#the thought of it keeps me awake at night. i want to see it so bad.

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 10 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: A fight turns into something beautiful. Turns into what could be your last day on earth.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/rape/death, hinting at suicidal thoughts (only briefly and not really serious, but I'll put it here nonetheless), body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities and desires, smut, (rough) sex, oral sex, switch, degradation kink, dom/sub dynamics, daddy, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

The tight smile.

It was all you needed to see to know you were in great, big trouble. It was really disappointing though, considering how good the day had started.

When you woke up, right after having a short, restless sleep, you saw him lying beside you. And for once, ever since you had gotten here, he wasn’t awake. No, he was deep asleep. His beautiful  eyes shut tightly and his expression one of peaceful relaxation. You hadn’t ever seen him this perfect before.

It was nearly ridiculous. Just a few hours earlier, he had ravaged you in a way that left you feeling sore and used, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but somehow you had a feeling last night was different. It wasn’t the sex per say. It was the way he got angry and you felt you couldn’t get through to him, even if you truly wanted to. And what was far worse than all of it, was the threat.

The threat.

What did it even mean?

I would never kill you. At least not unless you gave me a reason to.

It wasn’t even a subtle threat. He didn’t try to hide that he was twisted and dangerous. Dangerous for you, if you pushed the right buttons. You had done so quite some times by now, but luckily you were still around. But how much was too much?

What would make his mind go blank and cause him to swing an axe at you?

Shoot you right in the face?

Gut you in the middle of the-

You shuddered and took a long, deep breath to calm yourself. This wasn’t going to happen. You wouldn’t anger him to that degree. And yet, you couldn’t keep yourself from thinking about it.

What could possibly piss him off enough, to trigger such an extreme reaction?

If you went out and fucked someone else?

Or if you spilled milk on the coffee table?

You took another slow breath and looked back at his peaceful, sleeping form. It was hard not to love him, when he was like this. Sweet. Peaceful.

Vulnerable.

You hadn’t even seen vulnerable, regarding him. Not really. You didn’t know his name, his family, his backstory or anything else that truly mattered. All you knew was which buttons to push and it would make him slap you. You had his age. And his sexual preferences. You knew he had some kind of dangerous job, but you had no idea what it was about. And you knew he was twisted.

Utterly and entirely twisted.

But you saw none of that as you watched him sleep. All you saw was a handsome man, the most handsome man you had ever seen, even with the faint trace of a scar on his cheek. You still hated the sight of it. Not because it would have done anything to his attractiveness. No, he was very obviously still perfect. It was the fact that he got hurt.

Someone hurt him.

You were surprised just by how angry the thought made you. He was always so confident. It was his choice to either be angry and take it out on you or to be gentle and spoil you with affection and gifts. But it was his choice. He was the man. He was in charge. He was the epitome of strength.

And someone hurt him.

Him.

A part of you was almost tempted to think yours.

Someone hurt your man.

But you pushed the thought away just as quick as it came. He was hardly your man.

Your bane, your curse, your horror. Yes.

But not your man.

When he stirred slightly, you were pulled out of your thoughts. It didn’t take longer than a few seconds for him to blink his eyes open. When he finally looked up at you and met your gaze, a hint of surprise flashed over his features. But he schooled his expression into a soft smile effortlessly.

“Good morning, my little owl.” He purred. “You’re up early.” He raised a brow and smirked slowly. “Were you watching me sleep?”

Your face flushed, but you didn’t feel the need to deny it. It was pretty obvious anyway.

“I did.” You said quietly. “I couldn’t help it. You looked so…peaceful.”

He hummed softly and propped himself up on his elbows, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear with two fingers. “Peaceful? Doesn’t sound like me at all.”

He didn’t seem angry or even irritated that you watched him. If anything, he seemed amused or maybe even strangely flattered.

You shrugged.

“Have you been up for long?”

You shook your head.

He frowned slightly and held your chin in his hand, brushing his thumb over your skin in a gentle way. “You didn’t sleep well. You look like you didn’t sleep at all.”

You averted your gaze. What could you possibly tell him? That you spent all night, asking yourself not if, but when he would finally snap and snap your neck the same?

“Look at me.”

You hesitated, but eventually you met his gaze again. His expression was one of thoughtfulness and curiosity and you knew you had to give him something. He wouldn’t stop pestering you otherwise. You thought for a moment, before you finally gave up. You didn’t trust your ability to lie to him. He would see right through it and punish you for trying to deceive him.

“It’s about last night.” You murmured quietly.

His eyes narrowed slightly, but eventually he relaxed his expression and let go of your chin. With a soft sigh, he murmured back: “Was it too much for you? Too rough?”

You thought about the best possible way to answer this. Eventually you came up with something you would have hoped would be the perfect solution. “I’m still ashamed.”

“Ashamed?” He frowned.

“Because a part of me enjoys it.”

He hummed softly. “We talked about this, sweet girl, but I’ll say it again and again. You have nothing to be ashamed about. First of all, it’s not your fault you turned out like this.”

“That’s kind of the problem.” It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely. It did bother you. Just that the life threatening thing was worse. “I feel like you enjoy what we do, because you simply enjoy it. And I think I enjoy it, because I feel the constant need to get hurt and degraded, because of…because of what happened to me.”

He regarded you with a long, thoughtful look. His eyes softened somewhat and he was back. The man who supposedly cared about you came back, after a long, rough night. He sighed and rolled over so that he was on his back and staring at the ceiling. All the while he stretched out his arm and pulled you along, curling you into his side. He didn’t look at you as he spoke and his tone of voice was almost emotionless.

You couldn’t tell if you preferred this over the anger. Probably not.

“Did I ever tell you about my father?”

You froze. What? No. He hadn’t ever told you anything about himself that mattered. Let alone his family. As far as you were concerned, he didn’t even have a father.

But all you managed was a small, breathless shake of your head.

He hummed softly and played with your hair as he spoke, still keeping his voice cool and measured. He never met your gaze. Almost like he couldn’t. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to appear nonchalant or if he truly didn’t care. You hoped for the first one.

“My father had some creative ways of punishment.” He hummed. Oh, God. “Similar to your mother, I might think. Just more blood. And a few…other things.”

You held your breath as he spoke, feeling utterly sick. The fact that he had so subtly and smoothly threatened your life last night was suddenly the last thing on your mind.

“Don’t get me wrong, sweetness. I was always a little different from other boys my age. I wasn’t interested in the things the others were. I liked different things. Darker things. But I’m pretty sure, had it not been for my father…” He hummed. “He did some nasty things. Really nasty. And not only to me. To my mother as well.” He turned to face you fully, while you still lay frozen and staring at him with bated breath. All the while he caressed your face and spoke in this soft voice, like he was reading from a children’s book. It was eerie. “That might be one of the reasons why I am always in control.” He smiled briefly. “Especially sexually.”

You just kept staring at him. He hadn’t said it outright and he probably never would, but you could tell there was something. Something dark and terrible, something that still haunted him, even after all these years. And it made you sick to the core. The fact that his father, his own father, had hurt him, it made you feel nauseous. And especially, angry.

“So, I should probably be grateful to him, don’t you think?”

You knew you weren’t supposed to say anything to that, anything about that at all. No matter how terrible you felt, no matter how badly you wished to comfort him. He would get angry, because he would think of it as pity. You were sure. But you still had to say it.

“Your father is a sick man.” You said quietly. “And you didn’t deserve whatever he did to you.”

“Oh, I’m aware, my sweet, darling girl.” His face lit up in a soft smile. “I was just a boy. A twisted one, maybe. But still a boy.”

It made you feel as uneasy, as you felt relieved about it. At least he acknowledged it. He had no fault in his father’s cruelty. At least not back then.

And at least there was something. A tiny reminder that he was human, that he was real, that there was something akin to flesh and blood that made him similar to you. Not the fact that it had happened. Oh no, you would have changed it, were you in the power to. You would have bled and suffered, if only it meant to free him from the burden of his past.

No, but the thought that he told you about it. He had a father. A mother. A family. He had a childhood. A life. He was real.

You lay in silence for a long while. Of course you wanted to say more, to comfort him and hug him. To kiss away the fear he had probably felt as a little boy. You wanted to take him in your arms and make him whole again, puzzle him together until he got reunited with the love he was so desperately missing all his life. What about his mother? You asked yourself. But you thought now wasn’t the best time to ask. You didn’t want to risk making him angry, when he wasn’t so far. He hadn’t ever shared as much of himself. You didn’t want to say anything. And, you suddenly realized, you were afraid to pressure him.

So you said the next best thing. In the silent hope, that one day he’d trust you enough to let you in.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” You said very softly. His head perked up and his expression softened. No anger in sight.

“My sweet, caring girl. The ghosts of my past are no more than that. And don’t you worry. I got my revenge.”

You bit your lip and rolled onto your side, facing him properly. The thoughtfulness in your eyes turned into something else the longer you looked at him, a mixture of concern and gentleness. He didn’t seem to mind. He let you stare without interrupting your thoughts. It was a peaceful, comfortable silence.

“How did you get your revenge?” You asked quietly, before you could stop yourself.

He smirked and stretched out his arms behind his head.

“I killed him.”

A part of you had suspected as much. But another part of you, the naïve little girl that you somehow still were, felt horrified. He killed his own father. And yet, that other part of you whispered softly in the back of your mind.

Did you expect anything else?

You thought back to your mother. Had you ever had a gun in the wrong moment-

No. Never. You couldn’t kill anyone. Not even a fucking fly. You were the type of person to chase them out of the window, instead of crushing them.

It wasn’t enough to calm you down and he seemed to notice.

“Are you alright, sweet girl?”

You were going to die anyway. Why not speak freely at least?

Forget his father. He’s dead. But you’re not. Not yet at least.

“You scared me last night.”

His brows furrowed. “When we-“

“No.” You said in a soft tone and slowly sat up, wrapping the sheets around your body. “I mean, yes. Kind of. But that’s not the problem. You scared me when you said…when you said you would kill me if I gave you a reason to.” Your expression and your tone of voice were almost child-like. Innocent and curious, not at all trying to guilt-trip him. Just a girl, scared for her life. Her sanity.

Herself.

“Oh, sweet girl.” He said softly as he sat up as well. He reached out to pull you on his lap, but you pulled back. He frowned, but he didn’t protest.

“I was simply-“

“What could get me killed?”

It was so sharp, so matter-of-fact, that it made him pause for a moment. He looked genuinely caught off-guard, like he never expected him to ask him such a question. And like he wasn’t sure how to answer it.

“What?”

“What could I say or do that would make you kill me?” You asked in a soft voice. Your heart was pounding wildly in your chest, but you tried to stay strong. You needed to get a point across. You needed to know.

He thought for a moment, before he leaned back and narrowed his eyes in a thoughtful frown.

“Another man.”

Cheating. As if you really were anything to each other, right?

Such a normal thing. People got killed over cheating all the time, didn’t they?

Or did they really?

“Another man.” You whispered. “Okay. What else?”

He hummed softly. “If you left me.”

“If I left you?” You meant it in a way as if saying; how would I be supposed to leave you? There aren’t even fucking windows here.

He nodded. “When you leave me, you’re no longer my girl. And I don’t have a reason to keep you alive, if you’re not.”

You swallowed thickly. How very refreshing. He was being honest at least. Wasn’t that what you wanted? And you didn’t know if this was better or worse. You had expected as much.

“Anything else?” You whispered hoarsely.

“No.”

Your brows shot up in surprise. “No? If I don’t cheat on you or leave you, you won’t-“

“No.” He said again, in that infuriating, calm tone.

“And if I insulted you?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking. “If I hurt you? If I-“

“Don’t get me wrong.” The menacing bastard was back. “You don’t get to trample on me, sweet girl. In fact, you know what happens, if you do all that. You’ll get punished. And that didn’t change.” He narrowed his eyes further.

He took a long breath to calm himself and finally said: “I just didn’t want you to be terrified for no reason. I’m sure there are a few more things you can do that will definitely get you killed. So, try not to push my buttons too much. Don’t experiment. Don’t think you get any kind of power. All you are is my girl. Mine. Mine to use. Mine to torment as I please. You’re my plaything. My toy.” He got angrier with every word and you were sure, more than sure, you had done something terribly wrong.

“Mine to use however I see fit.” He gritted out. “Because that’s all you are to me.”

Every word stabbed a wound deeper and deeper into your soul. He didn’t love you. You weren’t an idiot. But a part of you had hoped, hoped so desperately, that you were anything more to him. Anything of meaning. Anything he cared about. Anything he thought about and smiled, when he went off to his mysterious workplace. Anything at all.

But you weren’t. You were his plaything. His fucktoy. His doll.

His girl.

Your face burned in shame and your guts churned painfully. You slowly looked down at your hands and folded them in your lap, while you kept the blanket pulled up to your chin.

“I wasn’t-“

“Yes, you were.” He hissed and roughly pulled your chin up, to make you look at him. “Did you hear me? You’re nothing more than a thing for me to use, a doll, something to dress up in a pretty dress and take my anger out on. Did you get that through your goddamn, thick skull? You’re nothing. Nothing at all.” He spat out.

At this point, you felt indeed like he had stabbed you. The knife was still there on the carpet by the bed. How very reckless. You could have stabbed him last night, didn’t he think about that? No, he was tired or maybe he just trusted himself to have broken you enough not to ever hurt him.

It was true. You wouldn’t ever hurt him. Not like that. That one punch was as far as it could go.

And now, as you sat there and listened to his cruel words, a small part of you suddenly wished he hadn’t bluffed, hadn’t used the knife as a way to find relief in his twisted mind. A part of you wished you weren’t there, to listen to his cruel reminders. The reminder that you were nothing.

Nothing at all.

You felt your hands shake, just the same second your lip quivered.

He was so angry, so furious, he hardly even recognized your presence. He wanted to make some point known.

You understood it now.

He would never love you.

But you? It was too late for you. You already loved him. And he was breaking your heart.

All your life you thought that couldn’t happen to you. You always assumed you were far too numb for these things.

A tear rolled down your cheek and you stared firmly down at your lap. Your hands were shaking furiously and your body shook with the sobs you choked back.

By the time he looked up again and saw the state you were in, his anger immediately disappeared. Something akin to horror took its place instead. He rushed forward without even thinking about it and held your arms tightly, tilting his head down below and staring up at you, to make you look at him.

“Wait.” He said quickly. “Wait. I didn’t mean it.”

You were stuck between pushing him away and letting him console you. But you knew there was probably nothing that could ever bring you back. Your heart, already broken and bruised, had just somehow been pieced back together by him, only for him to crush it again under the palm of his hand, under the cruelty of his words, under the weight of his actions.

You decided to push him back instead. At least for once, you tried to keep a semblance of dignity. It was a lost cause, but it meant something to you.

He let out a surprised exhale, but quickly rushed forward again, trying to get ahold of you, but this time, you struggled.

“Get off of me!”

“No, you need to listen to me!”

“No! No, get the hell off!”

“You need to listen!”

You struggled even harder and pushed him back, clawed at his skin and within seconds you found yourself in the middle of a physical fight. So far, he hadn’t tried to slap you or bring you to your senses anyhow, he just tried to make you focus. And when you hit against his chest or pushed him back by his shoulders, when you scratched his arms and pulled on his hair, he let you. Without retaliating. He let you.

You were just waiting for him to snap. A part of you might even have been hoping to get some kind of reaction out of him, because he had just hurt you so terribly. But he didn’t.

And when you pushed him back against the mattress, he let you.

And when you straddled his lap, he let you.

He even let you intertwine your fingers and press his hands against the bed.

He just let you.

You stopped struggling. Stopped fighting him and stopped trying to provoke anything.

You were on top him, your hair falling over your shoulders and framing your face like a waterfall. Everything else was suddenly gone. All that there was left were him and you. He stared up at you, his eyes wide and his expression one of quiet fascination. Of course he allowed you to take control. After all, all it needed was a tiny bit of strength from him and he’d have you pinned to the floor. But this time, he didn’t. He didn’t protest, didn’t fight back, didn’t even flinch. He allowed you to take the lead. He allowed you to take control of him.

When the thought hit you, you nearly choked on the air you breathed. And you breathed, heavily and quickly, until your breaths mingled into one. You leaned further down, so close that the tip of your nose almost touched his. His chest rose and fell quickly. You could tell, even though you kept your focus on his face.

“You meant it.” You whispered breathlessly.

He stared at you with his mouth slightly agape and then he slowly shook his head. “You’re more.” He whispered back.

More than a toy?

More than a doll?

More than just his girl?

You didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t allow yourself to hope, because if you did, the next time he crushed it, it would be ever harder for you to find back to yourself. And did you really want to risk that?

You shook your head, ready to come up with the next bitter, biting response, when his words caught you off-guard.

“You’re not only mine”, he said quietly. “I’m also yours.”

God, this was confusing. And slowly you felt yourself get as dizzy and nauseous as you would have on a rollercoaster. You hated rollercoasters, because you were afraid of them. You hated them, because you never went on one.

“You’re two people at once.” You whispered breathlessly. “How do I know, when your evil twin will be back?”

He smiled slowly. Even now, even when you felt heartbroken and furious, his smile meant so much to you. It made everything seem beautiful. Everything was easier. Nothing hurt.

Until it did.

“I know.” He whispered. “Maybe you could try and put him in his place, every once in a while.”

You stared at him with wide eyes. Did he really allow you to take control? Just like that? Was it a trick? Was it a game? A joke? Something even more evil he’d come up with?

Whatever it was, you were dying to find out. Because you were sure, you’d get punished anyway. So, why not make use of it?

You took a shaky breath and leaned further down, so close, until your lips almost touched.

“You really didn’t mean it?” You asked in the ghost of a whisper.

His gaze briefly wandered down to your lips, before he looked into your eyes again.

“No.” He whispered back. “Not even I am that dense.”

That nearly made you smile.

But just nearly.

Instead you did something else. You leaned further down, until your lips finally touched his. The kiss was feather-light and hesitant. The touch was so gentle, that you caught yourself asking yourself in your head, if it really was the same man.

He was letting you kiss him. He didn’t try anything. Didn’t try to part your lips or pull you closer. Didn’t try to push your legs apart. His hands were still motionless under yours, all that he did was slowly caress the back of your hands with his fingers.

He participated in the kiss. He kissed you back, obviously. But all he did was mirror your touch.

You were in control.

You gasped against his lips. You had no idea what to do. It felt odd. Maybe even wrong. The only things you had ever fantasized about were to get controlled by someone else.

Controlled by him.

And for you to control him, it sounded like an impossible endeavor. It felt like one, even more. But there you were. On his lap. Slowly guiding the pace.

You swallowed thickly.

“I don’t know what to do.” You whispered into the kiss.

He hummed very quietly. “Imagine I’m the good twin.” He whispered back and pulled back just enough to look at your face. “There is no right or wrong. Just do whatever feels good.”

You bit your lip as you watched him closely. It could still be a trick. But in the back of your mind, you knew it wasn’t. It was an attempt to heal you. Heal him as well, maybe. You were both damaged. Both two fragments, incomplete and alone. Was it possible that you could heal each other?

It sounded strange in your head. You wanted to be controlled. And he survived off the feeling of being in control. But maybe, just maybe, this was what you both needed. A role reverse. A chance to grow. A chance to connote. Just this once.

To become one, whole thing.

You took a deep, shaky breath and brushed your lips over his. You were still nervous. But you tried to do what he said. Just do whatever feels good.

And maybe it would.

You hesitantly, almost shyly, ran the tip of your tongue along his lower lip. His reaction surprised you. He moaned. You really expected him to get off on nothing but cruelty and violence. But somehow the feeling of you, of being with you, in any way, seemed to be enough.

You needed to try it. The shift. The control. Even just this once.

You slowly parted his lips with your tongue and yours met his in a timid, careful movement. He was still the one guiding you. But the biggest reason was, that you had no idea what you were doing. But he was holding himself back. You were on top, pressed against him.

He was yours.

Your man. Your psychopath. Maybe even your lover.

The kiss went on and your movements became more and more confident. You didn’t actually care what you were doing, as long as you heard the soft moans he tried to suppress. And every time he did, you couldn’t help but moan, too. Your tongues tangled in a sinful dance and you slowly slid your fingertips over his wrists and up his arms. Until you eventually reached his shoulders. His neck. His hair. His cheek. His chin.

You hadn’t realized how quickly you were breathing. All the time you expected him to push you away, to reject you, to stop you. But he never did.

Your hand stilled against his face and you pulled your head back to look at him. To see if he was going to stop you. Mock you. Hurt you some more.

But his expression was more earnest than you had ever seen before. You could see the way his throat bobbed slightly as he swallowed and the small, tiny frown of focus on his face. He looked much more mature in that moment than he usually did. When he wore that twisted smile, he looked younger. Carefree. But in that moment, he looked like a man who had seen life.

And death.

And taken a part in it.

He slowly parted his lips, when your fingers stilled against them, inviting you. Your mouth fell open and you inhaled sharply as you felt his tongue dart out.

“God, what are you-“ You stopped yourself and instead released the softest moan, when he ran his tongue along your index finger. His hand gently circled your wrist and he pressed his lips against the back of your hand. Your knuckles. And eventually each finger.

You watched him in awe, realizing you were only ever falling deeper for him.

What was it with that man that you loved him so much, despite all the pain he put you through?

Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. The watching, the silence. You squeezed his hand and your head dipped forward. Your lips found his neck and you made a point of kissing each and every spot of skin you found on the way. His eyes fell shut and he took a shaky breath.

“No.” He whispered. “Wait.”

You immediately froze, expecting the inevitable rejection. But instead, he bit his lip and slowly slid his hands under your nightdress. The calloused skin of his palms ran up your back and he gently slid the material up, until he finally managed to pull it over your head and onto the ground. His gaze wandered from your face, down to your neck, where it lingered and eventually further down to your breasts and your stomach.

“God.” He whispered breathlessly. “God, you’re perfect.” He bit his lip again and met your gaze. “Let me worship you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you tilted your head to the side, only to feel his lips brush along your earlobe and eventually over your neck. You closed your eyes and sighed softly. It was the best feeling in the world.

His lips caressed your neck and his tongue occasionally darted out, drawing a moan from your lips. He moved with devilish slowness, a torturous pace, slow enough to make you melt into a puddle of desire on top of him. A part of you almost wanted to beg him. Beg him to go faster, to touch you harder, to take you. But you didn’t. Because another part of you wanted to savor every second of this.

When you felt the wet heat of his mouth move lower and embrace the sensitive skin of your breast, you felt your eyes roll back in your head. The sigh that came over your lips was more of a moan. You gently buried your fingers in his hair and played with it. Every time his tongue slipped out to run over the curve of your breast, you felt your hips press down against his own on pure instinct. You felt how hard he was, painfully so. But he didn’t press his hips up against you, he didn’t even try once. He was skilled at ignoring his own need, when he wanted to. He made you feel like a princess. Like all that mattered in the world were you.

You squirmed and shuddered when he moved underneath you, brushing his tongue down a wet path on your stomach.

His hands encircled the back of your thighs and he held you firmly, his fingers gently digging into your skin. And he moved. Lower and lower. Until you felt his hot breath kiss the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. A soft whimper left you and you bit your lip to keep yourself from begging. He was going to give you whatever you wanted. Today, there was no need to beg.

He slowly but firmly pushed your legs apart, and settled in-between them, still lying on his back and ignoring his own ache. He shot you a pointed look, before he finally stuck out his tongue and rolled it over the warm wetness of your need.

“Oh, God.”

He hit every right spot at the first try and you could no longer stay silent. His grip on your thighs tightened and he silently encouraged you to move. Move. Take what you want.

You swallowed a shaky moan and began to tentatively move your hips. It didn’t take long for you to figure out how it worked, how you had to move. It was so easy and the pleasure rolled over you like a warm bath.

“Oh, God.” You whispered again, tightening your hand in his hair.

He did the most sinful things, sliding his tongue inside you and pulling it back out, running it along every spot, embracing your center of pleasure with his warm lips and it felt like Heaven. He knew where to kiss, where to lick, where to suck and where to flick his tongue. He knew everything. And in that moment, you didn’t care one bit about where he gained that knowledge.

Because he used it on you.

And he’d be using it on your for as long as you were his girl.

And you wanted to be his girl for the rest of your life.

“Yes. There. Right there.” You gasped out, moving your hips again and silently begging him to continue, to give you what you wanted, to give you him.

And he did nothing less than that. He kissed you like he’d kiss your lips, he tightened his grip, he didn’t let you back away. His mouth was firmly attached to your body, eager to give you everything you wanted. Letting you ride yourself to bliss.

Which was exactly what you did. You didn’t even realize it, by how suddenly it happened, but your release rolled over you like a flash of lightning. It felt more intense than ever. You felt everything deeply and he didn’t stop, until he was sure, you were entirely spent and satisfied.

You were still gasping for air, when he finally released his grip on you and looked up at you with a soft expression.

You stared at him, trying to catch your breath. All you wanted was to say something, anything, but no words came over your lips. All you managed was the gentle touch of your palm against his cheek. He smiled slowly and covered your hand with his own. Then he slowly moved back up, so that you’d straddle his lap again.

“How was that?” He whispered.

“Fuck.” Was all that you managed.

A low laugh rumbled in his chest, but no trace of mockery. Just satisfaction and a tad bit of pride. You forgave him. You would have forgiven him anything.

“Can I?” You finally whispered. You needed to know, if you were still in control.

He smirked. He looked so confident. Just like you always knew him. Confident and strong. In control. And yet…

“I’m all yours, baby. Ride me.”

You bit your lip. Your face flushed the tiniest bit, but you nodded. Now, this was making you really nervous. You had seen videos, but were you able to do it yourself?

Why not? You thought. Why not?

You leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss. Still slow and sensual, but you poured all the passion you felt for him in that kiss. And he responded in kind. He didn’t try to take control of your mouth. Instead he moaned against your lips, every time your tongue brushed against his. He ran a hand down your back and squeezed your behind firmly in his hand.

“Fuck, I need you to ride me or I’m going to die.” He groaned as he bit your lip. You responded with another moan. You still felt his hardness press against you, hard and ready and needy.

God, the thought alone. The thought that he wanted you that much. It drove you insane.

You swallowed thickly and carefully ran a hand down his chest, down his stomach, down his waist, until-

You smiled. You missed his throbbing, aching need and brushed your fingers gently along his thigh instead.

He glared up at you, a hint of desperation behind the repressed anger.

“I should have known this would come.” He hissed.

Your smile widened into a grin, as you teasingly caressed his side instead.

“What? I’m just doing what you do.”

He released a frustrated growl.

“You-“

“Come on.” You whispered. “Let me have this. Just this once.”

He was still frustrated, but the look in his eyes softened the tiniest bit.

“But I want you.” He murmured and you swallowed.

“How much?” You whispered. God, this was fun.

“How much?” He asked incredulously. “Can’t you feel how much?”

You hummed in the same way he normally would. So innocent. So devilish.

“Paint a picture with your words.”

He exhaled sharply. But eventually he calmed down and wrapped his arms around you gently.

“I need to be inside of you or I’m going to die. I’m going to die, I mean it.”

