#tis a fucked-up world and a fucked-up situation after all!

[victorluvsalice]

So I've been wandering tumblr looking up Severance stuff and -- um -- well. This is a fucking banger. I love how well the music video fits with the lyrics -- lot of good scenes here! Burt and Irving are cute, and poor Helly! She is not having a good time. :( (I mean, none of them are, but you understand what I mean.) And the song itself is great -- I absolutely love the chorus. I think I'm gonna be associating it with my own Valicer Severance AU from now on!

MDR + LOVE ME MORE

[arolesbianism]

I have obtained a new oc and in the process I've already signed myself up for needing to make at least 3 new ocs for his story which he now has despite me initially Intending for him to be a side character for a different side character to hang out with. My townhouse has over 200 characters on it.

[whetstonefires]

One thing I don't think I've ever seen talked about is how post-apocalypse ideation is largely about homelessness.

Homelessness looms large in the American consciousness. Like, not that it's irrelevant elsewhere, but it's got a particular cultural place in the US that's reflected in Hollywood, and therefore relevant because what makes it into film and TV sets the terms of so many conversations.

We don't acknowledge it if we can help it, but I think most people know they're never more than a few very bad months from winding up there.

Even people who are sure it only happens to people who deserve it, who fuck up and put one foot in the morass of their own foolish volition. Even they know the quicksand is there, waiting to be walked into, and that the odds are stacked against ever climbing out on your own once you have. And that they, too, are capable of fucking up. Of trusting the wrong person. Of getting cancer incorrectly.

And those of us who know damn well we can't be sure we're safe even if we do everything right, we know it even better.

And in that sense it doesn't matter what the world would realistically look like after X kind of apocalypse, what people would do, how society would adapt. Because the anxiety that's being processed is about the reality that's in existence now.

About what if my world ends. And I lose access to the fruits of developed society, to clean clothes and new glasses and running water, to a safe place to sleep where I don't expect to be killed or robbed, or driven out by men with guns and dogs. To my home and work and family and everything I usually use to tell me who I am.

What if every man's hand is against me, and every meal is a small victory, and there's only my own dwindling strength between me and the long night?

Will I make it? Will I hold up under the strain? Will I retain my dignity? Will I be lucky? Will I be able to protect the people I love, in that world, the world where no one is protecting us anymore?

Is there a way to continue to live as a human person, when you're denied the prerogatives of one, and don't know if you'll ever get them back?

Putting this anxiety into the context of a massive apocalypse divorces this scenario from the burden of shame tied up in the idea of winding up in that sort of situation in the normal course of events, by having society vanish rather than expel you, personally, as a washout, and continue on around you.

It also allows you to rule out a priori the question of what resources might be offered but can't in an anticipatory context be counted on; shelters and programs and housed friends and family who may or may not help. And narrow the narrative to only the question of what you can survive, and often a fairy tale about surviving all of it and starting over.

Rehearsing for a loss in a mythologized format is a very normal anxiety processing behavior, and I think a lot of apocalypse scenario building is attached to the buried dread of that personal apocalypse. But I haven't seen that one make the list.

[lustspren]

family ties ft Chaewon.

length: 10.3k words✦

Male reader, Male Character (starring Luke Newton cause idk) X Chaewon (playing Anna).

genres: incest (GoT (not it’s not sister-brother) and HOTD (no it’s not uncle-nephew) fans this one is for you), double blowjob, threesome, hard sex, carry fuck, double penetration, spitroast, facefuck, anal, british chaewon btw. ✧ 

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Going to the Egerton family gatherings wasn't exactly one of your favorite things in the world; you preferred to stay away from them, that way you avoided uncomfortable questions or sharp hints towards yourself, something you were used to in a family whose lineage was always focused on only one lifestyle. Kind of a black sheep was what you were, but you were never treated differently, luckily.

Still, it was exhausting having to feel different all the time. Out of place. You loved your family, and they loved you, but you just felt like you didn't fit in. That was why of five meetings you were invited to, you went to two at most.

But this time the situation warranted your presence, and you couldn't be so rude as to reject the invitation. It was a party for your cousin, who recently graduated from Cambridge University with a degree in medicine, enough merit for a big celebration. You just had to go. Not only because it was the morally right thing to do, but because her brother, also your cousin, had been trying to convince you all week.

So there you were, alone in your room while you finished getting ready to go out. You expected that they would force you to dress formally for the occasion, as was always the case when a big celebration was held at your cousins' house, but this time they gave you complete freedom—within certain limits, of course. Your cousin's insistence, perhaps, but you were grateful.

The start of the party was at 8 pm, and it was already 6:40. You lived in Northampton, a city about an hour west of Cambridge, if you wanted to arrive on time, you had to hurry up and leave at that precise moment. And so you did it. After making sure you were as presentable and handsome as possible, you grabbed your phone, your wallet, and your car keys to finally head to your destination.

That damn mansion never ceased to amaze you, even after having visited it countless times throughout your life. It consisted of two floors, with a subtle and perfect mix between modern and Victorian architecture, especially in the windows, which abounded in every corner, and the pair of chimneys that protruded from the mansard roofs.

You parked your car outside, in front of the short black fence that separated the sidewalk from the big lovely garden that preceded the house. Parked near you were a few cars that you recognized immediately, some from your uncles and great-uncles, and others from distant relatives who always attended these types of gatherings. There was only one that you didn't recognize, but you assumed it was some friend of your cousin, so you didn't give it any more importance.

When you got off you looked towards the right side of the house, towards the patio where the barbecues were always held and where the guests used to gather. Apparently you had arrived just in time, because you could see some of your other cousins ​​barely greeting your uncles—the owners of the house—and their sons. So you rushed to join. 

You walked down the long polished granite path that led to the main entrance of the house, only to then step onto the lawn and cross the garden. When you arrived at the patio, the first to notice your presence was your cousin, Jaime. As handsome and smiling as always.

"Ayeeeee! You made it!" he said with a wide smile, arms open as he walked down the steps of the small deck that led into the house. "I knew you'd come!"

Before you could say anything, Jaime caught you in a tight hug, almost causing you to drop the bottle of wine you had brought for the occasion. You laughed, and reciprocated his hug with a smile.

"It's not like I have a choice, right?" you joked, patting him on the back a couple of times. "It's great to see you, darling."

After hugging Jaime you now focused your gaze on Elena, his sister, and the reason why you had come from so far away. She greeted you with the same enthusiasm as Jaime, with a warm hug and words of relief for your presence. Then you went to the dining table area, where you also greeted your aunt and uncle, Jaime and Elena's parents.

For the next five minutes you stood there, greeting all your relatives and the guests who kept arriving. Everything was going normally, until out of the corner of your eye you noticed how inside, in the living room, a girl you had not seen before appeared. You turned around with your forehead wrinkled, confused. What your eyes saw was such a surprise that you stopped paying attention to Elena as she spoke.

"Huh? Is she… here?" you asked, ignoring what they told you.

Inside the house, on one side of the dining room table, was Anna Kim. A distant cousin that you could easily haven’t seen for four or five years since she was studying in Korea. You were never close to her; you only met at specific family gatherings since her father, apart from not being a direct member of the family, was an extremely busy man who did not last long at the meetings before having to leave with his daughter. Father, who, by the way, you had not seen anywhere when you arrived. Was that car hers then?

"Oh, Anna?" Jaime asked, following your gaze. Now you both watched her while she adjusted her earrings and choker. "Yeah, she arrived yesterday. She must have fallen asleep, I think."

You definitely remembered a few interactions with her, but damn, you didn't remember her being so… stupidly beautiful. She wore her long brown hair up in a high lace bun, with a few strands purposefully messy to complement her pretty bangs. Perhaps she was a little overdressed for the occasion, wearing a heart-shaped white top whose strips of sparkling sequins reflected the overhead lights and made her look like some kind of gem, and a short, slightly pompous black skirt that showed off a pair of long and sexy legs.

She looked graceful like the most beautiful and elegant of swans. It was obvious that she had turned out just like her mother, a woman from the Egerton family, and not like her father, a vulgar Korean man who lacked any kind of class. You couldn't stop looking at her for fear that she was some kind of angelic apparition that would disappear when you took your eyes off her. But you were forced to do so when she turned around and started to walk outside, straight towards you.

"Shit, keep it cool," you told Jaime, and tapped him in the stomach with the back of your hand to make him turn around.

You both turned around with your hands held behind your backs, pretending to watch the meeting. Anna stood right behind you, and in a polite gesture she cleared her throat to make her presence known.

"Good evening, gentlemen," she said from behind you. "You are doing an excellent job being the bastions of beauty in the family. Behind me and Elena, of course."

The first thing you noticed was that her accent was completely different from yours. The Egertons had a mainly Cockney accent. But Anna's accent sounded like that of a duchess; a beautiful, elegant, crystalline posh accent that, combined with that sweet voice, was like music to your ears.

Jaime turned around, and consequently so did you. From that distance, somehow she only managed to dazzle you even more with the unmatched beauty of her. She looked both of you in the eyes, hands clasped at the level of her belly.

"Well, you certainly make it difficult for us," Jaime said, with a smile. "You look stunning, I must say."

Anna smiled and nodded her head in thanks.

"Thank you, darling," she then looked at you. "Wow, I haven't seen you in a while, right?"

"Indeed," you nodded with a smirk. "Not since you left... four years ago?"

"Five," she corrected you. "But it felt like forever," she subtly spread her arms out to the sides. "Reunion hug?"

"I could never refuse."

Unlike your previous hugs with Jaime and Elena, Anna's hug was more reserved and careful, but still warm enough to feel the affection in it. She had her arms wrapped around your lower back, while yours went behind her shoulders. You weren't surprised to smell the expensive perfume she was wearing. Miss Dior, surely.

"You better hurry up and greet the guests," Jaime said. "You and Elena are the only girls in the family, you must look radiant."

Anna finally pulled away from you and stood on tiptoe to place an affectionate kiss on your forehead, followed by a rub with her thumb there. She then looked at Jaime.

"Looking radiant is the best thing I do, dear," she winked at him, and walked past the two of you to go down the steps to where all the guests were. "Wait for me and we can go inside for some drinks, will you?"

"Mother will have you constantly on the go," Jaime said with a chuckle. "Good luck with her," he motioned with his chin for her to leave.

"Bloody hell," you said, watching her greet your uncles and her friends. "What did they feed that girl?"

Jaime laughed and patted you on the back.

"I have no idea mate," he admitted. "But she is certainly a beacon in the night."

"You've been with her since yesterday," you turned to look at him. "Is she still as disastrous as she was as a child?"

Jaime remained silent, lowered his gaze and tried to hide a smile that made your suspicions skyrocket. You knew your cousin well; it was just the way he acted when he had done some mischief.

"You could say that, yeah," he said, and then he turned to look at you. "But she is a lovely girl, and an excellent fashion advisor by the way."

You narrowed your eyes and held his gaze.

"Sure," you said. "She advised you personally, I suppose."

