his voice quieter. “You and Oscar gonna leave after this?”

“Yeah,” she replied, feeling a swell of emotion she barely kept in check. “I’ll go back to him. Help him heal, be there while he figures out… what comes next.”

Lando’s gaze softened, a strange sense of peace settling over his features. “Then I guess… I’ll see this through too. I don’t know what’s waiting for me, but I know what I’ve been running from. Time to stop running.”

She reached over, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “Then maybe you should come back with us. At least for now.”

Lando looked at her, a flicker of surprise giving way to an almost boyish smile, a glimmer of the young man he’d once been. “Maybe I will.”

They fell into silence once more, but this time it was comfortable, a quiet peace settling between them as they left Prague behind, ready to face whatever came next together.

The drive back was long and filled with an anxious hope as they wound through the countryside toward the safe house. The mission’s success hadn’t erased her worries—Oscar was still fighting for his life, and no amount of victories over their enemies could fix the fragility of his recovery. When they finally arrived, a medic was waiting at the door, his face carefully neutral but carrying the slight, telltale signs of positive news.

“He’s stable,” the medic reported as they stepped inside, “and his vitals are improving. But he’s still unresponsive.” He glanced between her and Lando, understanding their urgency. “You can go in. It might help him to hear familiar voices.”

She nodded, glancing at Lando, who offered a small, encouraging nod in return, as if grounding her. Together, they made their way to the infirmary room where Oscar lay, silent and still, his face more peaceful than it had been in a long time. She took the seat by his bed, pulling it close, her hand instinctively reaching for his. Lando stood at the foot of the bed, quiet and watchful.

The room was filled with the soft beeping of monitors, a rhythmic pulse that was both a comfort and a reminder of the stakes they still faced. She brushed a strand of hair from Oscar’s forehead, her fingers lingering, gentle and protective.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice trembling just slightly. “We did it, Oscar. Andrea is gone, and Zak’s empire… it’s finished. You’re safe now. We’re safe.”

Beside her, Lando watched, his expression unreadable but softened. After a pause, he moved to take the chair next to hers, leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he looked at Oscar, his voice low but steady.

“You always had my back, kid,” he murmured, his voice rougher than usual. “Even when I didn’t deserve it. Now I’ve got yours. I’ll be here… just like you always were for me.”

Silence fell over the room, each of them lost in memories, in hope, in unspoken promises. She leaned closer to Oscar, her fingers entwining with his, as if willing him to feel the warmth of her touch, the weight of her presence.

The medic came back in, checking Oscar’s monitors, his expression calm but unhurried, like he’d done this a thousand times. “If he’s hearing anything, it’s the voices of those closest to him that will bring him back,” he offered softly. “If anyone can do that, it’s the two of you.”

She glanced over at Lando, who nodded in agreement, the intensity in his gaze softened with something like gratitude. Together, they sat vigil by Oscar’s side, filling the room with quiet stories and shared memories, fighting their own exhaustion, hoping that somewhere in the dark, he was making his way back to them.

The hours blurred together in the quiet of the room. Shadows stretched along the walls as night settled in, but neither she nor Lando had moved. The medic had come and gone, checking Oscar’s vitals with reassuring nods, but the wait was wearing on them. She squeezed Oscar’s hand, brushing her thumb gently over his knuckles, as if the warmth of her touch alone could pull him back.

As the clock ticked on, she began to speak again, letting her voice fill the stillness.

“Do you remember the cabin on the coast?” she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. “Those mornings we had, just us… No missions, no agencies breathing down our necks. You’d make that terrible instant coffee, and we’d sit out there like nothing else mattered.”

She smiled, eyes misty as she thought back to the peace they’d found there, however brief. She could feel Lando listening beside her, his presence a quiet reassurance.

“You kept saying you wanted a place like that for real,” she continued, voice breaking slightly. “Somewhere we could disappear to, where no one would ever find us. Well, we made it through, Oscar. You got us there.”

For a moment, silence fell again, and the only sound was the steady beeping of the monitor, each pulse a tether to the man she loved. She closed her eyes, breathing slowly, letting the weight of exhaustion press against her but refusing to surrender to it.

Lando, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, shifted in his seat, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on Oscar.

“Oscar,” he said, his tone low but full of determination. “Look, I know we’ve been through hell together, but I think you’re just showing off now. Making us sit here, wondering if you’re gonna wake up…” He paused, taking a shaky breath. “Come on, mate. Just… open your eyes.”

The words lingered in the air, heavy with unsaid things, a lifetime’s worth of loyalty and brotherhood distilled into those few sentences. And just as she was about to give in to the quiet again, something shifted—a faint squeeze, barely there, but unmistakable.

Her heart skipped as she looked down, fingers tightening around his hand. “Oscar?”

The first flicker of life in Oscar’s eyes felt like a miracle. She tightened her grip on his hand as he blinked slowly, his gaze beginning to focus, like he was pulling himself back from somewhere distant and dark. His fingers moved in hers, weak but warm, and her heart leapt.

“Oscar,” she whispered, leaning closer, barely daring to breathe. “It’s me.”

His eyes, still heavy with exhaustion, met hers, and a faint, familiar warmth flickered there. His lips parted, but the words came only as a faint rasp. “You… you’re here.”

At the sound of his voice, she let out a shaky breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. Tears blurred her vision as she nodded, holding his hand to her cheek. “We’re here, Oscar. I’m here.” Her words caught in her throat, a tangled mix of love, relief, and all the things she’d thought she might never have the chance to say again.

Beside her, Lando had been standing at a respectful distance, a quiet, steady presence. But as Oscar’s gaze shifted, recognizing him, a small, amused glint appeared in his tired eyes.

“You’re… both here?” Oscar murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, and she heard the hint of teasing in his voice. “That’s… quite the welcome party.”

Lando let out a quiet chuckle, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t have missed it, mate.” His tone was light, but his expression was taut, almost uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure whether to stay or slip out and let them have their moment.

Sensing this, Lando began to step back, nodding toward her. “I’ll give you two—”

“No,” she said softly, her gaze turning to him, the conviction in her voice quiet but steady. “Stay.”

Lando stopped, visibly taken aback, his expression betraying the slightest hint of surprise. For a moment, he looked at her as if he hadn’t quite heard right, his usual stoic exterior cracking just a little, his eyes shimmering with something raw and unguarded. He gave her a nod, a subtle motion of understanding, though his voice caught slightly. “Alright,” he murmured, sinking back into his chair beside them.

Oscar’s fingers tightened around hers as he watched the exchange, a tired but knowing look passing over his face. He took a shaky breath, shifting his gaze between them. “Seems like… I owe you both.”

Her grip on his hand tightened as she glanced from him to Lando, the weight of everything they’d endured heavy in the air between them. “Oscar… you don’t owe us anything,” she whispered, the intensity of her own words surprising her. “We’re just glad you’re here.”

Lando nodded, his gaze locked on Oscar. “Yeah, you’ve been doing enough for everyone for too long,” he said, voice soft but steady. “It’s your turn to just… be. Heal.”