“Keep going.” You whispered. “Talk to me.” While you spoke, you shifted slightly on his lap, gently grinding down on him and letting him feel you. Just enough to make you gasp, not enough for him to enter you yet.

He bit his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

“I want to feel you.” He murmured. “I want to fuck you. I want to be one with you. And I fucking want to cum inside you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you sighed.

“Keep going.” You responded in a breathless whisper, as you ground down against him again. The friction was enough for your both to snap your eyes shut.

“I want you to cum.” He whispered back. “I want you to cum so hard, that it’ll make you cry.”

“Fuck.” You whispered breathlessly and buried your face in his neck. “Fuck, yes.”

You swallowed again and pulled your head back up, enough to rest your forehead against his.

“Let me move then?” You whispered. “Please?”

He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “But fucking get to it.”

You released a shaky sigh. You kept your forehead pressed against his and stared into his eyes, intense and deep, while you slowly spread your legs further. You shifted again, your movements a little awkward and insecure, but eventually you felt him press up against you and you felt his tip press against your entrance. And then you slowly lowered yourself down onto his lap. You felt him fill you, but it happened so slowly that you felt every bit of it. And all the time you kept your gaze fixed on his eyes. His reaction. Every moan, every sigh, every twitch. All of it was enough to make you moan in return. You slowly lowered yourself further down, until you felt him all the way. And when you did…You didn’t move. You stayed like that. Just feeling. Just feeling all of him.

And the look in his eyes was worth it.

You had never seen him this soft, this vulnerable before. Not even when he told you about his father. His eyes were softer than ever before and you suddenly realized; you had never seen him this needy. This desperate to feel you. You were sure, just a second more and he would either take control or beg you. But you couldn’t let that happen.

It was his first time to let someone else take control after all.

And you couldn’t have him begging. You couldn’t have him do anything that would make him feel ashamed, when he was so unabashedly doing everything in order to make you happy.

So finally you moved. Slowly and carefully, very unsure still. But you moved. And he moaned. And he moved. And you moaned.

You had never felt him this deep before, this hard, this raw.

“Ride me.” He whispered breathlessly. “Ride daddy’s cock, baby.”

Your face flushed even more, but all you could focus on were his words. You movements became more forceful, more frantic, more desperate. And as hard as he tried not to move at all, it was simply impossible. He pressed his hips up against you, letting you feel him, so hard and God, so desperate.

“Yes. Yes, babygirl, just like that. Let daddy fill you up.” He groaned out.

With every thrust, every move, you felt yourself get closer yet again. It felt like a fantasy.

“Yes. Yes, my sweet girl, my baby, my darling, my love-“

His eyes widened frantically. He panicked. You could tell. So did you. On the inside. But on the outside, you pretended. You pretended all you could, that you hadn’t heard it.

The L-word.

The word that nearly broke you.

No, you hadn’t heard it. He had never said it. It was just a slip-up. A simple mistake. Nothing to get hot and bothered about.

When he realized you didn’t react, he slowly calmed down again and tightened his grip on your hips. His own movements became more and more desperate, until he was pounding into you from underneath.

“Fuck, yes. Cum for me, my babygirl. Cum for me, my darling. Take every drop of my cum.”

His words were enough to drive you over the edge. With a sharp inhale, a breathless moan, you felt your own orgasm hit you again. And he went over the edge right with you.

Your lips just an inch apart and your eyes fixed on each other.

Deep.

And raw.

“Yes.” He growled. “Oh God, yes. Fuck, yes. My girl. My girl, my...” His voice cracked and he came with a roar. He pushed his hips against you with a fervor that nearly left you bruised from the inside and it made your release drag on and on, until you felt you were about to take off to the sky.

It took you a few seconds, but when you both finally came back down from your high, you realized you were still staring into each other’s eyes. You mouth slightly agape and gasping for air, your brows furrowed and your bodies still connected in the most intimate way. You didn’t want him to withdraw yet. You wanted to feel his release run along your thighs. You wanted to feel dirty like that and at the same time you wanted something else entirely.

Stay close.

Stay together.

My love.

The word kept echoing through your mind like a poem, like a curse.

Like a death warrant.

My love.

He buried his hand in your hair and gently tugged on it.

“That…was…”

You had never seen him speechless before. The sight stirred so much in you.

You idiot girl. He hurt you, he hurt you so terribly and all you wanted right now was him beside you, at all times, maybe with a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly.

God, you were just as insane as he was. Probably even more so.

He was a psychopath. What was your excuse?

You tried to distract yourself from your thoughts and so you decided to take control a last time. Your head dipped forward and you kissed him. With a tenderness that made your heart ache. And he responded. With a softness that left you breathless.

My love.

Half an hour later, you finally managed to get your hands off of each other. After you finished your bathroom routine, he invited you to the shower with him. You’d join him in a minute, you decided, while you were on your way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Your mouth felt dry, your whole body did actually.

You felt sore as hell, but God. God.

The memory of it made you smile. You had never felt more loved in your life. Never felt more special, more desired, more…

A sound made you snap out of your thoughts and you looked up from the ground. What you saw made your heart stop.

The door.

The fucking door.

You mind went blank and your heart stopped beating.

The fucking door was open.

You swallowed thickly. Was it a test? Probably. Did you consider leaving?

You took a deep breath and slowly stepped into the hallway. The front door was open and there was that visitor’s terrace with a glass door attached to it, which led to the great staircase of the apartment complex.

It was a test. Or something equally cruel.

But what if it wasn’t?

What if he truly made a mistake? He was only human after all.

You stared at the glass door like you would have stared at an alien.

This was probably your only ever chance. To flee. Escape.

Get back to…

To what?

To normality, you told yourself.

To safety.

A lump formed in your throat. Did you want that? Did you even want to leave?

Even if it wasn’t a test, did you truly want to leave him?

The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth. It almost felt like acid and it weighed like a heavy stone on your heart. The thought of sleeping alone again, of never seeing his silly smile again. Even the twisted one, you’d miss.

The thought of never feeling his lips on yours again.

His hands in your hair, his voice in your ear.

His everything.

Him.

You were his girl.

You couldn’t just up and leave. What was there in the world for you?

Maybe this was exactly your destiny. Him. Him. Him.

He was all you needed, right? He took care of you. He provided for you.

He loved you. In his own, twisted way.

My love.

You couldn’t, you decided. You couldn’t leave. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t ever-

The sound of someone’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, but to your horror, it wasn’t him. Your eyes widened impossibly when you saw the form of a man approaching.

He looked like a janitor or something like that. A man far past his prime with greying hair and a kind smile.

God, you had missed kindness.

But no, no, you were his girl. You were his girl. You wouldn’t ever leave.

You took a step back like a cornered animal as the man approached and said something to you in Korean. When you backed away even more, he stopped and his eyes widened in surprise.

He kept talking to you, kept speaking in that reassuring tone of voice.

“I…don’t…understand.” You breathed out.

You didn’t even realize how you must have looked, terrified and broken. A faint mark on your cheek. Your clothes crumpled. Bite marks, love bites, more marks on your throat.

He frowned slightly and tilted his head to the side.

“Miss-“ He said in a thick, Korean accent. “Miss- The man that’s live here- The man- Is he-“

In that moment, you felt it. His presence was so prominent, you didn’t need to hear him call out to you. You just felt it. He came in, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair wet from the shower. He most likely came to look why you hadn’t come yet.

You quickly spun around and met his gaze, your expression horrified. Your eyes were so expressive.

The door was open. He came by himself. It wasn’t my fault. Please! It wasn’t my fault!

Something hard flashed through his eyes, but it was only visible to you and it was only there for the blink of an eye. And then it was gone and it got replaced by the tight smile.

A tight, polite smile, directed at the janitor in the doorway. He spoke to him in Korean and stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You stared at the ground, completely horrified.

Oh no, you thought.

Oh no. This is it.

_____________________________

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@hayakamis-blog Thank you for your lovely request, I loved the idea and I hope it turned out the way you hoped!

Author's note: I'll be honest with you, guys, this chapter cost me YEARS of my life, omg. I wrote 5000 words yesterday and then realized I didn't like what I was writing, so I deleted everything and did this today instead. I hope it was the right decision! On a super exhausted note, I'll try to answer all of your sweet, lovely messages in time!!! I'm not even exaggerating, a few of them really made me cry. Not almost, but for real. I don't know what I did to deserve all this kindness and love, but I really, really love you all! SO much!

[thetxtdevil]

Hybrid TXT Thoughts

content: nsfw/smut, hybrid, human fem.reader, very vague smut, p in v, no wrap, cuddlefuck, mention of somnophilia, biting/nibbling, pool sex, outdoor sex, kai's scenario mentions mental health, let me know if I'm forgetting anything

average word count: 380 (each member)

the devil's note: thank @fairyofshampgyu for inspiring me :) I did use different animals for the boys because I wanted to be different 😎 I hope you enjoy!!!

Panda!Yeonjun 🐼

Yeonjun is a unique hybrid. It often leaves people guessing what he is as he seems docile but his body is big and broad body makes them think otherwise. It's not until they stop and admire Yeonjun’s smokey eyes, small round black ears hidden in his dark hair, and his cheeks lifting in a happy grin is when they can identify that Yeonjun is a panda hybrid. Panda!Yeonjun is a chill addition to your home most of the time laying around snacking on various foods. He’s so cute when lounging on the sofa you just want to snuggle your big bear, and he will never stop you from doing so. Panda!Yeonjun may be lazy at times but he does put in the effort to show his appreciation towards you. Yeonjun cooks for you and keeps you company. Panda’s are vocal so he wants to hear about your day and talk about everything and anything. Panda!Yeonjun doesn’t like confrontation though, so when he hears you masturbating in your room he doesn’t say anything. He’s too lazy to move and give you privacy, it's not like he would, he actually likes just listening to you, the wet sounds, pathetic whines, and your smell are nice.

However, one day something washes over Panda!Yeonjun and his tired eyes feel more alert. His body is fully awake and he’s not in the mood to just hear you. Continuously walking back and forth in front of your door, it wasn’t until you walked up to him and asked what was wrong is when he lunged at you. Big hands pawing at your body, knocking you into your comfy bed, and just like how Yeonjun is vocal in a normal setting he’s blabbering during sex. Telling you all the dirty things he wants to do to you, “Do you not realize that I can sense that you touch yourself, and how you’d be happier if you asked for my help?” His long dick pushes into your cunt hitting where your fingers couldn’t touch, and he made sure you always had relief when doing it with him. Pandas love to eat so it’s natural that Yeonjun loves to eat you out. He loves making love in the laziest ways, he was so grateful when you taught him that he didn’t have to do the most elaborate things in bed and instead, he can easily spoon you into heaven. Also, somnophilia… preferably him receiving it.

Raccoon!Soobin 🦝

Such a cute not-so-little thing. Raccoon!Soobin stands awkwardly with his ringlet tail swishing behind him as he waits for you to finish your food. You had to convince him to stop feeling like he has to eat your scraps and that he can eat freshly made food. Your heart gushes when you see Soobin’s dark circles surrounding his thankful glimmering eyes. Raccoon!Soobin is very active at night, dark eye bags worsen when he stares at the bright screen of your TV as he plays video games. You had to start inviting your friends over during late afternoons just so they could see your hybrid. You’d giggle every time your friends would gush over Raccoon!Soobin, his little ears standing up and his striped tail standing tail liking the attention of your friends. He's usually sweet and kind however, one game night with your friends he was looking for someone to demolish. Getting into arguments and winning every round simply from his annoying behavior. 

When your friends leave, you turn to your heels wanting to punish Raccoon!Soobin for his behavior, to your surprise he was sweet and cuddly again. Rubbing his head all over you, if you turned your head to somewhere else other than him, he’ll whine. Pouty lips grazing your neck, “Weren’t you impressed by my gaming skills tonight? Did I do good?” His words and the bulge poking at your leg made you realize that his behavior tonight was that he wanted to show off how good of a mate he is. You may be weak for Raccoon!Soobin but you let him have his way eating you out and making sure he has seconds and leftovers. Then showing off his length to stuff into his pretty little owner’s cunt. Little nibbles here and there but scratches a lot. Groans when your leave red trails on his back. Raccoon!Soobin is very curious about your presence in bed so he’ll be at it until dawn and then you’re trapped under his sleeping body.

Otter!Beomgyu 🦦

Such a gentle little creature, so soft so cuddly, content with life. Otter!Beomgyu’s long brown hair permanently has wet tips and the same goes for his sleek tail. If he’s not in your bathtub he’s in the apartment’s community pool. You’re happy when he’s calm and sleepy, Otter!Beomgyu gives the best hugs when sleeping. Always spooning each other, he thrives when he has arms wrapped around him. But of course, he needs to use all of his energy before he can settle. Hand in hand walking to the community pool you arrive to find it mostly empty except for one guy doing laps. Beomgyu is bummed, otters a territorial and this is his territory, the word “community” is not a thing when he’s in there. What really sets him off is when he notices your lingering eyes on the muscular man in the pool. Imagine his big dark eyes full of distraught, pink lips in a big pout, and his little otter ears bending down. Otter!Beomgyu rushes to the edge of the water and dives in begging you to watch him do tricks. He glides through the water practically racing the other guy, you feel yourself getting dizzy watching the hybrid swirl through the pool.

Eventually, Otter!Gyu’s hectic playing made the other guy run for his money, or so Gyu thought. Floating on his back, giggling to himself as he watches the man leave, his attention is right back to you. “Come on, y/n, want you to play with me!” You shake your head, and you tell him he’s been in there for too long but when you get close to the edge the otter’s paw grabs onto you pulling into the pool. You gasp at the sudden sensation, not only by the cold water but by the exploring hands of Beomgyu. Before you know it you’re pushed against the cement wall as Otter!Beomgyu sucks hickeys onto your neck letting everyone know that you’re his. And his cum in the pool will also let everyone know that the place is his… Shower and bathtub sex believer, imagine Gyu lighting candles and surrounding the tub *sigh* so romantic. Otters rub their faces and hair for reasons but Beomgyu’s reason is to turn him on. Carding your fingers through his hair will make him cum so hard.

Squirrel!Taehyun 🐿️

Such a cute hybrid but don’t tell that to his face, Squirrel!Taehyun is a feisty little thing. He might be tiny but he works out to the point that it makes you a little afraid. Watching him at the gym go from one machine to the next in a flash, jumping everywhere wanting to try something new is the most entertaining thing. When Squirrel!Taehyun is not active he likes to follow you around helping you with the most mundane things all the while making cute little noises as a sign of admiration. He is playful in a way that he likes to tickle you with his tail. The first time you got the hybrid you hugged him close and couldn’t stop yourself from giggling from the fluff of his tail. Squirrel!Taehyun doesn’t talk about his feelings much so you use his tail to translate what's on his mind. He also uses the fluff of his tail to his advantage, after an argument he’ll tickle you until you smile, when you’re cold he’ll wrap his tail around you and this gets him closer to you.

Squirrel!Taehyun loves the outdoors, the fresh green grass, the warmth of the sun, and how beautiful you look sitting next to him on the picnic blanket. Reaching your hand for the last strawberry you then run into Tyun’s hand reaching for the same thing. He’s quick to grab fruit holding it up away from you. Whining, “you had more than enough give it to me.” You climb on top of the hybrid reaching for the strawberry but in a blink, you’re on the ground with the squirrel on top of you. A little smirk creeps on his face watching you squirm, biting the strawberry then kissing you sharing the fruit. He was quite thankful that you were in a dress and in the backyard so it was easy access to fuck you right there. Since then Squirrel!Taehyun begs you to have a treehouse in the backyard so that he can have a special place to read and do other things… Don’t be surprised when he pulls you into the ultimate fuck sessions in the treehouse. Something about the outdoors just gets his instincts going. The cool breeze makes your nipples harden and the scent of wood results in Taehyun fucking you in all positions. Just imagine shelves full of books and toys.

Service Dog!Huening Kai 🐕‍🦺

The first time meeting each other was a breeze, instantly clicking, making jokes, and being comfortable with each other’s presence. Puppy!Kai is playful and cuddly, always up for adventure with you even if it's going from the living room to your bedroom. However, He gets a little too comfortable when you have an episode with him for the first time Service Dog!Kai freezes. He sensed something in the air, he knew that you seemed off, it wasn’t until you called out for him he was stunned but instantly went into work mode. Service Dog!Kai is there sitting next to you, nosing you to sense any change to your current state. Poor Puppy!Kai will never forgive himself after that moment, you try again and again to tell him that it’s okay, mistakes happen, but he’s stubborn. Service Dog!Kai is also stubborn about your health, he will not let you up until your heart rate is appropriate. He is ready for anything, pills? He has a bag full of them. Sweet treat? Has the mobile app ready. Your big, sweet puppy links arms with you everywhere you go and makes sure that he’ll never falter when you have an episode.

After a day full of stressors and being overstimulated, Service Dog!Kai leads you to your bed where you two nap until dusk. Kai can sense your resolved mood, your scent is calmer, and your heart rate is settled, you also start to cling to him more. Your gentle hands scratching Puppy!Kai’s black-folded ears causing small whimpers to escape his lips. Crawling up to you, he focuses on your body language reading that you’re comfortable. You sandwich the hybrid’s handsome face with your hands making Kai’s fluffy black tail wag wildly. You then pull him to kiss you. His whole body covers you like a warm blanket, kissing you softly, repeatedly asking “Is this ok?” “Are you comfortable?” Your kisses get more passionate and hungry, it makes it hard for Kai to hold back. Puppy!Kai quickly learns how sex reduces anxiety, he loves sensing your arousal state while sucking on your tit as his fingers play with your clit. Puppy!Kai now always asks for sex as a remedy, wanting your mind to just think of him if not fucked dumb. 

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil 🐾

taglist: @naoristerling, @inkigayocamman, @izzyy-stuff, @incogrio, @blue-moon-514, @biteyoubiteme

divider: @bernardsbendystraws

[goldenroutledge]

we were liars

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader

word count: 8.4k

summary: inspired by taylor swift’s cruel summer.

warning(s): angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, baku ‘24 crash, mutual pining, two stubborn idiots in love basically.

a/n: this has been a long time coming! longest thing i’ve written in years and i loved every minute of it! enjoy <3

They say there’s no place like home. Whether that’s a person or a feeling, it’s hard to tell. Every summer allows you to figure that out, but at what point do you lose hope in trying? At what point do you resign to the feeling of wanting someone so badly, knowing they’re impossible to have? At what point do you stop torturing yourself into facing that fact?

Seeing as it was impossible to decline Carlos’ invitation to join his summer vacation, finding answers would be a hopeless pursuit. Not that you were paying close attention or anything, but plans were always tentative around this time of year. Knowing that whenever he calls, you’ll answer. It’s always around mid-late July, many nights during the race weekends that have you awake in the middle of the night, on the receiving end of his late night thoughts. It’s by that point in the season that Carlos begins to feel restless, carrying more doubts in his ability than he’d care to admit.

But he’s only human. He needs a break. He needs to retreat back to the solace that calms the soul, an unfamiliar peace that he doesn’t stop craving until he sees you again. For most months out of the year, Carlos settles on the sight of you running through his imagination until he musters the courage to give you a call. He settles once again when he wishes you sweet dreams to mask the three words and eight letters that rest on the tip of his tongue. Just friends or not, Carlos settles for having you in his life any way he can. You’ve already attended the many races he’s asked you to come to, sometimes with less than a day’s notice. Summer break is the reunion you both can count on, always overdue no matter how much time you’d spent apart.

The journey to the house has your mind buzzing with possibilities, or theories, as to how your dynamic with Carlos will be. Will you pick up like you never left off? Will you keep pretending that nothing’s changed between you two? For now, you’d have to put that on hold. Given that Lando had been accepted as an honorary member of the Sainz family, it was no surprise to see him, tan as ever, answering the door at Carlos' vacation home. “Y/n! Long time no see!” He greets you with a bright smile and a hug, offering to help you with some of your bags.

“No kidding, it’s nice to see you too!” You smile warmly, eyes instinctively drifting past him in search of his best friend and former teammate. “How’s your break so far?”

“Much needed.” He sighs, gathering your bags in an attempt to take them all in one trip. Lando starts rambling about his triumphs and defeats so far this season at McLaren, feeling comfortable enough to divulge his true thoughts in your company, sans the media training.

Any remarks you had in response suddenly leave you, heart melting under the gaze of those gorgeous brown eyes you know so well. Carlos’ lips turn up into a smile at the sight of you, eagerly opening his arms to meet you in a crushing embrace. “Look who made it to Mallorca!”

Your smile spreads so wide that your cheeks begin to hurt, not that you care. “I wouldn’t miss it. You know I’m not one to pass on a free vacation.”

“Ah, come on.” He grumbles at your teasing words. “Tell me you didn’t miss me, too.” You both relax in each other’s arms, never pulling too far away. To see him like this, up close and personal, feels like a dream. His hair hasn’t been cut in a while and you admire how handsome the length looks on him.

“Maybe a little bit. But it’s not like we haven’t been on the phone nonstop. We always keep in touch.”

“That’s true, but those phone calls don’t beat the real thing. They’re not even close.” Carlos runs a finger underneath your chin, so quickly that if he didn’t have your full attention, you would’ve missed it. “It’s great to see you again.”

“Who would’ve thought you would be so happy to see little old me when you’re rubbing elbows with the rich and famous every weekend. You have it all.”

He smiles, but shakes his head in playful disagreement. “Not everything.”

“Ahem.” Lando clears his throat, still visibly struggling with your luggage at the front door. “Hate to burst your little love bubble but would anyone care to help me carry this?”

His interruption startles you and Carlos, causing you both to retract from the other’s hold and stand at a very platonic and appropriate distance away from each other. Not that you were just caught in anything unusual, but it sure felt like your parents just saw your prom date kissing you goodnight on the front porch.

“Jesus Y/n, is your suitcase full of bricks or something?”

“Just bikinis.” You laugh, not missing the way Carlos wiggles his eyebrows at you before going to help poor Lando carry your bags upstairs. “Gotta get my money’s worth out of them. Not all of us get paid millions to drive in circles, you know.”

Lando scoffs. “We’re only here for a week. How many of them could you possibly need?”

“She needs options, cabrón.”

“See, Carlos gets it. What’s wrong with you?”

“Sure. Defend her.” Lando snides at the Spaniard. “I’ll remember that.”

—

The summer holiday not only gave you an opportunity to restore your serotonin levels and forget that the outside world existed, but it was also a chance to reconnect with the people you hold dear. (Sometimes) Lando, Carlos, and of course his sister Ana. Being close with Carlos’ family was a packaged deal with anyone he was also close to himself. The four of you together made for unforgettable memories. The day had been spent on the water, with Carlos showing off his ability to pilot something other than a Formula 1 car.

“Enough of the boring conversation please!” Ana interjects Lando & Carlos’ chatter about their latest golf game, wanting to revert the conversation back to something interesting at dinner. “I have a burning question I need to ask Y/n. And I know that somebody here would love to know the answer. So, who are you dating?”

Her question changes the mood suddenly, a mix of interest and curiosity filling the atmosphere. It takes you by surprise even though you don’t have to pause to think about it because the answer is simple. It’s not complicated, even if your feelings for the man sitting across from you are anything but.

“I’m not dating anyone.”

This draws a dramatic gasp from your friend beside you, one that conceals a subconscious sigh of relief from Carlos.

“What do you mean? How is that even possible?”

You chuckle at Ana’s amazement, feeling unexpectedly shy with your love life being the topic of conversation. “It just is. I’m not really interested in dating anybody right now.” As if Carlos wasn’t listening closely before, he sure is now. The inquisitive looks you receive from each of your friends prompts you to explain yourself further. “I mean what’s the point, you know? If I don’t see a future with someone, why would I put myself through that? Knowing it’s gonna end in disappointment.”

“I’m just saying, you’re way too hot to be single. Isn’t that right, Carlos?” Ana defends, smirking at the harmless embarrassment she’s pushing on her brother. He shoots her a sharp look and draws a pained gasp from her when he (harmlessly) kicks her shin under the table. Carlos clears his throat to hide it, but their interaction is evident, and ever true to their sibling dynamic.

“She’s right. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

The tips of your ears burn at his compliment, but you know he’s only saving himself. He’s the gentleman everyone knows him to be and adores him for by giving you a line that’s been written into romantic comedies since they came to be. “Thanks, Carlos.”

His heart clenches at your words, unable to tell if you really believe it or not. He knows that his statement was vague and it toes the line of friendship more than he would like, but he’s also at a loss. How could he even begin to describe the ways he loves you, or notices everything about you, big and small? How he lied when he said anyone would be lucky to have you, knowing that most people wouldn’t even come close to deserving the love you have to offer. He knows that he’s not supposed to feel this way, let alone tell you and destroy the friendship you have. Locking eyes with you across the table, he wishes you could read his mind. Instead, he settles for a polite smile.

—

Once the boat is docked, it doesn’t feel right to abandon the sunset and head back to the house. The air on the beach is crisp, smelling of the clear waters and reflecting the pink and golden hues of the setting sun. Lando and Carlos are the last to leave the boat, carrying a beer cooler to where you and Ana sit down in the sand.

Carlos hands you a drink before taking a comfortable seat next to you. The silence is tranquil as you rest your head on his shoulder, admiring the gifts that Mother Nature has to offer. A warm feeling envelopes Carlos as he peers down at you, one that he can’t pass off as just the alcohol starting to move through his system. He wants to commit this moment to memory. If he’s settling for this, then he isn’t settling at all.

“We should play Truth or Dare.” Lando suggests, growing bored of the silence, though it was nice while it lasted. His expression turns puzzled at the looks he receives from the rest of you. “What? It’s fun.”

“If you weren’t a Formula 1 driver, you would’ve made one hell of a frat boy.” You tease, Ana and Carlos agreeing with you.

Lando sighs. “I know. What a waste right?”

“But then we would’ve never become teammates.”

“You’re right.” Lando chuckles, toasting his drink with Carlos’ at the realization.

“I’ll go first.” Ana speaks up, interrupting the boys before they could get too deep into their side chatter. Judging by the closeness she’s seen from you and her brother, what’s the harm in trying to help things along? “Carlos, truth or dare?”

Carlos takes a sip of his drink before throwing his head back dramatically. By his sister’s not so subtle hints throughout the night, and really every time you are in each other’s presence, he can feel where this is going. Yet a part of him isn’t mad at it.

“Truth.”

“Boooor-ing.” Lando sneers and you can’t help but giggle. Ana gives him a look as if to say, not so fast.

“Are you in love?”

Lando regrets ever saying anything in protest, as he nearly chokes on his beer once Ana finishes her sentence. Given what he knows, it’s impossible for him to not die of laughter at the scenario. Watching Carlos fight for his life on this question tops any interview moment they’ve had inside a Formula 1 paddock. Carlos pauses, which luckily for him can be passed off as pure concern for his best friend that’s currently gasping for air.

Your chest feels tight at the question, not expecting Ana to go there. You know Carlos’ life being on the road as a very rich and attractive athlete probably isn’t one of abstinence, but you can’t deny that it doesn’t crush you to imagine someone else having the key to his heart. You take a few gulps from your drink and it makes you worry that if this keeps up all night, there won’t be any alcohol left for you to drown your feelings in. They’ll just stay trapped inside of you with nowhere to go.