Jaime laughed and returned to his classic position, with his hands behind his back.

"Why do you think I'm so good looking today?"

"Because you're an Egerton and because that's the minimum that auntie asks of you?"

"Believe me, mother doesn't care about me today. Elena has the deserved focus," he looked at his sister, who was talking to a boy that you didn't know but that you knew must be her boyfriend. "If it weren't for Anna I would look like a commoner."

"You've never looked like a commoner, Jaime."

Jaime raised an eyebrow, and took a few seconds of silence to look at you.

"Do you suspect me in any way, little cousin?" he asked, and narrowed his eyes.

"I have strong reasons for doing so," you nodded. "But I wouldn't dare make an accusation."

Jaime held your gaze for another few seconds, and in the end you both smiled. He then gave you a couple of pats on the cheek.

"Always so clever, aren't you?" he said. "There's a reason you're a private detective. When are you moving to London? I don't think there are so many opportunities in Northampton."

"Why? Don't you like having someone around who can know immediately when you're up to something?"

"That's exactly why, yeah. Elena is enough of a pain in the ass."

You both laughed, but he prolonged his laughter longer than you, so you took advantage of the moment to stare at both him and Anna, who was still with your uncles. Something had happened between the two of them, you were sure of that, but you were going to force yourself to not care. You'll be back home later, and Anna would probably leave back to Korea tomorrow. It wasn't relevant.

You and Jaime stayed there talking for a few minutes. It was a normal conversation, like the ones you always used to have. Even your uncle, Jaime's father, joined you at one point to talk about the last Arsenal game. But the debate about football lasted until Anna was finally able to get rid of your aunt and went with you.

"Finally free from your captivity?" you joked, as she stood next to you.

Anna sighed.

"Apparently so," she said. "Shall we go inside? My throat is already asking for something cold after so many presentations."

"Are you planning to miss your cousin's celebration by going inside to drink?" your uncle asked. "We have wine out here!"

Anna gave a small smile and squeezed your uncle's forearm affectionately.

"Take it easy, old bean," she said. "I have a lot to talk to my cousins ​​about! I promise it won't be much."

"Your aunt won't be happy if she doesn't see you here," your uncle replied, and then looked at you and Jaime. "Same with you two."

"Why does she want us here all the time?" Jaime asked. "She has Elena and her boyfriend right there, and I'm sure her friends are about to arrive."

"Yes, she has enough to worry about," you came to Jaime's aid.

Your uncle let out a tired breath and shook his head to look at Anna.

"I have my trust in you, young lady," he told her, with a finger raised between the two of them. "If you're not here for the cake you'll be in serious trouble."

"Uncle, you know I would never miss cake," Anna replied. "You have my word."

"Alright, off you go," your uncle said, and he put his hands behind his back before returning to the gathering of people.

Anna stepped forward to take the space your uncle had left, and she gestured into the house with her chin.

"May I?" she said.

"Go ahead, miss," you said, and both you and Jaime stepped aside for her to pass.

Anna passed through the entrance that was right behind you, the one that led directly into the kitchen. You followed her.

"What does your father keep here to drink?" she asked, as she walked around the island and stood in front of the enormous wooden wall, filled with tall, rectangular panels behind which the pantry was stored. "I don't want wine today."

You rested your arms crossed on the island counter, on one side of the stools. Jaime on the other hand also circled the island and stood on Anna's side. He then pulled one of the panels towards him, to reveal a shelf filled with bottles of all kinds.

"The old man doesn't even drink often," he said, picking up a bottle of Hennessy Cognac. "He collects all these things because he no longer knows what to do with so much money."

Anna scanned all the possible options carefully, her pretty face illuminated by the shelf lights. She finally grabbed a bottle of Macallan M Whiskey. You immediately looked over your shoulder to make sure your uncle wasn't watching.

"A bold choice, if I may say so," you said with a giggle, and turned again to look at her. "That thing costs like seven thousand pounds, and uncle loves whiskey."

"If he loved it so much he wouldn't have it here collecting dust, don't you think?" she asked, one eyebrow raised. She then walked over to the island and placed the bottle on the counter.

"The poor man is 76 years old, and mother makes sure that he drinks only on special occasions," Jaime said as he opened another panel, which corresponded to the refrigerator. "Do you want something for the whiskey?"

"Hmmm, I don't know..." she said, and looked at you. "What would you choose?"

"I'd choose not to drink Cedric Egerton’s whiskey, of course," you shrugged. "But, some ginger ale would be wonderful with that particular one."

You looked at Jaime, who looked at you with a smile and snapped his fingers to point at you.

"That's why you're my favorite cousin," he said, took out three bottles of ginger ale and then closed the refrigerator.

You laughed and shook your head.

"I don't think that's too difficult," you said, as Jaime grabbed ice from a freezer next to the refrigerator.

"It is," Jaime stated, and then poured ice into three small glass glasses. "We Egertons are a big family," he looked at Anna with a sly smile. "We even have a member studying in Korea."

Jaime began to fill the glasses with the drink. He poured three fingers of whiskey, and filled the rest with ginger ale.

Anna let out a giggle, classy and contained.

"That just makes it funny," she said, as she took the glass Jaime had extended to her. You did the same. "A woman from the Egerton family marrying a Korean man? Your grandfather must have been twisting in his own grave."

You and Jaime shared a loud laugh. Then you took a sip of the drink. Anna imitated you.

"I don't think your mother was one of those who cared about family opinion," Jaime said, leaning on one elbow on the opposite corner of the counter where you were. "She saw her man, tied him up and here you are. A beautiful full-fledged Egerton woman."

Anna's smile faded away.

"It's a shame my father wants me to make my life there and not here," she said, stirring the ice in her glass as she stared into space. "I'll be forced to be Anna Kim for the rest of my days. Not Anna Egerton."

"But you can change that, right?" you asked. "I mean, legally."

"Yes, I could," she looked at you with a tired expression. "But then my father would murder me."

"Do you owe that man anything?" Jaime butted in.

Anna looked at Jaime and raised an eyebrow.

"He has given me everything since my mother died," she said. "Is that a bit for you?"

"Of course not," he quickly said. "But I'm just saying that you have more of a future as an Egerton than a Kim."

"And do you think I need a last name to show my worth?"

You noticed a subtle tonal change in Anna's voice. Nothing too remarkable, but she did sound more severe. Jaime was entering swampy terrain, and as always you had to go and get his feet out of the mud.

"What Jaime means is that here in England you could have double the contacts and support from your family," you said. "No one doubts how successful you can be on your own."

Jaime nodded, and Anna relaxed her posture. Then took another sip of her drink.

"I don't know," she said, and lowered the glass to look at Jaime. "There would have to be a good reason to stay... and so far I don't have one."

She and Jaime stared at each other for a few seconds in complete silence. You wrinkled your brow, looking at each of them. In short, something was happening there.

"But anyway," she continued, finally blinking with both eyebrows raised. "Why don't we go take a seat? We're here for everyone to see."

Just to your left was a large open living room, with a big sofa where you would be more than comfortable. But Jaime took you two to another place not so exposed to the eyes of everyone else: to the living room that was right behind the dining table, separated from it by a wall that in its first half had a small bonfire and in the other a counter with a dishwasher and a bucket full of ice.

Anna crossed the small space and sat on the sofa in front of the window. You and Jaime each sat on the individual sofas on your side. Now you two were separated from her by the short glass table right in the middle, which had a bowl full of fresh grapes. Anna leaned forward to pick one and put it in her mouth.

"Mmmm..." she frowned as she chewed. "These grapes are magnificent. In Korea they taste like cardboard."

Between you and Jaime there was a small pedestal-table that reached your waist. You put your glass on top, but Jaime put it on the edge of the glass table.

"They're from father's vineyard in Florence," Jaime said, also picking one up. "You should go see it someday. Beautiful lands."

"And are you going to take me there?" Anna asked.

"As long as it's your wish," Jaime smiled, picked up his glass and looked at you. "We could even bring our little cousin."

Anna's gaze also fell on you. You shrugged your shoulders, and looked away towards the bowl of grapes to grab a couple. You kept them in your palm.

"Well, I could use a visit to Tuscany. I haven't been there since my uncle forced me to go with him and Jaime to learn about a business that I don't care about," you said, then you put a grape in your mouth and accompanied it with a little of your whiskey.

Your worry blossomed again. Now they were making plans and including you in them. Maybe you would end up caring about whatever was going on there, but if your job had taught you anything, it was to be empirical and rational. You would judge later.

Anna smiled at your response, and then looked at Jaime.

"You see?" she asked. "That's a reason to stay. But not enough."

"Is Korea that bad?" you asked, before Jaime could open his stupid mouth and say something out of place. "I'd love to hear about that. I wasn't as fortunate as Jaime was to enjoy your presence since yesterday."

From the corner of your eye you noticed how Jaime changed his position on the couch, and how he looked down, once again, to drink from his whiskey. A more than clear indication to revive your suspicions. Poor fool. If he were accused of something serious, he wouldn't last five minutes in an interrogation.

Anna's smile, on the other hand, lost some of its shine. But it could simply be because of your question and not because of the real reason for your words. You noticed her less breakable than Jaime, but still, her eyes when she saw him gave her away. Funny as well as worrying.

"It's... different," she said. "Studying there feels like hell where you are constantly elbowing each other with your mates. Nobody is... civilized. There is no unity."

She raised a finger to signal that she hadn't finished and took her glass from her to take a sip. This time she kept it in her hand instead of leaving it on the small table.

"People think they own your life..." she continued. "They think they can mold you to be what they want you to be. There is no such thing as your own path; everyone else puts it there for you."

Anna looked up to see a pair of faces filled with deep dismay. She then laughed and gave a low giggle.

"My apologies, I didn't want to go too deep down the rabbit hole," she said. "It's bad, yes. Modern in many ways, but archaic in everything else. Disgusting sexists, above all."

"I read that women don't want to have children with Korean men," you mentioned. "Big protests and all."

Anna shrugged.

"I don't blame them, no one would want to have children with those prats," she said, and she gave Jaime a quick glance before looking at her glass. "Besides... they're terrible in bed."

You two laughed. Jaime more than you. He wanted to hide something else, surely. Maybe it was something as stupid as him having found it more fun than you. But his eyes were the door to the soul. You knew how to read them better than anyone.

"Small cocks I assume," you said with a mischievous smile, and then drank from your glass with your gaze fixed on Anna.

"Embarrassingly small," she clarified. "On top of that, they don't care about a woman's pleasure."

"A big difference with the Europeans, it should be noted," Jaime intervened. "Don't you think that's a good reason to stay here?"

You frowned and turned to look at Jaime. That was out of line.

Anna looked at Jaime and gave a mocking laugh.

"Not while I've proven it myself, Jaime," she replied, and she picked up another grape to eat.

You'd already had enough of those two, and you were ready to get to the bottom of it by asking the question you didn't want to ask yet.

"Guys," they turned to look at you. "May I know what's going on between you two?"