Oscar looked at them both, an unspoken gratitude shimmering in his eyes, but there was also something else—a deep trust, a quiet acceptance that the three of them were bound in ways words couldn’t capture.

He exhaled, letting his head rest back against the pillow, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion, but for the first time, a faint, peaceful smile graced his face. And in that moment, with Lando at her side, she felt a quiet reassurance settle in her heart. Together, they would help him heal, each of them carrying a part of the burden, just as they always had.

Oscar looked between them, eyes flickering with a familiar sharpness, though the exhaustion clung to him. “Alright,” he rasped, his voice a little stronger, “so who’s gonna tell me what the hell I missed? Because knowing you two… I’m guessing it’s not nothing.”

She smiled, warmth and relief evident as she exchanged a glance with Lando. “Where do we even start?” she said, squeezing Oscar’s hand gently. “It’s been… eventful.”

Lando let out a quiet laugh, shrugging as he leaned back in his chair. “Eventful is one word for it.”

With a bit more strength, Oscar’s lips quirked into a smirk as he focused on Lando. “So, go on then. Give me the rundown, you muppet. What did you do?”

Lando winced, laughing softly. “I had it under control. Mostly.” He paused, looking slightly sheepish. “I may have… bent a few rules.”

“Bent?” Oscar raised a brow, incredulity softening into amusement. “Mate, you blew the rules to pieces, didn’t you?”

She laughed, nodding. “He’s right, you did. We had Zak’s whole operation on our backs, remember?”

Lando rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of pride there. “Well, it was necessary, wasn’t it? Zak needed taking down, and it was… efficient.”

Oscar shook his head, the faint smile lingering as he squeezed her hand. “Efficient. That’s what we’re calling it now?”

She nodded, filling in the rest. “Efficient and risky. Lando worked out a plan to intercept Zak, took us on an intel dive across three countries, and then pulled off a takedown that… well, let’s just say it wasn’t part of any mission plan.”

“Got Zak out of the picture,” Lando added, shrugging like it was nothing. “And got you the antidote.”

“About that…” Oscar tilted his head, eyeing Lando with a spark of mock accusation. “You just couldn’t resist a grand entrance with that antidote, could you?”

Lando feigned innocence, lifting his hands. “Had to make sure you’d remember it, didn’t I? Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Only because I was unconscious,” Oscar shot back, laughing weakly, though he winced as the laugh brought on a wave of fatigue.

“Alright, you two.” She leaned forward, brushing Oscar’s hair back gently, her eyes filled with a warmth that anchored him. “Lando might be a complete muppet, but he did it for you, Oscar. And we all made it out, somehow.”

Oscar’s gaze softened, moving from her to Lando, his expression one of profound gratitude, quiet but unmistakable. “I can’t… thank you enough. Both of you. For everything.”

“No need for that, mate,” Lando said, his voice unusually gentle, a slight tremor in it. “We don’t leave our own behind.”

SEVEN YEARS LATER

The soft light of the late afternoon settled over their hillside home, casting a warm glow across the kitchen where she stood, gazing out at the endless blue sea. A gentle breeze slipped through the open window, bringing with it the faint scent of wild thyme and olive trees. She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the subtle curve there—a quiet reminder of all that had changed in these last few years.

She smiled to herself, so lost in the peace of the moment that she didn’t hear Oscar approach until his arms circled around her waist, his hand coming to rest over hers. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her shoulder, and she felt him smile against her skin.

“Hey, mama,” he murmured, voice soft and full of warmth as his hand gently rubbed over her growing belly. “You two enjoying the view?”

She leaned back into him, feeling a quiet contentment settle over her as she placed her hand over his. “Always. Though, I think I might be enjoying it a little more than this one.” She gave her belly a gentle pat, smiling. “Feels like I’m carrying a future kickboxer in there.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating warmly against her. “Takes after you, then,” he teased, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Strong, resilient… and definitely a little stubborn.”

She turned to face him, her eyes softening as she looked up at him. “And maybe a little of you too, hmm?” She reached up, tracing a hand along his jaw, her gaze reflecting the love and gratitude she felt for the life they’d built here, the peace they’d fought so hard for.

Before he could respond, they heard the front door swing open, followed by a familiar, slightly exasperated voice calling out from the hallway.

“Oi, mate! You wouldn’t believe what happened down at the market,” Lando announced as he walked in, holding up a few bags of fresh produce. He wore an incredulous expression, his eyebrows raised as he looked between them. “I can’t tell if the butcher wanted to sell me fish or… shag me. He followed me halfway up the street. I swear, I need to learn Greek. Or find a disguise,” he added with a grin, dropping the bags onto the kitchen counter.

She laughed, shaking her head as she took in his flustered expression. “Maybe he just appreciates your… charm?”

“Or he thought you’d look nice in a seafood display,” Oscar teased, his hand still resting gently on her stomach.

Lando let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “You two are impossible. I get followed home, and this is the thanks I get?” But the corners of his mouth tugged upward, and his eyes softened as he took in the peaceful scene before him.

The three of them fell into easy laughter, the warmth of their friendship filling the room as the sun sank lower on the horizon, painting everything in golden hues. This was the life they’d fought for—a quiet peace in a little corner of the world, shared laughter, and the promise of a new future nestled safely between them.

As their laughter faded, Oscar tugged her a little closer, his hand still protectively resting over her stomach. She placed her hand over his, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. He looked at her as if they were still those two undercover agents stealing moments in the shadows, as if this life they'd built still felt too good to be true.

Lando raised an eyebrow at the two of them, smirking. “You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?”

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Oscar replied, turning to give Lando a pointed look. “Wait until you’re on baby duty, Uncle Lando.”

Lando feigned horror, hand over his heart. “Alright, well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There’ll be no nappies in my future, thank you.”

She laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Oh, I don’t know. I think you’re going to be brilliant at it. All that practise dodging bullets and undercover work? Changing nappies will be a breeze.”

Lando scoffed but couldn’t hide his grin. “You two are going to turn me into a proper family man, aren’t you?”

“Think it’s a bit late for that, mate,” Oscar teased, squeezing her hand as he glanced over at Lando. “You’re already here, complaining about the market and fighting with the neighbour’s rooster.”

Lando let out a dramatic sigh, but the affection in his eyes was unmistakable. “Fine. Maybe I’m going soft in my old age.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, each of them taking in the moment. Lando moved to the window, staring out at the golden light on the water, his face softening in a way she hadn’t seen often. She felt a swell of gratitude for him, for the way he’d fought beside them and shared in the dreams they had hardly dared to voice.

“So,” Lando said after a moment, breaking the silence as he turned back to them, his tone light but his expression serious. “What are we having for dinner? Because if I see one more olive, I swear…”

She laughed, feeling that warmth in her heart grow. “Well, since you were so brave at the market, I think it’s only fair you get to cook tonight. Maybe something without olives?”

Oscar chuckled, releasing her hand to ruffle Lando’s hair. “You heard her. Best get to it, chef.”