“Yes. I’m in love… with life.” Carlos professes, looking around with gratitude, raising his arms up as if to give thanks to the beautiful scenery around you.

Ana scoffs. “That’s not my question! I asked are you in love. As in, with someone. Perhaps even someone next to you.” She speaks the last part quickly, feigning innocence as she looks between you.

“Please, Carlos and I are just friends.” You brush off her words, knowing how she can be sometimes when she believes in something. Relentless; just like Carlos is. A trait you can’t help but admire in them both. Lando laughs in disbelief, making kissing sounds to contradict you. Carlos’ smile falters, eyebrows scrunching together ever so slightly. It’s impossible to tell if he’s hurt at your dismissal of only seeing him as a friend, or just annoyed at the antics that are a nuisance to what was supposed to be a peaceful evening.

“We talk all the time, Anita. I think you already know the answer.”

Ana shrugs. “It’s the rules, Carlos. You picked truth, so you have to answer.”

“Yeah! Spill the beans, Carlos.” Lando encourages. “And don’t worry about me, I can take it.”

“Easy, cabrón.” He warns, glancing between his best friend and his impatient sister as they wait for him to answer. Finally, his gaze lands on you, quietly sitting beside him through all of their quips. He’d be lying if he said it doesn’t hurt to know you don’t hold him in a higher regard than friendship entails. Yet the weight pulling at his heartstrings isn’t one he feels the need to bear anymore. You may never know the full truth, but that’s just another thing Carlos feels the need to let go of. “The answer is yes. I am in love.”

While the summer weather is nothing but serene, the storm inside of you is the complete opposite. You feel like throwing up. Leave it to Lando to suggest a fun, light-hearted game to stir things up. You paste on a smile, trying with everything you have to hold Carlos’ gaze and make your ‘just friends’ statement feel like reality. The emotion glossing over your eyes betrays you. “That’s great, Carlos. I’m happy for you.”

He can’t shake the unsettling feeling that’s consuming him. Whether it’s the guilt of omitting a very important detail to that answer or the fact that you don’t seem disturbed at the thought of him with someone else. Ana and Lando share an incredulous look, unable to understand how two people can be so oblivious to one another while also being unable to look away from them. “So that’s it?” Lando mumbles, but his quiet tone isn’t much competition for the silence that’s fallen over the group.

Carlos pretends that he can’t feel the disappointment in the air, turning his attention to his friend and choosing to carry on with the game. “Lando, truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Lando says cooly like it’s obvious.

“Okay.” Carlos ponders, thinking carefully as to how he’s gonna get his payback. The awkward tension between you could’ve been avoided entirely had Lando not mentioned this stupid game at all. “I dare you to… jump into the water with all your clothes on.”

“So the opposite of skinny dipping? But we have no towels!”

“Exactly.” Carlos raises his eyebrows pointedly. He can’t think of a better punishment than to make Lando sit here shivering until he can find comfort under a scalding hot shower. “Unless you are too scared…”

“Never too scared.” Lando argues, already making a mold in the sand for his drink to sit while he’s gone. “I’ll do it, on one condition. Y/n comes with me.”

“No.” Carlos answers for you, almost immediately. “That’s not in the rules, remember?”

“Come on, live a little.” Lando looks between the two of you, hoping he can make a convincing argument. If he doesn’t liven up the mood now, he’ll consider this game a wash. “How about this, if you join me, you don’t have to answer any questions or do any dares. You’ll have immunity.”

You raise your eyebrows at his idea, intrigued. You’d do almost anything to distract yourself from what just happened with Carlos. “How can I say no to that?”

“You can’t.”

“You can.” Carlos objects, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. “And you will. Come on Y/n, you could get sick. It’s getting chilly out.”

Lando scoffs at his hypocrisy. “Oh, so now you’re concerned? Because who cares if I get sick, right?”

You look between the two men, and then to Ana, who shrugs undecidedly as if to say it’s up to you. Carlos’ eyes are pleading, hoping to get through to you before you do something you might regret. Then again, these are the same eyes that looked into yours minutes ago and told you he’s in love with someone else. You don’t need to listen to his concerns, you don’t owe that to him. Drinking what’s left in your bottle, you accept Lando’s hand to help you up before making a run for it towards the water.

The two of you disappear under what’s now the nighttime sky, the moonlight shining bright enough to lead the way. It isn’t until you’re just about there, that one wrong step onto a bottle hiding in the sand halts your movements, causing a sharp cry to escape your throat as a sharper cut of glass slices into your foot. Lando barely makes it to the water when he realizes you’re no longer beside him, instantly turning around to see that you’re bleeding. “Oh fuck, are you alright?” He places a hand on your shoulder, trying to examine the injury but comfort you the best way he can.

A string of curses fall from your lips, language more characteristic of a sailor than your normal self. “What does it look like? Holy shit, it hurts!”

“Carlos!” Lando calls out, unable to peel his eyes away from your foot.

Both Carlos and Ana were already watching the scene unfold, and Carlos wasted no time in rushing to your side within seconds, Ana following closely behind from down the beach. “Y/n? What happened?”

“I stepped on this– fuck– that bottle.” You nod over to the bottle, a couple feet away from you. Carlos’ heartbeat quickens at the sight of you, clearly distressed and in pain, but knows he can’t afford a freezing moment of panic. He removes the thin linen shirt he’s wearing to wrap around your foot and compress it, in hopes the bleeding will stop.

Lando takes a step back when you remove your hands from where they clutched your injury, trying to catch his breath as he feels lightheaded at the sight, glass piercing your skin deeply. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Carlos and Ana pay him no mind, as Ana rests a hand on your knee soothingly while Carlos goes to wrap up your foot with his shirt. But you are just as quick to stop him. “It hurts, Carlos.”

“I know, I know, but we have to stop the bleeding. This cut is deep.”

“Removing the glass will only make it worse.” Ana falters, knowingly it’s not what you want to hear. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“You’re probably right, I think I need stitches.”

“We will get you there.” Carlos assures. “Just breathe with me, can you do that?”

You nod, fighting the pull of unconsciousness as your eyelids flutter shut. Clearly Lando has to do the same, feeling dizzy at the sight. He wanders over to where the bottle lay broken in the sand, a wave of guilt washing over him when he realizes the label reads Estrella Galicia. Carlos’ favorite beer, the same one they happened to have an abundance of in the cooler today. A bottle they must’ve dropped by accident when making their way up the beach.

Ana tells you that she’s going up to the house to find Carlos’ keys to drive you all to the emergency room. Lando finishes picking up the pieces of the broken bottle, heading inside to dispose of them. It’s just you and Carlos now. Not that you bothered to care who you were alone with at this moment, but you feel safe.

You notice your heavy breathing has slowed down in tune with his as he gently secures the fabric around your foot. “You will be okay Y/n, I promise.” Considering how out of it you are, you nearly miss the feeling of his lips kissing your forehead chastely. Before you can wonder how the hell you would be walking up the beach, Carlos is effortlessly lifting you off the ground and carrying you in his arms. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

—

“Don’t do that.” Ana nudges her brother’s shoulder, trying to snap him out of his thoughts.

“Do what?”

“Get in your head like you do. She’s gonna be fine.”

“She’s right.” Lando chimes in. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, it’s your fault.” Carlos snaps back at him.

“What did I do?”

“I told you not to take her with you. It wasn’t a good idea and clearly I was right.”

Lando rolls his eyes. “She wanted to. And if you wanna talk about fault, it was an Estrella Galicia she stepped on. That bottle fell out of our cooler.”

Carlos felt that tightening feeling in his chest again, a mix of guilt and shame brewing into something far more intoxicating than what he’s had to drink tonight. “I would never be so careless.”

“None of us would be. It was an accident, that’s the point. It’s not like she blames any of us for what happened.”

“She might.”

“Carlos, stop it.” Ana interjects, watching him with concern as he leans forward, hands clasped together while his mind is in deep thought. “She would probably slap both of you if she heard what you’re saying right now.” Ana proceeds to retrieve some money from the bag she hurriedly grabbed before leaving for the hospital, asking Carlos to get some chips from the vending machine. There wasn’t much she could do about the bickering between him and Lando except try to diffuse it by separating them. She knows how stubborn her brother can be and knows that his attitude won’t go anywhere until he sees you.

Carlos certainly doesn’t feel like himself, sluggishly moving down the hall, unable to break his train of thought. The fact that you got hurt on his watch, still unaware of how he feels about you has his heartstrings tangled in knots. The most unbelievable part being that despite the intensity of his Formula 1 career, he’s never felt as on edge as he does right now. It’s both exciting and scary that you’ve seemed to wedge yourself a little closer to his heart than the sport that’s defined his life.

When he sees you with Ana or Lando, he envies them. He envies the authenticity that defines your friendships with them, the feeling of being able to say what’s on your mind without a care, knowing they’ll never lose you. He wonders what that’s like, he craves to have that with you. He struggles to remember when his feelings began to get in the way of that. Now he has no choice but to face it, feeling further away from you than he ever has. The longer this goes on, that distance will only worsen until you don’t know each other at all. A part of him wants to do everything in his power to stop that; another part tells him that he’s powerless when it comes to you.

His head hangs low, finding it easy to get lost in the glow of the vending machine. Behind him in line, the sound of a kid deliberately tapping his foot snaps him out of his trance, prompting him to hurry up with the chips. Heading back towards the waiting room, he notices Ana and Lando speaking to a doctor. By the looks of it, they’re hanging on her every word, urging him to pick up his pace so he doesn’t miss any updates on you.

—

The hospital room is cold and uninviting. Quite the opposite of an ideal place to spend your summer vacation. You lay there alone for what feels like hours, wishing nothing more than to have Carlos at your bedside. You know he’s here, and so are your friends, but it’s not the same. The heart monitor beeps routinely every couple seconds, and your blood pressure cuff squeezes your arm every fifteen minutes, making it impossible to doze off even if you wanted to. The pain in your foot is better, though not gone completely, after having the glass removed by a doctor and your wound properly stitched up. Given how late it was, they’d keep you until the morning, needing to monitor the wound for a possible infection.

When you ask for your friends in the waiting room, your nurse looks like she’s seen a ghost at the mention of Carlos Sainz. Once you had reassured her that you had no head injury whatsoever, she reluctantly left to go find your description of him. ‘Tall, dark and handsome. You’ll see him.’

And so taking a deep breath, Carlos is standing in front of your room, tapping his knuckles gently to the wooden door. “Knock, knock.”

You smile instinctively at the sound of his voice, eager to see someone familiar in what has been a lonely couple of hours. “Come in.”

He opens the door immediately before laying eyes on you sitting up in the hospital bed, hurt and exhausted from the day’s events. He swallows down the guilt that creeps up his throat, hoping that it doesn’t show. He doesn’t deserve to throw a pity party right now when you're the one that’s in pain. His words don’t get that memo as he laments. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, feeling helpless. “Maybe if I went too, it would’ve been me instead.”

You roll your eyes at his stubbornness, patting the foot of your bed so he will sit down. “I won’t let you think about the what if’s, Carlos, you need your feet to drive remember? Though knowing your resilience, you’d probably come back and win, glass in your foot be damned. They don’t call you the Smooth Operator for nothing.”

His heart warms at how you know just what to say to lift his spirits. “I could win only if you’re there to cheer me on.”

“Just say the word and I will be. I wouldn’t fly around the world on a moment’s notice for just anyone, you know.”

“I don’t want ‘just anyone’. Just you.” Your smile beams, and all of a sudden you feel the need to be close to him, holding a hand out to him that he instantly takes in his own. “Can I say something? And can you promise you won’t get mad at me for it?”

“Tonight can’t get much worse, can it?”

He faintly smiles at your quip, but it also worries him that your relationship may always be limited to just that, laughter and clever jokes. He needs you to know that he’s serious. And it wouldn’t be so bad to hear that in return from you either, just this once. “I love you.”

You freeze, probably looking like a deer in headlights. There must be some truth to the theory that people tend to be more honest at night. The exhaustion from the day wears on the brain while the world falls asleep, leaving the two of you to face the lingering vulnerability intertwining itself deeper into your friendship. You’d been denying it for as long as you can remember. A part of you wonders if he’s just tired of fighting it, if he’s just giving in to what everyone expects to happen between you. Even though Carlos is a terrible liar, you can’t shake the doubt that tells you his admission isn’t what it seems.

“Don’t say that. You don’t need to say that just because you feel bad. I understand.”

“It’s not about that, Y/n. I’m telling you how I feel– no, how I’ve felt– for a long time now, and I refuse to hide it from you anymore.”

“And how can you say that when a few hours ago you said you were in love with somebody else? Does that ring a bell to you?”

The realization hits Carlos, now he can understand why you’re so skeptical. “I never said I was in love with somebody else, it’s you! I was talking about you. When I said that I am in love, I meant to say that I was in love with you.” He sighs, finally feeling the weight being lifted off his chest.

The feeling that comes over you is paralyzing, unable to breathe a word in his direction. Those damn eyes that he’s giving you only complicate things. As badly as you want to express your love for him in return, you can’t. Not when the past several months, if not years, of your life have revolved around falling in love with Carlos and not being able to stop. Not being able to save yourself from the inevitable rejection that would break your foolish heart in two. Each day, the feeling buries itself deeper but comes alive in bursts. If your body didn’t remind you of it with a quickened heartbeat and a fuzzy feeling when he’s near, you wouldn’t know the difference between your ‘best friend’ Carlos and the confused one sitting at the foot of your hospital bed.

“Y/n, please. Say something. Tell me to get out or tell me you love me too.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. I know there’s something behind your eyes. There’s something you’re hiding from me, I can feel it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Y/n, you forget that I know you.” He states obviously. “We’ve been best friends for years now, so the question is how could I not?”

“Is that not enough for you?”

“Having you is more than enough. But you have to understand that I can’t go on like this. I want to love you and never hide it. For as long as you let me.” His eyes bare into yours, nearly feeling claustrophobic as he takes both of your hands in his. “Please just talk to me.”

“I don’t know, Carlos. I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out as a mumble instead of the vibrato you wished to have right about now. Tears gloss over your eyes, but you don’t welcome them. The downturn of his frown and the emptiness that’s seeping into his expression claws at your chest. “We shouldn’t talk about this now.” He opens his mouth to say something, be it out of apology or anger, you’ll never know.

Three resounding knocks to your hospital room door cut through the tension like a knife. “Come in!”

It’s Lando and Ana, the soft smiles on their faces falling as they look between you and Carlos, sensing that something isn’t right. “Are we interrupting? We thought we’d check on you before they kick us out for the night.”

“Not at all.” You put on a smile for them in reassurance, yet fooling no one. The suspense in the air is palpable enough to leave all of you feeling awkward to say the least. It’s enough to make Carlos split the distance between his best friend and sister, leaving the room without a word.

Carlos walks as fast as his feet will take him, eventually landing on the familiar chair in the waiting room he sat in when he arrived. For the first time tonight, his mind isn’t racing and anxiety isn’t coursing through his veins. He is defeated, worse than he’s ever been before. Be it a race-ending issue with the car or losing out on his Ferrari seat, those are losses that he can at least come back from. This one’s a dead end.

“Want some? You look like you could use a snack.”

His attention swivels to a boy in the seat nearby, who he now recognizes from the vending machine earlier, snacking away on his bag of Ruffles. Carlos shakes his head, but still smiles softly at the consideration. “No thank you, not hungry.”

“Do you like chips?”

“I prefer cookies.”

“Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“And why’s that?”

“I dunno, you’re Carlos Sainz. Chili. I thought you’d go for anything salty or spicy. I guess you really do learn something new everyday.”

Carlos sighs, remembering his current troubles. His eyes flicker over to the hallway containing your room, expecting to see a familiar face at some point. “Tell me about it.”

The boy, whose backpack is embroidered with the name ‘Samuel’, gives Carlos a puzzled look. “What did you learn today?”

The question leaves him clueless as to how he can answer, without trauma dumping onto Samuel who is none the wiser to the conundrum he’s in. He clears his throat before answering, eyeing the vending machine as an analogy comes to his mind. “I love chocolate chip cookies, but they don’t love me back. My job doesn’t allow me to have them because they are too sweet for me. I try to stay away from the cookies, but I can’t. I wish I could be selfish and have them all to myself, but it’s just impossible. I can’t win.”

“Maybe try a different kind? Something healthier for you then.”

“Good idea, but that would never work. I’ll always love the chocolate chip cookie. Nothing else compares to her.”

“Are you talking about a girl?”

“No, no.” Carlos tries to cover, heat rising to his cheeks. “Still talking about the cookies.”

“You could always try baking your own.” He suggests. “When my mamá bakes cookies, they’re better than anything else because she makes them with love.”

Carlos nods along, and thanks Samuel for his words of advice. He’s off in his own world right now, desperate enough for guidance that he’s willing to imagine the ridiculous analogy between chocolate chip cookies and his relationship with you.

Minutes turn into hours, and Carlos finds himself in your room once again, sitting in a chair near your bedside. He reassured Ana and Lando earlier to go home as he insisted on staying with you overnight. Visiting hours were far from over, but a small bribe for your nurse was all it took for an exception to be made for Carlos Sainz.

The sun is up before you know it, but that’s not what shocks you. It’s the man slumped over in the chair overcome with fatigue. You wish it was all a dream. That stupid game of truth or dare, stepping on the glass bottle, pushing Carlos away when in hindsight, you should’ve surrendered too. You should’ve given in the same way he did, it surely would’ve made for a less awkward ride home. It’s not his words from last night that cloud the space in your mind, it’s your own. Seeing him now, he looks tranquil. Like the weight of the world can’t touch him when he’s already said his peace. You’ll continue longing to feel the same, knowing that your chance might’ve just come and gone.

—

AZERBAIJAN GRAND PRIX 2024

“Care to tell me why you’re really here?”

A puzzled raise of your eyebrows tells Lando everything he needs to know before you can even say it. “I’m sorry, I can’t support McLaren now? One of my best friends happens to drive for them.”

“Another happens to drive for their rival, too.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s nothing personal. Orange looks better on me.”

“Carlos would beg to differ.”

“Will you stop that? It isn’t about him.”

“Fine. But it’s not not about him, admit that.” He gives you a knowing look, one that’s skeptical of how much you’ve been avoiding Carlos lately, ever since the vacation you all took together. What was once a lively group chat between you three now consists of the occasional meme or reaction photo. “Come on, something happened between you two. Admit it.”

You sigh, eyes tearing away from him as you feel pressure under his interrogation. “Nothing happened. It’s probably more about what didn’t happen.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Like your bestie hasn’t already filled you in.”

Lando shrugs, never giving away too much. “There’s two sides to every story.”

“He just misspoke. He told me he loved me after I injured my foot over the summer. I brushed him off, and we’re pretending like it never happened.” Lando’s eyes are wide and he doesn’t realize his jaw is hanging open until you press two fingers under his chin. “And that includes you. Deal? Not a word about this to anyone.”

“Damn, that’s even worse than I thought! You’re avoiding him because he loves you?”

“He doesn’t love me, doofus. He felt guilty because I stepped on a bottle that one of you probably dropped.” Three sharp pokes to the Brit’s chest emphasize your point, the narrative you’ve spent months now convincing yourself is true. “It’s just been a little tense, we haven’t really been the same since then. He thinks I’m being cold about the whole thing.”

“Are you?”

“No! I just know him better than he knows himself and he refuses to admit it. He’s stubborn, as you know, and he won’t let me forget it. He’s probably messing with my head until I cave in.”

“Cave in to what? Admitting you love him too?”

You gulp, brain scattering while you feel for some reason, like you’re being found out. “Where would you get that idea?”

“You haven’t denied it. Isn’t that all he wants anyway? I’m sure if you told him you didn’t feel the same way, this would all be over. Which won’t happen because you do, in fact, love Carlos Sainz.”

You resist the urge to give Lando a good whack to any tender part of his body, by the way a McLaren team member accidentally eavesdrops on your conversation in passing, obviously trying to look away before you notice. “Don’t use his full name.” You warn in a hushed whisper. “Word travels fast around here, you know.”

“Please don’t injure me before the race. I’m just saying, would it hurt to speak to him for more than five minutes at a time?”

“He’ll get over it. Hell, he might already be over it. I just think a little more space wouldn’t hurt either of us right now.”

“Well, you know what they say about space.” Lando gives you a knowing look, before dramatically breaking out into his best Nick Jonas impersonation. “Space is just a word made up by someone who’s afraid to get close.”

“Very nice, Lando.”

“Just don’t look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel anything for him. You must think I’m some kind of idiot.”

“It’s better for our friendship this way, okay? Imagine had I said it back, what kind of damage that would do to all of us when it goes to shit. It would never work between us, and I refuse to set us up for failure. I’d rather keep things the same. And he would too, he just doesn’t know it yet. This year hasn’t been the easiest for him, you know? He’s just trying to cling on to what’s familiar. He might think that he loves me, but it’s a phase. In a year from now, he’ll be in a new team, a new era of his life and career, and we won’t even remember this.”

“Really? Because I think, if he had it his way, he’d be with you forever.”

“And I feel terrible about pushing him away, but it’s for the best, okay? You’ll see.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Lando nods slowly but unconvincingly, taking some steps backwards and away from you, leaving to do the pre-race preparations he should probably be focused on instead.

—

“For the best?!” Carlos exclaims, his eyes wide and hinting a mix of disappointment, hurt, and frustration at the turn your friendship has taken.

“I know, I had the same look. It doesn’t even sound like her.”

“Each excuse I hear from her is more ridiculous than the last. I miss when I could just talk to her, you know? Without thinking about how she’s gonna push me away this time.”

“You should just tell her to stop inventing.” Lando giggles, biting his lip to keep from breaking out into full hysterical laughter in the middle of the driver’s parade.

Carlos shoots a warning glare to his friend. “It’s one thing if she didn’t feel anything for me, but she’s been avoiding me as if we haven’t been best friends for years now. I can’t figure it out.”

“Maybe she’s scared to lose you, have you ever thought of that? What would happen in case it doesn’t work out? I think she’d rather have you as a friend than not at all.”

“I’m the same person I’ve always been, though. She knows me. I thought I knew her, too.”

“You do. I, for one, think you’re perfect for each other.” Lando tries to offer some consolation, but he knows that Carlos can’t and won’t settle for the silver lining in all of this.

“I used to think so too. But hey, she might be onto something. Maybe it is for the best.”

—

The race doesn’t disappoint, keeping in line with the chaotic patterns the 2024 season has had to offer. Nearing the end of the race, the pit wall, mechanics, and spectators alike can breathe a sigh of relief that the position of their driver won’t be threatened. Oscar leads by 10 seconds, making it a great weekend to be a guest of McLaren for the weekend. The garage bustles with excitement as the cars begin the last lap.

It was looking like a fight to the checkered flag between Checo and Carlos, closely rounding Turn 2 just behind Charles, racing wheel to wheel down the straight before the two cars clash, the Red Bull of Checo sending the Ferrari of Carlos into the concrete barrier at 300 kilometers per hour.

A wave of adrenaline strikes you instantly, audible gasps sounding through the garage at the brutal and unexpected impact. The same sight of the crash had to be on every monitor throughout the entire paddock, leaving everyone on the edge of their seat. Carlos being a beloved member in the McLaren family certainly intensified things, you weren’t the only one who couldn’t tear their eyes away from the screen. A flash of heat burns through you as you see Checo seemingly confront Carlos and walk off, but your worries don’t dissipate until you see the man in red get out of his car, slowly but steadily.

—

It’s almost night by the time you arrive back at your hotel, Lando having stayed back in the paddock for team photos and celebrations of Oscar’s win. It’s a short walk back to the nearby hotel, and you could use the fresh air to help clear your mind anyway. Mindlessly, you open your messages with Carlos. Typing, then erasing, then typing again.

‘Glad you’re okay.’ No, too short.

‘Are you okay? Sorry about your race.’ No, too impersonal.

‘I love you too. I should’ve said it sooner.’ No, too risky. Too permanent. You’re not ready for what comes next. Who knows if he even wants to talk to you, especially about this. Don’t be selfish.

Your earlier conversation with Lando creeps up on you, giving you more to worry about than you had previously considered. Could it be guilt or pure heartache, you’re not sure. All that is certain is you can’t carry on with your relationship like this either. It only took you a few months and a crash to fuel you with the same passion he felt for you over the summer, when he confessed. Facing the truth is scary, but you won’t be able to forgive yourself if you let him go. You can’t live with knowing that he might go so far that he never comes back.

The elevator door is open, your thoughts so entrancing that you don’t bother to look up. Until that signature red polo catches your eye, and they trail upwards to meet the brown ones you remember so well, the same ones you’ve been waiting to see again.

“Hi.” He breathes, almost in disbelief. From the mental and physical wear of today, Carlos can’t be more relieved to see your face, no matter what has gone on between you. Pure surprise sets in when you, after taking a few pauses to get a good look at him, engulf him into your arms with a passion. He winces slightly at the soreness that’s sinking into his muscles, but ultimately relaxes and wraps his arms around you.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter, trying to untangle yourself from his hold, to which he only pulls you closer.

“It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“It’s not just about that, Carlos. I haven’t been a good friend to you lately and you don’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“No.”

“I should be the one apologizing.”

“For what?”

“I pushed you away when I told you how I feel. But you need to know that I’m not sorry I said it. I’m not taking it back.”

“Why not?”

He scoffs. “This again? Why won’t I take it back? Because it’s the truth! I love you! I wish you could see it. I wish you could feel how badly I’ve been wanting to say it and hear it back from you. I’m man enough to understand if you don’t feel the same way, but you won’t even give me a conversation. You refuse to talk to me and I don’t know whether to take that as rejection or an admission. Because if you really didn’t believe a thing I said that night, we wouldn’t be here. Things would’ve stayed the same.” You stay silent, trying to process each of his words and their meanings, a mistake you’ve made one too many times. “Just talk to me, please.” His voice cracks slightly in his last word, and his plea brings tears to your eyes. “Not what you think I need to hear. Tell me what you’ve been holding inside.”

This is exactly what scares you about Carlos. His ability to understand your innermost thoughts without a word. His skepticism is more than enough to rattle you. Having him as a best friend is one thing, but leaving your heart to be broken in his hands is another. “I just don’t want things to change, Carlos. At the end of the day, we still have our own lives, our own goals and ambitions. It doesn’t matter how I feel when there’s plenty standing in the way of it.”

“Like hell it doesn’t matter. I’ve spent every waking moment wondering how all of those things could be ours, together. I fell in love with you and you’re punishing me for it, I can’t for the life of me figure out why. Does it scare you? Is that why you want to sabotage our relationship before it has a chance? You need to understand that I didn’t tell you because I felt guilty you got hurt. I told you because I refuse to look you in the eyes and lie anymore than I already have.”

“I know.” You sigh, a tear slipping away from you. “I know that.”

“Then why are you only admitting this to me now? We’ve been wasting time dancing around this long enough.”