Jaime and Anna looked at each other. Their faces showed that they were not prepared for that question. But they also looked embarrassed as they realized that perhaps they had given you just enough reasons to ask that question.

"I don't know what you mean, little cousin," Jaime responded with a nervous chuckle. "Wouldn't it be extraordinary to have our lovely cousin around?"

"Indeed," you nodded, stirred the ice in your glass and took a sip. The whiskey was already less than half full. "It's just that your irrepressible enthusiasm catches my attention, cousin. There's nothing to worry about... right?"

You and Jaime maintained eye contact. You didn't blink, seeking to force him to confess voluntarily. But that would never happen with Anna in that room.

"Noah?!" A new voice was heard inside the house. Elena. Looking for you. "Noah, where the hell are you?"

Elena's voice was heard closer and closer, until she found you. Jaime, Anna and you turned to see her. She seemed elated, excited.

"Here you are!" She said, and stood behind you to take your shoulders. "There's a friend of mine I want you to meet, come on!"

You looked up at Elena and then gave a helpful look to Jaime. He absolved himself of responsibility by shrugging his shoulders and waving you away. Convenient for him, to say the least.

"Is it very urgent, darling?" you asked Elena.

"It is!" she responded. "Otherwise I wouldn't be here! Come on, get up!"

Damn, what a damn bad time. You had no choice but to grab your glass and stand up with a sigh. You looked at Anna and Jaime. Cheeky bastards, they were saved for now.

"Sorry to leave you, folks," you said. "My presence is extremely in demand lately."

You looked at Anna and winked. She blew you a kiss with her hand in response. Then you stared at Jaime, not saying a single word as you left with Elena outside.

The person Elena wanted you to meet turned out to be a girl. You combined very well with her; she was very pretty, but also quite shy. That didn't mean anything bad for you, on the contrary it made you more interested in her. Within half an hour you had already exchanged numbers, and within an hour you were sure that you would see her again after that day.

The rest of Elena's friends also generally turned out to be a group of good lads. Some more chaotic than others, of course, but overall you were relieved to know that your cousin had a healthy and pleasant inner circle.

At that moment you were still talking to them, while drinking wine like everyone else, when your aunt approached you and put your hand on her shoulder.

"Oi, dear," she said, and you turned to look at her. "Have you seen Jaime and Anna? It's almost time to cut the cake and I don't see that pair anywhere!"

Fuck, Jaime and Anna. You had forgotten about them completely.

"Uh… no," you looked towards the house. "Not for like an hour."

Your aunt let out a tired breath and shook her head.

"Please go get them darling," she asked, squeezing your hand. "There can be no delays!"

"It will be done immediately, aunt," you nodded. "Just don't despair and keep your husband quiet."

"Go, then," she said, and let go of your hand.

You turned to Elena's group of friends.

"I'll be right back lads," you said, and looked at Elena. "Blame your irresponsible fool of a brother."

After saying goodbye you turned around, and with a sigh you walked straight towards the house.

As expected they were nowhere to be found on the ground floor. But, in the living room where the three of you were, there were still the glasses from which they were drinking. With just a little inspection you could tell that they must have left a short time ago, as the ice inside the glasses was barely melting, the sofas still had slight dents in the seats, and most importantly, you could still perceive Anna's unmistakable perfume in the air.

They had to still be right there inside the house, so you hurried up to the second floor. 

As soon as you went up the stairs you had a good range of possibilities to investigate, since it was a level almost as big as the first. Fortunately for you, just to your right was the first and most notable objective.

Jaime's room.

The silence in the house, especially there on the second floor, was absolute. A needle could be heard dropping onto the wooden floor. You weren't going to risk being overheard, so you walked as carefully and slowly as you could to the door of the room. It took about five steps to be in front.

You were going to knock on the door, but that would announce your presence, so you just pressed your ear against the cold varnished wood of the door.

Inside you heard moans. Male moans. And sounds of...

Without thinking twice you opened the door. Inside you found something that you expected, but that you still weren't ready to see.

In front of the lower edge of the bed were those two. Jaime was standing, and Anna was kneeling right in front of him. With his cock in her mouth.

As soon as they noticed your presence Jaime turned around to cover himself and Anna jumped to her feet.

"May I know what the fuck you guys are doing?!" you screeched, frowning. "Have you gone crazy or what?!"

"Noah!" Jaime exclaimed, already turning towards you once he put his cock back in his pants. "We can explain it..."

You walked into the room and slammed the door behind you.

"Oh yes, I'm just excited to hear the reason why you had your cock in your damn cousin's mouth!"

"It was my idea!" Anna intervened, putting herself between you and Jaime. "I'm sorry! We were really horny and... and..."

"Bloody fucking hell," you let out a snort, and put your hands over your face for a moment before looking at Jaime. "It's your sister's damn graduation celebration, mate, wasn't there another time?"

Anna stepped forward and placed a hand on your chest. She was now very close to you, and she was looking into your eyes.

"Again, it was my idea, Noah," she said, her voice lower and more reassuring. "Don't be so hard on Jaime."

"Anna, this is wrong," you said, matching her tone of voice. "I don't even have to explain why."

She was silent for a few seconds, and then looked down to scribble on your chest with her index finger.

"Is it really that bad?" she finally asked, and brought the scribbles up to your neck. You frowned. "I mean... we're not even close cousins, I've seen you guys like four times in my life."

"What the hell are you talking about? You share blood!" you said, somehow not being able to step back and walk away, even though you knew it was all wrong.

A giggle escaped her, and she looked back into your eyes with a raised eyebrow.

"Looks like you forgot that too, darling," she said, her voice now husky and sultry. "You've been staring at me all night..."

You immediately looked away. Your heart began to beat harder. Your clenched fists are a sign of how embarrassed you were for not being able to hide it even for a moment.

"Ah, you thought I wouldn't notice?" Anna asked. "You're terrible at dissembling. Unusual for a detective if you ask me."

"I... I think I should go," you said.

You took a step back to turn around, but Anna grabbed your hand and pulled you back to her. This time she pressed herself against you.

"Already?" she asked, with a tone of false surprise. "But you haven't even heard my proposal!"

Having her tight body pressed against yours short-circuited all your systems. You just wanted to run away, escape from that damn temptation that took hold of you with every second you spent near her in such an intimate environment.

"What fucking proposal, Anna," you said, reluctantly, avoiding putting your hands on her no matter how easy it was. "Jaime, can you put an end to this damn madness, please?"

But Jaime was not even remotely interested in doing so. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning on his hands while he watched Anna's progress with interest. Damn idiot. Every day you were more sure that your aunt drank too much damn brandy during her pregnancy.

"Oi oi, don't be so grumpy, darling," Anna said, with a couple of pats on your chest. "Listen to me well..." she stood on tiptoe and got dangerously close to your lips, but in the end she reached your ear. "You can just forget that I'm your distant cousin and let me suck your cock... or walk out that door and miss the opportunity for the rest of your life."

That had to be a damn joke. The hidden camera must be somewhere, you were sure. How the hell did you end up in a situation like this? If you had told your self from five hours ago he would probably have told you that the joint you had smoked had been way too big and thick.

However, if you were honest with yourself, you were crazy about that damn woman. But that was your heart—and kinda your cock—clouding your thoughts. Your brain, on the other hand, was screaming at you and pulling you by the ears to convince you that it was a bad idea, that it was very wrong. You had to agree with him on that, obviously.

But fuck it, you only live once.

You sighed, and turned around to walk towards the exit. Anna may have thought you would leave, but what you did was lock the door.

"Only if the little pillock is okay with it," you said, turning around, and pointed your chin at Jaime.

He frowned and pointed at himself.

"Yes, you," you nodded. "Give your bloody opinion before I regret it."

"You ask as if you don't know the answer."

You looked at Anna, and rubbed the side of her face with the back of your hand.

"You've got the green light, darling," you said, and lowered the back of your hand to her shoulder, and then gently down her arm. "Make it worth it."

She gave you a sly smile and with a gentle movement she put her hand on your bulge, squeezing it and massaging it a few times while biting her lower lip. At first you felt something strange, perhaps the still lingering knowledge that it was very wrong. But it was quickly overshadowed by your lust.

"Everything I do is worth it," she said, and then she kissed you without even hesitation.

Even after feeling her lips against yours, you couldn't help but put some opposition to your desires to touch her. But as Anna deepened the kiss and continued massaging your cock, your moral ties gradually went to hell. You ended up wrapping your arms around her tight body and clinging to her small waist.

After a few brief seconds Anna separated from your lips, and with her hands on your chest she subtly fell to her knees. Jaime stood next to you, and Anna adjusted herself so she was between the two of you. She then brought a hand to each hard bulge to squeeze them.

"Don't even think about looking me in the eyes, Jaime Egerton," you said, just watching as Anna unbuttoned both of your pants and lowered the zippers. "I want to completely forget that you are in this room."

"Bold of you to think that I want to see your dumb face while I have sex, little cousin," Jaime responded, as Anna now pulled down your pants and boxers, your cocks now free and right in front of her face.

You were about to retort to Jaime, until Anna took you inside her small, pretty, warm mouth. Then your words were replaced by a small moan. You closed your eyes for a moment, to enjoy how she sucked those first centimeters; when you opened them you found her gaze fixed on you, while she reached the middle of your shaft with sensual pumps.

Seconds later she did the same with Jaime. It seemed strange and perhaps uncomfortable to see your cousin's cock so close, especially under those circumstances, but all your attention was drawn by Anna, who despite being in the middle of such a lewd and carnal act, still maintained that elegant air that was natural to her, with slow, graceful and deep movements.

Anna pulled Jaime out of her mouth and moved towards you. She grabbed you by the base and pressed your cock against your abdomen to kiss and lick the entire backside.

"Mmm, it seems that good size comes from genetics," she said with a small moan, and put one of your balls in her mouth to suck on it while she slowly masturbated you, just like she did to Jaime with the other hand. "I wonder how good you would feel deep inside my pussy."

With that she returned you into her mouth, and continued with those deep, sensual pumps until she was halfway down your shaft. She increased the speed, but despite this she kept it to a clean blowjob, devoid of messiness. That didn't mean it didn't feel good, but on the contrary, your fists were clenched as well as your jaw, a clear sign that you were going crazy.

A few glorious minutes passed as she alternated between each cock, sucking each one with dedication and with moans that became increasingly needier, both from her and from the two of you. Then you, already crazy to see more of her, reached behind her back and, finding the zipper of her top, you pulled it down and took it off her. A pair of small, round, firm tits were left free; you took your hand to one of them, and Jaime took the other. You both then kneaded each breast and played with her nipples.

Anna's response was to moan into your cock and then take it out for a moment, to also take Jaime's cock and take both of them into her mouth at the same time, in an act of oral flexibility that left you pleasantly surprised. She used her tongue to lick both shafts, while she pumped her head a little faster. Seconds later she pulled you both out of her mouth, and then she gave you both slow deepthroats separately.

"Fuck, enough," she said, pulling you out of her mouth as she masturbated you. "I need one of you two inside of me, immediately."