Lando grumbled but headed toward the kitchen with a grin, opening cupboards and muttering as he began gathering ingredients. “I swear, first I’m babysitting, and now I’m cooking… What did I sign up for with you two?”

They shared another laugh, the kind that felt like home. She leaned against Oscar, contentment filling her as she watched Lando fuss in the kitchen, chopping and stirring, the whole house filled with the scent of fresh herbs and the laughter of family.

It was everything she’d once thought impossible—a simple life, a house full of love, a future unfolding in ways she’d never dared to imagine. And as the evening wore on, with candles flickering and laughter filling the room, she knew that this was the true victory, a happiness that even the most dangerous missions had never prepared her for.

As dinner simmered and the warm evening air drifted in through open windows, they gathered around the small kitchen table. Lando had put together a rustic stew with the market’s freshest ingredients, grumbling the entire time about how he was “wasting his tactical precision on chopping vegetables.”

She sat beside Oscar, resting her hand over his, feeling his steady warmth as she laughed at Lando’s commentary on the local produce.

Lando set the steaming pot on the table and glanced between them with a mock glare. “Alright, feast your eyes on what a former sniper can do with a tomato and some herbs. Just don’t tell me it’s not as good as the local food, or you’ll be getting rations next time.”

Oscar took a dramatic sniff, sighing as he ladled a bowl for her first, then one for himself. “Lando, I think you’ve found your true calling. That market bloke’s got nothing on you.”

Lando groaned, rolling his eyes. “Oh, so this is how it’s going to be now—two parents and a live-in chef?”

She grinned, shooting him a playful look. “Or uncle and professional bodyguard? You can even work on your Greek as a side gig. The locals will be lining up to hire you.”

“Oh, I’ll be unmissable,” he said, laughing as he took his seat across from them, a glimmer of real contentment in his eyes. He glanced over at her, nodding toward her belly. “This little one will be lucky to have you two. Even if their mum is as fierce as they come.”

Oscar gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing over her fingers as he smiled softly. “Well, maybe a bit of fierceness runs in the family.”

Dinner passed in easy conversation and laughter, each of them sharing memories from years past, trading stories that used to be about survival but had now softened, like old scars. The three of them spoke of the future, sharing dreams they once hadn’t dared say out loud, not because they didn’t believe in them but because none of them thought they’d make it this far.

As the evening wore on and the stars began to sprinkle the darkening sky, Oscar rose and took her hand, guiding her outside to the small terrace. Together, they leaned against the railing, looking out over the quiet landscape that stretched into the night. She felt his arm slip around her waist, drawing her close, and she leaned into his embrace, sighing with contentment.

Behind them, Lando stepped out onto the terrace, leaning against the doorframe with a rare, quiet smile as he watched them.

Oscar turned, catching his eye. “Not going to bed yet?”

“Nah,” Lando replied, shrugging. “Can’t leave you two alone to get all mushy. Besides, someone’s gotta make sure we’re safe.”

She smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the soft summer air. “Thank you, Lando. For being here. For everything.”

Lando met her gaze, something unspoken passing between them as he nodded. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He paused, then added with a grin, “And besides, I’ve got a good gig here. Food, friends… and I don’t even have to dodge bullets anymore.”

They all laughed, a shared understanding in the sound, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only people in the world. The three of them stood there, beneath a canopy of stars, basking in the kind of peace they’d fought so long to find.

As the laughter faded into a gentle, comfortable silence, Oscar leaned down to kiss her forehead, murmuring, “This is it, isn’t it?”

She looked up at him, her hand resting on her growing belly, and nodded. “Yes. This is it.”

the end.

81 notes · View notes

selarina · 1 year ago

Text

Tracing Scars

→ Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k words

Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, megumi mentioned, canon-divergence, smut, oral sex(m!receiving), shower sex, choking Minors DNI

Read on AO3

The first time you see your boyfriend crying, you feel uneasy. You want to leave and never come back to this house again, but you stay. You sit down next to him even as he pushes and grunts himself away from your touch. You sit down on the dirty floor and you stare at the wall in front of you.

It takes an hour or maybe two, you haven’t been keeping track. For all you know you spent a whole day here. But he finally slithers his way over to you to seat himself next to you. You don’t look at him but you feel the warmth of his shadow against your own.

You don’t speak and neither does he but you know. You know this has to do with his old life.

He never speaks of it and you’ve never cared for it. Not truly. Not when that allows you to not talk about your old life.

It’s been so nice, you just worry now — now that his tears have dried up, if he’ll want to go back to that life.

From what limited information you have — it had been rough for him. The remnants of the scars you trace your hand over, the calloused rough hands that hold your cheek, the hallow part of his heart you can never seem to fill. It’s evidence enough.

“Toji,” your words come out hushed. It’s only loud enough to reach his ears.

“Yeah,” he speaks up, his voice hoarse and broken. Broken in different way from all the times you’ve heard him talk.

“What’s wrong?” you say.

He doesn’t say anything, and you expected as much.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you continue. “I can come back when you’re ready. I can leave.”

“Don’t,” his word is immediate, and it’s firm. But mostly, you think it’s scared. Even through the deep baritone of his voice, you can feel it.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll stay. You can talk about it if you want.”

He doesn’t say anything again and you find that it doesn’t frustrate you. Maybe it should but it never does.

“I’ll stay even if you don’t want to talk,” you say, hoping that’s enough.

He doesn’t say anything again, but his hand reaches for yours and you spend a good few minutes just playing with them. Tracing soft patterns and letters as he sits rigidly next to you. With every trace, however, he softens.

Melting, and melting until you notice that his shoulder is hunched over, just a little.

You smile, and the room goes quite again but it doesn't last long this time.

“I saw my son,” he speaks up, and your smile fades its away.

“You did?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “I saw him. He’s grown now.”

“Yeah?” you ask. “How does he look?”

“Like a scrawny little thing. He looks like he eats nothing. He looks weak,” he tells you. “But you know the strangest thing happened — he started beating the shit out of this other kid. Big guy, muscles and all. And then another after another. They all fell to the ground, crying for their mothers,” he says, almost proud.

“Like father, like son. I guess,” you say with a soft chuckle.

“Yeah,” he says, and you sense some pride in his word. “Maybe he’s eating well then.”

“I’m sure he is,” you smile. Your hand encloses around his, as if to whisk him away you pull and he lets you, and that’s when you know — it’s time. “Let’s go take a bath.”

—

Not a minute later, you were walking into the bathroom just outside his bedroom. Inside, he glanced at himself in the mirror. His hand card through his dark hair.

"Do you want me to get a haircut?" he asked.

You smiled and shook your head. "Not yet. I like your hair like this. Do you like it?"

"I like what you like," he says nonchalantly as he swiped aside the shower curtains. He leaned over the tub, to turn the the water on, and switched it quickly over to the shower head.

The water usually takes a while to heat up so the two of you just wait.

"You want me to stay over today?" you ask. "I brought my car so I'll be fine going back late."

"You should stay," he says. "If you're not busy."

"Well, I have work but I'll set an alarm and close the door on my way out."

He nods, as he pulls his tshirt over his head, throwing it in the laundry chute that was next to the sink.