“I know how you feel because I feel it, too. Watching your car slam into the wall like that… I didn’t want another second to go by without you knowing the truth. I don’t want to feel guilty anymore about avoiding you, about lying to you, about any of it.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I love you too, Carlos. It should’ve been the first thing out of my mouth when you told me but I just panicked. All I could picture was how this ends a million different ways and each of them were more heartbreaking than the last. But the longer I waited, I just thought it would be too late.”

“It’s never too late, Y/n.” Carlos whispers, brown eyes glossing over as they admire yours. Honestly, unabashedly, and lovingly, for the first time in a while. “I’m still here, aren’t I? After all this time.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not, remember? Some things are worth waiting for.” He holds your face in his hands, brushing his thumb across your cheek to wipe away your fallen tear. “You are worth every second.”

You don’t hold back any longer, closing the gap and kissing him with all that you have. All of the emotions that for too long, had nowhere to go, have now found their home. Your hands tangle in his hair, and the hum of approval he gives you is delicious. If it were at all possible, you feel as close to him as you’ve ever felt, and him to you. Kissing him, feeling your love be reciprocated calms your head and sends your heart ablaze. You’d reckon the wall that stood between you, was always ready to be knocked over with the slightest gust of wind, had you not spent so much time trying to hold it up. Letting go was your best decision to date, the feeling of his lips on yours just confirms that.

It isn’t until the sound of the elevator dings that you pull away, realizing neither of you had pressed a single button upon entry. To your surprise it’s Lando, his grin smug like he’d just pulled off some kind of heist. You and Carlos instinctively try to put an appropriate amount of distance between the two of you, only this time, nobody would believe there’s anything platonic about you two. By the looks of Carlos’ tousled hair and the smudges of your once perfect lip gloss, Lando needs no explanation from either of you.

“Don’t worry, you can carry on.” Lando laughs, reaching inside and pressing the ‘Close Doors’ button. “I’ll take the stairs.”

💌: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! thank you for reading <3

[iamsebastiansstan]

like one of your girls - NAC x fem!reader

summary - “Finally getting a taste of this gorgeous cunt, been thinking about it,” he murmurs against her mound, looks right at her as he says, “Gonna kiss you where I’m gonna fuck you, my sweet,” before he dives right in.

wc - 6k - MINORS DNI !

warnings - lots of dirty talk as always, crying during sex, unprotected p in v, oral (m and f), creampie, aftercare 🥹

A/N - I dedicate this chapter to @hoffmansgirl because he's literally doing it rn girl like literally !!! anyways, this update was fast but I probably won't be writing much for the next few weeks, I GOTTA STUDY lmao come tell me what you thought of this, any and all feedback is appreciated <3 enjoy!

taglist - @blackynsupremacy / @lalavenderangel / @nicholaschavezbby /

PART 1

Waking up next to him is like a dream she never wants to wake up from. She’s watching him as his eyelids flutter open, his nose scrunches up, as he stretches his strong arms above his head and groans adorably while looking at her through squinted eyes. 

“You been awake long?” he asks her, and she shakes her head no. 

He’d spooned her last night, she remembers, they both needed that closeness without crossing too many lines, and already she’s feeling withdrawals, missing having his body heat along her back. It isn’t awkward now, but the tension can definitely be felt in the air.

“Good. When do you need to get back to New York?”

She thinks about it for a minute, heart beating fast. Is he asking to be polite or is he asking so they can make plans to see each other? She hopes to God it’s the latter.

“On Wednesday. I made plans with some friends to hang out while I’m still here.”

He hums, scratches the back of his shoulder. 

“Wanna give me your number? I’d quite like to see you again.”

Trying hard to keep her screaming internal, she reaches over to the bedside table and hands him her phone, watching as his nimble fingers type in his digits before pressing the call button. 

“Think my phone’s dead but the call should’ve gone through. Now we can text each other.”

She smiles warmly. “I’d like that.” 

They don’t keep their eyes off each other as they get dressed, him slipping into last night’s clothes and her into some fresh ones, and she can feel the want for him pool deep in her stomach, bitter at everything they didn’t get to experience yesterday, glad about what they did get to do.

“Hey, just one second, (Y/N),” he stops her as she’s about to leave the room and she turns, looks up at him when he steps close. “I’m gonna take the advice you gave me yesterday, but I don’t want you to feel like you’re a second option, a rebound, anything like that. I enjoyed yesterday immensely.” 

Her heart flutters at his consideration, but she only smiles and puts a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin softly. 

“I’m not here to make your life more complicated than it needs to be, Nicholas,” she assures and means it. “I enjoyed it too, and I’d love to see you again if possible. If not, then no hard feelings. We can be honest with each other. Friends get to do that, no?”

His nod is slow, the relief basically radiating off of him as he grabs her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles before opening the door for her, following her out.

Nicholas doesn’t stay for breakfast, but he kisses Cooper’s cheek and thanks him, hugs her with a quiet promise to text her, and soon enough she’s perched on a bar stool at Cooper’s kitchen island, spooning cereal into her mouth and doing her best to dodge his suspicious looks.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says through a mouthful.

“Not looking at you like anything.” 

She levels him with a look, unimpressed.

“Ask what you want to ask or shut up entirely, Coop.” 

A slow smile spreads across his face, seemingly shy but his blazing eyes betray him as he asks, “Did you fuck him?”

She expected this, so she answers calmly. 

“No.”

“Did you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

The question makes her stop for a moment, unsure how much she’s allowed to say.

“I think you know why. Are you mad?” 

He rolls his eyes, takes her hand in his.

“No, of course not. I’d be happy for both of you. But I know that you’re both,” he shoots her a meaningful look that she expertly ignores, “in a rough place in life right now, and I’d hate to see you take it out on each other.” 

She nods, understanding where he’s coming from.

“Is Nick going to get the same speech?” she asks, only half joking.

“A much stricter one, I can tell ya that!” 

She laughs as she gets up along with him to clean the mess from their breakfast up before she goes to meet with her aforementioned friends, heart fluttering the entire time at the prospect of Nick messaging her. 

*** 

She’s sitting in the park and sipping on her smoothie when she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. Tuning out her friends’ laughter for a minute, she takes it out to see that it’s from Nick, making excitement bubble up in her chest. She opens it immediately, not expecting anything, when suddenly the words make her want to choke on her own spit.

not to be too forward but I just made myself come to the thought of how tight your throat would be around me. I’ll be thinking about that for a long while.

Two seconds later:

hope you’re having a wonderful day. 

Trying not to seem like the mess he’s turned her into within seconds, she does her best to fight off the mental image his message is creating in her mind and reply somewhat coherently. 

You’re a fucking dickhead, do you know that? I’m out and about and now I’m dripping. Thanks for nothing.

His reply doesn’t take long, has her taste blood from where she’s gnawing her bottom lip open. 

that’s how I want you baby, all the time. see you soon. 

She’s distracted for the rest of the day but when her friends ask her about it, she chalks it up to her stressful college courses and tight deadlines. Despite the butterflies dancing in her belly, she’s had a nice time, and when she walks into Cooper’s house later, she’s got a beaming smile on her face. 

“Honey, I’m home!” she shouts, taking off her shoes and hanging up her handbag by the door. 

“Honeys, please!” comes Stuart’s voice from the living room and she grins as she walks in, presses a kiss to the tops of their heads. 

“Missed ya at the party yesterday,” she says and plops down on the loveseat across from where they’re cuddled up on the couch. 

Friends is on. She hates that show.

“Yeah, I was sad I couldn’t make it, but Cooper is throwing a pool party tomorrow, so I’ll still get some fun in.” 

She’s surprised at hearing about yet another event, but she’s not complaining. 

“And drinks,” Cooper reminds him helpfully. “Lots of drinks as well.” 

They chat a little, watch a small part of some movie that’s on when Stuart switches the channel, stay up until it’s hard for her to suppress the yawning. Bidding them goodnight, she stands up to go into the guest room when Cooper calls out her name.

“He’ll be there tomorrow,” he lets her know, a kind little smile on his face, and she nods gratefully before ascending the stairs, ready for sleep.

The next morning, she doesn’t overthink it, mainly because she refuses to give up so much power so soon.

It’s just her usual routine; the shaving, the skincare, the comfy bikini, a midi dress over it. No make-up, just her necklace, she refuses to get dolled up for a pool party. From what she knows, it’ll be a much smaller affair than Friday’s party was, and she’s looking forward to it.

“I’ll handle the BBQ, could you just make the salad dressing and carry these out to the patio, (Y/N)?” Cooper asks her, and she obliges gladly.  

They set everything up rather quickly, the guests start arriving soon, and she tries her hardest not to stop in her tracks when she sees Nicholas walk out through the glass doors of the living room, hugging everyone he knows before he spots her. The way he rakes his eyes over her body before settling on her face makes heat creep up her neck, and she knows that it’s got nothing to do with today’s temperature. 

“Hey, stranger,” he greets her, wraps his arms around her to give her a good squeeze.

“Hey, you,” she smiles, inhales his fresh scent, enjoys having him in her arms again. “How have you been?” 

The breath he exhales as he pulls away is deep, it lets her know that things have gone down, but the private smile he gives her makes the oncoming worry in her mind disappear. 

“I’ve been alright so far, I’ll tell you about it later, okay?”

She nods, cheeks warming. “Okay. Come find me.”

She allows herself to be open, truthful in her wants, and he chuckles at that, squeezes her shoulder.

“Always.” 

They don’t sit next to each other during lunch, but they keep glancing over the table and finding each other’s eyes, and every single time it happens, it makes the heat coil tighter in her stomach. He looks fucking good today, ruffled hair and a loose button-down that he keeps open, muscular chest flashing at every turn. At some point he puts his sunglasses on and turns his head straight in her direction, but she can’t tell if she’s being stared at or not, faltering during the conversation she’s trying to have with one of the girls at the party. 

When they’re all full and satiated, they go and find their own things to do: some go to swim a few laps or just cool off in the pool, some go to lounge by the grass and read, some stay at the table and keep drinking and chatting. She decides to walk over to the big tree at the back of the garden, finding a comfortable spot on the outdoor sofa under it and laying down, head comfortably resting on a small pillow. It’s not like she’s hoping he’ll find her there; she knows he is going to come and join her eventually. She just needs a little breather yet again, getting easily overwhelmed in big groups of people.

“And here you are, sneaking off again,” she hears his voice after Lord knows how much time has passed, and she can’t help the slow smile that spreads across her face. 

“My social battery empties quickly,” she starts to explain as she watches him sit down at the end of the outdoor couch, but what she doesn’t expect is for him to grab her legs and drape them over his lap, rubbing up and down one foot lightly.

“D’you mind?” he asks, eyebrow raised. 

“No, ‘s comfortable.” 

They sit in silence like that for a little, just looking at each other, and she can feel a lump grow in her throat. Never has she wanted somebody as badly as him, and the restraint she has to show is otherworldly at this point. 

“What happened, Nicholas?” she dives straight in, direct as always, watches him exhale deeply.

“Well,” he laughs, no humor behind it. “I had that conversation with her yesterday.” 

“Yeah? How’d it go?” she asks, heart in her throat. 

She thinks back on what he told her, that he’s scared to give in to his ex, that he might let her convince him to try one more time, one more moment, one more fuck, and she feels pathetic for how scared she is that he’ll tell her that this is it, it’s over between them before it even started. 

“She took it well. I hate hurting her, I really struggled, but she… she didn’t put up a fight,” he explains, and a wave of relief mixed with guilt washes over her, has her breathe easier. “She knows, I think. We both do.” 

“You still love her, though, don’t you?” she presses, winces when he grabs her foot and digs in, massages at a sore spot.

His smirk tells her he isn’t sorry.

“Yeah, I do. But she isn’t mine to have anymore, and I am so okay with that.” 

“Do you feel bad about Friday night?”

He scoffs, pulls her foot up to his mouth and presses a kiss against it, has her gut clenching from the motion, so intimate, so familiar. 

“There’s nothing I’ve felt better about in a while, I’ll be honest.” 

She nods, at a loss for words. Wanting to jump him right here, but cautious considering their surroundings. Wanting to have him but wanting to keep building the tension to see what happens when he snaps. 

It’s hard having a filter in his presence, so she blurts out, “How many more times have you thought about me having you down my throat since you texted me yesterday?” 

“Jesus Christ,” Nicholas chokes and throws his head back, eyes shut as if it’s hurting him to think about it.

“I need to know, Nick.” 

“Last night again… then this morning, as I was getting ready to come here.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Last night before or after you went to see her?” 

His brown eyes are wide when she looks into them, they’re honest and sincere, which is why it hits so much harder when he tells her, “Both.”

“Fuck,” she breathes, sits up and pulls her legs to her chest, needing to collect herself. “You’re a bastard, Nicholas.” 

“I can’t help it,” he smirks, reaches out to lay a hand on her knee but not moving closer. “What about you? Did you have to help yourself out at all?”

She nods dumbly, unable to look away from his face.

“Last night, as well. Three times. I couldn’t sleep without it.” 

A bite to his lips tells her he’s imagining it, thinking about it.

“Did you give yourself any fingers? Or did you only play with your clit?”

“M-my clit, didn’t put anything inside of me.” 

She feels the increase of her pulse, feels the tingle in her core at the way he looks at her, devours her with his gaze.

“Why not, little girl?”

“I want the next thing to fill me to be you, Nicholas,” she confesses, lays herself bare and relishes in the devastation her words cause him, the way his jaw drops, his brows raise. 

It’s safe, she reminds herself, he’s safe. She can be vulnerable with him, can let him throw her against the wall and trust that he’ll pick up the shattered pieces to put her back together. 

“You’re killing me, do you know that? The things I wanna do to you…” he trails off, stares into the distance for a moment. “I’ve never wanted to do them to another person. I don’t even fucking know you.”

“No, but you see me. And I don’t need to know what those things are, Nicholas. I feel them. And I want them, too.” 

A harsh puff of air leaves his nose before he’s leaning back, gazing at her, face resolute.

“Go to the room upstairs and wait for me there, will you?” 

She nods, mind and heart racing, does as she’s told as she gets up on shaky legs, knees nearly buckling. Making sure her walk isn’t too fast as not to rouse suspicion but fast enough to show him that she wants this, so he can see- and he certainly is watching her ass as she’s leaving- that she’s on board with what he’s trying to do.

She meant what she said: she doesn’t need to know, she feels it. 

Arriving in the guest room, she doesn’t know what to do with herself, nerves getting the best of her and leaving her nearly dizzy. She splashes some cold water on her face before cupping her hands and letting the water from the tap fill them, bringing them to her mouth and swallowing mouthfuls before she turns it off. The image that greets her in the mirror is one she hasn’t seen often: a woman delirious with lust, eyes glazed over and cheeks blotchy. 

A sound from the outside makes her dry her face off quickly before stepping out, seeing Nicholas shut and lock the door, eyes dark.

They say nothing as he stands across from her and puts a hand on her cheek, runs his thumb across her lips, smiles when she takes the very tip of it between her teeth and bites down gently.

“You’re a sweet one, aren’t you?” he asks, and she nods as he pushes his finger deeper into her mouth, presses down on her tongue and leaves it there. Her hands find his torso, his chiseled muscles to hold on to lest she loses balance, and she sucks his digit into her mouth deeply, hollows her cheeks as they keep staring at each other. “You’re a good cocksucker as well, though, hm?”

She shrugs cheekily, smiles around his finger when he chuckles. She pulls away, then, kisses the tip of his thumb. 

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you?” 

The way he rolls his eyes playfully is so sexy, takes away some of the suffocating seriousness that has crept into their dynamic without breaking the tension, without diminishing the spark they have. 

Large palms frame her face as he looks at her deeply, anticipation forcing her mouth to open in a gasp, and that’s when he takes his chance, claims her mouth in a kiss so sensual that it has her moaning into his lips. It doesn’t take long for his tongue to find hers and he licks at her muscle, lets her in and deepens the kiss, makes it dirty but so full of lust and devotion that she can’t help but stand on her tippy toes to chase after that sensation. 

His hand finds her throat, grips it lightly yet makes her feel breathless, a dirty chuckle against her lips breaking their moment.

“You’ll let me in there, won’t you, baby?” he rasps, drives his finger down the front of her throat. “All the way inside?” 

She nods, stupid with want. “Yes, please let me. I need to taste you, Nicholas, fuck.” 

He kisses her again, then, toying with her mouth as his hands unzip her dress, pull it off her body, leaving her in only her bikini.

“Kneel in front of the bed, with your back facing it,” he instructs, burying his head in her neck and nibbling lightly, grinning at her gasp.

She does as she’s told, has little control over it, kneels obediently and looks up at him with a wet pout on her lips. Remembering what he told her last time, that no woman could ever take his cock down here throat, believing him. Despite its length, what probably causes trouble is the veiny thickness of it, the very thing that makes cunts drip for him being the reason for locked jaws and hurting lips.

The walk over to her is deliberately slow, he’s letting her stew in her desire for him, but she can’t even complain, not when she gets to observe even his most miniscule movements uninterrupted. The first thing she does when he’s right there is fall forward and bury her face in his crotch, over the material of his linen shorts, inhaling deeply. His clothes smell clean but there’s a musky undertone, something so distinctly man that it has her mouth watering.

“Shhh, there you go, get your fill,” he whispers, drives his hands through her hair and she’s so grateful he’s letting her express her desperation how she needs to. 

The balance of her body barely allows her to get up on her knees, but she manages, presses open mouthed kisses along his torso, as far up as she can reach. She licks into his navel, kisses down his happy trail, moans as she traces her tongue along the waistband of his briefs.

“Fuck, I’m so hungry for it,” she breathes, “please give it to me, I need it so bad.” 

Nicholas chuckles, a sound that hits her right in the chest, and untangles the strings of his pants. She’s glad he’s decided to take his shorts off completely, wrapping her hands around his thighs as soon as he’s stepped out of them and mouthing at his hard cock through his briefs, tongue tasting a salty wet spot and groaning into it.

“Jesus, (Y/N), you’re like a woman possessed,” he growls, all pride and no disgust, and it spurs her on to reach up and pull his cock out, get his underwear out of the way so she can really revel in everything his manhood has to give.

He discards his shirt as well, then, and there he is: her personal Greek God in all his glory, naked flesh for her to devour. 

A tear makes its way down her cheek and she’s done with waiting, needs for him to own her. 

“Please,” she breathes and smiles wickedly as he grabs his cock, pumps it once, twice before holding it by the base and- 

And slapping it across her face, the hit harder than she anticipated, making her cry out with nasty hunger.

“Again,” she begs, and he obeys with a wide-eyed stare, slaps her one more time, two more times before hooking his thumb in her mouth and pulling it open, praising her when she automatically sticks her tongue out.

Nick traces the leaking head of his cock over her tongue, and she could cry when the salt hits her tastebuds, the warmth of his flesh mixing with the wetness on her muscle.

“This is what you were made for, baby,” he says, praises her, talks as if he’s far away. “You’re so fucking beautiful, just waiting for me to ruin you, huh?” She nods her head before shaking it, making sure his precome coats all of her tongue, moans when he orders, “Suck this cock, sweetheart.” 

Not needing to be told twice, she engulfs the thick tip in her mouth, sucks on it as she moves her tongue down to coat his length in spit, to ease the way, to make it easier for him to claim the depths of her throat.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he curses above her, hands not ceasing their movement in her hair, and she sees it as motivation to keep going. The louder he is, the louder she wants him.

Some men like a mix between a willing mouth and two skilled hands, she knows, but today she wants to show him just how hungry she’s been for his cock since she met him, so she works her lips around him, determined to not need her hands for this. She sinks deeper and deeper, lets the accumulated spit from her mouth coat him, doesn’t mind the strings of it escaping and dripping down her chin, makes sure she keeps her eyes wide and on him as he’s struggling not to squeeze his shut.

“Halfway there, baby, you’re so fucking good f’me,” he moans, “Messy little girl, just like that.”

She lays her tongue out and takes a deep breath before pushing down stubbornly, eyes screwing up as he goes deeper and deeper, watching his slack jaw and wide eyes marveling at something he’s always wished to experience but never could, not with the women he’d been with before. Relaxing her throat and feeling him push through that last bit of resistance as she fights against her gag reflex, fights to keep it deep within her chest, fights through the pain it brings her not to openly cough at the intrusion in her body. She can’t stand it, not for long, and she has to pull away with a chest-wracking cough, trying to collect herself but delirious with the need to prove her devotion to him.

“Baby, that was amazing, just-“

“Fuck my throat, Nicholas,” she rasps through the tears, gets in position again and takes his cock in hand this time, jerks him a little until she gets herself under control again.

“(Y/N), are you sure? Once I start, I won’t be stopping until you give me a signal, no matter how much you cry, okay?”

Jesus Christ. She nods, determined. 

“I’ll tap your thigh twice if I need you to really stop, okay?” 

He bends down and kisses her deeply, wipes at the tears on her cheeks.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers before straightening back up, gripping her by the hair and growling, “now open that fuckin’ throat for me.”

It’s animalistic, the way he takes her mouth, pushes his cock deep and keeps snapping his hips up, moaning loudly as she chokes, as she holds onto her own thighs just to have something to grip while he uses her. Inch by inch he fucks himself deep, groans her name, “My good girl, that’s right, show ‘em how it’s done,” knowing exactly how to spur her on, how to give her the strength to fight through her body’s struggles.

She’s gargling out spit, face wet and messy, when he finally, fucking finally manages to bottom out, bury her nose in his trimmed pubic hair, almost doubling over when she then sticks her tongue out until the back of her throat starts burning to lap at his balls with the tip of it, just to show him that there’s nothing stopping her from satisfying the hunger she has for him. 

“Ho- oh my fucking- ugh,” he moans, the tightness of her sending him into overdrive, the way her choking and swallowing around his cock stimulates his sensitive head making tears spring to his eyes. 

He grabs her by the hair and rips her back roughly, letting her breathe heavy for a minute before diving down to claim her lips in a bruising kiss, in awe at this woman kneeling in front of him.

“Fuck, that felt good,” she laughs manically against his mouth, tears and snot dripping from her face, but they don’t care, they’re reveling in the way they can mess each other up.

“You okay, baby? Your voice is fucked,” he smiles as she nods eagerly, clearing her throat.

“More, please, fuck my face just a little more,” she begs, watching his eyes widen at her request, but she doesn’t care. Now that she’s gotten a taste, she wants more. 

One hand in her hair and the other one on her jaw, he pushes between her lips again, keeps pushing until he’s in all the way and pulls her off again, watching her splutter and cough for a second before reeling her in again. Nicholas seems to enjoy that, watching her struggle with her throat full, struggle to catch her breath after, but whenever her eyes meet his in a silent plea, she sees the fire in his gaze burn that much brighter before he goes in to fuck her face again.

“No more,” he pants, grabs her by the arms and pulls her into a standing position, steadying her as her legs give out from having knelt for so long. “Fuck, I almost came down your throat.”

“Why didn’t you?” she pouts, face a total mess but causing him to smile at her warmly regardless.

“Don’ wanna, wanna shoot my load inside of you,” he mutters, makes her cheeks heat up.

“Next time, though?”

He laughs, kisses her swollen mouth.

“Promise, baby.”

Nick makes quick work of her bikini and gets her naked and sprawled across the bed in record time, writhing under his heated gaze as he just stands here, cock hard and dripping with her spit, watching her.

“Spread your legs for me,” he instructs, eyes raking over her form, and with a shy bite to her lip she obliges, parts her legs and lets him look at where she’s sloppy wet for him. 

“Need you so bad, I’m all swollen,” she whines, watches as he positions himself between her legs, kisses along her stomach up to her tits.

The first nipple he takes into his hot mouth gets a quick bite shortly after, making her hiss, before he moves over to the second, giving it attention while she rakes her hands through his hair, lost in sensation.

It’s all she’s ever wanted and more, the fucked-out state of arousal that has her mind feeling honey sticky and slow, completely out of her own body. She focuses on his weight on top of her, the way his spit on her nipples paired with the cool air in the room gives her gooseflesh, and soon enough she’s whimpering as he trails his kisses in the direction of her center.

“Finally getting a taste of this gorgeous cunt, been thinking about it,” he murmurs against her mound, looks right at her as he says, “Gonna kiss you where I’m gonna fuck you, my sweet,” before he dives right in, licks her in broad stripes and has her throwing her head back in ecstasy.

All the blood rushes to her center and despite not even having been touched properly, the tension burns, makes her clit tingle where it’s being loved on by his clever tongue, and she can’t help but bury her hands in his hair and push her hips up into his awaiting mouth. Nicholas eats pussy like it’s the most decadent thing he’s ever had, like it melts on his tongue, the way he pushes between her inner lips and slurps at the very source of her arousal. By now he knows how much she loves the attention on her little nub, so he sucks it into his mouth, taps his tongue against it until she’s arching off the bed, only being held down by his bulging arms. 

“N-Nick, fuck, fuck no-,“ she’s trying to push him off, the buildup of her climax making every limb tingle, but he holds on, holds her steady until she’s crying, begging, “please, let me come for you, please, please, pl- fuck-“

A hum of confirmation, the vibration of it hitting her core, is all it takes before she’s coming hard, pulling his head closer and trying to bat him away at the same time, and the minute her high decreases and her muscles relax he’s on her, kissing her lax mouth, pushing his tongue deep and letting her taste her pussy on his sinful lips. 

“Y’taste sweeter than I could’ve imagined,” he’s breathing hard against her mouth, “sweetest pussy just for me to take, ain’t it? Fuck, I need to be inside of you.”

The “Please,” punches out of her, already wrapping her legs around his torso so he’d slip in easier, giving him all the access and shouting into his shoulder as he slides his cock into her in one go, fills her up until she can feel him in her lungs. She pushes at his chest so he’d pull away, look at her, grabs him by the face and hisses “What the fuck are you, who the fuck- what are you doing t- to me?”

Nicholas’ laugh is amazed, top lip curled over his perfect teeth as he focuses on drilling into her hard, watching her lose her mind under him, watching her give herself over to him without a care in the world. He angles his hips just so, pelvic bone brushing against her clit with every thrust, making her see stars.

“You’ll come for me like this,” he promises, voice shot, “you’re so gorgeous, fuck. Look at you, can’t believe you’ll come for me again, I’ve got you-“

“Nick, please,” she cries, terrified of what her mind is making her body do, “I can’t-“

“You can and you will,” he snaps, grabs her by the face and pulls her close, kisses her pouting mouth. “Come for me, (Y/N), I wanna see you lose it.” 

She doesn’t pass out this time but she kind of wishes she did, because the groans and moans and pathetic whimpers that rip out of deep within her are sounds she’s never going to unhear now. If it were with anyone else, she’d be mortified, but he just talks her through it with pride in his voice as if she were his girl, his to coach and use and fuck and lo-

But isn’t she? She sure feels like it. 

“Atta fuckin’ girl, that’s right, oh I’m gonna come, baby-“

“Fill me up,” she whispers, lax now, letting herself be used and moved like a rag doll, “I wanna feel you dripping out of my pussy for days.”

“Oh shit, (Y/N)-“ and that does it for him, apparently, as he pushes in impossibly deep and spills inside of her, moaning into her neck and holding her close, filling her body and mind and heart, and dear God, she’s a fucking goner. 