Anna stood up, but just when you were going to put your hands on her to finish undressing her, three knocks in a row were heard on the door.

Your soul left your body, and your heart stopped beating for a second.

"Jaime?" your aunt's voice from the other side. You three were paralyzed with fright, with horrified expressions. "Dear, are you there?"

You and Jaime exchanged glances. You could only gesture for him to respond quickly.

"Y-yes mother!" he responded. "I'm here with Noah looking for apartments in London, but we don't know where Anna is."

"Well then go out and look for her!" she exclaimed. "It's time to cut the cake! Hurry up!"

You waited a few long, tense seconds to make sure your aunt had already come down. Only after making sure she wasn’t up there, you started dressing quickly.

"Don't think you'll get rid of me," Anna said, walking toward the door once she was dressed. "We'll continue later. And you'll fuck me so hard I'll have to stay another day because of the pain."

She didn't even let you respond; she blew you both a kiss, opened the door and left. You and Jaime stayed silent for a few seconds.

"Noah..."

You raised your arm and finger to signal him to shut up.

"I don't care and I don't want to know, Jaime, now let's go."

"Yes," he nodded with a sigh, and the two of you left the room shortly after.

The rest of the celebration continued as normal. No one suspected anything about the three of you, and it's not like you left too many clues; even though you felt the tension, you made sure not to give any signs that might raise suspicion. What was true was that you were dying to fuck that damn woman, and this time you didn't bother hiding your eyes, so she knew it very well, and she let you know it with the little mischievous smiles that she gave you from time to time.

Your initial plan wasn’t to stay the night that day, so at the end of the party you had to put on a little theater to achieve your goal.

"Oi, auntie," you said, approaching her. "My car broke down, and I'm afraid I won't be able to fix it until next morning, I was wondering if I could stay tonight."

There was really no need to use that lie; you could just stay and that's it. But you wanted to use what little modesty you had left to have a decent excuse.

"Of course you can, darling!" she told you, patting both of your arms. "You know very well that you are always welcome with us. But you will have to stay with Jaime; Anna is using the guest room."

"Oh there’s no problem, thanks aunt! I'll go upstairs."

You turned around and walked towards the house.

"Just don't make a fuss, you cheeky monkeys!" she said behind your back, and you walked inside with a chuckle.

You went directly to Jaime's room, where he was lying on his bed, looking at his phone with one leg resting on the floor and the other up on the mattress.

"Know?" you said, closing the door behind you. "You're a big lad already, why the hell do you still live here?"

"Because I don't have a wife, because I work with father and because mother won't leave me until I get married," he answered without taking his eyes off the screen.

"Makes sense," you nodded, and walked towards his closet. "Where do you keep the inflatable mattress? I'm sure you had one."

Jaime didn't respond, and when you turned your head to look at him he was pointing under his desk, where the mattress was folded.

"Ah, how thoughtful of you."

"I don't think you'll need it tonight, anyway," he replied, as you picked up the mattress and carried it to the side of the bed.

Sure, Anna. You almost forgot.

"Is she...?" You nodded towards the wall to your left—behind it was the guest room—, as you unfolded the mattress and grabbed the air pump from inside.

"Yes, but we can't go right now. Everyone is still awake."

"I thought Elena was going with her friends tonight."

"And she will, but father must be giving them some boring lecture about life."

You sighed, and grabbed the air pump to connect the nozzle to the mattress and start inflating it.

"We'll wait, then."

Unfortunately that was what you had to do for the next three hours. You two avoided talking about the subject, not wanting to make the atmosphere uncomfortable with moralistic and ethical debates at this point; you would have time for that later, when that damn madness you were about to commit happened.

It was 2 in the morning when you were sure that everyone in the house was already asleep and that Elena had already left. You and Jaime left the room, finding yourself face to face with the now dark second floor. It wasn't necessary to turn on any lights, and you didn't want to do it either to avoid attracting attention. The guest room was right next door, so you only had to walk along the wall until you reached the door. You were the one in charge of opening it, and as soon as you entered, your eyes almost popped out of their sockets at what you saw to your left.

Anna was lying on her back in the center of the bed, one leg over the other while she looked at her phone. She was completely naked, and with her brown hair now down. The only thing she still had on was the diamond choker. But everything else was visible: her long toned legs—with a sexy mole on one of her thighs—, her flat, toned tummy—another mole there, above her navel—, and the pair of pretty tits that you had already groped a few hours ago.

She looked at you and giggled mischievously at your stunned faces as you walked inside and closed the door behind you. She then left her phone on the nightstand and turned to lie face down, to also show you a wonderful small but round, firm and beautifully shaped ass.

"I thought you'd never come, gentlemen," she said, shuffling her feet back and forth. "I was starting to get cold."

"It's time to warm up a little, then," Jaime said, taking off his shirt. You imitated him.

You both stood at the edge of the bed, and Anna knelt up to get closer to the two of you. She went straight towards you to crash her lips against yours, and then the groping on both sides started right away. Her hands each went to your cock and Jaime's, squeezing and massaging each bulge above your pajama pants. In response, one hand of yours went to her ass, to grab that firm, perfect piece of meat, and the other went between her legs, to finger her perfectly shaved and smooth little pussy. Jaime also made his part, with kisses on her long neck and his hands on her waist and her tits.

"You brought condoms, right?" She asked against your lips, and then she pulled both cocks out of your pants, while you rubbed her clit and her folds. "I'm not going to fuck without protection."

You took your wallet out of your pocket and threw it on the bed next to her.

"We don't want an Egerton Egerton in the family, don't worry," you said with a giggle.

She laughed too, and she pulled both of your pants and boxers down to the end of your thighs to free your cocks. You took your hands off her so you could undress quickly, and when you were all completely naked, you continued touching her everywhere.

Anna was now kissing Jaime while she stroked both cocks. You were now able to concentrate entirely on kissing every part of her that you had not had the joy of kissing before, from her neck, her shoulders and finally her tits; you brought one to your mouth to suck and lick while you shoved two fingers inside her tight and already wet pussy. She moaned against Jaime's lips, and to get another moan out of her, you brought your free hand between her buttocks to also rub her butthole with your finger.

You fingered her for a few long seconds, taking the full length of your fingers in and out of her with gradually faster pumps. You also stuck a saliva-soaked finger into her butthole, which to your surprise presented almost no opposition as you pumped it.

She moaned again and again, her tight body writhing slightly with pleasure at the three fingers pumping into two of her holes. But after a few seconds she separated from Jaime's lips with a squeal and put her hand on your wrist.

"Oh, for heaven's fucking sake," she complained. "I need a cock inside me, right now."

"I'll do the honors," you said immediately, before Jaime beat you to it, and you pulled your fingers out of her pussy and out of her ass.

Anna moved away from the two of you and moved towards the center of the bed, settling on her hands and knees with a perfect curvature of her back, making her small, round ass look like the eighth wonder of the world. You climbed onto the bed and positioned yourself behind her, while Jaime did so in front of her.

The first thing any other man desperate for cum would do is put on the condom and dive right in, but that perfect wet pussy was too stupidly tempting, so before you gave her what she demanded, you leaned down and you planted your mouth directly on her slit.

"Oh fuck!" she moaned, tensing with her fingers gripping the sheet. "I thought I told you that..."

The next thing you heard was a choking sound and small gags. Jaime had put his cock in her mouth to shut her up, and from what you could hear, Anna had gladly accepted it, since now only sucking sounds combined with cute moans could be heard.

You then concentrated entirely on eating that deliciously soft pussy, with both hands on her buttocks, squeezing firmly as you kissed and licked between her folds. Anna was absolutely loving it; she pushed her ass against your face, smothering you between her buttocks. In response you moved your tongue up to her butthole, causing even more squirms from her, and just to spice it up a little, you gave her a little spank.

After a few seconds of licking, kissing and feasting on both her pussy and her ass, you finally knelt up and grabbed your wallet to open it, take out a condom, open it and quickly put it on. Then, with your cock ready, you placed a hand on her left buttock and rubbed yourself between her folds a few times before slowly entering her.

Anna let out a high-pitched squeal against Jaime's cock, who had her hair in a ponytail as he began pumping his hips and fucking her mouth faster and faster. You soon joined in the effort, placing both hands on her buttocks before beginning to fuck her pussy.

"Holy shit," you gasped, watching your cock slide in and out of her pussy, which had the hell of a grip. "So fucking tight."

After a few seconds, both you and Jaime put burning coal in your engines and made a sudden gear change. Now you were both fucking her from both sides in a frenzy of thrusting and moaning. On one hand you could hear the gagging sounds thanks to Jaime's cock constantly hitting her throat, and on the other the sound of your pelvis in non-stop collisions against her ass.

A little over a minute passed before Anna latched onto Jaime's thighs and exploded in an intense wave of spasms and screams that made her pull his cock out of her mouth. She was moaning a little too loudly, so Jaime grabbed her hair and shoved two fingers into her mouth until her orgasm dissipated.

"My turn," Jaime said, and you knew he was talking to you.

You reluctantly pulled out from inside Anna's pussy, and swapped places with Jaime. But first he grabbed her by her waist and made her lie on her back. She spread her legs wide for him, and made eye contact with you.

"Are you having fun, handsome?" she asked in a husky, sultry tone of voice, her chin stained with saliva. Jaime, meanwhile, put on a condom.

"I'm the one who should ask you that question," you replied, and put your cock on top of her face to rub it from side to side. "You seem to be in paradise."

"Looks like you're not the only one who's horrible at dissembling, then," she said with a giggle, and in one of those she grabbed your cock to suck on it with the condom still on.

Seconds later Jaime took his cock inside her, and Anna moaned around your cock. He grabbed her thighs and pressed them back, while you put your left hand on her neck, and your right on one of her tits, before you started pumping your hips up and down and fuck her mouth.

Anna became a mess of moans and writhing when Jaime began to fuck her hard, and all that feedback was enjoyed by your cock, which received constant vibrations inside her warm mouth. That made you moan with pleasure, the fingers of your left hand tightly clinging to her neck and your right hand now on her attractive midriff.

Jaime on the other hand was stronger and stronger. Now he had brought Anna's legs together and placed her ankles over his right shoulder. He hugged her thighs, and between gasps he hammered her pussy as fast as he could.

You were also going at full speed, your cock entering and leaving her mouth at a pace that could perfectly be harmful to her, but she seemed to love how your cock reached her throat and bulged it, because she even used her tongue on the back of your shaft, and spit all the accumulated saliva upwards to make it a sloppy mess.

That was feeling way too good, and your orgasm was right around the corner, so you waited a few seconds before pulling out of her mouth, taking off the condom, and fucking her mouth again until you exploded inside her throat.

The timing was perfect, because just as you shot your huge, hot load into her mouth, Jaime made her reach a second orgasm in which she couldn't even moan, only wriggle like a rag doll and tense her muscles, choking on your cock and your cum.