"I forgot my toothbrush at home," you say all too suddenly.

"I have the one you used last time," he nods towards the the second toothbrush placed in a stand. "Forgot to throw it out."

You don't respond instead you just pull your top over as well.

Your hand reaches out, placing itself under the shower head, feeling the water. Immediately, you drew it back.

"It's hot now," you say.

He hums, his hand reaching for your hips and you almost yelp at the touch of his cold hands.

"Your hands are cold," you say.

"Yeah?" he asks, as his move up to your bra strap.

"Yeah," you say as he undoes the clip. You discard your bra as you turn to face him.

You reach over to meet his lips for a kiss. The kiss — it's slow and steady but as most things with Toji go, it turns into rough and desperate venture instead.

His hands grab your hips, as he kept kissing you. He gives your lips a tug before he starts sucking them. His hands move from your hips to your ass, reaching down, reaching underneath your underwear to give them a squeeze as he continued to place kisses all over your lips, all over your neck.

And finally, after it felt like the two of you had been kissing for a millennia, you manage to pull away from his greedy lips, as you lower your knees down to the cold tiled floor.

Your hand make quick work, to reach under his sweatpants and his boxers, and it doesn't take long for you to find his cock hovering just a few centimeters away from your face.

He smacks the plump of your cheek with his cock, leaving it stained. In response, you rub the skin of your cheek is soft against him, not unlike a cat.

He groans, and your hand moves to hold him at the base as you start stroking his length. Both your hands continue stroking in opposite directions, so that every centimeter of him is within your touch.

You open your mouth wide and let the tip of cock sit on your tongue, before you begin to trace your tongue up and down, as his hands come up, over your head, to pull you in, urging you to do more.

And so you do, with the push of his hand, you move yourself forward, your throat swallowing up the full length of him.

And then, he thrusts further up, managing to choke you on the bare centimeters left of his cock. A few hard pumps, and then his cum spurted down your throat as you made quick work to wait and swallow it all whole.

"Come on," his hand reaches down to you. You take it and stand up. He urges you to jump. He walks inside, stepping beneath the shower head as he turns it on.

He toggles with the setting with one hand, making sure it's not too hot, or too cold, as you stay steady in the hold of his other hand. You don't move much, but you do leave soft kisses, leaving a mark every now and then on the slope of his neck.

It doesn't take long for the shower to reach a suitable amount of hot, and just after, you find your legs reaching to wound themselves tighter around his waist, as his cock makes its way into your pussy.

Your hips meet with a loud smack, cock pressed up and into your stomach. He is rough as he pulls out, and he's rough when his glides back in. Your legs dig deeper into his back at that, they tighten as if to keep him there with you like this all the time.

He reaches for your mouth, soaking up your cries and your growing moans. And it hasn't been too long, but Toji isn't surprised that he's coming already. He feels a certain softness for you today. You generally bring it out of him but today your arms tighten and your face crunches in pleasure, he starts thinking about a life with you. A new one, a brand new one, not this temporary state of limbo he's in. He thinks about a stupid picket fence house, not that you'd want that. You'd probably want something eclectic and strange, and so, his vision changes. He imagines a slew of strange items and trash. Trash he would willingly build a shelf for.

He groans at the thought of it all.

"Toji, I wanna cum," you moan into your words, into his neck.

"Yeah? You wanna cum?” Toji grits out, as he pushes you up against the wall behind you. You don't get time to feel the coldness of the tiles, it lasts for a moment, before the sensation of him inside you comes to the forefront once again.

"Yeah," you say. "Make me cum."

His hands reach up to your throat, he doesn't press on it, he simply keeps it there for a moment before finally, he begins to squeeze. You ease your mind into the sensation of being choked and help like this. And soon, your brain starts to slacken just little by little, until all you can see and feel is him — his hands, and his cock.

His hands looosen, as they come back up to support you by the waist, easing you up and down his cock as you feel the sensation of the slew of air reaching into throat.

“Cum for me, baby,” Toji groans, his lips up close to your neck.

And so, you do. Your cunt pulses and clenches before he pulls out. The white essence reaching the tiles below before the make its way into the drain.

You reach up, still drained from the orgasm but wanting to kiss him. Your lips meet in a tired kiss.

You pull away, patting his shoulder with no force in particular. "Let's actually take a bath now," you chuckle.

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rocknrollwhcre · 8 days ago

Text

…And Leave You With Nothing

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F! Reader (18+)

Content Warning: Emotional distress, toxic relationship dynamics, verbal conflict, mild physical aggression, manipulation, jealousy, intense arguments, physical violence, fighting, blood/injury, aggression, and cringe fest 😜.

Summary: Eddie is willing to do anything to talk with you.

A/N: divider by @saradika-graphics !!!

Tags 🏷️ : @somethingvicked @prideandaesthetic

The air felt especially fresh tonight, crisp enough to make you take a deep breath and tug your coat just a little closer. Robin’s dad dropped you off at the curb, giving you a quick nod before driving off into the night. You’d been promising yourself to offer him gas money soon. Between him and Steve shuttling you to and from work, it was starting to feel like a debt you needed to pay—not that you ever asked for help. You sigh, reaching into your bag for your keys, when a familiar sound—a soft throat clear—makes you freeze.

It’s him.

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice is low, almost tentative. He rises from the shadowed bench outside your house, hands buried deep in his jacket pockets as he takes a few cautious steps toward you.

You don’t even think before you turn on your heel, making a swift move to walk the other way, but his hand catches your wrist, just firm enough to hold you still. “What are you gonna do, go for a midnight stroll?” he scoffs. “You realize how dangerous and stupid that is, right?”

You wrench your arm back, shooting him a glare that could cut glass. “You know what’s really stupid, Eddie? Trusting someone who swore up and down that I had nothing to worry about.” Your voice shakes, and you hate that it does.

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face, looking like he’s trying to find the right words. “Look, it’s… it’s not what you think. Can we please just talk?”

“I think we’re done talking,” you say sharply, brushing past him with a shoulder-check that would knock anyone else off balance.

“Babe, come on!” He calls after you, his voice laced with desperation, but it only spurs you to keep moving.

Finally, your fingers close around your keys, and you unlock the door, stepping just inside. Turning one last time, you lock eyes with him, and for a moment, he looks like he’s ready to say something—something that might change everything. But you won’t give him that chance.

“I expect my things back tomorrow,” you say, voice cold and final. “I’ll have yours ready too.”

And then you close the door, shutting him and his excuses out into the night.

—

“No way!” Steve exclaims, barely pausing to swallow a mouthful of pizza, his eyes wide with shock.

“I wish I was joking!” You take a sip of your soda, feeling the exhaustion of recounting it all.

You and Steve are on break, sitting in the food court, the noise of other diners humming around you. You’ve just filled him in on what happened last night. After you left Eddie standing outside, you expected him to go home. Instead, he’d stayed on your porch all night, waiting. This morning, he’d been at your door again, relentless in his attempts to talk to you, practically holding you hostage in your own house. Eventually, your mother, exasperated and protective, had called Chief Hopper, who came over to convince Eddie to leave before he wound up getting charged with trespassing.