The room smells like their sex, like musk, heady and dazed, makes her head spin where she’s laying under him and wondering what the actual fuck just happened. Nicholas’ breathing is labored but he’s still pressing lazy kisses against her temple, arms still around her spent body.

After a moment, he peers down at her. 

“You okay, baby?” he whispers, like the atmosphere is something fragile.

She doesn’t trust her voice, so she just nods.

“Was it too much? Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head no.

He chuckles deeply, leans down to kiss her mouth and she can’t do much more than to let herself be kissed, can’t reciprocate.

“Talk to me, love, c’mon,” he requests gently, and when she hears that little nickname, hears the care in his voice, her lip starts wobbling and her tears start running freely down her cheeks. “Oh, baby,” he soothes, lets her cry in his arms, holds her through it.

She’s heard of people crying after sex, especially after intense sex, but it has never happened to her. Laying here, though, on these ruined sheets, face and body and her fucking insides sticky with him, after having been used so mercilessly and still having him hold her like she’s something precious, talk to her like she’s something to be cherished? She can’t take it, the turmoil of the last few days, the last few weeks, paired with the experience of his mere existence sending her into overdrive. 

“Let it out, I’m here f’you,” he whispers, shushes her, kisses her head, and soon enough she runs out of tears, only sniffles where she’s hiding in his neck. 

Nicholas pulls away, props himself up on one elbow as his other hand keeps stroking her hair, her face, anything he can reach. He’s got a small smile playing on his full lips as he looks at her, and she smiles back, exhausted but satiated.

“’m sorry for this,” she croaks, voice barely there.

Before she can say anything else, he interrupts her, shushes her with his thumb on her lips. “Please don’t,” he says, eyes kind, “I’m so honored that you trust me enough to fall apart like this. Seriously, (Y/N), this is not a small deal.” 

She clicks her tongue, eyes welling up with tears again.

“I know,” she whimpers, takes his hand in hers and kisses it. “I know it isn’t, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with this. I- Nicholas… What the fuck?” 

He brings her to his chest, holds her close, kisses the crown of her head.

“None of that now, baby,” he whispers, “Now I gotta give you some good aftercare and then we’ll clean up, okay? We can talk later, when we’re both in our right minds. That sound good?”

She nods, says, “I don’t wanna go back to the party,” but it’s muffled against his full chest. 

He hears her anyways.

“We don’t have to; we’ll just stay here." 

Cleaning up is a quiet affair, they keep each other close at all times, standing under the shower together and just washing each other, hands trailing across the other with no intent to take it further. It’s intimate, it’s connecting, and it’s exactly what she needs to come down from the rollercoaster he’s put her through. Nicholas rummages through the closets on that floor until he finds clean sheets and changes them while she stands next to the bed, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, watching with a small smile as he wrestles with the fitted sheet.

“Too many workouts today,” he grumbles as he pulls it over the corners of the bed, “I haven’t consumed enough calories today for this level of exercise.” 

She giggles at his silliness before she lets herself fall onto the bed, holding her arms open for him to crawl in, settling his head on her boobs.

“Naked cuddling is my favorite,” she whispers to him conspiratorially and he nods eagerly, agreeing.

“Same, don’t nearly do it often enough.”

She’s ready for a nap, she realizes as she lets her eyes fall shut, and soon enough she’s slipping away softly, clutching him tightly.  

Unsure if she's dreaming or not, she hears a soft, "I've got you, my sweet. Always got you."

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Camp Fire- Bucky x Reader

Summary: Heated kisses by the fire seem to keep reader warm on an Avengers camping trip

Word count: 778

Bucky tag list: @winterslove1917 @cieraboobear @mencantaleer

*want to be tagged in my next Bucky fic? Click here*

Peace and calmness soaked into your very being, right down to your tired bones, as you sat by the fire. All your friends were asleep in the tents surrounding you, and it was just Bucky and you left awake.

Though the night and the surroundings were relaxing, you still felt slightly on edge. Was it because of the fact that as the fire grows smaller, you grow colder? Or maybe it was a certain super soldiers sweet eyes looking at you.

Bucky had been catching your eye most of the day, though you were able to distract yourself with other things, but now it was just the two of you.

You tried to ignore the way his gaze made you feel, but it was getting more difficult. Slowly Bucky had made his way closer to you as the fire became smaller, and now that it wasn’t as roaring as it once was, he was only an arms length away from you.

“Are you not going to bed because you’re cold?” He broke the silence, forcing you to meet his charming eyes.

“N-no, I just like staying up.”

The sound of Buckys chuckle at your weak excuse, was followed by the sound of his heavy boots briefly crushing the twigs and leaves beneath his feet, as he now moved to sit right beside you. With his warm body so close to yours, it took everything in you not to lean in closer to his strong chest.

“Serum made me have a high metabolism and ‘works harder’, so I’m warmer than usual, or something like that. Stark was explaining it but I wasn’t listening. I mean I like science but when it’s about how I’m a weird experiment I try not to listen,” Bucky awkwardly rambled.

From what Steve had said, Bucky had been a real ladies man back in the day, but for some reason when he’s with you, he turns into a rambling idiot.

“But you know, I guess that doesn’t matter, because you’re not cold.”

“Nope, not at all.”

“Okay, I’ll just move ba-“

You didn’t mean for your arm to shoot out for his, but the thought of him being away from you sounded like torture. You tried to tell yourself it was only because he was warm, and definitely not because you liked his presence and his body felt nice lightly pressed to yours.

"You're cold! Don’t try to lie to me, I could literally see you shivering before. Here, have this, you'll feel warmer,” he fought you as he began taking off his jacket.

“Bucky no.”

“Doll, yes!”

“James, I’m fine!”

“Don’t fight me on this!”

You only half-heartedly struggled as he pulled your arms in and zipped his jacket up on you like a child.

Sitting beside you once again, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and smiled down at your blushing face.

“Did you call me, doll?” You asked as you tried to get the upper-hand.

“I did, and you called me ‘James’.”

Realising what you had said made you hide your face against his shoulder, causing him to chuckle again.

“You’re cute when you’re all shy, doll,” he whispered charmingly against your ear.

Slowly you raised your head from his shoulder to look into his enchanting eyes, they soften as they meet yours. Straighten up to look at him more clearly, you can’t help but melt at his gorgeous eyes and his oh so inviting lips. You hadn’t realised you were drawing closer to him until you felt his arm wrap around your waist, and his other hand come to your cheek.

As Bucky leaned into you, your hand landed on the back of his neck, and you leaned even more into him.

Once your lips meet, you both can’t help but hum out in relief, as if both of you had needed this kiss for a long time.

Deepening the kiss, both of Buckys hands reach down to squeeze at your hips, as both of your hands tangle and pull at his hair. Opening your mouth, he slips his tongue in, causing your moans to deepen.

As if you both can’t get enough of each other, you crawl and Bucky pulls you into his lap, where his hands land on your ass. Feeling his hands squeeze you, you unwillingly break from the kiss.

Both of you catch your breath as you look deep into each others eyes.

“You know, you really do look great in my jacket, doll. Makes me want to see you in my clothes more often,” he flirts as he begins to leave light kisses on your neck.

“Bet I’d look even better in your tent.”

[ldydeath]

But I Love You | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: Jiyong is struggling through his hiatus and misses his best friend. You try your best to be there for him, even when it feels like he doesn’t want you around.

Warnings: slight angst, a lot of GD yearning for TOP. Very minor language.

Things hadn’t exactly been easy since Jiyong had decided to take a hiatus. You weren’t really sure if he even knew what a hiatus was. Everyday you’d wake to find him in the studio, writing new material, a stressed look on his face. You’d hoped that a break would’ve actually been just that - but the man didn’t know how to quit. You’d pull him out every night when you could tell he was getting frustrated hoping the next day would be better.

You’d have secret conversations with Youngbae and Daesung whenever you got too worried, knowing deep down that the only person he’d reason with had shut him out. Morning came quickly and you were awoken to Jiyong emerging from his blanket cocoon. “Jiyong, why don’t we just take a rest today?” You tried your best to make your voice sound normal, not a hint of pleading in there but he picked up on it and sighed.

“I can’t today. I really have to finish this song.” He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and you took the opportunity to really look at him. The dark circles you thought you’d imagined were real. His skin seemed pale, he looked worn out. “Maybe we can do something tomorrow.” He got out of bed, offered you a smile and headed out of the room.

You couldn’t help the pang of disappointment you felt as he disappeared from the room. You knew Jiyong loved you, of course he did, but you couldn’t help but feel forgotten. You never wanted to come between him and his work, you knew how he got when he felt like he was up against a wall. But something needed to change.

With a heavy sigh, you got out of bed, made yourself presentable and headed out of the house. You unfortunately couldn’t sit around waiting for him today. Work called and even if you’d been willing to call in earlier, that had changed the second Jiyong walked out of the bedroom. You knew you should stay home, save him from himself but you needed a break too. Maybe a without you hovering would help.

When you pulled into the drive that evening everything felt off. The lights were off, the lights were never off - unless you were sleeping. “Jiyong?” You called as you entered the house, closing the front door with a soft thud. You were greeted with silence and the soft meow of your cars. You weren’t going to worry. You weren’t worried. You kept telling yourself that as you wandered the house in search of him. Where the fuck was he?

You paused outside the door to his studio, you’d never gone in there before. Not that you couldn’t, it just was so very him that you didn’t want to disturb his sanctuary. You pressed your ear up to the door but it was useless, the room was so soundproofed you couldn’t hear a thing..

The site that unfolded in front of you hadn’t been what you’d expected. There on the couch in the sound booth was your boyfriend passed out clutching what appeared to be lyrics. So that was why the house was dark, he hadn’t bothered to leave the studio once. You moved the papers out of his hands, careful not to read any of his work and shook him awake.

“Hey” he smiled as his eyes locked with yours. “What are you doing in here?” You moved to sit down next to him and shrugged. “The house was dark. I didn’t know where you were.” He scooted slowly, to sit next to you.

“I’m sorry I worried you, I must’ve passed out. I’ve not been sleeping well.” He admitted. Your head snapped looking over at him, worry etched in your brows. “See, that look right there is why I didn’t tell you. You don’t need to worry about me.” You frowned, reaching a hand out to touch him. “Talk to me. What’s going on with you?” You should’ve asked sooner, but you’d been hoping you were over reacting.

He let out a sigh, shaking his head as he broke eye contact with you. “I keep thinking if I write the right song, the best song, he’ll read it and come back.” You could hear the pain in his voice, and it made you want to protect him from ever feeling this way again. His best friend was doing what he thought was best for everyone - which couldn’t be further from the truth. “I don’t think it’s that simple, oppa.” Seunghyun had been your friend too and you weren’t blind to the void that he left behind. “Seunghyun needs time to heal, he didn’t leave because he wanted to. He left because he felt he had to.” You eyed the sheet holding the lyrics Jiyong has been working on. “Can I read it?”

He nodded and handed the lyrics over. Any other girl might be jealous of such heartfelt feelings being written about someone else but not you. You understand their relationship, he’d come first. They’re more than best friends, they were family and both of them were hurting. “It’s perfect.”

“You’re biased” he smirked, taking the paper back and tucking it into his pocket. “Maybe, but it’s still perfect. You should record it.” He shook his head. “It’s not Bigbang without him.” You offered up a reassuring smile, a playful glint in your eye, “so make it GD.” You hardly ever referred to him as his stage name and he smiled before hiding his face with his hands. There he was. That shy adorable guy you loved so much.

“Maybe.” He yawned, stretching his arms before standing up. “Thank you for this. I should’ve told you sooner.” You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. Just know you’re not alone, ok?”

He nodded. reaching his arm out to you, helping you to your feet. “I’m sorry if I’ve been acting not myself lately, I just don’t know how to let people in fully. I get in my head and think I have to do it all alone.” He apologized as he led you both out of the studio. Turning on the lights as he went.

“You’re not alone. I’m always going to be here for you. Even if you don’t want to talk about whatever’s going on, I’m still here.” You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, wishing you could take all his pain away. He pulled you toward him, a small smile on his face. Not his big grin you’d grown to love over the years but it was a start. “I love you. He mumbled before pulling you in for a kiss. “I love you too” you smiled against his lips.

Tag List: @wcnderlnds, @alosss-blog please let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[everyonewooeverywhere]

help me 😸

gonna put warning on this one lol: somno, daddy kink, impact play, pet names (kitty, baby), talks of ruined orgasms, mean dom yunho

it’s his favorite thing to come home late and see you already passed out in bed. in his bed. under his sheets. wearing the cute pajama set that he bought for you. sleeping so peacefully on your stomach, your ass poking out like it was just begging him to grope at it. it felt like such a privilege to know that this was all his. and he could have you however the fuck he wanted.

and clearly you hadn’t expected him home so soon (or you hadn’t meant to fall asleep) because beside you on the bed was the new vibrator he’d bought last week. the one that was only meant for him to use on you. he frowned at it. “naughty kitty,” he muttered under his breath.

he was going to let you sleep. gonna let you get a peaceful nights rest while he gently played with you. but you’d ruined all the fun now.

you were startled awake by him grabbing your jaw and pulling your face out of his pillows, “yuyu…” you whimper. he shakes his head and your stomach drops, “daddy—“ he cuts you off when he roughly jerks you up from your spot on the bed and bends you over his lap.

he yanks your lacy nightdress over your ass, “i thought i could trust you home alone.” his hand drops down on your ass, making you yelp, “but apparently i forgot you’re a just a sex-addicted little slut who doesn’t follow the rules.”

you shake your head feverishly, “no daddy i—“ he slaps you again.

“i’m not in the mood for your little explanations kitty. so you better shut up and take your punishment like a good girl.”

a low whine comes out of your throat, “yes, sir.”

his hearts swells at your submission. good kitty. he palms at your ass before spanking you hard again. “here’s the deal, baby,” you hear the vibrator start to buzz, “i’m gonna put this back in your panties, right up against that swollen little clit. and you’re gonna keep it there. and you’re gonna tell daddy when your about to cum,” he presses the vibrator against your soaked panties, “and right when you’re about to cum, i’m gonna take it away.” you whimper at that and you know that strikes a nerve when his hand tangles in your hair and he yanks your head back, looking you in the eyes, “i’m gonna ruin every fucking orgasm you think you’re gonna get until i think you’ve learned your lesson.” his eyes darken, “and if you cum? you better hope you hide it well, because i will ruin every single orgasm for a month if you cum before i tell you you can.” he slaps your cheek for good measure, “is that clear?”

you nod and let out a choked moan when the vibe slips into your panties, “yes daddy.”

[cakerybakery]

A spiritual successor to the one about Adam forced by heaven to marry Lucifer after the reveal of the exterminations to heaven, so instead of a battle there was a wedding, but one of the main reasons they haven’t had sex is they’re shitty at communicating that way.

-

Adam groaned as he was being pulled from sleep. One of their phones was going off. It didn’t sound like his, it sounded like Charlie’s ringtone on Lucifer’s phone.

Without opening his eyes, to avoid waking up more than he had to, Adam touched the devil curled up with him.

“Lucifer.” He grumbled out, “your kid is calling.”

His husband groaned, he curled up even more to try and avoid waking up, and rubbed his head against Adam’s chest.

It turned out that Lucifer was a cuddler in his sleep. Something Adam had started to grow used to.

Adam shook Lucifer a little, and this time Lucifer groaned, but stretched. Rolling over to grab the phone.

“Charlie?” Lucifer asked in the sleepy deep grumble of his, “Is everything okay?”

Rolling onto his stomach to avoid hurting his wings he tried to go back to sleep.

“Alright. I’ll be right there.” Lucifer sat up. He hung up the phone, muttered a warning that he was about to turn on the light so Adam could bury his head under a pillow first, and clicked on the lamp.

Adam pulled the pillow off his face a bit to see Lucifer get up. He buried it again as Lucifer got out of bed and turned, his hard cock jutting out from him. Most mornings Lucifer woke up hard and he slept naked.

It made Adam stir a bit at the sight and he didn’t need that right now. It was too early in the morning to start trying to figure out if he was less straight than he thought or just lonely and horny.

“What did Charlie want?” He asked while Lucifer got dressed.

Lucifer yawned. “Umm? Oh. I guess there was some scuffle with some overlords, or something, at the hotel. Some pipes got damaged and now they’re flooding. None of the plumbers in hell are answering so she and me to come down and fix it.”

“You know plumbing?” Feeling safe, Adam peeked from under the pillow.

Sitting back on the edge of the bed, Lucifer was doing up his shirt, pants firmly on.

“I have angelic powers of creation, dear.” Lucifer got up again to get his vest. “It’ll be a snap of my fingers to fix.”

He picked up his phone and Adam pulled the pillow away, used to the lamp light now, and rolled onto his side. He watched his husband grab his jacket, put on his boots and hat, and straighten out his clothing.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Lucifer told him as he teleported away.

Adam scooted over and turned the light off. He wrapped his arms around Lucifer’s pillow enjoyed the coolness of it. Lucifer migrated in his sleep to wrap around Adam, leaving his pillow behind and using Adam’s arm or chest instead.

He was like a snake, seeking out heat.

Closing his eyes, Adam was determined to go back to sleep.

Instead he tossed and turned. Sticking a leg out of the blanket to find cool. Turning the now warm pillow over to try and find a cool spot. Adam couldn’t sleep.

It seemed like forever but he heard Lucifer return.

There was shuffling in the dark. A mild swearing as Lucifer banged into the bed frame. And finally the bed, on what was normally his side, dipped.

“How was it?” He asked and Lucifer nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Fuck me! Adam!” Lucifer rolled towards him. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” It was hard to keep his eyes open now, though.

Lucifer just made a little hmm noise, and described the issues he’d fixed.

Adam reached out and pulled Lucifer to him. It felt better to have Lucifer back, cuddled up to him. He was too used to sleeping with another person again. It was difficult to sleep alone.

Hesitantly, Lucifer settled down into the cuddle. Adam could hear the man sigh contently and it seemed he wasn’t the only one that felt more relaxed these days if the other was there.

Once Lucifer was securely back in his arms, Adam couldn’t stay awake. He muttered a good night and was gone before he could hear if Lucifer replied.

[lyraa-kill]

Sick and Twisted Bastard

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 l Chapter 5

Tags: Stalker Simon "Ghost" Riley, Trans John “Soap" MacTavish, Top Simon "Ghost" Riley, Bottom John "Soap" MacTavish, Dom Simon “Ghost" Riley, Sub John "Soap" MacTavish, Stalking, Consensual Non-Consent, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, johnny can't make himself cum, Kidnapping, Knives, John is okay with Simon's stalking, John is a little freak too, Voyeurism, Hidden Cameras, Bondage, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Spanking, Painplay, Internalized Transphobia, Self-Harm, Murder, They really match each others freak, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Biting, pussy slapping, Face Slapping, Blood, Choking

——

John is disoriented when he wakes up, his head pounding. He lays there for a few moments, drifting somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, aware of himself but also not aware. As he slowly becomes more and more awake, the pounding ceasing, he begins to remember.

But… no, that can’t be right. It can’t be. He was just dreaming. He had to be. Weird fuckin’ dream though, but with the way John’s dreams have been heading lately, he’s not surprised.

He was just dreaming of Simon showing up at his house in the middle of the night and putting a rag over his mouth.

Wasn’t he?

It’s then that he notices a strange weight on his chest. His eyes flutter open, the first thing they see being a mop of blonde hair. Then, he notices that this isn’t his bed. Isn’t his room, even. He tries to move his arms so he can sit up, but then he finds he can’t move them.

John is wide awake now, his eyes snapping fully open and looking around the room in panic. He looks above him, seeing his hands are chained to a thick, sturdy metal bedframe. He yanks against his restraints, but it’s no use. The chain linking his hands together is thick, the cuffs around his wrists tight. He’s not going anywhere.

He looks back down at the man sleeping on his chest. Is that… Simon? John hasn’t ever seen his face, doesn’t know what he looks like besides his eyes, mouth, and chin, but he… his dream. It wasn’t a dream, was it? Simon kidnapped him. And now here he was, asleep on top of his restrained form wearing nothing but his fucking underwear.

Even worse, Simon is fucking handsome . So much better than the face he conjured up in his mind for him. It makes Johnny’s heart pound, his mind swoon. He pushes these thoughts from his mind. He can’t dwell on that right now.

“Wake up!” John shouts, yanking at his cuffs so the metal clangs together and makes a loud banging sound, “God damnit you sick and twisted fuckin’ bastard, wake the FUCK UP!”

Simon groggily lifts his head up, squinting at John. That fucker just smiles and lays his head back down. “‘M still tired, Johnny. Gi’ me five, yeah?”

John shifts his lower body and starts to kick Simon incessantly. “What the FUCK did you do? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!”

Moving to sit up now, Simon looks annoyed and slightly pissed. “D’ya have to yell so early in the morning? Can’t we just go back to sleep, baby?”

John looks at him with a look of wild, angry confusion. The fantasy he had in his head of when Simon called him that for the first time was nothing like this.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” John laughs, fury dripping from his voice, “I guess I’ll just wait to get angry over the fact YOU KIDNAPPED ME! What the FUCK, Ghost!”

Smiling, Simon reaches a hand out and cups Johnny’s cheek, rubbing the space beneath his eye just as he did the night before, when John was sleeping. “This is for the best, Johnny. I had to do this, yeah? You were so miserable, crying to yourself every night. Hurting yourself. I can’t let my perfect little boy feel that way. You’ll be happier here, with me looking after you, keeping you safe. Don’t you agree?”

John isn’t sure his body is capable of feeling any more emotions all at once than he’s feeling right now. Anger, confusion, shock, fear… and he doesn’t want to admit it, but a little flattered and happy as well. It’s all mudding up his mind, making him unable to think clearly. He can’t even get his words out. He just looks at Simon like a deer caught in headlights.

Simon runs his hand down Johnny’s face, over his neck, across his chest, down his torso, resting on his waist. “Been watching you. All the time, Johnny. All the time . I’ve been watching you so much, I think I know you better than you know yourself.” He trails his hand back up, then down, caressing John’s golden skin. “I know you cry every night. Know you hit yourself, cut yourself where you think no one can see it. But I see it, I see it all . I know you’re miserable, feeling worthless all the time. Scared. Not able to trust people, let them get close. You’re scared they’ll treat you just how your father did, right? Hit you, degrade you, abuse you…”

How- how does Simon know all this? He’s never told anyone these feelings before, never let anyone see or even know about the cuts on his thighs. Never confided in anyone about what his dad did to him, what the kids at school did. What did Simon do ?

“It’s gonna be alright, baby. I got you now, yeah? I’ll keep you safe. I won’t let anyone get close enough to hurt you ever again. I’ll make all those bad feelings go away for you, but I couldn’t do that when we were on base. I could barely keep you safe, let alone make you feel better, help you heal. That’s why I had to take you here. This is our home now, okay? A home just for you and me. It’s only goin’ to be us here, forever . You want that, don’t you Johnny?”

John shakes his head. “You- You can’t just- You can’t just decide that shit for me, L.T! I’m a grown man and I get to decide what I do and if something’s making me unhappy or not! God, I can’t- I can’t BELIEVE you!”

He’s thought about it before. About Simon whisking him away from that life, taking him somewhere nice and safe, a place where he’s not on edge all the time. A place he can finally relax, where he can figure out who John MacTavish is without the interference of what his father, his mother, the government, is telling him who John MacTavish should be. But, fuck- in his dreams it was his choice when he got to leave, for how long, how . Simon took that autonomy away from him, just like his decisions were taken away from him when he was growing up.

Simon sighs. He wraps his arms around Johnny’s middle, pulling him close. John doesn’t bother to stop him, telling himself that it’s pointless, but deep down it’s because he wants Simon to hold him. Fuck, he’s so angry at him right now, so upset, but all he wants is comfort from the man, the very thing making him upset. He’s fucking sick.

“I’m sorry baby,” Simon says into John’s chest, “I know it’s wrong. I know that I’m a horrible person for this. I just- this was the only way. Confessing to you, building a relationship with you, discussing how to leave for some place better… it would’ve taken too long. Something might’ve happened to you during all that, and I couldn’t let that happen. I had to take you.” Simon takes a deep breath in, his voice shaky with nervousness as he prepares to say the three words he’s been longing, yearning to say for months. “I love you. I love you so much, Johnny. I couldn’t let you be miserable anymore. I had to bring you here, where you can be all mine, where I can make you safe and happy.” He looks up at John through his blonde eyelashes. “Do you hear me, Johnny? Ya listening? I love you .”

John sucks his breath in and bites his lip. Fuck. He’s been waiting for Simon to say those words for ages, dreaming about it late at night when he cries, when he smiles and laughs, when he has his fingers buried in himself.

Maybe he’s insane, but he understands. He can almost perfectly see Simon’s train of thought. The feeling of wanting to do anything you can to make the one you love happy, even if they think they don’t want it. The feeling of knowing better, exactly how to care for someone else if they would just let you. He knows how Simon feels, because he’s felt the same way. He always felt the man was too strung up, too tense, too on edge all the damn time. He wished he could do more for him, take him somewhere nice where he could relax. Where he didn’t have to be this weapon called Ghost, where he could be Simon. And John didn’t have to be Soap, he could be Johnny. Simon’s Johnny.

But- fuck. This is a hell of a way of going about it.

John closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in, then sighs. “Fuck, I’ve thought about us getting together, leaving the military, getting a home of our own. I just… fuck, this is all so sudden. It’s fucking crazy, you know that right? It’s fucking mental . This ain’t normal, Ghost. It’s not healthy.”

Simon shakes his head, burying it deeper into Johnny’s chest, breathing in his scent. “I’m not a normal man, you know this. Everything I did, this is my love for you. Everything I do is only because I love you so much, Johnny. I just don’t want you to be taken from me, like… like everything else. Can you forgive me? I- I just love you so much. Please forgive me.” His voice breaks towards the end.

Simon’s heart is cracking a little bit at the idea that he’s making his Johnny, his world, unhappy. The monster inside him is clawing at his insides, wanting him to destroy, to hurt, to kill , do anything that will take his pain and self-loathing out of himself, turn it into something physical he can crush and make go away.

John’s heart is breaking a bit too. Simon sounds so broken and helpless, like a hurt little kid. He doesn’t know what happened to him, why he’s so dark and twisted, why he never lets anyone get close. But he wants to know. He wants to know Simon , not Ghost, and make all his pain go away. Maybe he’s more like his lieutenant than he thought.

He really does love him. He really, truly does.

“Fuck…” John sighs, “‘Course I can. I love you too, you know? I understand. I’m angry at you, but I’ll be able to forgive you. Ya know I can’t stay mad at ya L.T.”

Simon finally releases the tears he’s been holding back. He feels like he’s been waiting his whole life to hear those words from John. For barely a second, he can feel the creature inside him start to fade, leaving only Simon Riley left. For just a second.

“Say it again, please,” Simon stammers.

“I love you, Simon.” John says, “I love you so much, Simon Riley. I may be pissed as all hell right now, but I love ya. I’ll say it as many times as you want.”