Apparently she was squeezing like hell, because Jaime also came a few seconds later, fucking her through her orgasm. He then, a moment later, pulled his cock out of her and removed the cum-filled condom to throw it on the floor. You also left her mouth.

"Oh god… god!" she moaned after taking a deep breath. "Please don't stop, take my ass!"

"You're lucky I have a condom left, darling," you told her, caressing the side of her face with the back of your hand.

"Me too," Jaime mentioned, still panting. "Have you ever had two cocks inside you at the same time?"

"I haven't had the pleasure, dear," she replied, looking at him. "But I would love for you two to please me."

Jaime grabbed his pants and took out one last condom, which he put on in a matter of seconds. Then he went and lay down next to her.

"Come and ride me then, princess," he said. "Noah, you take her from behind. I know you love that view."

"I told you not to fucking talk to me, Jaime," you reiterated with a sigh, reaching into your wallet to pull out another condom.

Anna mounted Jaime after putting extra effort on her legs, which were already shaking. She adjusted her thighs on either side of his waist, while you put on the condom and positioned yourself over Jaime's legs and directly behind her.

"Don't you need lube for these things?" you asked, and spit between her buttocks to spread the saliva on the outside and inside of her butthole.

"Saliva will do it," she said, lifting her hips so that Jaime held his cock straight and she could impale herself on it. "Mmmgh!" she moaned, again with a cock deep in her pussy, then she looked at you over her shoulder. "You just fucking do it, I love doing it raw."

You laughed and pressed the tip of your cock against her butthole, while Jaime pumped his hips up and down in and out of her pussy.

"You'd think Anna Egerton was an elegant and refined damsel even in bed," you said, pressing forward to take your first few inches into her ass.

Anna threw her neck back and let out a painstakingly suppressed scream, followed by a grunt of pleasure, nails digging into Jaime's chest as you slowly sank to the bottom of her butthole and he fucked her patiently, knowing that you hadn't started yet.

A few seconds later, when you were completely inside her and you gave her a few pumps to get her used to it, the real debauchery began, dirty and disastrous.

You and Jaime fucked her mercilessly, hard and fast, him destroying her pussy and you destroying her ass. Jaime had one of her tits in her mouth, and both of his arms wrapped around her torso to hold her tightly. You, for your part, had her long, beautiful, shiny brown hair in a messy ponytail, with your free hand placed on one of her buttocks.

After a few long seconds you didn't even care about regulating her moans, no matter how loud they were, you were so absorbed in pleasure that the possible consequences of making too much of a fuss and being discovered did not cross your mind. In a way you could be somewhat calm, since that room was quite far from the master bedroom, but still, you were playing with fire.

But you knew perfectly well that you were playing with fire, and you were loving getting burned with it. Anna's body was a damn delight, a complete confection baked by fucking Aphrodite herself. It was simply hot in every possible part, but without a doubt your favorite part was that beautiful ass, which at that moment you were jiggling with every thrust.

"Mmmgh fuck fuck fuck yes!" she moaned, her neck going back from the force of your pull. "Hard, fast! Destroy me like a fucking filthy whore!"

That was certainly not the expected behavior of a refined damsel with duchess wood. Funny, to say the least.

You gave her another spank, and then another harder one on the same buttock. She loved that, as she screamed in pleasure and looked at you with lust-filled eyes every time your hand hit her skin. You soon brought her to a third orgasm, but that didn't stop you.

"Come here," you ordered, and you climbed out of her ass to go and stand on the side of the bed.

They both looked at you and were ready to get up, but Jaime had to carry Anna out of bed, because her legs were so shaky that it would be impossible for her to stand up.

Jaime released her in front of you, and you wrapped your arms around her body to pick her up and hold her by her thighs. She immediately rested her back on Jaime's chest, so her weight didn't fall solely on you. Her arms went behind, holding on to Jaime's head with her eyes on you, while you entered her pussy and Jaime entered her ass.

A new segment of using Anna as a cute, submissive sex doll began, only this time you had the privilege of looking straight into her eyes while you fucked her tight ass at full gear.

Her legs just wouldn't stop shaking, and she wouldn't stop writhing between desperate moans, tears in her eyes. She let her head fall back onto Jaime's shoulder, allowing herself to be manipulated by you like a rag doll while she pulled him on his hair. Then she brought a hand to her mouth, and squeezed her eyes shut as a fourth orgasm hit her.

Anna instinctively bit the side of her hand, muffling loud screams and moans against it. She did it perhaps too hard, because when she let go of her hand, she left all of her teeth marked in an intense red on her own skin, one of the marks even letting out a droplet of blood.

She then simply collapsed and became heavier, so that you and Jaime had to double your efforts to hold her up in the air. She was still conscious, as her eyes were open and she was biting her lip, but she wasn't blinking, and she wasn't moving either, she was just so overwhelmed with pleasure that her brain didn't react.

Fortunately for her you didn't take long to give the last few thrusts to her pussy before you exploded, in what had been one of the most electrifying and mindblowing orgasms you had ever experienced. Jaime followed closely behind you, also cumming between slow pumps in and out of her.

You filled Anna's tits with kisses and hickeys, while Jaime kissed her neck and the side of her face, treating her like the princess she was. After a few seconds you both came out of her, while her body was still shaking as if she were being given mini electric shocks.

"Maybe..." she said in a small voice. "Maybe I will end up staying here in the UK."

Then, only then, you looked Jaime in the eyes. Curiously you met his worried gaze, a reflection of your own. You didn't say anything, but you knew that that damn woman would have a noose around your neck for a long time.

You were screwed.

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

As always. Thanks for reading! MASTERLIST HERE!

[millersfinest]

the thing in your chest that beats | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 5k

mini-series: california (you’re here) | oregon | idaho | wyoming

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: angry!r, mentions of fate, santa barbara arc, infected, shooting, lots of exposition, torture, violence, vulgar language, slow-burn romance, eventual smut, proximity trope, both reader and ellie on a path of redemption.

note: this first part is lowkey boring imo, but i hope the angst makes up for it. as always, please enjoy my hyperfixation!!

California

Ropes chafed at your skin; securing your legs and wrists on top of each other to the wooden post. Fog had shielded the setting sun from your skin—after many hours of being scorched. Your muscles ached and your bones were sore. The exposed skin on your shoulders and chest was dry and flaking, exposing an under layer of tenderness. Everything fucking hurt. But you were barely there; head nodding off from the scratching at your stomach and the dryness in your mouth ripping your lips apart.

How did you, a firefly, militarily trained, end up tied to a pillar at the cusp of a beach in Santa Barbara?

You were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. This group searched for people like you—lonely and pillaged by the weight of the world. You were too distracted to foresee their deception; they got lucky with you.

Until the chemical reactions in your brain short-circuited, causing you to act out in the name of self-preservation.

Wrath, by definition, is a trait you’re easily overcome with. It’s not just something that passes through you like other traits and emotions. It holds on. It makes a home in your body and directs you like a rabid dog—a burdening feeling that nestled between your sore muscles. It filled you with adrenaline to kill and destroy—to get rid of the people who tried to get rid of you.

And, every time, you managed to find yourself feeling bad about it. There was no explanation for that. Just your heart being too sensitive for world you existed in—it was constantly broken. By yourself and your circumstances.

It was your own fault that you were captured by the rattlers. You should’ve never left Catalina Island for a pipe dream. There wasn’t anything better than the firefly base—you should’ve known that and never left. Perhaps, if you had remained under the duty of your earned dog tags, you wouldn’t have been thrusted into the situation that you were in.

Wyoming was a lie that you told yourself because you wanted to live a life that didn’t exist.

Locked in a debate with death, your body abruptly hit the dense surface of the sand. The ropes that bound you to that skewer had been severed by a fallen angel. A prisoner you had attached yourself to in the hopes of survival. Her hair was coily and reflected copper under the Californian sun.

You came to from the impact, finally beginning to hear the ongoing gunfire coming from the resort buildings. As you twitched in pain, she cut the bindings at your wrists and ankles. Tucking a pistol into your hand, she muttered words of hope. “Good luck out there, hotshot.”

Your lips moved to respond, but there wasn’t any sound. It didn’t matter, though, because she wasn’t around to hear it. The young woman at once took off in the opposite direction of the chaos with a bag over her shoulder.

Stuck in a dilemma, you didn’t move for a few moments. Eyes stuck on the weight in your weak hands. It was nothing but a black semi-automatic—it weighed nothing compared to bigger firearms. However, it sunk your hand into the sand as if it weighed a ton. You couldn’t even hold a gun with the same conviction that you used to. Yet, the fallen angel had faith that you could.

Taking in a deep wheezing breath, you tried to stand to your feet. You got up enough for your knees to bend, but once you extended them, you crashed back into the sand with a thud. In temporary defeat, you looked to the people still suspended on the pillars. They were unmoving, rotting away from the inside out. That could’ve been you if it weren’t for her cutting you down.

In mourning them, you gave standing another attempt. Keeping your hands low to catch your fall. But you didn’t fall. The muscles in your legs were weak, trembling as you stretched them. With a hunch in your back, you grabbed the gun, adjusting it in your hands. Your professional form remained the same as remnants of your training. Placing your hands over one another on the handle, supporting its weight. Aiming the barrel toward nothing specific, just to get the feeling again. It’s been months since you had opportunity to defend yourself.

With as much quickness that you could muster, you went through the resort to grab supplies. A backpack, medkit, and some food.

Setting your mind on leaving, you tried to sneak through the gunfire between the prisoners and the rattlers. But that simply wasn’t in the cards for you.

Before you could escape the resort, one of them had a bone to pick with you. It was the same rattler that was your deceptive captor. She used her femininity to convince you that she needed help—that she was weak and she needed your help. If anything, you have a bone to pick with her.

She had come at you with her bear hands, pushing your face up against a wall. She tore the backpack from your back, throwing it to the side. Where did her wrath come from? Somehow, you managed to get the upper hand. Straddling her body delivering punches that you haven’t in awhile. It felt natural to you to release such violence against another person.

Through beating her bloody, you found your power again. Tearing off the shimmering dog tags around her neck that had previously belonged to you. Heaving, you looked down at her. She had split your lip and broken your nose, but you could argue that you did worse to her. Her nose was cracked in multiple places, as she coughed up her own blood and teeth. It slipped down the crevices of her face, dribbling into her brown eyes.

“Fuck you.” You firmly speak, picking up your bag from its straps, swinging it around your shoulders.

From the fight, you had stumbled into a room of firearms. Still weak, you limped around. Causing you to walk away from the damage with a Beretta A300 shotgun and ammunition.

Like it was a prize after a big challenge.

You found yourself stumbling along the sand of the beach you were stuck on. This time, closer to the foggy waters of the coast. Ignoring the throbbing sensation in your thigh. You were barely sentient, running on nothing but fumes. But you knew you had to get as far from Santa Barbara as you could.

All of sudden, darkness began encapsulating your eyes from the outside in. Your limbs grew heavier, slowing down the pace of your movements—you collapsed into the sand like the damsel you had become.