“So, you’re like...really done with him?” Steve’s voice is cautious, as though testing the waters.

You let out a heavy sigh, running your fingers through your hair. “I have to be. He paraded Roxanne around just to get under my skin, and then he…” Your voice trails off, a lump forming in your throat. Steve’s hand reaches out, his warm palm resting on yours in a gentle, reassuring squeeze. You manage a small smile, even as a single tear slips down your cheek.

“Let’s get back,” you say softly, brushing the tear away. “Robin’s probably itching to take her break.”

The two of you toss your trash and make your way back to Scoops. As you approach, raised voices from inside catch your attention. You exchange a glance with Steve, and without a word, you both quicken your pace, pushing through the door.

Inside, Robin stands, arms crossed and eyes blazing, trying to block Eddie from heading to the back. “Eddie, I’m warning you,” she says firmly, “leave now, or I’m calling security.”

Eddie only laughs, defiant and almost unhinged. “Hopper couldn’t even keep me away,” he taunts, his gaze flicking over Robin’s shoulder. “You really think some mall security is gonna stop me? I know she’s here, Buckley—just let me talk to her. Please.”

“You’re not talking to anyone. You’re done here.” The sudden edge in Steve’s voice makes everyone turn. You’re surprised at the shift in his tone; it’s protective, firm, and completely unlike his usual laid-back demeanor. Slowly, he steps toward Eddie, eyes locked on him.

Eddie narrows his gaze, jaw tight. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice doesn’t waver, his stare unbreaking.

Eddie lets out a low chuckle, running his tongue along the front of his teeth with a smirk. “I was wondering when you’d finally grow a pair, Harrington.”

Robin scrunches her face in disgust. “Ugh, can we not do this? This isn’t the school playground.” But her words are lost on them as they continue their stare-down, neither one backing down.

“You should leave, Eddie,” Steve says, his voice low, almost daring him to stay.

Eddie tilts his head, accepting the challenge. “And if I don’t?”

Before things can escalate further, you step forward, placing a gentle hand on Steve’s arm. “Steve, please don’t,” you murmur, trying to defuse the tension. “Come on, just leave it alone.”

Steve’s expression softens the moment he feels your hand, glancing back at you with concern. But the sight only fuels Eddie’s frustration. His eyes darken as an idea takes root, and he sneers.

“Oh, I get it now,” Eddie says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve always had a thing for my girl, haven’t you, Harrington? Now that I’m out of the picture, you’re swooping in, playing the knight in shining armor. Trying to compensate for the fact that Nancy dumped you? What was it, huh?” His words turn venomous. “She saw what you were really packing and decided it wasn’t enough, so she ran to Jonathan—”

Eddie doesn’t get a chance to finish. With a flash of movement, Steve’s fist connects with Eddie’s face, the punch landing with a force that sends them both crashing to the floor. In seconds, they’re locked in a furious grapple, fists swinging as they roll across the tile. You and Robin rush in, frantically trying to pull them apart, but their anger has them locked together, fists and insults flying.

It takes a few bystanders stepping in to finally separate them. Two hold Steve back while Eddie sits slumped on the floor, blood trickling from his nose, staining his shirt.

You quickly take Eddie’s arm, helping him up. “Come on,” you say quietly, guiding him toward the bathroom to clean him up.

—

“Sit,” you say firmly, your voice leaving no room for argument.

“But—” Eddie starts, wincing slightly.

“Now!” You cut him off, your gaze sharp.

Reluctantly, Eddie sinks down onto the closed toilet lid, his eyes never leaving you as you grab a handful of rough brown paper towels and wet them under the faucet. Turning back, you tilt his chin up with a gentler touch than he probably deserves, dabbing the tissue against his bleeding nose. Eddie swallows, his hands hovering near your thighs, close but not quite touching—he doesn’t dare. One wrong move, and he knows he’ll lose whatever sliver of goodwill he might still have.

You glare down at him, anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Stupid. That was so stupid. What the hell were you thinking?”

His eyes soften, the bravado slipping for just a moment. “I was trying to get your attention,” he murmurs, looking up at you almost pleadingly.

You let out a harsh scoff, ripping the tissue from his nose and tossing it into the trash. “If you wanted my attention, maybe you should’ve just made out with your new girlfriend in front of me again. That seemed to work pretty well.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, and he stands up abruptly, fists clenched. “I didn’t kiss her!” he protests, the words laced with frustration.

You step back, crossing your arms, disbelief etched into your face. “I know what a kiss looks like, Eddie. I’m not stupid! If you wanted to be with her so badly, you could’ve at least had the decency to break up with me instead of stringing me along for three years!”

You turn, hand reaching for the door, ready to storm out. But before you can leave, Eddie steps forward, pressing his hand against the door to hold it shut, blocking your exit.

“God, do you even hear yourself right now?” he snaps, his voice raw. “If I didn’t want to be with you, don’t you think I would’ve walked away long before now?”

You cross your arms tighter, your eyes narrowing. “Then why were you so quick to go running back to Roxy, huh? Why were you so eager to spend all that time with her?”

“Because—”

“Because nothing, Eddie!” you cut him off, voice thick with hurt. “You wanted her all along, didn’t you?”

His patience finally shatters. He slams his hands on either side of the door, trapping you between him and the cold, unyielding wood. His face is inches from yours, eyes blazing with a mix of anger and desperation.

“Would you just listen to me, you stubborn woman,” he hisses, voice rough and raw with desperation. “I’ll admit it was stupid—hanging around her, trying to make you jealous. It was a stupid, pathetic move to get your attention. But I don’t have feelings for her. I never have, and I never will.”

Before you can react, his hands reach up, gently but firmly cradling your face, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are intense, every word dripping with sincerity. “I love you. I will always be in love with you. I fucking regret everything that led us here. If I could take it back, I would.”

A lump forms in your throat, and you whisper, “Eddie…”

His grip softens, and he leans in, his forehead nearly brushing yours, his voice barely a breath. “I don’t want to lose you. Please.”

But as his face inches closer, you feel the weight of the hurt that’s been building up. With a quick move, you slip out of his grasp, his hands falling away as you step back and push open the door. Without looking back, you walk out, leaving him standing alone.

A muffled, frustrated shout echoes behind you as Eddie slams his hand against the metal tissue dispenser, the impact ringing out in the empty bathroom.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson angst #angst #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #joseph quinn #joe quinn #eddie munson x you

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delusionalwritingsofagay · 3 months ago

Note

¡Hello! Could you request the Cullen family and adopted male reader? where the reader was sweet and outgoing before, but when he reached adolescence he became rebellious and rude (something like in the movie Thirtheen).

PS: I'm sorry if you don't understand me much, English is not my main language.

Fractured Reflections

Pairing : The Cullen Family x Adopted reader Tags: Platonic, Teenage rebellion, Family feelings Word count : 860 Y/n: Your name L/n: your last name

The sound of exuberant laughter echoed through the halls of the Cullen house, a distant memory of what once was. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, illuminating the exquisite décor and the faces of the family: Edward, Esme, Carlisle , Alice, Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie. They were gathered in the living room, exchanging looks of concern.