He’ll be able to forgive him. One day he knows he’ll enjoy living here, not dealing with a care in the world. He’ll probably even thank Simon for doing this, doing what was right even if it hurt a little bit at first.

Maybe he’s also a little sick and twisted. Sure, kidnapping him was a little crazy. But John is a little crazy too.

Simon cries into Johnny’s chest for a little bit, keeping the man in a tight bear grip like he’s afraid of him slipping away.

John wishes he could comfort him, run a soothing hand down his back or in his hair, but he’s still bound. Instead, he just tilts his head down and presses his forehead against Simon’s hair, whispering to him that it’s alright, that he’s not a bad person, that his Johnny loves him back.

After a while, Simon tilts his head up. Tears still cling to his eyelashes, but he’s stopped crying. As he looks up at John, he smiles. John smiles back. Simon slowly moves their faces closer, their lips brushing against each other. John’s breath hitches, and his eyes flutter shut as he gets rid of the remaining distance between them and connects their lips.

The kiss is slow at first, barely any movement between them. Steadily, it picks up the pace, until they’re kissing softly, lips and the occasional tongue brushing together. Simon grips onto Johnny’s waist and deepens it, shoves his tongue into John’s mouth and kisses him with passion, fury.

Simon break them apart, mumbling into John’s lips, “Let me show you how much I love you, baby.”

John’s eyebrows furrow. “Whaddya mean, Simon?”

Simon climbs on top of Johnny and straddles his hips, his very erect package straining through the fabric of his boxers. John’s eyes go wide.

“Simon, I- I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now, I don’t- I don’t wanna do that just yet, yeah? We will, I promise, just not now, ‘kay?”

John is a virgin. He was always too scared, too ashamed to try and have sex. Not that he ever had the opportunity. No one up until Simon had seen him that way. He doesn’t want to do something to frightening right now, he wants to cuddle with Simon and be domestic, give it some time to get himself completely comfortable before they have sex.

Simon shakes his head. “I’ve been waiting for so long Johnny. I need this. I know you do too. I know you haven’t been able to make yourself cum, know how pent up you are. I’ll fix it. I’ll make you feel so good, baby.”

Fuck , just how much does Simon know?!

He snickers. “I know so much about you baby. I watched you every night you thought you were alone in your room, touching yourself. Ravaging yourself for hours, breaking into tears eventually because you couldn’t cum.” He smiles even wider as John’s shocked expression. “That teddy bear I gave you was special, baby. It had a camera in there, so I could watch you when you were in your room. And you were such a good boy, aiming it right at your bed. Gave me such a good view.”

John’s blood runs cold. Simon had seen that? Fuck, fuck… icy panic runs through him. This isn’t normal. This isn’t healthy, isn’t right, isn’t something a normal person does when they’re in love. He was wrong before. He shouldn’t entertain this, he should push his feelings for Simon down and run for the fucking hills. What kind of man is Simon that he’s willing to rape someone he claims to love even though they’re begging him not to? This isn’t love. It isn’t. It can’t be. He needs to get out of here.

But he can’t. He can’t run, can’t even defend himself, and he’s about to get raped because of it. He could deal with the kidnapping, recognize that he probably needed it somehow, but not this. He doesn’t need this. This is Simon being purely selfish.

“Simon, fuck, we can talk about this, okay? Don’t… don’t do this just yet. I’m not ready.”

Simon shakes his head. “I know you are, Johnny. You can’t lie to me. I won’t fuck you yet, but I have to show you just how much I care. I have to show you just how much I want you. You’ll forgive me right?”

John shakes his head, “Simon, please -”

Simon leans over John’s form and crashes their lips together, one of his hands harshly gripping Johnny’s face to keep him still. This kiss isn’t soft and sweet like it was before, it’s harsh, violent even. John doesn’t like it. He wants it to stop.

He bites down hard on Simon’s lip, but it doesn’t faze the man at all. He bites down even harder, the taste of blood coating his mouth, and still Simon doesn’t stop.

Instead, that sick and twisted bastard smiles as he pulls away. “I know you like it rough, baby,” he says, his voice a grumbly, icy chill, “I like it that way too.”

John’s body is flung into panic mode now, and he’s kicking and twisting, screaming, trying to do anything to get Simon to stop. He can’t believe this is happening, no, it can’t be. This can’t be real. He’ll wake up in his bed in his apartment soon, and mutter to himself about what a weird dream he had. This can’t be about to happen to him.

Simon presses down on John’s body, crushing him, forcing him to still. He furrows his brows and leans over Johnny again, grabbing something from the nightstand. Two more cuffs.

Fuck, Johnny knows what that’s going to be used for. He tries to fight back, kick before he knows he won’t be able to, but Simon is quick and strong, gripping his ankle and quickly fastening it to one of the bedposts. The other one is strung up soon enough, his body now only capable of twitching and squirming, no major movement.

Tears are running down John’s face now. “Simon, I don’t want this! Are you listening to me? I don’t fucking want this! You’re hurting me!”

Simon snaps his gaze to John’s crying face. “‘M not hurting you, Johnny. I would never do that. I’m helping you, okay? I’m making you feel good. You’ll realize that soon.”

He grabs the crotch hole in John’s boxers and rips, his underwear turning to shreds and being flung from his body. Any resistance John shows is barely noticeable.

Simon gently runs his hands up and down Johnny’s sides, gently massaging him. His hands then make their way between John’s legs, feeling up his cock, his slicked up hole.

He smiles. “You’re so wet for me baby. I thought you said you didn’t want this?”

John shakes his head, screwing his eyes shut. Why is his body betraying him? He really doesn’t want this, would give anything for it to stop, but his body won’t listen. He can feel himself getting more aroused as Simon keeps touching him, his cock starting to throb and slick pouring out of his cunt.

Does he… does he actually want this? No. No- he doesn’t. He doesn’t . But if he doesn’t, then… why does it feel so good?

Simon keeps up with his teasing, his thumb circling his throbbing cock as two fingers circle around the entrance of his hole, threatening to plunge inside. John bites his lip to hold back his noises, not wanting to encourage Simon any further.

Simon is smiling to himself. He knew his Johnny was lying to him. His boy wants him so bad that he’s shaking and holding back his noises after only a few teasing touches. He slips a finger inside, relishing in the way John lightly gasps as he does so, his eyes snapping open.

“How long has it been since you last came, baby?” Simon asks, his voice deep and rumbly, more like the monster inside than himself.

John shakes his head, refusing to answer. Simon sighs. His boy is going to need some encouragement.

“I said,” he growls, roughly pinching Johnny’s cock between his thumb and forefinger, “How long has it been since you came, Johnny?”

John gasps in pain, electric shocks coursing through his body. “Fuck- Simon- fuck, shit- Oh- fuck fuck fuck-”

“Tell me and I’ll stop, baby.”

“I don’t know!” John shouts, “Months! It’s been- fuck- a while!”

Simon stops, his gentle and loving touches coming back. He tuts. “That’s no good. I gotta take care of you, make sure you’re satisfied, not all pent up and frustrated. I’m just taking care of you baby, can’t you see that?”

John breathes rapidly, the aftershocks of the pain still coursing through his body, mixing in with the pleasure he’s now being given. Simon dips two fingers in him, gently digging their way deeper and deeper and prodding at all the sensitive spots inside him.

Johnny isn’t sure why he hasn’t been able to cum. He’s tried, really he has. He fingered himself for hours, rode a dildo for an obscene amount of time, used a fully charged vibrator until it died. He just can’t quite make himself tip over the edge.

Maybe it’s because he was thinking of Simon every time, the way he would look on top of him, thrusting into him without mercy. Choking him, spitting on him, tugging at his hair, biting, hitting, slapping, fucking him. Maybe his body knew that it wasn’t enough, that he needed his Simon. That Simon is the only one that can make him feel good.

Maybe his body already knew that he belonged to Simon, and was just waiting for his mind to realize it.

Simon picks up his pace now, thrusting his fingers in and out as he prods at Johnny’s gspot. He smiles as he watches his boy come undone beneath him, so much sweeter than he thought it would be.

“You don’t have to be ashamed for wanting me, Johnny, for wanting this,” Simon softly says, “There’s no reason to be ashamed. You can be honest with yourself.”

John can’t say anything back, can only nod as he throws his head back in a silent scream. Fuck, he is ashamed, really doesn’t want this still, but it feels so good and he’s been waiting for this for fucking months. He’s been waiting to feel Simon’s fingers since the day he met him and saw how large his hands were.

Even though Simon is doing this to him, John still trusts him. He knows now he’s only doing this because he loves him so much, cares for him more than anyone else ever has. He’s the only one that’s ever felt that way towards Johnny.

Simon would never hurt him, right? That’s why he brought him here, to this place. To keep him safe. To care for him, love him, dote on him, in a way nobody else has. Maybe John should just give in, finally admit to himself just how much he likes this, beg Simon to keep going until he finally cums. There’s no reason to be ashamed over wanting the man he loves to make him feel good, yeah?

Simon isn’t being selfish or cruel. He’s helping Johnny. He’s giving him what he needs, even though Johnny thought he didn’t.

Johnny bites his lip and mumbles something.

“What is it, baby?” Simon says, not slowing his pace to let Johnny get his words out clearly.

“P-please, make me cum, Simon,” Johnny begs, trying to spread his legs even wider.

Simon smiles, wicked and dark. “I knew you’d come around, baby. Fuck, that makes me so happy.” He quickens to a brutal pace now, absolutely tearing Johnny up. “I’ll make you cum, baby, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

Only a few seconds later and Johnny is moaning so loud it’s a scream, letting loose a string of curses and Scottish nonsense Simon doesn’t understand. Johnny squirts so hard it splatters against the wall, drenching Simon’s face, torso, and arm completely.

“There you go, baby,” Simon praises as he helps Johnny through his orgasm, “Knew ya could do it. Goooood fucking boy.”

Johnny sinks into the bed, his eyes half-lidded, a goofy smile on his face as he looks up at Simon.

He can’t believe he thought he didn’t want that.

Simon smiles at Johnny, then leans down and gives him a soft yet fierce kiss on his plush lips. “Let’s get you cleaned up and get some breakfast in you, sweet boy.”

Johnny cocks his head. “What about you, Simon? I can make you cum too.”

Simon shakes his head. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me baby.”

Simon unlocks Johnny, massages his sore ankles and wrists, then picks him up and carries him to the bathroom to run him a nice hot bath.

[sciderman]

Jinx monsoon is the queen I showed you and you said would do a good deadpool

oh yeah slay

it's not about the voice, really, but it is about the theatricality. we as a society need a real drama queen to play wade wilson. someone exactly this degree of extra.

[thundersoothers]

john price, his wife, and... the dog (derogatory)

who: John Price x wife!reader

what: inspired by this thought about john price being an absolutely softie for his wife. continued here!

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of cheating but it’s NOT TRUE! you’ll see… just fluff that reallyyyyy makes me want to marry this man.

It’s 2AM on a Saturday in the summer when John Price thinks he hears his wife cheating on him. 

“Shhh!!  You have to be quiet, you’ll wake up my husband.” 

He opens his heavy eyes to see the TV paused at the end credits of some movie he can’t even remember the name of.  The screen reflects in the crystal of the empty rocks glass on the coffee table next to his feet, holding only a warm whiskey stone.  

He groans and stretches, his old t-shirt riding up to show a dark happy trail disappearing into low-waisted flannel pajama pants.  He has one sock on with a hole in the toe.  You told him to get rid of them and got him a pack of 20 of the same sock (he’s very particular about his socks), but he still wears these ones, anyway. 

“Stop moving, I’m trying to concentrate here.  Damn lock… can never— oh, shit.  Heh. Wrong key.” 

He can hear you muttering and giggling and the scratch of the key against the lock as you struggle to get it in. 

It’s your girls’ night and he likes to wait up for you to make sure you get in safely.  He saw you off around 8PM, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as you took a shot of tequila.  You planted a big kiss on his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark that he didn’t bother to fully wipe off. 

“Sorry, I know you’re eager to get inside.  I bet you’re so cold, all naked.  Here, you can go in my dress, is that better?  Fu—ow!  Don’t bite my tit, Jesus!  Sharp teeth…” 

Price suddenly feels much more awake.  He pushes himself up from the couch and starts to walk to the foyer. 

“This damn door… ah!  There we go.” 

The door creaks open and he hears you tiptoe inside in your heels (wearing heels and tiptoeing—are two actions that are mutually exclusive, especially when you’re plastered). 

“Remember, we have to be quiet.  My husband waits for me to get home, we don’t want to wake him up.  He’s very nice, you see, but he can’t know you’re here.” 

Apparently, you have gotten home safely—with an extra guest who just bit at your tit.  And you’re being louder than your guest, who you keep telling to be quiet. 

“My husband is gonna be soooo mad.  He’s gonna be so mad at me, but once he sees how cute you are, I think he’ll forgive me.  He’ll understand.  I had to.  I just had to!” 

He hears rustling as he gets closer to the foyer, you fumbling around in the dark. 

“Stay there, don’t move, okay?  Stay, yeah?  You know that, don’t you?  Mummy will teach you if not.  Just stay right there.  Lemme get these damn heels off…” 

There’s an odd sound of something quickly clicking on hardwood floor that makes his eyebrows furrow, and then you gasp—

“Wait, don’t run—“ 

Bang! 

You groan loudly. 

Price flicks on the lights.

You’re lying face down on the rug.  You have one heel on.  The second heel is twisted around your other foot—what you fell over.  Your little dress is flipped up over your ass and your arms are outstretched. 

“You okay there, love?” John asks, torn between amusement and concern. You just groan.  “Sounded like you fell pretty hard.” 

“I tripped,” you say into the rug, sounding very sad. 

“You hurt?” he asks.  “Anything broken?”

You shake your head and curl up a little.  “I’ll just sleep here.” 

He laughs softly.  “Come on, none of that.” 

“It’s so comfortable.  I’ll just—“ 

There’s that clicking sound again and he’s almost startled by the abruptness of your movement.  You push yourself up with one arm, stretch the other out and fucking snatch the quick-moving little brown blob that’s moving toward you.  You pull it to your chest and cradle it, shielding it from John’s view. 

He blinks. “What you got there, love?” he asks after a second. 

“Nothing,” you say innocently. 

“Right.”  He crosses his arms, looking you over.  “Who were you talking to just now?” 

“No one,” you say quickly.  “Myself.” 

“Right,” John says again slowly. “Show me what you have.” 

You look over your shoulder up at him through your lashes, vision blurry.  “No.  You’re gonna be mad.” 

“Just show me.” 

“Promise you won’t be mad.” 

He sighs.  “I won’t be mad.”  You give him a look.  He sighs again.  You’re wasted—he can tell by your eyes. They’re unfocused and heavy.  “Promise.  Now show me.” 

You look down at whatever you’re holding to your chest.  “Okay,” you whisper (to your tits?), “you need to be very well-behaved, okay?  No biting, please.  Be very nice for Daddy so he will like you, okay?  Can you do that?  Yes?  Okay.” 

You glance up at John again over your shoulder and then turn yourself around in a very clumsy movement.  Then, as if presenting whatever it is like you’re Mufasa from the Lion King, you lift it up in the air toward your husband. 

It’s a puppy. 

It’s quiet. 

The little dog wriggles in your hands, wagging his tail so hard his whole body shakes.  He barks up at John, high pitched.  A small pink tongue lolls out of his mouth. 

It’s still quiet. 

You lower the dog a little so you can look up at John.  “You said you wouldn’t be mad!” 

“I’m not mad,” John says, sounding mad. 

“You look mad.” 

“I’m not mad,” he says again.  “It’s just… dirty.” 

You gasp.  “He’s not dirty!” you exclaim, sounding offended on behalf of the dog.  You pull him to your chest.  “He’s just a little mangey, you see.  But that’s okay.  It can be fixed.  You know—they have medicine for that.  Or lotion, or whatever it is.  He’s very nice, John, I swear.  I know he’s a little… skrunkly but he’s very cute and—ow!  That’s my hair, no biting Mummy, please.” 

“You’re already calling yourself his Mummy?” he asks, bemused, eyebrow raised at you.  Yep.  You’re fucking wasted. 

“Yes, and you’re his Daddy.”  You hold the dog up again, this time facing him toward you.  “I think you’re very cute, puppy. You’ll grow on Daddy.  Just be very good for him, you can do that, can’t you?  Yes, you can.”  You whisper, as if John isn’t standing right there, “We’ll wear him down. Don’t worry.”

“I thought it was something else,” Price says. 

“What did you think it was?” you ask, not looking away from the dog.

“Where did you find it?” he asks instead of answering. 

This is much better than what his traitorous mind momentarily supplied.  You, cheating? As if.

How silly of him to even think that. For a moment, his stomach twists with the guilt of doubting you. He should have known better. 

Of course it’s this.  What else could it have been?

A puppy. 

A puppy! 

“Oh, hello, there.” 

You crouch down in your dress and heels and hold out your hand to the little puppy emerging from the bushes by the side of the road. 

“What are you doing here, all alone?  Come here, love, I won’t hurt you.  Come on, puppy, come to me.  Yeahhh, there we go.  Oh, look at you.  You’re so cute.  You’re all mangey, though.  Oh,” you say pitifully, “you little baby.” 

You’re drunk as fuck at 2AM on a Saturday in the summer, halfway through your walk home from the bar, squatting in the middle of a back road in England, about to cry while petting this puppy clumsily—but he doesn’t seem to mind.  He wags his tail and nips at your fingers. 

“Where’s your Mummy?  You shouldn’t be out here all alone.  No collar… oh, goodness, what should I do with you?  I don’t want to leave you.  I’m not sure what to do.” 

He barks at you, high pitched. 

You nod at him seriously.  “Oh, yes, good point.”  He barks again.  “Mhm.  Yes, yes.  I thought so, too.  Exactly right.” 

He runs in a circle around you. 

“What are you, a month?  You should be with your Mum, you shouldn’t be all alone.  Oh, you little baby, you must be so scared.”  (He’s wagging his tail.) 

“It’s so cold.”  (It’s summer.) 

“Maybe you can come home with me?”  (Your husband would be so mad.) 

“Yes,” you decide.  “You’ll come home with me.”  (Your husband is going to be so mad.) 

That’s how you end up stumbling home with a puppy in your arms, rambling to him about yourself and your life. 

“Well, puppy, my name is Mrs. Price.  I’m from around here.  I live in a nice three bedroom house with my husband, I think you’ll like it very much.  It’s very cute. He let me decorate it. He doesn’t understand feng shui, you see. You should see his office, puppy, it’s so bland. No taste for interior design.”

“Our house is only 10 more minutes away.  See that big tree there?  That means we only have 10 minutes left until we’re home.  I’m not great with street names, you see, so I go by landmarks.”  He barks.  “Yes, yes, you get it.” 

“Anyway.  So, I’m—stop wiggling please, Mummy’s going to drop you—I’m married to a very nice man named John.  I love him very much.  You’ll like him, too,” you tell him seriously, “he’s very likable.  I like lots of things about him, puppy.  Actually, I like everything about him.” 

“He says I can’t have a dog, though.  He says it’s for my own good—booooo. Boo! But maybe we can sneak you in.  What do you think, puppy?  Should we do that?  I think we should do that.  We’ll have to be very quiet, though.  Very quiet.” 

“John waits for me to get home safely—he’s so nice, he’s so kind to me, I love him sooooo much—but we have to make sure not to wake him up. This is one of them—uh, covert operations. He’s very well-versed in those. My husband is very talented, puppy, he’s a Captain. So we’ll have to be extra careful.”

And that’s how you end up trying to sneak into your own house and then trip over your shoe and fucking slam! your face on the rug. 

“Where did you find it?” John asks you as you sit on the floor after you presented the dog to him.

“On the way home from the bar, kind of my that big tree.” 

“By Notting Street?” 

You furrow your eyebrows.  “Notting Str—I dunno.  Maybe?  I just know the big tree.  The one with all the branches.” 

“‘The one with all the branches,’” he repeats, nodding slowly.  “Right.” 

“But he was there all alone so I took him home.  I couldn’t leave him, John, he’s so little.  And he’s very cute, look at his little ears?  And his little feet?  His toes are soooo small.  His little teeth are sharp, though—like a shark.  Fuckin’ hurt, he almost bit my tit off.” 

“Yeah, I heard.” 

“You heard?  Oh.  I was trying to be quiet.  I didn’t want to wake you up.” 

He smiles at you.  “I know.” 

You smile back. 

“Give me the dog.” 

You frown.  “No.” 

“The dog, please.” 

“No.”  You hold him tighter.  “You’ll take him from me.” 

“Well,” he says, “yes.” 

You sigh heavily.  “Be gentle.”  You hand him to John and he takes him in one hand and holds him out, frowning, as if it’s offended him. 

A puppy. 

“Can we keep him?” you ask hopefully. 

He glances at you and then back to the puppy and then back to you and then back to the puppy.  “No.” 

“Please?” 

“No.” 

“But…”  You trail off and he looks back down at you.  You’re starting to tear up. 

“Oh—love, don’t cry.” 

“He’s so little and soft and nice and he’s all mangey and he’s all alone and he’s just a little baby and…” 

“Okay, okay, darling, we can keep him.” 

(By that, he means you’ll talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober, and by ‘talk about it’, he means, ‘no.’) 

“Really?!” you gasp.  

The way your face fucking lights up makes John pause.  For a second, he almost feels like he lost his balance.

“Oh, John, really?  Oh, thank you so much!  Puppy, did you hear that?  Daddy said yes!  See, he’s very nice, just like I told you, remember?  He’s very nice and kind and he’s very handsome and I love him very much, and I—“ 

“The dog can’t understand you.” 

“You don’t know that,” you say defensively.

He looks down at you. “Right.”

You stare up at him, standing over you as you sit on the floor.  “How are you handsome even from this angle?”  You frown deeper.  “Stupid face,” you mutter. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Let’s get you up.” 

“I’m so comfortable.” 

“Hand.”  He tucks the dog under his arm and extends his other hand toward you.  He crooks his long, thick fingers at you.  “Now.” 

You look between his hand and his face, and then slip your hand into his. 

“Good girl.”

He fucking yanks you up and, in one movement that’s somehow graceful, bends down and throws you over his shoulder. 

He, naturally, slaps your ass and you squeal.  “Hey!!” 

You kick your feet (still with only one heel on) and he laughs, resting his hand on your hip, heavy fingers digging into the plush of your butt, as he makes his way up the stairs with you on his shoulder and the dog in his hand. 

Gently, he drops you onto the bed and you fall back with an oof! and stare up at him. 

“Well,” Price drawls, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

You grin.  “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.”  He takes off your shoe (singular), your dress, and your makeup as you hold the dog, curled up, on your chest. 

“You’re so good to me, John,” you say, your eyes closed.  “I’m so lucky.  I don’t know how I got so lucky.  And, you, puppy,” you mumble, petting him slowly, “you’re so lucky, too.  You’re about to have the best Daddy in the world.  He’s so good to us.” 

“‘Puppy’ is asleep,” John says.  “And,” he adds, scooping him up in one hand, “puppy is not sleeping in the bed.” 

You just groan, too tired and drunk to argue. 

He holds the dog out in the air again, turning him around and upside down to examine him.  He yips and wriggles in his hands, but John shushes him.  “Hush now.  Your Mummy is asleep.”  He shakes his head and sighs.  “What am I going to do with you?” 

He takes the dog to the bathroom and puts him down on the floor. His paws slip a little on the cold tile. John puts his hands on his hips, staring down at the dog.  “I can’t believe this.”

He reaches over to turn on the heated floor (which he got installed for you) and says to the dog, “You are so, so damn lucky I love your Mummy.” 

In the morning, despite John Price’s best efforts to say no to you, you end up convincing him to keep the dog. He’s a military Captain but the pleading of his wife is enough to make him crumble.

The happiness on your face when he finally says yes, makes him wonder why he ever said no in the first place.

note: thank you for reading! this is my first time posting in years–and in a totally new fandom. thank you for your patience and your support. let me know your thoughts! merry christmas!

posted 12.26.2024. revised 01.02.2025.

do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform.

to masterlist.

[nochepsicodelica]

You wake up from a nap that went on a little too long, only to see that Toji still isn't next to you in bed. It's dark already, and when you check the time on your phone, the screen reads 10:14. You see light underneath the bedroom door and get up, dragging the blanket along with you. When you open the door, there Toji is, sitting on the couch, watching TV with his hand in a bag of chips. You peek at him from the hallway entryway and watch as he puts another chip in his mouth.

"Hi," Toji says, not the slightest bit oblivious to your eyes on him. His gaze shifts to you and the big, puffy blanket you have draped around you. "How'd you sleep?"

You don't answer, but instead start making your way towards him, the blanket tailing behind you as it drags on the floor. Five more steps and you're right in front of him. Without a second thought, you're climbing onto his lap and making yourself comfortable. Your big blanket covers him, as well as his bag of chips, now, too.

"Still tired, mama?" Toji asks, when you bury your face in the crook of his neck. You grunt, affirmatively, in response, tightening your arms around him. "That's how you answer, now?" He asks, chuckling when you grunt, again. "I'm rubbing off on you. You sound like a bear."

"Why didn't you come sleep with me?" You ask, your voice quiet from being underused.

"I went into the room to check on you and you were knocked out. Even got some cute pictures of you drooling, and you still didn't wake up."

You whine, annoyed at this revelation. "Not cute at all. It's like you don't even love me," you mumble, turning your face away from him, your cheek now positioned on his shoulder.

"Love you enough to keep an album full of these pictures."

"What? Toji." You briefly turn your attention back to him.

"There's eighty in there. Well, eighty-three, with the ones I got today."

You sigh, dramatically, and rest your cheek on his shoulder, again. "I have nothing more to say to you. Goodnight."

You can hear the smirk on Toji's face when he says, "'Night."

In the short amount of time that you slept on Toji, he was witness to yet another one of your dreams. He's been around for plenty of them. Some were nightmares, others just random dreams that made you jolt awake with a jump scare. He's even been around for the good ones that cause breathy renditions of his name to spill from your lips. This one was just weird.

Toji felt you stirring and watched as you nuzzled into his shoulder. He listened in on your nonsensical thoughts and grinned, amusedly, at the randomness. You sounded worried as you mumbled things about your eyes and how you wanted to keep them, and then something else about changing your mind and not being ready. He had no time to wonder what you weren't ready for, because you woke up and you looked scared.

You sit up on Toji's lap and blink a few times as you look around. "Toji, do my... my eyes?" You question, not finding offense in the way Toji looks like he's trying not to laugh. You're still very much concerned about your eyes.

"What about your eyes, ma?" He asks, his gaze darting after yours as you keep looking around.

"Do my eyes still work?" You ask, still panicking on the inside.

"I don't know. Do they?" he says, only further adding on to your fear. There's a small crease between your eyebrows, making you look conflicted. Your expression goes sad when you look away from Toji.

"Ma, wake up," Toji says, pinching your cheek a few times, while wearing a teasing grin on his face. "Look, if you're actually scared, we can check." You really need that confirmation, so you give Toji your full attention. "What's this?" He asks, tapping the scar that strikes his lips.

"Your handsome, sexy, all you can eat, full course meal of a scar," you mumble.