When your eyes fluttered open, you were laying on an itchy couch. Waking up felt like awaking from a coma. Sitting up was a chore because of the tightness of your muscles. You felt it like a sickness in your chest. Trying to move your legs, you sucked in a pained breath. A hole that was cut into your ripped jeans was covered by white wrapping. Gauze.

A single lantern in the middle of the living room illuminated the space. It was placed on a dusty coffee table—off-center. Your backpack and weapons leaned against an entertainment center; a large cabinet that combined the use of compartments as well as a space for the tv to fit.

Blinking slowly, you tried to remember how you got there. Fingers gripping at the cushions, experiencing a crazy amount of brain fog. A wrapper crackled under the weight of your hand as you shifted. It was a granola bar tucked under the pillow that you laid your head on.

You stomach scratched at your abdomen, so you wasted no time in retrieving it—ripping open the wrapper and biting into the nutty granola. The side of your foot kicked over a metal canister, accidentally. Clashing toward the scratched wooden floors, it startled you. Reaching down, you shook it in your hands. There was a liquid inside. Screwing the lid off, you realized it was only water. Something else your body demanded of you.

Who put all this stuff here? It couldn’t have been you.

A creak from the side of the room, caused you to snap your head in that direction. Chewing slowly on the oats in your mouth, your eyebrows scrunched. Your free hand felt your hip from the cool metal of that gifted pistol, but there was nothing but the fabric of your jeans.

By the time she came into your view, your body froze. Your gun was across the room, she had the advantage. She loomed in the darker parts of the room as if she were hiding from you—in a way that was prey-ish, rather than predatory.

“I didn’t think you’d wake up…”

Her voice was raspy, and she spoke with a slow cadence. When she came into the light, she kept her distance. By the corner of the entertainment center cabinet—on the opposite end of where your bag was laying. Her auburn strands were choppy and tucked behind her ears. She wore a white t-shirt that was filthy with, what looked like, blood and dirt. Hands fidgeting with each other in front of her body as she eyed you with concern. She was missing her pinky and ring finger from her left hand. “You’d been out for hours… I, uhm, stitched up a wound on your leg— thought you might’ve caught an infection.”

She lacked conviction when she spoke to you. Voice leaving with a sort of emptiness, or perhaps, guilt. “Where’d you find me?” You asked, gritting your jaw. Holding onto the metal canister tight enough to use as a weapon if need be. That last thing you wanted was to be fooled by a stranger again.

She cleared her throat. “The beach.”

That’s when it hit you. The memories of your weakness hit. You remember dragging your legs through the sand, catching the glimpse of a body sitting in the water beside a vacant boat, then falling into a deep sleep. Of course, you, somehow, offered yourself up to a stranger.

It was just your luck, huh?

“There were others you could’ve helped… Why me?”

A scoff fell from her lips. Scarred eyebrows jutting together; an attitude washing over her freckled features. As if your words were charged with something else besides cautious curiosity. “I was expecting more of a thank you...”

You blinked, sucked your teeth. “I don’t know you from a can of fucking paint— so, you should lower your expectations.” You retorted, boring your eyes into her slender figure. What alarmed her was how your voice scolded gently. It cut deeper that way. “I mean, what is that on your shirt? Blood? Would you wanna thank some stranger in a bloody shirt?”

She crossed her arms, shaking her head. “Have you seen yourself?” Her thick eyebrow raised, voice dropping an octave. “You look like shit—“

You glanced at the shirt that clung to you perspiring body. It also had remnants of blood and dirt and sand. Leaning your elbows on your thighs, you leaned forward. “Fuck you! You have no idea what I’ve been through—!”

“And you know what I’ve been through?” She countered, scoffing after her words.

You talked over each other—barking like unfamiliar dogs. Wrath came easy to you; and, apparently, it came easy to her, too. Her words silenced you, but you grit your teeth. “I should’ve left you where I found you— fuckin’ joke’s on me.” She ran a hand through her short hair, taking long strides out of the living room. Preparing to sink back into the corner she came from.

Clearing your throat, you swallowed your pride. There was a sincerity behind her eyes that you couldn’t ignore. Her anger radiated off her epidermis is such a way that it was familiar. “All right,” You sighed, positioning your body slowly to face her departing figure. She’d stopped in her path, peering over her boney shoulder. “I don’t recognize you from the cells… Or the pillars. Who the fuck are you?” Your eyebrows furrowed, voice weakening by the mention of your greatest failure: becoming a slave to the weirdest assholes known to man.

Wheels shifted in her mind, her olive eyes flickering around in the dark, in thought. Lips opening and closing, trying to formulate her words—but there was no use. She decided to resume her steps, sequestering herself in a bedroom. You heard the sound of the door shutting and locking the door behind her.

Groaning, you shut your eyes, leaning your head against the soft, itchy pillows, frustrated.

Unbeknownst to you, she’d locked herself in that room because she found herself overcome with emotion—hot, streaming tears. She didn’t know you as much as you didn’t know her, and she wasn’t going to share her own greatest failures with you. If what you were saying was true, you were victimized. How could someone like her talk to someone like you? After the things she’s done… After the things she was prepared to do.

The sun ascended, with the two of you lingering in separate rooms. You had eventually fallen asleep after some hours in your thoughts. Wondering about the story of the woman sheltering herself from you. Multiple times, you had to stop yourself from dwelling. This is what got you caught up with the first time. Instead, you began to think about what your plans were.

Were you going to resume your journey to Wyoming, in the hopes of finding that settlement? Or were you going to hitch it back to Catalina Island? And hope to God that they take you back with minimal consequences. Dwelling on those thoughts, instead of her, is what brought you to sleep.

When you woke up, you finished the metal canister of water. Giving the room a proper once-over. Sun rays cascaded through the dusty windows like beams, illuminating the room, angelically. Taking a deep breath, you decided to walk around. The soreness in your body hadn’t changed—you still felt burdened by your own body.

The home was a single-leveled Tuscan inspired home. Its interior was riddled with browns and beiges. Dragging your feet against the wooden floor, you entered the kitchen. All the cabinets were blown open and searched through. You assumed it was that woman who you’d met—still, you didn’t know her name.

Looking down at the counters, there was a yellow-paged note on the furthest one from you. The island closest to her bedroom. It was lying under a pill bottle. You shifted as quickly as you could to the note, sliding the pill bottle to the side, but not without a glance. They were antibiotics.

Found the antibiotics in the cabinets this morning, there’s only two left. Take them both.

I left to go hunt for some food. Stay in the house if you know what’s best for yourself. There’s infected around.

I’ll be back soon.

— E

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “If I know what’s best for myself…” Pressing into the top of the bottle, you unscrewed it. With nothing but your saliva, you knocked back two of the pills just like she told you. However, not because she told you to. There were many reasons for you to catch an infection from the wound on your leg—the wound you didn’t even remember how you got.

“I can handle infected.” You muttered to yourself. It’s been awhile since you really dealt with them face-to-face, but it was an innate ability. Why wouldn’t you be able to defend yourself from infected? Your only limits were your body stuck in its state of pain.

But, where you come from, sometimes it took movement to heal pain. Pushing through soreness and tightness was the only way to move forward.

So, instead of waiting around for E to come back around. You decided to explore some of the nearby houses. Ones that were only a few paces away from the house that you were currently in—you weren’t that stupid.

You secured your backpack around your shoulders, hooking the strap of your shotgun around your arm, and sticking the pistol in the back of your jeans. The first stop was next door. Slowly, you had climbed through a broken window. Landing in a bedroom decorated with childish posters. Focusing, you found yourself busy with looting the home. Taking things of importance and putting them inside of your bag.

You didn’t run into anything shocking until the third place you visited—three houses down. Thankfully, there was no clicking, but there were the familiar wailings of a runner. Catching a glimpse of coily copper hair, huddled over sobbing in her hands, you crouched behind a wall. Eyes shifting from side to side, trying to digest the visual.

Good luck, hotshot.

Perhaps, it was her who really needed the luck. Slowly, you removed the gun from your shoulder, leaning it against the wall. The breaths from your lips fled in chunks, pulling the gifted pistol from your waistband. You had known her for the entirety of your stay at that treacherous resort—she was your anchor. She helped you with your anger, keeping you under an emotional routine. Later, it worked for the worst instead of the better, but she tried to help you in there. She was patient with you.

You stepped from the wall, aiming the chamber of the pistol at the back of her head. You didn’t know her for that long, but you knew she wouldn’t want something like this for herself. She had plans just like you did—she wanted out of California. Leaving her to stumble around this broken home would be fucked up.

She freed you. Now, it was time for you to free her.

“You deserved better than this, Honey.” She was sweet and tangy like honey; that’s why you called her that. It wasn’t even her name—you didn’t know her name.

Your index finger squeezed the trigger, sending the bullet straight through her unsuspecting mind. Her whines were more coherent, meaning that all of that just happened. The infection had just taken over. A tear had slipped down the fat of your cheek when her body hit the ground. The shot echoing against the walls and through the neighborhood.

She lasted no longer than a day on her own, and those rattlers were nothing but the blame. They drained you enough to make you suffer but keep you working. But, out on the road, you stood no chance.

There was a piece of notebook paper on the floor by the baseboards of the wall Honey’s body laid beside. With a lump in your throat, you plucked it from the ground, holding it delicately in your hands.

After months of captivity, I’ve found myself in a situation that I could have never imagined. I didn’t notice when the clicker bit me, everything happened so fast!

It hurts now, though, a lot. And the anticipation of the infection is worser than I expected it to be. This is the part where I put a gun in mouth to end it all.

I’m too tired to do that. For once, I don’t wanna fight.

I apologize to those who end up witnessing what I have become.

The palm of your hand covered your mouth in shock as you read the letter. Honey must’ve been horrified. And it hurt to know that she went through it all alone.

Catching you in a grieving state, E had vaulted through a broken window with her gun in hand. Her olive eyes landed on you, subsiding the subtle look of shock on her face. “I thought I told you to stay in the house.” She tucked the pistol into the waistband of her jeans, sighing. “You’re in no condition to travel alone…” Her eyes casted onto your frame leaning over a marble counter, reading over the letter silently.

Hearing her footsteps, you folded up the letter and slid it into your back pocket. Taking a final look at the dead woman on the floor, a reflection of your friend that didn’t exist anymore, you brush past the the auburn-haired woman. Shoulders grazing as you achingly climb out of the same window she came in from.

Without saying, what happened to Honey worried you. Loneliness was a cruelty that many could afford—you experienced it. But loneliness along with bodily ailments wasn’t a problem you wanted. If it weren’t for E, you could’ve been in the same position as Honey. What made you worth saving and not her? A ball of fury, like yourself, should’ve been the first to go.

Yet, a level of gratefulness washed over you. Were you ready to thank the freckled stranger for her saviorship?

E followed you back to the house, binding the front door with furniture. Entering, you noticed two rabbits attached to a string laying on the tiled counter. Impressed, you hummed, while dragging your feet toward the couch you had slept on. You shrugged off your backpack and leaned your shotgun against the wall.