“He used to be so bright,” Alice sighed, her usually bubbly personality dimmed with worry.

“He’s lost his way,” Esme added softly, her heart heavy with the struggles of their adopted son , Y/N. Once known for his wide smile and infectious laughter, Y/N had transformed into a shadow of his former self; rebellious, rude, and hiding secrets behind a mask of indifference.

“Maybe we should talk to him,” Edward suggested, his brow furrowed. As the mind reader of the family, he had witnessed the turmoil swirling in Y/N’s head, a storm of anger and confusion battling with their love. But confronting him had proven difficult. He had built walls around his emotions, rebuffing their attempts to reach him.

Just then, the front door slammed shut, and the atmosphere thickened with dread. Y/N stood in the doorway, breathless with adrenaline, his face flushed from the adrenaline rush of whatever teenage escapade He’d plunged into this time. Dressed in black ripped jeans, a band tee, and a leather jacket, He looked every inch the embodiment of rebellion.

“I’m home,” He muttered, sarcasm dripping from her voice. There was no warmth, no acknowledgment of his family standing in the room.

“Y/N,” Alice began, her voice filled with genuine concern. “We were just talking about—”

“Talking about what? How I should dress differently, or how I should be more like a perfect, little Cullen?” He shot back, eyes cold. “I’m not going to fit into your perfect little family mould, Alice. Got it?”

The words stung more than anyone could have imagined. His family had always provided him with endless love and acceptance, and yet, He stood, wielding that love like a weapon.

“Y/N, please,”Carlisle interjected gently, his calm demeanour attempting to soothe the storm brewing in her heart. “We care about you. We’re just worried.”

“All you guys do is worry,” He snapped, turning away from them. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”

With a heavy sigh, Edward took a step forward. “No, you’re not,” he said, his voice firm but layered with tenderness. “You used to share everything with us. What happened?”

Y/N hesitated, the walls He had been building starting to crack. He wanted to scream, to shout that He felt lost, that the world felt too big and constraining at the same time. Instead, He simply shrugged. “I grew up, okay?”

“Is that what you think this is?” Emmett’s booming voice broke into the tension. “Being a kid isn’t about fitting into some image. It’s about figuring out who you are. But you’re making choices that can hurt you. We just want to help.”

Y/N spun to face him, anger sparking in his eyes. “Help? By being judgmental? By sticking your noses where they don’t belong? You don’t understand what it’s like to feel trapped, to feel like everyone expects you to be something you’re not!”

“Then let us in,” Esme urged, stepping forward. “Talk to us, Y/N. We’re your family. We love you no matter what.”

The words hung in the air, and Y/N felt something shift within him. The anger He had clung to so tightly felt flimsy in the presence of their unwavering love. He looked at each of their faces, and for the first time in a long while, He felt a flicker of vulnerability.

“Everyone at school… they change so fast,” He began, his voice wavering. “I thought I had to change too. I thought it would help me fit in. But all it’s done is push me away from you guys. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not losing us,” Edward reassured him, stepping closer until they were face-to-face. “We’ll always be here, no matter what.”

Tears began to pool in Y/N’s eyes, the façade cracking as the emotions poured forth. He hated feeling so weak, but the warmth of familial love was too overwhelming to resist.

“I just… I feel so lost sometimes,” He confessed, his voice shaking. “And I don’t know how to find my way back.”

Emmett stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Finding yourself doesn’t mean losing who you’ve been. You’re still Y/N. You’re still our brother, and we want to help you navigate this.”

Alice rushed to his side, enveloping Y/N in a warm embrace, followed by Esme and the rest of the family. They formed a circle of support, a reaffirmation of love in the midst of confusion.

“You’re allowed to be a work in progress,” Rosalie said softly, a rare tenderness shining through. “We all are.”

And for the first time, He felt the flicker of his old self—a self that never truly disappeared, just buried beneath layers of rebellion.

#x male reader #lgbtq #x male!reader #the twilight saga #twilight saga #twilight #twilight x male reader #twilight x y/n #twilight x reader #alice cullen #edward cullen #rosalie hale

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sanguineterrain · 1 year ago

Note

Hi I’m back because couples who aren’t together just yet are EVERYTHING

And the new theme?? The icon?? Sanne 😍

May I request “you matter so much to me” with Dick? A little angsty if you’re feeling it?

hey there!!! thank you hehe i felt it was time for a theme change bc fall ❤️ hope you like it! thanks for sending a request 🥰

dick grayson x gn!reader. tw: reader is injured but not much description of the injury, mention of bombing, dick being a protective sweetheart, love confession.

****

You're probably being paranoid.

You probably don't need to call Dick. He'll definitely be busy right now. And you call him way too much as it is.

Wally had asked last month if you two were dating, which had been a humiliating conversation, so you've been vigilant about not clinging to Dick so much. You're just friends. That's all you'll ever be.

These two guys at the train station are really freaking you out, though. What do all the posters say? See something, say something?

You take a deep breath and dial.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Dick," you say tentatively.

"Hey!" Dick says, sounding slightly breathless. "Hey, how are you? I've missed you, what have you been up to?"

The smile in his voice makes you ache. Fuck. You should've just called an Uber.

"Hey. I'm okay. Sorry for not calling, I've been, uh, swamped at work."

"That's okay. It's nice to hear from you."

You melt. "It's nice to hear from you, too."

One of the guys across the station tosses a duffel bag inside of a storage closet and closes the door, then locks it. Right. Back to why you called.

"Dick, I think these two guys at the train station might be up to something. I could be wrong! I-I'm probably wrong, but—"

"What are they doing?" he asks, and you can hear him shifting to Nightwing Mode.

"They threw a duffel bag into a closet, but they don't look like workers. And—"

One of them lifts his coat, and you see a holstered gun. Shit.

"Oh my God," you whisper. "One of them has a gun."

"Get out of there," Dick orders. "I'm on my way. I'll pick you up. Meet me on the corner of Mason and Jewel."

"Okay," you say, heartbeat rabbiting. "Okay, um, Mason and Jewel. Got it."

"It'll be okay," he says, a little gentler this time. "I won't let anything happen to you, alright? Go somewhere where there's a lot of people, and stay on the line."

You take a deep breath. "O-okay. I trust you."

You head for the stairs when the ground rumbles under your feet. People begin to shout and you run faster, trying to make it out of the station.

"What's happening, honey? Talk to me," Dick urges.

You hardly register the honey in your panic.

"The ground's shaking. Dick—"

Something knocks into your back and you crumple to the floor, phone falling from your hand. Everything goes black.

****

You open your eyes to blackness, and for a moment, you're afraid you've lost your sight. But then the shadows become clearer, and you can make out distinct, albeit dimly lit, shapes.

You try to form a word but the air has been sucked out of your lungs and it sounds more like a wheeze.

The surface beneath you is soft and firm. There's a blanket over your shoulders.

You rasp out a sound that's an attempt at 'hello.' Your lips are cracked, and your throat feels like you chugged cement.