Toji deadpans and tilts his head, furthering his unamused expression. "Your eyes are fine."

"Test me, again. Pleaaaase?" You beg, giving him a soft smile and puppy eyes.

He sighs and gives in, no fight put up against you, whatsoever. "What color are my eyes?"

You hum as you lean in to examine the subject more closely before coming to your conclusion. "The most handsome bobansome, beautiful, crispy green apple, shade of green."

Toji scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief. "See? Your eyes are fine. On that note, you're banned from sleeping on me."

You gasp, dramatically, as if he offended you. "Aren't you the one always manhandling me so that i'm sleeping on top of you? And during our afternoon naps, you put my leg over your hip. And when I try to get up, you--"

"Okay, you're not banned. Jeez." You outsmarted him and it shows through the way he subtly clenches his jaw. "If you like sleeping on me that much, just say so."

You narrow your eyes at him, before pushing off of his chest in an attempt to get off of him.

"Whatcha doing?" He asks, holding your hips down so that you can't move.

"Going back to the room," you say, trying to peel his hands off of you, to no avail. "I would like to sleep on our bed, now, Toji."

"Then, tell me that and I'll take you. What are you doing pawing at my hands, trying to get them off of you?" He takes one look at the involuntary lift of your lips and already knows what's going on. "Oh..." he chuckles. "You a grumpy little bear, now?"

"Don't talk to me," you grumble, huffing childishly and turning your attention away from him.

"Aren't you the one always calling, saying you just wanted to hear my voice while i'm working? And you get goosebumps all over when I talk directly into your ear. And when I don't--"

"Stooop," you whine, leaning forward and burying your face in the crook of his neck, again. Your arms wrap around his neck and your thighs squeeze his waist. "You're not fair," you mumble, into his warm skin.

"Yeah, i'm so cruel to you, huh, baby?" He says, pressing a kiss to your cheek, a soft smile lingering on his lips when you hum out a little "mhm" in response. He moves his bag of chips aside and turns off the TV, before wrapping the blanket around you and tucking the excess away, so that he doesn't trip over it as he walks. With ease, he stands up from the couch and starts towards the bedroom, with his lump of a blanket clinging to him.

[furuu]

∘ ◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ It was late, and the house was quiet as you shifted uncomfortably in bed. The cramps had been gnawing at your abdomen all night, making it impossible to fall into a deep sleep. You tried not to move too much, not wanting to disturb Sukuna, who was resting beside you. He rarely seemed vulnerable, but in his sleep, his sharp features softened just enough to remind you that even the King of Curses needed rest.

But no matter how hard you tried to keep still, your body betrayed you. A small, pained groan escaped your lips as another wave of cramps tightened around your stomach, causing you to curl in on yourself. Sukuna’s body twitched beside you, and for a moment, you thought he was still asleep. Until you heard it—a low, rumbling growl from deep in his chest.

You froze. Was he... growling?

It took a few seconds before you realized what was happening. The faint scent of blood must’ve hit his heightened senses, and like a predator picking up on the tiniest shifts in the air, Sukuna was reacting to it. His brow furrowed slightly as he inhaled through his nose, the smell of your period filling his senses. He shifted in his sleep, instinctively moving closer to you, a territorial edge to the way his arm draped over your waist.

You could feel his fingers twitching against your skin as if unconsciously staking his claim. Another small growl escaped him, softer this time but no less possessive.

Suddenly, his eyes fluttered open, and you found yourself face-to-face with a very awake—and very intense—Sukuna. His crimson gaze locked onto yours, still hazy from sleep but filled with an unmistakable sense of protectiveness.

“You’re in pain,” he said gruffly, voice low and rough from sleep. “I can feel it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, your face flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s just… cramps. It’s nothing, really—”

His grip on you tightened just slightly, cutting off your sentence as he stared at you, his eyes narrowing in a way that left no room for argument. “Dumb girl,” he warned, as if what he said before was the most obvious thing in the world. His tone was matter-of-fact, yet there was an underlying possessiveness in the way he said it, as if it was something unbreakable. “I will keep you safe, as your king.”

You swallowed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Sukuna, it’s just—”

“I don’t care what it is,” he interrupted, his voice softening just a little, though the stubbornness was still there. “Your body is suffering, and I will ease your pain.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but the intensity in his gaze left you speechless. He didn’t just want to help—you could tell he needed to, like some primal instinct had taken over. Just like how animals got protective and snuggly around women on their periods, Sukuna’s instincts were flaring up. You could see it in the way his muscles tensed, the way he hovered protectively over you, as if keeping you safe from something unseen.

You sighed, feeling your embarrassment wash away as you realized how serious he was. “It’s just… it’s a little embarrassing,” you admitted softly, looking down. “I don’t want to bother you.”

Sukuna let out a quiet snarl of irritation. “You’re my mate. You’ll never bother me.” He shifted, pulling you closer into his chest as his large hand splayed across your abdomen, the warmth of his palm immediately soothing against your aching muscles. “Let me take care of you.”

Despite the initial embarrassment, the heat of his body and the firm but gentle pressure of his hand on your stomach made you relax. The pain wasn’t as sharp with him so close, and the reassurance in his gravely voice eased some of the discomfort in your chest, too.

You snuggled into him, allowing yourself to rest against his tattooed chest. His growls quieted into a soft rumble, more like a contented purr now, as he nuzzled his face into your hair.

“I’ve got you,” Sukuna murmured, his voice a quiet, possessive promise. “You’re mine. No one gets to hurt you. Not even your own body.”

And even though it was still a little embarrassing, you felt safer than ever wrapped in his arms, knowing that he would always be there to protect you—even from something as simple as cramps.

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

One hell of a team | In-ho x Wife!Reader |

Summary: You will follow your husband anywhere.

Warnings: S2 Spoilers - Violence - Different back story for In-ho - Blood - Death - Use of (Y/N) - Reader gets called "love" -

The Frontman, the man with the most power within the island, to who the guards obey without question.

Was currently trembling under his wife pointed look.

"You want to enter the games?" You asked him, your tone cold and almost jugdmental.

In-ho calmed himself down. It was an idea that stayed with him after the death of the Chairman and even more with how player 456 had insisted the last two years in finding them. He had played before and won, he knew how terrible others could be, he had walked out like a new man, used the money for himself and you. Never really gave much thought on how many lives were lost.

But, for some reason he wanted to go again.

"Im going with you"

His glass of wishky fell onto the floor, the loud crash did nothing to bother you while you ate.

"No, thats not happening. I need you here to control the games and guards" In-ho started trying to get a valid reason to why you defenetly should not come.

"Oh, you need me to? Well I need you here. With me. With our family. How do you think I would do seeing you there ? I still remember how you got when you came back from these the first time"

"That was different" The Frontman said taking a deep breath "I wont be just one more player, it will be like when the Chairman went in"

"That still does not ease my mind" (Y/N) responded "Till death do us a part and follow you anywhere" you recited showing him your weeding ring. "Remember?"

In-ho felt his chest got thight at the sight and the memory of the small yet full of love weeding you two had back when life was more simple.

"Alright, you can come with me. Its not like you would wait for my approval" he responded smiling at the end "But no one must know that we are married, you understand that ?" He added now serious

"Of course, its what makes more sense, we will just casually meet there and see how it plays" You nodded to him "And please, better clean up that glass before someone steps on it"

"On it, love"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

For the most part pretending not to know each other was easier than expected. While you knew the guards knew who you two were you were still a bit scared. Specially during the green and red light, since both of you had got separated and now you were froze in your spot.

"You need to move" In-ho said from behind his arm playing along "Follow me in the next sing, alright? Just take my hand"

"Im scared, im sorry" You said feeling guilty over wanting to be there with him and starting to fail on the first game no less.

"I know, I was too. But im here, just follow me"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

You had to hide your smirk when he pressed the circle to go on with the games, you knew he would do it just to piss off Player 456 and make things more cahotic.

He went with the rest and stood besides you trying himself not to smile at you.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The first approach to Gi-huns team was tense to say the least. You two had voted circle and even worse In-ho had been the vote that ended the tie.

But with his own charisma and yours you two got to be on his good side.

Till In-ho decided to talk, really you sometimes forgot who sassy he could be.

"And some picked umbrella?" He asked faking suprise when he had seen it on first hand. "Most of them died I assume"

You could see the look on player 456 and decided to be more sensitive

"Hey, dont be like that. Im sure they went in blind and did not know what it was about" You said keeping a safe distance so no one would think you two were together or knew each other before the games.

In-ho was having too much fun.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

That first night they both were in their respective beds. Still keeping their false relationship. However once (Y/N) was sure all were asleep she went towards In-ho who was awake like he knew she would be coming to him.

"Are you alright?" He asked in a whisper, worried that for her this would be too much.

"Im fine, I wanted to see if you were fine"

He nodded not saying a thing but taking her hand.

"Also, I saw you break that fight, really ? When did you even learn to do that ?" This made him smile and hold her hand thighter "Really! I only see you in your office all the time"

"You think I would come in here without knowing how to defend myself or you?"

She smiled at him, blushing in the dark. "No....I just thought all you did was be in your office and give orders"

In-ho rolled his eyes "Just wait till we are out of here, i will show you just how fit im"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The six legs game was both a chaos and funny. Honeslty you could not help yourself on hugging him and player 456 (who was slowly getting on your soft side) as you saw a team win.

However the shoots that came for these who did not survive were too much. You would swear In-ho gave the guards a cold stare because you would flinch sometimes.

"Hey, dont worry they wont shoot the ones who havent played" Player 456 reassured you with a calm tone

You nodded, knowing that even if you lost they wont shoot you or In-ho. It was still sweet to see him trying to calm you down.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"Not a word" He said during the night when you two were able to talk again.

"I was not going to say a thing, but you did in on purpose or were you really missing ?"

In-ho closed his eyes knowing you would later get the recording of him missing during the game and use it against him.

"It was all planned" he said trying to sound as convincing as he could.

"Whatever you say Honey"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The game of making pairs gave you nausea because of the carousel kept spinning around. And the rounds were stress again. The worse part was getting separated from In-ho who find you seeing how two players were dragging you so they could have the number they needed.

You havent see him get that angry in years, his protective self being on as he pulled one from the neck and punched the other one.

He kept punching almost forgetting there was a game you two were supposed to play.

"Leave him we still need two more" You urged only for a guard to shove two confused and scared players besides you and In-ho.

"We got them" He assured getting your hand and going to one room.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"In-ho!! (Y/N)!!" The worried screams of Gi-hun filled the place as he looked for both of you.

Even if he had promised to try and dont get attached to new players and survive he could not help but feel a connection with both of you.

"Gi-hun!" In-ho's voice called making him look over and see him coming towards the rest with you by hand something that made him curious but decided not to ask.

"Im glad to see you two alright" Gi-hun said seeing just a few bruises on you, and noticing blood on In-ho knuckles.

You catched his eyes and went to explain "He saved me" you told the rest looking at them then at In-ho who was looking back at you "I would have not made it otherwise"

The look of love you two shared was so genuine, some wonder if you two were together but trying to be discrete to protect yourselfs.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"They will most likely attack us tonight" Gi-hun explained as he showed the fork the guards had left when the food was given.

The idea only assented itself when the men returned from the bathroom, with blood on them. 

"And what do you propouse us to do?" In-ho asked all of the Xs were in a circle trying to listen to what Gi-hun had to say.

Gi-hun told the others his plan, honestly you thoguht it was nusts, it wont work. They were far suprassed on numbers but you had to shut yourself up.

You could tell your husband was both amazed by it and even kind of respecting it. Or at least that what he showed to him. He needed Gi-hun's trust after all.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"Hide well" In-ho said besides you in a low tone "We can trust the guards but till they get here we cant trust the others"

You nodded knowing that very well since this was a typical phase of the game for years.

"We will be safe" You said holding his shoulder. "Do what you have to do, dont worry about me" You tried to make him feel at ease but he could not. The only thing that scared him more than anything were the other players trying to get to you.

"Just hang in there" He responded his forehead against yours.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The fight was on its hot spot. The players were killing each other without a second thought.

Nothing like living it, even if you have seen this type of thing multiple times. Its was unnerving to see them just going at each others troath. The screams and cries were too much for a moment, the dark did nothing to help.

Thats when you felt it. Someone had dragged you out from under the bed and was now on top of you. You saw the player move their left hand ready to Strike at you. You tried to punch and defend yourself but the person on top was too strong.

A cold scream left your mouth as the fork pierced your shoulder.

You could not help it, the adrenaline and anxiety was getting on you.

"In-ho! In-ho help me please" You screamed for him, your husband the love of your life.

"Shut up, the next one will be your neck" The person said and for a moment you saw it. Dying in here and leaving In-ho.

Till you felt the person being pushed and the screams of them. You blinked trying to make sense.

It was In-ho, he had taken the fork from the player and was now piercing the neck of the player, not even leaving a chance for them to survive.

"GO HIDE NOW!!" In-ho ordered, he being scared himself and angry. He saw red when you were dragged and it was for the brutal grip Gi-hun had on his arm that he did not move faster.

You did as told getting under another bed and making sure no one could reach you.

"You fucking scum! How dare you lay hands on my wife" In-ho almost screamed too angry to see that the player was now dead. All his face and hands where covered in blood.

"Stop it!! They are dead, we need to continue the plan, the lights will be back soon" Gi-hun said taking him and pulling him away from the dead player.

"Get (Y/N), and be ready" Gi-hun told him trying to keep himself calm even when he was close to jump over and save you and In-ho. He wondered if he had hear it right, you were his wife?

In-ho did not waste time, searching for you in the dark till he noticed you. He went quick, pulling yourself out from the bed telling you its was him.

"Shh shh its me, its over dont cry Love" He said trying to make you feel better.

"In-ho?" He nodded and you cried harder "In-ho I was so scared"

"I know love I know, just a bit more alright? It will be over soon. Listen once the guards come in and we follow Gi-huns plan do not come. Someone will come and get you"

"Im going with you, im not leaving you in a bullet fight!"

"You know nothings gonna happen to me, I want you here, safe, alright?"

Finally you accepted.

"I love you In-ho"

"I love you too Love"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

As In-ho had said when the guards got back after the fight one took you, Player 120 tried to protest but was put back in her place by other guard.

"You are under suspect of have been part of the riot. You are now eliminated from the games"

The guard said playing his role, starting to get you out of the room while you screamed following the act.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

"Apologies Madam, orders from the Front Man" The guard said bowing once you two were outside and out of reach from the others players.

Even if you were still breathing hard you nodded. "Dont worry, just take me to him". The guard nodded.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

He knew he was needed in the control room but refused to let you alone like that. He went to your share room, his heart broke at your image, bruises and blood over you. A guard was checking your shoulder but left after he order them to.

Silence fell over both of you as he went to you and hugged you careful not to hurt your shoulder.

He removed his mask to look at you properly.

"Im sorry, I should have never let you come, I should have stopped this sooner" He said with pain in his voice

"Dont blame yourself, I told you I was going in with you. This was not your fault In-ho" You reassured him feeling sad and worried over him.

"I cant not blame myself" He gently passed his hand over your cheeck "You are the best thing in my life and I almost lost you because of my own desires, never again"

You two kissed softly grounding yourselfs. You two were safe and together nothing else matters from now. Only the love and devotion you two had for each other.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

[not-neverland06]

Kid?

Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader A/N: I haven’t watched X-Men since I was a child, so I can’t promise this is going to be canon-compliant. I haven’t watched DP & W either, I’ve just been influenced by that one gif where Hugh Jackman shakes his head like a dog. I feel FERAL Also, I am not good at superhero names or coming up with creative powers. So you’re a mutant with matter manipulation and they call you Flux. I mean, superhero names are inherently ridiculous so I think this works. (Don’t judge me, I’m just here for the sexy man) Summary: You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong. (Or were you?)

It was your own fault, you should have knocked before you busted through the door. You only have yourself to blame as you struggle to catch your breath and swallow down the lump in your throat. The image of Logan standing between Jean’s bare legs is going to haunt you for a while. Their faces will keep you awake at night, cringing at yourself while you remember the humiliating moment. 

You rush towards the door, a stupidly giddy skip to your step. You were a mutant, a superhuman, and getting a chance to talk to your crush should not have you giggling like a schoolgirl. Still, you’re blind to all logic when it comes to Logan. 

You turn the corner, spotting the medbay and nearly ramming into the door you know he’s lurking behind. Charles had told you where to find him. Of course, you hadn’t paid attention to the odd tone of voice when he had very clearly warned you to knock. All you’d heard was Logan’s name and you’d zoned out for the rest of the conversation. 

And, of course, you don’t knock. You grab the door’s handle and bust in, “Hey!” Your eyes widen and your stomach plummets with a depressing plop to the floor. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see the way Jean and Logan are entangled in each other. He’s leaning over her, the muscles and veins in his neck pulsing with strain. Normally, that sight would have you nearly drooling. 

Instead, all you can see is the flush on Jean’s cheeks and the way her pupils are dilated with want. Her nails are digging into his back, bare legs twined around his waist. There’s no way to misinterpret this. No way for you to later assure yourself that this was all just a misunderstanding. 

The words stumble out of your mouth in a disjointed mess that even you can’t decipher. You stand there, jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finally get it together. “Charles,” you stutter out, his name sounding like a question. You wince and finally tear your gaze away from them. “Sorry,” you chuckle, trying to play off your hurt as humor. “Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond, you slam the door closed, ignoring what you think might be someone calling your name. 

You shake off the mortifying memory and groan. Your head falls into your hands and you grip at your face until the pain distracts you from the embarrassment. It’s not too hard to push it all down, to pretend what happened didn’t make your heart crumble away into nothing.

Maybe it’s because you’re a mutant that you’re so used to rejection. You’re used to constantly being disappointed by people around you. Your childhood was nothing but cruelty, your crush not liking you back can’t compare to half of what you went through. 

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, to try and pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. You shove it down until you think you can’t feel that dull ache anymore. And when Jean and Logan walk into the room, looking more put together, you smile at Logan like you always do. It doesn’t turn down at the corners, your eyes don’t water. You take in a deep breath and look utterly unaffected. 

He sits down beside you and leans towards you. “I can explain-”

You cut him off and shake your head. “Forget about it. I should have knocked.” You turn towards Charles who wheels himself to the front of the room. You dismiss Logan and ignore the way his stare burns into the side of your head. 

Charles looks to Jean and Logan, a smile starting. Then his gaze drifts towards you and your chest deflates when you see the look on his face. He knows, the old miser probably coasted over your thoughts and he knows. He sends you a sympathetic look that makes you feel like a little girl who just got told unicorns don’t exist. “Jean, Logan, glad that you’ve finally joined us.”

Logan nods and leans back in his chair. But his eyes remain fixed on you and it makes you wish you could stab a fork into them. You let out a short, irritated huff of air and frown at yourself. Maybe you were a little more angry than you would like to admit. 

You blame Logan for that. You never would have fallen so deep into infatuation if you hadn’t believed there was even a sliver of a chance with him. Always speaking so kindly with you when he would barely spare anyone a second glance. Constantly doing checkups on you after a particularly harsh training session with Charles. 

Your mind runs over all the small things with him, everything you’ve done together. And you’re hit with a sudden nauseating thought. Oh my god, what if he sees me paternally?

You force yourself not to physically react but inside your throwing up and fucking freaking out. You feel a sudden spark of alarm from Charles and quickly do your best to fortify your mind so he doesn’t see your major mental freakout. 

You’re not that much younger than him. Well, it’s not illegal, your crush on Logan. But what if this entire time, when you’ve been falling harder and harder for him, he’s just been platonically taking care of you? You’ve seen him do it plenty of times for the younger kids, as reluctant as he is to admit it. 

You’re spiraling further and further into panic. So much so that you have no idea what’s even being discussed or what’s going on. You get onto the jet and have to ask Storm what you’re doing. She gives you a confused look but tells you nonetheless. Just some recon on a potential mutant trafficking ring. Nothing out of the ordinary, as depressing as that is. There shouldn’t be much violence, which is why your group is particularly small today.

You nod your head, moving like you’re in a daze as you throw yourself onto a seat. Logan sits beside you, an alarmed look on his face. “You alright, kid?”

The nickname, which is used to make your stomach flutter, makes you want to throw up. How have you missed it for this long? It was laid out so plainly before you. Of course, he doesn’t want you. Not when he has perfect Jean. Bile rises in your throat with a vicious ferocity when you glare over at Jean. 

There’s a sudden petty, vindictive rage fueling you. The type you should have abandoned in high school, especially now that you’re grown. Instead, you feel like giving into Logan’s idea of what you are. You feel like reacting to all of this petulantly. 

You ignore Logan and instead catch Jean’s eyes. Slowly, and with as much intention as you can force into your gaze, you look from her to Logan and then Scott. Her eyes widen and Logan scoffs beside you. She shakes her head minutely, silently begging you not to say anything. You smile at her and stand up.

You take a step towards Scott and Logan calls out an irritated, “Kid.” You ignore him and Jean eyes you warily as you approach. She stands like she’s ready to fight you and take the jet down just to keep you quiet. You reach Scott and can hear the way Jean takes in a sharp breath. 

“Scott,” he looks up at you with his brows raised. There's a pause before you speak. Dragged on too long for Scott not to realize you’re planning something. 

Jean takes a step towards you and you grin, “Mind checking my cuffs?” Scott gives you an odd look and his confusion only gets worse as Jean slumps onto the seat beside him. She’s not even trying to hide her relief. Scott shakes his head and holds his hands out, fingers gently probing around the cuffs on your wrists. The ones that keep your powers in check. 

You’re still new to welding them. And they’re too entwined with your emotions for you to just have free range with them. If you hadn’t had the cuffs on this morning, you’re afraid you might have just turned everything around you into nothing but dust.

“They look fine, Flux.” His tone betrays his thoughts. He doesn’t know why you’d come to him for this when it’s Charles who usually deals with it. But this stupid, petty little display wasn’t for poor oblivious Scott. It was for the woman sitting next to him. The redhead whose still drilling holes into your skull. 

You’ve got leverage over her that you’ve never had before. Scott wouldn’t take her little foray with Logan very well. And all it would take is a flick of your wrist to give him a very clear image of exactly what you’d seen. Then, her picture-perfect relationship would be over in a matter of seconds. You’re sure Logan would be more than pleased. But he doesn’t seem to understand that Jean just wants to have fun with him, she’d never choose him over Scott. 

“Thanks,” there’s a bite to your tone that you’re not used to. You usually keep your emotions relatively in control. That way you won’t have to wear these cuffs one day. But you feel volatile today. You’re channeling your hurt and turning it into misguided anger. 

You drop your wrists to your sides and stalk toward the front, hovering behind Charle’s and Storm’s chairs so you don’t have to look at the others. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the floor trembling under heavy booted steps. 

Logan’s arms rest on the headrest of the chairs, bracketing you in between them so you can’t escape. He leans forward until his chest is pushed against yours and you can feel every ridge of his muscled torso pressing into you. You try not to suck in a breath, try not to play into the cliche of instantly forgetting why you’re angry when you’re faced with those muscles of his. It is hard, though, because he’s so handsome and so warm and you just want to melt into him. 

“Wanna explain what the hell that was?” His voice is so low, whispering against the shell of your ear so only you can hear. You feel the vibrations of it against your back, his tone more gravelly than it should be. 

You glance over your shoulder at him, face placid and blank. “What? Just needed some help.” Storm looks over at you both and rolls her eyes. 

Logan opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off. “Put a pin in the lover’s spat, we’re landing.” Using just a bit of your power, you push Logan off of you and head towards the back of the jet. There’s a slight jolt as you land and then the ramp opens up and you’re practically running into the snowy forest. 

You don’t know where you are, mainly because you weren’t paying attention, you just know it's fucking freezing. The leather of your suit isn’t doing much to help fight against the chill. Charles stays on the jet and reminds you all that this is only meant to be recon. You’re partnered up with Logan, and as much as it irritates you, you’re not stupid enough to argue against it.

You have to put aside your personal grievances for this mission. You can’t risk the safety of mutants because the guy you like likes another girl. Logan seems pleased about it, stubbornly staying by your side even when you make it clear you want space. 

You both linger behind the other’s as Storm leads you through the forest. Jean is being more touchy with Scott than normal. Either to assuage her own guilt or to rub it in Logan’s face, you’re not sure which. You nearly gag as you watch them whisper to one another, you glance over at Logan to see if he notices. 

You’re startled when you see him already staring at you. His lips tick up into something mischievous when he catches your eye. That smug smirk on his face as he leans in towards you. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so pissed off?”

You roll your eyes and tamp down the rising tide of anger. “Nothing,” you bite out, jaw clenching the longer you stare at the back of Jean’s head. You’re surprised you haven’t chipped a tooth with how hard you’re grinding your teeth together. 

He scoffs, not believing you for a second. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you an expectant stare. You can taste the words forming on your tongue, an irritating urge to just spill your guts overcoming you. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “I’m a little surprised that’s all.”

“Oh yeah, ‘bout what?” You hate how amused he sounds, the chuckle just lying in wait under his words. Like your anger is funny to him, like he didn’t just break your stupid fucking heart. 

You stop walking, not feeling as intimidating as you want while you shiver and huddle into yourself. He seems perfectly at ease in his leather jacket and beater, still refusing to wear the uniform. He leans back and looks at you with a fondness that you can’t tell if you love or hate. “You and little Miss Perfect.” You spit the nickname with enough venom to make both of your eyes widen. 

Logan rolls his eyes and takes a step towards you, again, Storm interrupts you both. “Guys, really?” Everyone turns around to stare and you will the heat in your face away. “Not the time,” she scolds and you brush past Logan to catch up with the others. 

You come upon a warehouse, it’s nearly camouflaged under all the snow. You see two guards waiting outside the metal doors and you all disperse behind the trees. Storm glances towards Jean who focuses on the guards. They drop to the floor and you wave your hands, their guns melting into puddles of metal. 

Logan and Scott move forward, sliding the large metal doors open. You wince at the loud screeching as the rust flakes off the sides. There’s a collective quiet as you all hold your breath, waiting for them to give the all-clear. Once they run inside and run back out, you and the others quickly get to your feet and rush into the warehouse. Logan closes the doors again as you make it inside. 

“No one here?” Storm checks. Scott shakes his head and you frown. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would there be guards if there was nothing inside?

Your question is, unfortunately, answered a minute later. You find a pile of metal crates stacked on top of each other. A large beige tarp covers them. You tug at the corner, letting the fabric slide off. Your eyes flutter with disappointment, “Guys! Over here,” mutants sit inside the crates. Each of them stares at you with varying degrees of mistrust and fear. 

As awful as it is, you’ve gotten used to these quiet depressing missions. There aren’t usually many mutants in one place. They don’t like to keep the product in one spot for too long. There are only four kids here. The youngest is eleven and the oldest is seventeen. There’s nothing physically telling about their abilities so you assume it must be psychic powers. 

They don’t want to come with you until you all give them a demonstration of your powers. Proving that you’re not just trapping them and taking them somewhere worse. You’re nearly out the door when Charles's voice rings loudly through all of your minds. 