The auburn-haired woman peered at you, messing with rabbits, pulling them off the string to prepare to cook them. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” She breathed. Her voice coming out like a muttered sigh, but it was loudly quiet in the house. Therefore, your ears picked up on her words.

You ignored her, pulling out the note, and kicking your feet up onto the couch to read it again. Analyzing the messy handwriting on the page, tainted with dried tears and dirty hand prints. E had brought in a metal trashcan to cook the animals she hunted for the both of you. Every so often, peaking at you with interest and wonder.

When the rabbits were cooked, she brought it over to you in a chipped ceramic bowl. “Thanks…” You mutter, barely meeting her eyes.

“Yeah,” She answered, slightly taken off guard.

The two of you eat separately, on different sides of the room. E didn’t retreat back into the room had the night before. Instead, she propped herself on the stool by the island table. Where she could keep her intense olive eyes on you—attempting to read you without asking questions.

You were impressed by the rabbit presented to you. Back at the base, you were familiar with chicken more so than rabbit, though. There was a hesitation when taking the first bite. But the rumble in your belly was satisfied by the animal, and that was all that mattered.

Feeling a strong gaze on you, peering to the side was a natural reaction. She’d snap her eyes back to her plate before you could fully catch her. Sighing, you set the plate on the coffee table in front of the couch.

In your looting, a bottle of wine called out to you from the basement of one of the Tuscan homes. You limped toward the kitchen with your calloused hand wrapped around the sloped neck of the bottle. Placing the bottle at the middle of the island, you take a seat at the furthest end from her. “I thought I would properly thank you for saving my ass…” You cleared your throat, awkwardly. Choosing to keep your eyes trained on your fidgeting fingers. “It’s Cabernet, I think. The label’s kind of rubbed off.”

“I’m not much of a drinker.”

You pursed your lips, flickering your eyes to peer at her. “Hm.” You hum. “Okay, well, more for me, I guess.” You shrug, reaching for the wine. The plan was to drink it either way—if she wanted it, or if she didn’t. Peeling off the wrapper, you were happy to see that it was a screw top instead of an imbedded cork.

Taking the first sip, its sweetness spread over your tongue. The alcohol percentage was fairly high, so you were expecting a pleasurable feeling within the next few minutes. If you kept gulping at the bottle. You deserved a bit of man-made solace after what you’ve been through. After the things you’ve seen. Taking another sip, you prepare to go back to the couch you were sat on, with the bottle in your hand.

However, E places a hand on the cool tiles. “Wait…” She rolled her eyes. “One sip wouldn’t hurt.” In her silence, she realized that she also deserved a few moments of calmness—self-care.

The corners of your lips curled, sitting back down on your stool. You slid the bottle close enough for her to reach it, leaning your head against your fist.

Orange rays of the sun shifted through the room; setting so the moon could take her place. You and E had found comfort in the wine and in the space between yourselves. Scooting close to each other until there was only a single stool in the center of you. Talking about the more joyous parts of your lives—which, surprisingly, wasn’t much. The pair of you managed to keep the important information off the record. Upholding a level of vagueness between your truth.

When E had brought up her son and girlfriend, that’s when the energy shifted in the room.

“You have a family? Then… Why are you out here?”

A beat slivered between you, circling your bodies like a ribbon.

“I recognize those dog tags… You’re a firefly? I thought they shut down years ago.” She spoke with rigid shoulders, taking a swig of the Cabernet.

Your hand reached for the thin metal around your neck, decorating your exposed collarbones. There was a disconnect between you and the facility you had grown up in. While you loved the support of the community, as you got older, you wanted something different. “Yeah, after everything shut down, another popped up here—in California. It’s the only one left, I believe.”

She chuckled, cheeks flushed from the alcohol accumulating in her system. “Hm. Are you gonna try and recruit me into your little cult? Is that why you’re still out here?”

Deepening your eyebrows, you peered down at the grout between the tiles under your hands. “Probably… If I still was a firefly…” Slowly, you enunciated. “I haven’t been one for months now.”

“Ah, you went rogue.”

“I wouldn’t say that… But, yeah, I guess.” You rolled your eyes, reaching for the wine bottle. She put it in your hand, leaning her elbow against the counter. E left room for you speak, just boring her hazed eyes into your frame. “I was done with being an asshole for a living— I don’t want to just survive anymore… I want to live.” You take a large swig of the wine, lamenting subtly.

Look where desiring life got you. Locked up as a slave for another bunch of assholes. “I heard from some people that there was a place in Wyoming that wasn’t anything like the fireflies.” You inhaled, sharply. “I could live a normal life there— maybe it’s a stupid idea… I don’t know.”

E deepened her thick eyebrows, leaning forward. “Are you talking about Jackson?”

“Yeah, I think so. There was a map in my bag that had the name. I lost it when the rattlers got ahold of me.”

With scrunched face, she stood to her feet. Running her hands over her face, releasing a tired sigh. “It’s not that stupid of an idea…” Looking back at you, she placed her hands on her hips. “That’s where I’m headed— Jackson, Wyoming.”

“Oh…”

Was this the fated reasoning behind why the both of you met? Both harboring an inner pain and guilt for something or someone. Two damaged souls meeting in the middle—this could be a productive exchange. But what would E receive?

She swore under her breath, running her fingers through her hair, stressfully. “You could come with me, it’s not like you’d get far in your condition alone.” She blinked, casually. You scoff at her words, sucking your teeth. She could never just be kind. Sure, it was obvious that you were injured—in horrible shape—but you weren’t inherently weak. You were a trained individual, something that most people couldn’t say.

“I’d feel like an asshole if I didn’t at least offer. It’s a long journey—“

“Oh, you still come off like an asshole, but I appreciate the offer.” You nod, jumping from the stool. “Those fucks threw me off track— I wouldn’t even know where to start up again… So, yeah, I’ll go with you.”

She nodded, pursing her lips. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“You don’t make me regret this. I have a bad history when it comes to trusting strangers.” You pressed your lips into a line, leaning against the island for support. There was a slight sway to stance, as the world around you didn’t feel stable.

“Okay, well, you have my word.” She affirmed, sliding her hands into her back pockets. “Do I have yours?”

You inhaled, sharply, glancing at the ceiling. “Yes, you have my word… On the condition that you tell me your name.” She narrowed her eyes at you, the corners of her lips curling. “We can’t possibly travel together if we don’t know each other’s names.”

The auburn-haired woman picked up the backpack she threw against the lower cabinets, slinging it over her shoulder. She was preparing to huddle into that bedroom again. Before leaving you in the dim hue of the few lanterns in the room, she spoke. “Ellie. My name’s Ellie.”

She waited by her door for your answer, with a raised eyebrow. You gave her your name, plainly. Straightening the hunch in your back—feigning a level of stoicism.

The only response she gave was a hum, before locking herself away. Releasing a sigh of relief, you smiled. Wyoming wasn’t the pipe dream you thought it to be. Yeah, the experiences you had leading up to that conversation weren’t the best. In fact, those experiences scarred everything about you. But could this have been the reason behind your hellish encounters?

[lalunanymph]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── gojo never thought he would see the day when he would be in this situation: helplessly bound and gagged, watching his best friend of over 20 years fuck his wife on their marital bed.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you're now reading . . . 𝐂𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐃 + 𝐂𝐔𝐌 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 + 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐆𝐄 with gojo satoru & geto suguru

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── wife!reader, fem!reader, consensual cuckholding, cheating insecurities, bondage, panty gag, nipple play, cum eating, oral s[e]x, riding, gojo's inhumane strength + flexibility

⇤flip back to the pervtober masterlist

As much as he was the strongest sorcerer in the world, there was one thing Gojo Satoru was hesitant to do—and that was to share the things he loved.

Anytime his students made eyes at a sweet treat he held in his hand, or when Nobara tried to “borrow” his black card, he would divert them with a sarcastic quip or annoy them until they dropped it.

But, if push came to shove, Gojo supposes he could share—especially when if it was with his best friend of 20 over years, Suguru Geto. 

In hindsight, Satoru and Suguru had a lot of things in common.

The same initials, the same cut of uniform, their eerily uncanny height. Even their shared love for obscure memes bonded them together.

But, one thing Gojo never expected to share with his best friend? 

You—his own, sweet wife. 

It wasn’t the kind of threesome you would find in a sappy porno. Gojo was unsure how he had let you lead him into this situation, but you must’ve been a lustful curse reincarnated in the form of a beautiful woman. 

He couldn’t resist your pretty doe eyes or your glossy lips twisted into a pout when you whined, “Please, Satoru? Can you do it for me?” 

Sure, he was a menace half of the time, but Satoru would lay the heavens and earth by your feet the second you asked him to. 

So, when you brought up the idea of a threesome, he was intrigued. After all, the both of you were pretty adventurous in the sack, and he couldn’t deny how sexy it was to imagine you with another woman. 

Except, you requested for someone else completely different.

You had asked him to share you with Suguru.

The kicker was, Satoru thought he would at least get some action. But, when you shared how it would turn you on to no end to see him all tied up and helpless, his curiosity was kicked up a notch.

Gojo was the type of man who would try anything once, even if the idea sounded absolutely awful.

So, here he was, right in the middle of his marital bed, all tied up prettily with some red jute rope that contrasted perfectly with his marble pale skin. You were straddling his lap, clad in a skimpy black thong and bralette which barely covered your heaving tits as you kissed him over and over again.

“Fuck—mhm,” Gojo groaned when you sucked on his bottom lip. Satoru loved it when you got this horny for him; it made him feel like the only man on this planet to get you this vulnerable and impure.

Except, he wasn’t. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t stop thinking about how he would feel when Geto arrived. The same Geto who had been there for him through thick and thin—who had been his best man at his own wedding. That Geto who was currently on his way over to his mansion, ready to fuck his lovely wife without a shred of hesitation. 

You bit on his lower lip, bringing back his attention to the task at hand. “You look so pretty, ‘Toru,” you purred in a husky whisper, running your soft hands down his sculpted chest. The diamond patterns dug into his skin, sure to leave an imprint behind when you released those binds later. Satoru fixed those beautiful, baby blue eyes onto you, and it shouldn’t turn you on this much to see him already halfway ruined for you.

“Baby, please,” he mumbled, and you felt his cock straining behind his sweatpants; itching to be buried in your tight heat. 

“Ssh,” you murmured, and he shivered when your red-tipped nails caught on his nipples. You pinched and flicked those pink nubs until they stiffened, an undeniable sign of his pure desire for you. “Let me take care of you, Satoru.” 

The sound of his name leaving your lips made a shiver wrack up his spine. Satoru held his breath when you kissed down his neck and collarbone, leading your painted red lips right to his pelvic bone. 

His cock stirred when you began to palm it, licking your lips when you noticed a growing wet patch on the front of his pants. 

“Already hard for me, baby?” you traced the shape of his leaking head with one teasing finger. “You need to have more self-control than that.”