A hand rests on your forehead. You try to sit up.

"Easy, easy. Don't try moving just yet."

Dick is in his Nightwing suit, but the mask is off. You blink at him slowly. You'd almost forgotten how blue his eyes are.

"Can you tell me your birthday?" he asks, continuing to stroke your face.

You tell him your birthday. Your throat feels like sandpaper, and a straw is pushed to your lips. You drink the water greedily.

"Wha' happ'd?" you ask.

"There was a small bomb. Half the station collapsed." Dick sucks in a deep breath and seems to steel himself. "You, um, you hit your head pretty hard. I found you and brought you back to the Batcave. I want to monitor you overnight just in case."

Your eyes widen. "Batcave?"

Dick smiles. "The one and only. I'll give you a tour later."

You frown. "Shouldn't you be out there?"

"Oh." Dick rubs his neck. "Well, uh, the others have got it pretty much covered. But I can give you space, if-if you're tired or something. Uh, Alfred's upstairs if you need anyth—"

You shake your head. "Not kicking you out, Dickie. Just don't wanna keep you from important stuff."

Dick leans in, looking at you intently.

"You're important."

You smile and look away, belly swooping at his seriousness.

"Oh. Thank you, Dick."

"I mean it," he says fiercely, then swallows. "You are... you're one of the most important people in my life. You matter so much to me. I should've said so earlier, and I guess today was the kick in the pants I needed."

You turn to him, eyes wide. "What are you saying?"

Dick slips his hand into yours, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

"Every day, I see how fragile life is," Dick says. "Witnessed it for myself, too. I can't—I don't want to pretend that I don't care about you as much as I do. That I don't wish we were more. And if you don't feel the same way, then that's okay, but I needed to say something before—"

"Dick," you murmur.

He stops. "Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

He blinks once, twice, then wastes no more time. Dick cups your jaw with both hands. It's almost overwhelming, the way Dick Grayson kisses you like you're the only person in the universe.

His hair is just as soft as you imagined, and you tangle your other hand in it, massaging the base of his neck. Dick makes a quiet whine in the back of his throat, and you hungrily swallow the sound.

"Ahem."

You flinch apart, and Dick covers his mouth. He glances at you through his lashes, and the look promises that he's not finished with you.

All excitement about said promise self-destructs when you see Batman standing ten feet away. Even under the cowl, he looks unimpressed.

"Nightwing," he says. "Taking care of our patient?"

Oh God. You're never setting foot in Gotham again.

"Excellent care," Dick says, apparently used to Batman's cheek.

"Hn. I expect a report of the station incident tomorrow."

"Of course. Do you need me out there?"

"No. It's handled." Batman looks at you. "You are welcome to join us for dinner."

He swooshes away with a truly unnecessary jump into the Batmobile. You wait until he's gone before groaning and putting your face in your hands.

"Oh my God, I just made out with you in front of Batman. I can never face him."

Dick pulls you into his arms, kissing your temple.

"Are you kidding? He basically just welcomed you into the family. I knew he'd like you."

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x yn #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing fanfiction #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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love-and-deepspace-fanfic · 6 months ago

Text

Zayne - Collapse of Multiple Deepspaces

Time to drop another #delulu for Zayne! It’s my first time writing about Zayne and all “thanks” to my friend all my ideas recently stem from *tragedy*.

So yeah sorry Zayne boi, you’re first!

I hope you enjoy this version!

What happens if Zayne and Dawnbreaker meet each other....

Collapse of Multiple Deepspaces

"You are no different from a weakling."

This phrase had echoed relentlessly within Zayne ever since he witnessed his friend transform into a Wanderer right before his very eyes.

If others were given a chance to judge, they would tell Zayne that his hesitation or fear, his inability to act, was entirely natural; no one could stand firm in such a dire circumstance.

To witness someone you know slowly morph into a beast and then have to end their life with your own hands? Who in their right mind would willingly undertake such a horrifying act?

But Zayne knew that the "shadow" that disdainfully uttered those words of criticism through its scornful gaze was no longer a normal person.

******************************************************

How long had it been since Zayne last felt this rush of anticipation, as if he were about to enter a battle?

Before him were blood-red eyes that forced Zayne to instinctively channel energy from his right arm as a defense mechanism.

It was this very power that had been the source of many of his tragedies.

But compared to the shadow standing right in front of him, Zayne could sense that the pain he had endured was nothing compared to the anguish reflected in those judging eyes.

Though shrouded by the night, Zayne recognized the person before him, for the power surrounding that figure was familiar to him. It was the power of ice—the same power he wielded.

In other words, the person before him might be none other than himself.

It was as if he were the embodiment of the Grim Reaper he had always feared.

Zayne also realized that the person in front of him not only possessed his own aura but also harbored an unpredictable emotion he couldn't quite grasp.

This emotion was like a drop of poison, ready to overflow at the slightest disturbance, spreading its lethal intent throughout the icy energy. It was this realization that helped Zayne recognize that the figure before him and he were separate entities. He would never allow himself to be consumed by such murderous intent. He was a doctor, committed to saving lives, not taking them. This was his life's principle and the oath he had sworn to uphold.

Yet, the eerie resemblance between them conjured images of two opposing reflections in a mirror, similar yet different, creating a sense of dual existence. If one of these images were to vanish one day, what would happen to the remaining one? Would it also dissolve, mirroring the original?

**********************************************************

While Zayne was observing the shadow, it was silently scrutinizing Zayne in return.

A weaker version, blessed with a life he craved.

Is this yet another part of the dream? But if it is a dream, then why is she not here?

Could even the fleeting dream of being with her be interrupted and dissipate like this?

Or perhaps…

*********************************************************

As Zayne pondered the bizarre occurrence before him in the dark space, he sensed a shift in the atmosphere between them.

A sudden, piercingly cold wind enveloped him, as if trying to freeze his entire being.

This chilling gust, like a raging beast, seemed determined to devour him whole, mirroring the fury of its creator.

Why had the shadow suddenly become so enraged?

Before Zayne could react, crystalline shards of ice hidden within the snowstorm hurtled toward him, catching him off guard.

The surging murderous intent warned Zayne of imminent danger, compelling him to instinctively unleash his own energy.

A formidable ice wall sprang up, separating Zayne from the lethal ice shards.

Yet, the relentless assault and overwhelming malevolence forced Zayne to retreat.

He panted heavily, striving to regain control over his chaotic emotions and energy. Why had the shadow, just moments ago in a state of observation, suddenly sought to end him?

This remained a mystery to Zayne, causing his hesitation to strike back.

Perhaps the gentle world he had come to know had softened his heart, infusing his decisions with the compassion and magnanimity expected of a doctor. But facing the figure before him, such ideals held no meaning.

Clearly, in this struggle for supremacy, in terms of both resolve and strength, Zayne was losing.

As the blizzard engulfed him, with icy spears closing in from all sides, Zayne realized the figure before him wielded far more power than he had imagined.