You wince at the volume, hands coming up to grip at your hair as he shouts, “Behind you!” A gunshot rings out, something hot rips across your wrist and you gasp in pain. There’s a clatter of metal as your cuff drops to the ground, the bullet having destroyed it. Without them both, they’re useless. One won’t work without the other. 

You glance up at Logan, a panicked look on your face. You can already feel the tidal wave of power thrashing and building in your chest. It’s been so long with the safety net that you forgot how bad it gets without the cuffs. 

“We need to get you out of here!” He shouts over the gunfire. He herds the group behind a cluster of metal shipment boxes. It provides enough cover for you all to try and figure out an escape plan. 

You listen to the other’s worried voices, each of them trying to console the kids. You don’t know their powers yet. Don’t know what might go wrong if they get too scared and can’t control their abilities. 

You can’t speak, breaths coming short and fast as you clutch your wrist to your chest. You know it’s delusional, hoping that if you keep a tight grip like the cuff you might be able to control yourself. You can already feel the energy leaking out of you, the ends of everyone’s hair stands on end. The wall in front of you warps and cracks like it can’t decide if it’s liquid or solid. 

You grit your teeth and look only at Storm. “You need to get out,” you force the words out. It causes physical pain to try and keep everything at bay. You can feel pressure building in your forehead, pushing out until you think you might explode. 

“We’re not leaving you,” Logan snaps. There’s shouting going on behind you, a pause as they all reload their guns. 

“Wasn’t a question,” you grit out. You look towards Jean and there’s a moment where you both put aside your differences. You both know how stubborn he is, how much he’ll fight against leaving you behind. Regenerative powers or not, it's dangerous to even be close to your gift now. You can see them all straining against the ebbing flow of your powers. Their skin shifts unnaturally like you’re already altering the atoms of their being. 

This is why you’re only allowed to train with Charles and Jean. They can get in your head, shut it down when you can’t. You’re not sure you’re going to survive yourself. Logan glances between the two of you and practically growls at Jean, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare-”

His words trail off into an unintelligible slur as he slumps forward, Jean having knocked him out with her powers. Scott grabs him and grunts under the weight of his body. “I’ll cover you,” you gasp the words out. Anything but focusing on your powers causes physical strain that makes you feel like you’re being tugged in a hundred different directions. “Just get them out,” you nod towards the kids. 

Storm nods and you slip out of cover. It isn’t hard to push your powers in one direction, to solidify the air in front of you so the bullets ricochet harmlessly off. You listen to the whine of the metal door and wait for the others to be gone. 

“They’re in the jet,” Charles's voice rings out. “Don’t do this,” he warns. You can’t think of a response, you’re not even sure what you would say. You never thought you would be able to approach death this calmly, or that this would be how you die. It feels almost pathetic, dying because you lost control on a recon mission. 

At least those kids are safe. It’s not a bad reason to die. Just not great. You glance down at the other cuff on your right hand, the air around it fluctuates until it melts off your wrist like liquid metal. With the last barely there tether off your powers, you close your eyes and release the tidal wave. 

It feels like a dam exploding. It doesn’t leak fluidly from you, it rips through you like a hailstorm of knives. Tears apart anything in its path and rewrites the molecular build of everything in its path. Screams echo through the air as men’s bones turn into brittle dust and their hearts morph into something inorganic. You’re blind to everything around you, vision clouded by the horrific release of energy. 

You can feel warmth leaking down your face. Blood still pours from the wound on your wrist, and fresh blood from other wounds you can’t even feel. You don’t know when the screams stop, or when you’re finally drained. But you feel like an empty husk as you drop to the floor, your head bouncing harshly against the cement as everything goes black. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Logan says with a grin, glaring at Scott even though it’s Charles who is holding him back. He’s got a firm mental grasp on Logan, keeping him locked into place while he focuses on the warehouse. 

They’re waiting for the all-clear. The others know there’s always the possibility that they’re going to be collecting a body. But none of them are willing to say that, not with the look on Logan’s face. His muscles look ready to pop out of his skin with how much he’s fighting against Charles’s hold. 

Scott backs away from Logan with a scoff. He stands near Jean, but she can’t take her eyes off the restrained man. Nothing had happened this morning, Flux had seen to that. Interrupting them just as they’d started. Seeing the way he’s acting now, she’s starting to believe that nothing is ever going to happen. 

He’d looked like he was about to dismiss her when she started making a move. She can see the anger on his face, it seems he’s only ever pissed off. But underneath that, as much as he hides it, she can see the fear. He’s terrified that they're going to walk in there and you’re going to be dead. 

Jean can feel the fear of the others as well. They’ve only seen you lose control once and that had almost leveled the mansion. Charles had stopped you then, but the loss of the cuff had been so sudden Jean just barely had enough strength to keep the others blocked from your powers. She didn’t have enough time to shut you down. 

Jean, as much as she’s tried to deny it and dismiss her suspicions, can’t look Logan in the eye and ignore it anymore. It’s never been her that he’s wanted. The way he trails along beside you, always prodding and poking until you’re pissy and mouthing off. It’s not done because he finds antagonizing people fun, it's because he loves seeing you all worked up and passionate. He doesn’t view you through the same platonic lens he does the others. You’re something else to him, something she doesn’t want to name, afraid of the bitter taste it will leave on her tongue. 

Charles slumps back in his chair and Logan suddenly lunges forward. He looks a little surprised by the sudden freedom of movement, but before any of them can stop him he’s running out of the jet. “Logan,” Jean tries to call after him but he’s already a distant blur. 

Scott sighs and starts down the ramp. “Come on,” he mutters. He’s the last one who should be coming along. If anything is wrong with you, he’ll end up being Logan’s punching bag. Jean follows reluctantly, she’s not sure she wants to see what’s happened. 

Your powers are too similar in their volatile nature. The way they rule you and come so close to destroying you when you use them too much, is too familiar to Jean. She doesn’t want to see you lying dead on the floor and be reminded of her own mortality. But someone needs to make sure Logan is stuck on a leash. 

They reach where the warehouse should be. It’s nothing but a pile of rubble now. Throughout the wreckage, Jean can make out odd pools of liquid, some writhing, others still. She can only assume that these had been the men shooting at them. She doesn’t see your body, none of them do. But Logan isn’t giving up. 

He lifts different pieces of metal and tosses them off into the forest. Jean doesn’t sense your presence anywhere but she doesn’t have the heart to tell Logan to give up. After a few minutes of searching, she almost tells him to quit. But she can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared somewhere behind a particularly large pile of roofing. A moment later, Logan stands up. His jacket is gone, wrapped around the body in his arms. None of them are close enough to see if you’re breathing. And he doesn’t say a word as he brushes past them, just keeps going back to the jet. Ororo, Scott, and Jean all share a silent look. None of them prepared for the potential fallout that’s going to happen after this. 

The first thing you feel is two familiar bands of metal around your wrists. The comforting feeling of the cuffs is enough to have you sinking further into the pillows surrounding you. Then you hear the beeping in your ear, feel the cool blow of AC, and become startlingly aware of the fact that you’re in a bed you don’t recognize. 

You groan, eyes peeling open painfully as your lashes get stuck on your skin. You reach up to rub at your face but your arms feel too weak to lift. You give up on the thought, instead staring up at the ceiling and waiting for your vision to refocus. 

A throat clears in front of you and you nearly jump out of your skin. Sitting at the end of your bed, arms crossed and a fierce glare on his face is Logan. His feet are propped up on the small table beside you. He quirks a brow and gives you a sardonic grin, “Finally awake, princess?”

Normally the name would have you up and doing somersaults, but there’s something distinctly negative and disappointed lacing his tone. It squashes any and all butterflies in your stomach. You grimace as you try and sit up. Logan is up in an instant, an annoyed look still on his face as he helps you up. 

You can’t help your dopey smile at how gentle his hands are on you. Even pissed off, he treats you so kindly. Maybe it’s the drugs relaxing you, or the fact that you almost died, but you can’t remember whatever made you mad at him. You can only feel the slide of his calloused hands against your arms, the way you shiver under his touch and crave more. 

He pulls the chair closer to you with a loud scratch of metal feet on the linoleum. You groan at the loud sound and he huffs, throwing himself down in the seat. “How do you feel?”

Your head sinks back against the wall and you finally realize you’re in the medbay. It’s why everything smells so sterile. “Like I got hit by a semi.”

He barely lets you finish your thought before he spits out, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He doesn’t ease you into this at all and you frown. You’re not sure why you would expect him to ever beat around the bush. That’s not his style, he’s always been blunt. Even when others wish he wouldn’t be. 

“What else was I supposed to do?” You ask, voice weak. Your throat feels like it’s been ripped apart. Idly, you wonder if you had been screaming in the warehouse or if this was just general strain from the whole ordeal. 

“Not put yourself at risk like that.” He leans forward, voice stern and bordering on shouting. You know he’s holding back. As much as he wants to lay into you right now, he’s stopping himself from going completely out of his mind. You appreciate it, but you almost wish he would just yell at you. You wish you had a reason to resent him, to finally get over him. “Not have Jean knock me out like that. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

It’s completely inappropriate and horrible timing, but you can’t help but scoff at the mention of Jean’s name. Can you not have one conversation that’s not tainted by the mention of the redhead?

Logan’s mouth snaps shut and he glares at you in disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut, not willing to face him as embarrassment washes over you. No wonder he always calls you kid. You’re not exactly acting like an adult. You’re being a brat and for such a stupid reason too. 

Just because you like him doesn’t mean he has to reciprocate. You can’t just force your feelings on someone. “Logan,” you whisper his name, “Sorry. I’m sorry-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. Some of the anger, but not all, has ebbed from his expression. He almost looks like he’s smiling. “Jean? That’s what this is about? Jealous or something, sweetheart?”

You sputter, shocked little noises leaving you but no words. After a solid minute of restarting a sentence you don’t know how to end you finally land on a squeaky, “Who?” If you weren’t so mortified, you might have just thrown yourself out the window. Out of every cop-out you could have gone with you chose to just pretend you didn’t know who she was. Maybe you could make this work, like selective amnesia. 

Your shame only builds as Logan laughs. You cover your face and wish you could bury yourself six feet deep and never come up. You feel two rough hands wrap around your wrists, tugging your own away from your face. You don’t have the energy to fight back, so you keep your eyes on his chin. Too afraid to meet his gaze. 

“Come on,” he mutters, gently nudging your chin up until you’re forced to look at him. You're caught off guard by the look in his eyes. You recognize it, but you’d only ever seen it directed at Jean. It’s the same way you’ve always looked at him. Pure unguarded want and desire. 

The hand on your chin drifts back, fingers tangling in your hair and gently resting on your jaw. He tugs you forward until your lips are nearly touching, breaths mingling with every exhale. “Only ever wanted you, darlin'.’”

The kiss catches you off guard. It shouldn’t, deep down you knew it was coming, but the intensity behind it, the way you can practically taste how bad he wants this, wants you, catches you off guard. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting yourself melt into his hold. 

His free hand drifts to your waist and clutches the flimsy hospital gown until you hear it tear. You part your lips, deepening the kiss so you can finally taste him. It’s cigars and whiskey, something you should hate but is entirely intoxicating when he’s holding you so tightly. Fireworks are going off in your mind, sparks darting between your fingers as the cuffs struggle to contain all the energy suddenly pushing out of you. 

He can feel you holding back, squeezing you like it’s a promise he can take it. Take everything you throw at him. You let go as much as your cuffs will allow you. Let the energy blanket you both so you can’t hear your heart monitor going off like crazy. So you don’t feel anything other than each other. You think you’re going to devour each other like you’ll just keep kissing until neither of you can take it anymore. You don’t want to let go of him, don’t want to lose this moment. 

But you have to breathe. You don’t get to just keep living the way he does. You pull away from him slowly, every part of you dreading separating from him. His forehead drops against your own, his laughter playing along your lips as he finally hears the monitor going haywire. 

You groan, flicking your wrist and shutting it off so it can’t betray how flustered you are anymore. He gently nudges you aside so he can sit beside you on the bed. You don’t waste a second before you’re draping yourself across his chest and siphoning his warmth. He chuckles, arms coming up to wrap around you. 

“Can’t believe you were jealous of Jean.”

“Shut up,” you snipe. You look up at him and glare, “How else do you explain what you two were doing?”

He leans forward and gives you a smug grin. “She came onto me, sweetheart.” Your face screws up in distaste and jealousy. She’s going to need to learn to keep her hands to herself. He seems to feel the way you tense up, he huffs in amusement and rubs your back. “Relax, you’re gonna blow your fuse again.”

You glance down at your wrists and nuzzle further into him. You can’t believe you could have been laying on him this whole time. You never want to use a blanket again, not when you’ve got him. “I’ll be fine now that I’ve got my cuffs.”

His hand stills on your bicep. He squeezes it before his hand drifts up to your chin and he tilts your face up again. “I don’t ever want to see that again.” You’re a little surprised by the sudden shift in tone, but you knew this was coming. 

“I had to, Logan. I either took you all down with me or I went on my own.”

Logan frowns and takes in a deep breath. You place a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiles down at you, “Next time, take me with you. I’m not fucking dealing with Summers without you.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Your face grows warm and your chest expands with some odd gleeful feeling as he laces your fingers together. “Deal,” you whisper, still smiling at him. 

A/N: Okay, this might be shit, I’m not sure. I sort of rushed the ending because as I was writing this I had another idea for him. I guess I’m officially off my hiatus. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[angelsforthenight]

i could eat that girl for lunch… (ellie williams)

ways you can help gaza🇵🇸

summary: you post cute pictures on your story in the hopes of gaining a certain girl’s attention… luckily you get more than what you anticipated ;)

cw: mdni, fem!reader, texting, cunnilingus, desperate top!ellie, teasing sub!reader, cannibalistic metaphors, cursing, ellie is goofy lmao

you’re this close to screaming. the winged eyeliner on your left eye somehow keeps fucking up; either looking too splotchy or shorter than your right one. what’s pissing you off the most is the fact that you aren’t even going anywhere… getting all dolled up just to take it all off in 15 minutes, just to post cute little photos on your story and, of course, just to get her attention.

ellie williams. the name rolled off your tongue with such velvety sleek. every single one of your friends knows her name; has had to endure through your countless obsessive gushes.

you two had met during a party. having been in a drunken haze, you barely remember the first conversation that sparked such an interest, but you do remember her gin breath against your ear: asking/shouting, amidst the blaring music, if you had wanted to go somewhere a little more quieter. the night ended up in you being fingered in her car, before being driven back home by her. a freckle-faced angel in a leather jacket coated with small pins and badges. you were immediately hooked. but it’s been a week since then, and you two haven’t spoken. having achieved her number, you thought of messaging, but didn’t want to come across as desperate, even though you so are.

you thank instagram suggested for bringing you her account on a platter; being filled with niche, introverted posts of every cool-looking thing but her face. she doesn’t even have a “me” highlights! you can’t tell if her lack in posting her face is a blessing or a curse. so here you are, getting ready to post on your story since you followed her the day before. the skin around your eye is starting to sting by the amount of times you’ve been wiping and restarting your eyeliner. it needs to be perfect. you’ve orchestrated all this to be perfect. you take a deep breath and focus, striving to get the perfect wing.

“thank fuck.” you murmur under your breath once you finally get it right, before enveloping your lips in lipstick. you admire yourself in the mirror once done. you look fucking amazing.

since you spent way too long putting on your makeup, it wouldn’t be fair to yourself to only post one picture, so you post a couple. a mirror picture following up a layout of 4 images with the perfect song in the background. a little smile tugs at your lips as you replay the story two, three, four times before setting it on do not disturb and finding something else to do. your heart pounds at the thought of ellie seeing it, praying that she’ll interact. even a simple like will do.

after removing your makeup and getting into your pyjamas, you click on a movie to pass time, setting your phone on do not disturb. half an hour passes, and you’ve been neurotically checking your phone for a sign of ellie to appear on your notifications, but nothing. you check your story to see if she’s seen it but again, nothing. another hour passes, and you check for any sign of ellie. nada. look at my story, you freak! are the words etched in your head, words you wished you could telepathically scream at her. you remember you set your phone on do not disturb for a reason, so you place it far away and focus on finishing the film.

a while later, you’re slumped on your couch on the verge of falling asleep. the movie’s ended and it was so boring that you’re finding it hard to keep your eyes open. you decide to check your do not disturb notifications one last time before taking a nap, until your eyes fall on the name ‘ellie.’ you immediately jerk up, awake and alert: your thumb automatically pressing the notification centre so you can see what it reads.

seventeen minutes ago.

ellie liked your story

ellie liked your story

ellie replied to your story: doll face

ellie replied to your story: you need a seat? lemme volunteer 🙏🙏

a shit-eating grin lights up your face. fucking finally! not once but twice! you excitedly draw your knees up to your chest, eager fingers tapping away, ready to respond - regardless of how long you’d been waiting for her texts. play it cool….

y/n: hahaha thank u thank u <3

y/n: (replied) oh word?

you’re surprised and very happy when you see the ‘typing…’ your heart doing goddamn backflips.

ellie: wooooord

ellie: literally cannot stop replaying ur story… bring that over here 🙁

ellie: come over

!!! your heart sinks all the way down to your ass. the hell does she mean come over?

y/n: ur not serious lmaoaoaooa

ellie: i’m being deadass,,, come over.

you look at the time. it’s almost 1 in the morning.

y/n: idek where u live bru😭😭😭😭

y/n: if anything you should come over since you’ve driven me to my house b4

ellie: mmm nahhhh

you blink in disbelief when ellie sends her location over. she’s not kidding.

y/n: girl i look bummy… i don’t even have any makeup on anymore :< took it off

ellie: i really don’t care

ellie: plsplspsls come over

ellie: u won’t regret it……………. trust 🤓🤓

next thing you know you’re leaving your house in your plaid shorts and a silly graphic tee. thankfully, ellie only lives 10 minutes away, so you take a bus before walking up to her apartment.

y/n: i’m cominggg

ellie: LOL yeaa you will be coming real soon 😇😇😇

though you cringe at her text, your body betrays you; your stomach forming a deep pit. she’s so sultry and playful you don’t know even know what to think. and there goes your heart again, hastily beating away like there’s no tomorrow. you reach the door, a trembling hand raising up to knock.

“hi.” ellie beams, smiling like an idiot. her eyes seize you from head to toe, “nice fit.”

“told you i looked bummy...” you mumbled, trying your best not to seem nervous. ellie moves aside so you can come in. her apartment smells exactly like she does; that faint campfire scent, conjoined with a forest-ey musk. a forest fire you were more than willing to burn in.

“so…“ you begin, with nothing prepared to follow up after that.

“sooooooo….” ellie repeats blithely.

“it’s been a week since… you know…” you whisper, awkwardly shifting your legs.

“since…?” ellie blinks, furrowing her eyebrows. she’s taunting you, trying to play innocent when it’s pretty fucking obvious what you’re on about.

“the party.” you respond, entertaining her coyness for no reason.

“party?” ellie pretends to think, looking up at nothing. “oh!! yeah… jesse’s one.” she smirks.

you smirk back, furrowing your eyebrows in amusement. “you could do so much better at playing dumb, y’know…”

“you think so?” ellie narrows her eyes, tilting her head as she steps closer. the impish smirk on her face never leaves. she’s having fun. you both are.

“yup. for your own good, don’t choose acting as a career.”

“for my own good?”

“for your own good.” you haven’t even realised how close you two are to each other now, daring eyes locked with another pair of daring eyes. takes one to know one. a silence permeated with tension fills the room.

“c’mere…” ellie finally mumbles before cupping your face with both hands and bringing you in for a kiss. you’re quick to melt in her grasp, your hand finding it’s way to ellie’s hair, giving it a playful tight squeeze that elicits a quiet groan from her. her hands, those goddamn hands, then move to your waist, pulling you closer. you two don’t even waste time before you’re making out with such fervor. save the sweetness for later, it’s the hunger that’s on display for now. the memory of her lips were starting to slip away from your mind and you’re glad you’re here to reboot it.

once you pull away, ellie’s eyes drift to something behind you. you follow her gaze, only for your eyes to land on a chair in the middle of the goddamn living room. it’s so random that you can’t help but burst out laughing.

“why is there a chair?” you ask in the midst of your laughing fit. it’s not even that funny, but the laughing is helping with your nerves.

“it’s for you.” ellie giggles too, a light pink tint on her cheeks that’s hard to miss.

“me?” you blink rapidly, your gaze darting from the chair to ellie, “do i sit?” you ask stupidly.

“no, you stand.” sarcasm laces her tone, as she giggles a little more, “go sit.”

“don’t order me around like i’m your dog.” you respond playfully, but you do as she says. despite your ‘tough’ front, you’d do anything she’d tell you to. guess she was being literal about offering you a seat…

ellie grins down at you, angling your chin up so you’re looking at her. you can feel the heat start to prickle in your face, down your neck and pervading the rest of your body. her thumb traces along your bottom lip, slightly dragging it down. there’s that same darkened look she had back in her car, one that makes you feel so small.

“so cute… like a human deer.” she murmurs distractedly, almost like she’s talking to herself instead of you. your head grows fuzzy, blushing even more. you mindlessly squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease the growing heat in between. ellie notices.

“you doing okay?” she softly asks, unable to mask the smug look on her face. you nod quietly. with her eyes kept on you, she lowers down until she’s on her knees, her smile growing. she kisses the top of both your kneecaps in such a tender way it sends tingles down your spine.

“can i eat you?” she breathes, her voice hollow and needy. it takes a second for those words to register in your brain.

“you…” you trail off. ellie’s gaze is very, very distracting. so intense and intrusive. she patiently waits for your answer, resting her chin on top of your knees. how can someone look so adorable and intimidating at the same time?

“please?” she adds, and you smile. a realisation has just dawned on you: you like to make her wait.

“eat me?” you cock your head to the side in feigned confusion. now it’s your turn to play dumb.

“yeah… like, your pussy.” ellie mumbles, becoming so desperate that it’s funny. she needed to be humbled at least a little. “i want a taste…”

“yeah?” you mock, and ellie’s face warps into a frown. “stop teasing me.”

“it’s only payback.” you shrug.

“for what?” ellie whines.

“for taking a week to text me.”

ellie stares at you for a moment. “then let me make it up to you…” her eyes travel down to your clamped thighs, wanting to open them up so bad. truth is, you’d let her devour you. chew you up like a deranged creature and watch her greedily lick the blood from her fingers. but teasing her was just so damn fun.

“aren’t your knees getting tired?” you tease, cupping the side of her face as she stares up at you with puppy eyes. it’s getting hard to resist. ellie immediately shakes her head.

“for you? never.” she whispers. your grin broadens in satisfaction. such sweet words. meaningless? maybe, but cute nonetheless.

“fine…” you sigh, leaning back and gesturing for ellie to go forth. ellie’s face lights up like a bulb, eagerly parting your legs. the movement makes you shiver, as you can feel the heated moisture of your arousal seep through your underwear. despite your shorts still being on, ellie’s lips travel up, both hands gripping your sides as her lips leave fond, wet kisses along your inner thigh. her teeth clench around the hem of your shorts, letting out a muffled chuckle as she playfully pulls your shorts down with her teeth. she’s kidding around but that’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen in your life.

you adjust your knees so that your shorts can be pulled down. you’re so wet your underwear is fucking see-through. you just know she’s about to say something.

“someone’s real excited-“

“shut up and keep going.” you hastily cut her off out of embarrassment. ellie laughs, glancing at you one more time before leaning back down again, dragging her ardent tongue up your inner thigh. you gasp quietly, and that little noise influences her to do more, letting out a sigh of her own; the sort of sigh you do when relaxing in a hot bath, or when pissing after holding it in for so long… like she’s needed this. you’re startled when ellie drags her tongue right in the center of your clothed heat, your breath hitching. you want more.

ellie’s teasing is relentless and mean. she sucks your clit through your underwear, eyes on you; observing the way your hips are desperately buckling up, the way your thighs are twitching.

“so mean…” you whine as ellie flicks and rolls her tongue against your underwear.

“did you want something?” ellie blinks. again with the coyness. you scowl and ellie grins in return.

“you can’t outdo the do-er, babe.” she chirps, pulling the drenched underwear off your legs. she opens your legs wide, staring at your pussy like it’s the best piece of artwork she’s ever seen. you can practically see sparkles in her eyes. you shiver when you feel her fingers pry your cunt open.

“so fucking hungry for you…” she whispers, her breathing shallow and her eyes glazed-over. she gets to work immediately, a firm trail up your vulva before kissing it with her lips. a fleshed moan doesn’t fail to escape your own lips, as your eyes flutter shut. of course she’d be good at this.

ellie moans too, gripping your thighs and pulling you closer, burying her face in between your legs as she goes to town on you. she’s moving like she’s starving, like she hasn’t eaten for weeks and has been presented with a banquet.

her lips tug at your folds, your pussy slick with a mixture of your arousal and her spit. every single time her lips hit your clit it elicits yet another strong reaction from you. she’s so vigilant that she’s quick to notice that that’s your most delicate spot, so she abuses it; kissing it and pulling on it, her head shaking as she pleases you with her tongue. you nourish her with hushed praises: ones like “yes, yes…” or “you’re doing so good” to keep her going. it fuels ellie like no other, and drives her to go harder, a little faster.

her movements are so consistent and perfect that you could froth in the mouth right here and now. you grip her hair tightly, and ellie adores it: groaning happily when you squeeze too tight. you mindlessly push ellie’s head closer to your pussy, feeling the tip of her nose buried in. your moans begin to crescendo. you’re in fucking ecstasy.

“getting close, are we?” ellie pants, her thumb rubbing your clit in slow, teasing drags as she resumes sucking on your cunt.

“i’m gonna cum… i’m cumming… e-ellie…” you babble, tears threatening to pour; and it isn’t just the eye tears we’re talking about here…

“yeah? you gonna let yourself go?” ellie stares up at you, her voice a little higher and breathier. her face is warped into one of pleasure, like she’s the one being fucked.

“yeah… please ellie, i’m really close…” you whine: barely coherent, light tears streaming down your face. ellie chuckles at how adorable you look, taking a second to appreciate how good you look when needy. she dives back in, her nails digging into your thigh as her mouth moves with the perfect vigour to push you off the edge. and oh, you do.

one last strong lick gets you off: your spine bending backwards, same as your head as you let out a strangled scream. you grip her hair tightly, your eyes momentarily rolling to the back of your head as ellie purposely continues to extend the high a little bit. eventually, she pulls back. the both are you are completely out of breath - huffing and panting like dogs.

you slump back in your chair, completely out of it and in a daze. ellie smiles.

“you okay?” she murmurs, appreciating your cute, spent look. you nod quietly in response.

“fuck, my knees.” she mumbles, before sitting back and stretching them. you laugh a little.

“there was no need for the chair.” you reply.

“i know… but i wanted to. it was hot.”

“it was.” you smile. you’re glad you decided to get dolled up for your story tonight.

a/n: i’m back! i’ve been so caught up in school that i haven’t been able to post fics as much but i’ll try 2 be more active :33 i’m absolutely obsessed with billie’s lunch so i made an ellie fic based off of it. hope u enjoyed and if u have any requests leave them in the ask inbox !!!