Arrows of ice began to pierce through his ice wall, embedding themselves in his body, inflicting excruciating pain and a chilling wind that froze him to the core. The agony was so intense it felt as though a curse had been cast upon him, rendering him immobile and leaving him at the mercy of the storm.

This sensation… why does it feel so familiar…

As Zayne struggled to rise, the shadow approached, revealing a familiar face.

The Grim Reaper… the Grim Reaper Zayne had seen before… the one who had look at him with an implication that he was merely a weakling.

With the same face, the same demeanor, the samepower, Zayne saw his own reflection in those blood-red eyes.

Is this… really himself?

Before Zayne could process his shock, the Grim Reaper moved closer, looking down at him with disdain:

“In the end, you are just a useless fool, incapable of protecting the one thing you were fortunate enough to have.”

These words felt like a curse, tightening Zayne’s heart in agony. He knew what his one lucky possession was, for he had felt this same heartache in his dreams countless times: the pain of not having her by his side…

Could it be…

Before Zayne could grapple with the implication, a shard of ice materialized in the Grim Reaper's hand. Its purpose was clear.

But what stunned Zayne more than the imminent threat was the Grim Reaper’s next words:

“If you are now useless, then it’s my turn to protect her.”

*************************************

“Zayne… Zayne!!”

Zayne jolted awake at the familiar call.

He sat up, gasping for breath, his body drenched in sweat as if he had just escaped a horrifying ordeal.

Fear clung to him, but a gentle touch on his back, mirroring his racing heartbeat, offered solace.

Looking up, Zayne’s eyes met the worried gaze of a familiar, tender face.

Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a glow on you and making you appear angelic, which had greatly soothed Zayne as though he were in heaven after wandering in endless darkness.

Unable to contain himself, Zayne pulled your close, seeking your comforting warmth. Only then, with your voice laced with concern, did his surroundings come into focus. The familiar scent of medicine, not the metallic tang of blood, filled the air.

A lingering sense of malevolent energy persisted, a stark reminder of the dream's icy grip. He touched his neck, the phantom pain of the ice shard a chilling echo. Dream or reality?

As he began to lose himself in his thoughts again, a warm touch on his cheek grounded him.

“Are you okay? Why do you keep zoning out? Did you sneak sweets before bed again, making it hard to breathe and sweat so much?”

Like sunlight dispelling the cold, Zayne's heart began to calm. Perhaps it was just exhaustion, a figment of his overworked mind. He clung to this hope, desperate to ease her worry.

Zayne looked at her lovingly, then embraced her once more, yearning to hold onto the warmth only she could provide.

“Thanks for being by my side.”

*****************************

“Zayne, promise me you won’t try to bear everything alone or make decisions by yourself, okay? Always tell me first.”

Seeing her cheerful yet concerned expression, like an old lady fussing over him, made Zayne chuckle—a rare sound for him.

Perhaps the dream was merely a manifestation of his fear, a fear of someday regretting his own "weakness." But what truly defined this weakness? Was it the lack of courage to destroy what could harm her, even if that meant it had once bear the form of a… human?

As Zayne began to drift back into his thoughts, the alarm on her hunter’s watch went off, accompanied by a warning:

“Alert… alert… Wanderer monsters detected… Level A… coordinates X Y… please evacuate residents from the danger zone.”

Both Zayne and you knew what needed to be done in such situations.

As he instructed you on the tasks and cautions for your mission, a rift opened before Zayne, followed by a Wanderer bearing a striking resemblance to…

William…

In an instant, as Zayne stood frozen, the Wanderer lunged, swinging a deadly scythe-like arm at him.

William… is it really you?

Zayne felt his heart stop, memories from that day flooding back.

At Mount Eternal… where the secret he wished to bury lay… where he had once been weak… William… I’m so sorry… turns out, even now… I’m still useless…

“ZAYNEEEEEEE!”

A piercing scream echoed as Zayne snapped back to reality. Before him lay the image of her, shielding him with her body. Blood spurted from her back, splattering across Zayne’s face.

In his arms was the girl he loved, falling.

The blood on his hands was warm…

But this…

Was not the warmth he wanted to feel…

In a heartbeat, everything around Zayne was swallowed by an endless night.

A night filled with murderous intent…

And amidst this darkness lay a path, lined with the bodies of countless fallen.

Zayne didn’t want to tread this path, but it seemed fate had already chosen it for him.

A voice echoed within him, as if from a distant past…

“If the law is a curse… why perfect it… just… destroy it all…”

That's right... destroy everything... only then can I... protect you...

Like a skeleton approaching its tomb, Zayne walked heavily past the rows of piled corpses, heading straight into the endless darkness. And at the end of the road, what Zayne saw was the throne with its many icy blades.

Zayne saw another figure resembling him dressed in an ancient sorcerer's garb... as if he had been sitting there for a long time... just waiting...

Waiting....

"For that daisy..."

As if echoing his heart, the voice of the Grim Reaper opposite him, now replacing the figure holding the staff, sat on the ice throne.

So who was who? He himself no longer knew and no longer cared. Because at this moment, he knew that he and the figures before him had only one thing in common, and that commonality was what all his beings cared about and wanted to have.

You... the daisy we've always sought...

In the quiet night, the cold voice of the Grim Reaper rang out like a warning bell:

"You... are the exception, because only you can have her."

Zayne understood what the Grim Reaper had said.

He sank weakly to the floor, realizing how lucky he was but also how powerless.

"But... you too... are the weakest..."

He knew... he knew... he was weak.

"So... if you can't become strong..."

Before his words could end, Zayne’s chin was grasped, forcing him to face the blood-red eyes right in front of him.

"If you can't do it, then it's my turn. There's no room for the weak."

****************************************

The blaring sirens of rescue vehicles… the screams of the townspeople… only you… seemed to be lying still… in firm arms…

You tried to get up but were held back by those strong arms, preventing any movement.

It seemed that the wound on your back no longer pained you, only a soothing, cool sensation remained.

It looked like Zayne had tended to your injury.

You knew what you had done was dangerous, and you would surely be scolded by him, but you still felt warm inside knowing he was safe….

These past days, seeing his exhaustion, you wanted to do something. But the more you looked at him, the more unsure you were of what to do, as if he was fighting a battle within himself, silently enduring.

That was when you saw him in danger, and you immediately shielded him without a second thought, just to spare him from more pain.

Thankfully… he was unharmed…

As you nestled in Zayne’s embrace, you couldn’t shake off a strange feeling, an unnamed sensation, like you had felt it long ago when you looked into his eyes…. as if… you were seeing a different Zayne…

While lost in thought, Zayne’s hand reached out to touch your cheek.

Fearing he would reprimand you for acting impulsively, you scrambled for excuses in your mind, avoiding his gaze to escape his scolding.

But when you met his eyes, you knew…

Without giving you time to think, the unfamiliar man who resembled Zayne looked at you and smiled, sending a chill through your body.

“Nice to see you again.”

#zayne #zayne x mc #zayne x reader #love and deepspace #lnds #lnd #lnds x reader #lnds x mc #lads #tragedy #jealousy #dark #dawnbreaker #grim reaper #space

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