If he was being honest, this was his karma for always stringing you on and denying your orgasms. Gojo could feel the frustration burning deep inside of him. For a man who was used to getting everything, having you within reach was the worst torture of his life.

He was close enough to ripping the ropes off and fucking you, when your sweet laughter chimed in his roaring ears. Your deviousness took him off guard when you slipped your hand under the waistband of his pants, finding his leaky cock and fisting it gently. 

Without a second of hesitation, you stroked him from base to tip, enjoying how his body jerked forward violently. The veins on his neck were popping, the one on his forehead almost bulging out as you twisted your wrist, feigning a sweet coo of apology when you grazed his balls.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, baby,” you whispered in fake sympathy. “Too sensitive?” 

“Gah—ugh,” Gojo gasped out, almost throwing you off his body with a sharp buck of his hips. 

The taste of his cock beckoned you to take it up a notch, and you didn’t fight back the urge. Scooting down the length of his longer torso, you gently drew down the waistband of his already soiled pants, greeted by the sight of his stiff cock rising in full mast. 

Satoru really did have the prettiest dick in the game. Girthy and longer than average with a vein running from base to tip, it begged for a mouth to salivate all over it. 

Gently kissing the flushed head, you heard him whine out your name. “Stop teasing me,” he huffed, pouting and looking so cute covered with sweat. “You’re being way too mean, pumpkin.”

He would believe your giggle to be innocence incarnate if only you didn’t do what you did next. 

Your tongue—that devilish trickster who could make him cum or cry depending on your mood—swiped over his weeping slit, toying with a string of precum connecting the supple flesh to that pink muscle. You shamelessly made out with his swollen tip, licking and sucking the mushroom-shaped head without any care to its poor, overstimulated owner. 

Satoru cried out, his abs undulating and clenching. Those blue eyes eclipsed over with immense need, going half-mast. But, you spared him no mercy.

Taking him down your throat was done with little to no resistance. Gojo’s lustful cries rebounded across the painted walls, his tied hands behind his back clenching and fisting the soft duvet to ground himself from the unending pleasure.

Your talented mouth worked up and down his length, and he really wished he hadn’t agreed to such stupid games—Gojo had never wanted to fuck you as badly as he did now, when he wasn’t allowed to.

“Fuck,” he mumbled coarsely, completely fixated on your face when you deep-throated him. Gojo couldn’t stop himself from throbbing all over at the sight of your throat bulging with the thick of him. 

It drove him close to insanity at how talented you were—your angelic mewls and moans spurring him on. 

His mouth fell open, lax and panting. “B-baby… please…” 

He had no idea what he was begging for, but he was solely motivated by the sweetest release you were constantly denying him. 

Whenever he approached his high, you would slow down your movements, or remove your mouth completely from his length. It frustrated him to no end, and the effect was imminent when his cock wouldn’t stop leaking milky white rivulets onto your palm. 

Giggling like the tease you were, you removed your thong, glistening and sticky with your juices to stuff it into his mouth. 

Satoru was a sight—cheeks flushed, frosty bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat, mouth crammed full of lace. 

You wished you could take a photo or a video so the filthy sight would stick with you longer.

But, your time with Satoru’s obedience was running short. The strongest sorcerer was close enough to snapping out of his bondage and fucking you six ways into Sunday. You could taste his humiliation on the tip of your tongue, his impatience bleeding right through the air.

Geto should be here any minute now.

As if on cue, the front door opened, and both you and Satoru perked up.

His muffled moans were pathetic at best and panicked at worst. He would never imagine being in this position, not in a thousand years. 

He was Gojo Satoru—the chosen one, the heavenly one. To be debased right in his own marital bed by the woman who wore his commitment around her left finger was a considerable feat.

But, here he was, humbled right into his own Egyptian cotton sheets, while Geto stood by the doorway, dressed in a button down shirt and slacks. His best friend took one look at him—the rope harness wrapped around his torso and the thong prised in between his teeth—and chuckled.

“Hey, Satoru.”

Geto tossed him an easy smile as he made his way towards the bed, every lanky fibre in his 6’4 body fused with amusement. “Getting comfortable?” 

Satoru’s glare was a sudden contrast from his usual jovial expression, and it would’ve been disconcerting had the stuck thong in his mouth not ruined the effect. 

You giggled, batting your eyelashes at Suguru. 

“I made him extra comfy, Suguru.”

Something about you saying Geto’s name, all sweet and teasing, made Satoru see red.

He huffed and groaned, shifting in his position like he was trying to sit up. 

“Uh-uh,” you murmured, gently pressing one palm into his broad chest to keep him in one position. “You promised not to get jealous, ‘Toru. Remember what you said?” 

Geto sidled up behind you, those large palms sliding up your hips to rest intimately on your sternum.

“‘I can handle it’,” Geto quipped, earning another baleful glare from Satoru. “Well, you did say you were the strongest—I guess even you’re not immune to jealousy.”

Gojo swore that he was close enough to ripping through these flimsy ropes and blasting Suguru into the next dimension. It was what he should’ve been doing, but he was torn; the sight unfurling before him was too enticing to look away. 

Suguru slowly inched one hand up your chest, clasping your neck. He pulled your face close to his parted lips, devouring your open-mouthed gasp with a kiss which had you moaning wantonly.

As if Gojo was merely a side character on his own bed, you straddled Suguru, deepening the kiss. 

And Satoru had no idea what was worse—having you tease him to his wits’ end, or not even having a shred of your attention. 

Geto’s tongue sliding deep into your mouth made you cry out his name, and Satoru quickly figured out which was the biggest horror. 

It wasn’t you denying him or ignoring him—it was watching you grind on his best friend’s lap and realising he enjoyed it. 

He liked watching you lose yourself to another man, how you bloomed for someone who wasn’t your own husband. Through these lenses, he could finally see what made him always come back for more; why he barely hesitated to put a ring on your finger without a second thought.

The woman he fell in love with and married was completely beautiful in the throes of her pleasure. 

In this position, Satoru wasn’t losing himself deep in the fog of lust and missing out on your ethereal expressions or heavenly moans. He was privileged to have a front row seat to your every reaction.

He watched pleasure unfurl itself across your face—from your mouth falling open to your eyebrows pinching together—as Suguru caressed your neck and collarbone with open-mouthed kisses. Satoru barely cared about the bastard who was having you for the night; he only had eyes for you. 

Sure, Geto was pretty experienced in the bedroom judging from the number of one night stands who were desperate enough to ask him for his best friend’s number. But, he could never hold a flame to Satoru’s sensual wife.

You let Geto push you down into the sheets, right next to your bound and gagged husband. The dark-haired sorcerer chuckled, helping you remove his shirt and pants, leaving him bare except for his boxers. 

Satoru watched, ignoring how his cock twitched pathetically when the both of you started kissing again. 

This time, you used more tongue and teeth than usual, the kiss a clash of wet slurps and crisp clacking which made every hair on Gojo’s body stand.

He couldn’t stop getting an eyeful of your pink tongue stroking Suguru’s lower lip. Every chamber of his heart clenched in pure agony and ecstasy as Geto kissed his way down your body, right to the apex of your bare thighs.

Hitching your shapely legs over his shoulders, Geto shamelessly ate out another man’s wife—licking, sucking and stroking her folds and clit with his broad tongue. His hair was already in a disarray from your clutching fingers, every sweet gasp that fell from your mouth driving both men insane.

“She tastes good, Satoru,” Geto’s words shocked him back rudely to the present. The dark-haired man threw him a smirk. “I can see why you married her.”

His nostrils flared, and a strong stab of jealousy surged through his entire soul when you twined your fingers in Suguru’s hair, drawing him back to your glistening cunt.

Geto spent a few minutes driving you to the edge, and judging by your moans and heavy breathing, you were definitely close.

Your soft whimper filled Satoru with spikes of disgust mixed with prickly intrigue. You were shamelessly grinding your pussy right into Geto’s mouth, whispering his name mixed with profanities which sounded awfully close to the curses you would spout when Satoru himself was fucking you.

But, like the twisted and curious fiend he was, Gojo remained silent and pliant, letting Suguru have his way with you.

The other man unclasped your bra, tossing it to the ground and going straight for your nipples; sucking, pinching and biting down on them hard enough to earn you sweet squeaks.

Satoru was quickly turning green with jealousy at your ecstatic sounds, and soon, the doubts crept in.

Does she love me?

Did she initiate this because she’s tired of me?

Did I do something wrong?

But, Gojo already knew the answers to those debilitating questions.

He loved you with every inch of his soul. You were the one thing he looked forward to coming home at the end of every day, and the last person he wished to hold as he drifted off to sleep every night.

Satoru treated you with nothing short of respect and worship like the goddess you were.

So, if he did everything right, then where did it all go so wrong?

“‘Toru,” you whimpered, as Geto lined his cock right up to your weeping slit. You turned to him, reaching out to caress his cheek. “I love you, Satoru.” 

As if your words were coated in fairy dust, his heart almost lifted right out of his ribcage.

Your sweet smile just before Geto sank right into your tight heat was embedded in his brain. It was like he was the only man in the room, even as you were fucking another.

Geto was pushing a pace that had your toes curling and head thrown back. But, you never once broke eye contact with Satoru.

An inexplicable wave of fondness filled Gojo’s heart right to the brim, and his own brilliant blue eyes softened, focused on the planes of a familiar face he loved with his entire soul. You giggled, bright and beautiful, cheek to the pillow while your hair bled out behind you like an eloquent ink stain.

You were so incredibly gorgeous it hurt.

Satoru barely noticed when Suguru filled you up. The only indication you gave him was a pinch in your brow and a soft gasp that mellowed out into a dulcet moan. Once the other man was done using your body, you broke eye contact to meet Suguru’s gaze, a certain friendly fondness written in the corners of your lips. 

Geto planted a perfunctory kiss on your forehead, a silent ‘thank you’ for involving him in your fantasies. 

He rose from between your thighs, shooting a knowing smile to his still bound and gagged bestfriend.

“See you on Monday, Satoru.” 

Gojo grumbled, blue eyes sharp as daggers staring at his broad back as it left the sanctuary of his bedroom.

The door closed on the two of you, and you exhaled a chuckle. 

“I didn’t cum,” you mumbled, and something about those words made Satoru’s ego flare up to terrible heights. He would always make sure you climaxed at the same time he did; it must’ve either been a hard limit you set with Geto, or the other man wasn’t as good in bed as Satoru thought he was.

Your husband snorted, and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t look so smug.” 

Satoru didn’t listen to you. He looked pleased, humming in a low tone. 

You fished out your soaked thong from between his teeth. 

Gojo stretched out his jaw, and before he could run his mouth and say something which would ruin this moment, you perched yourself on his chest, spreading your folds.

A tiny trickle of cum was oozing down your plush folds, and your husband barely felt an inch of disgust when he grinned.

“Gonna make me eat you out now, baby?” he rasped. 

You rolled your eyes again—he should really spank you silly for that—and rose on your knees, presenting your used pussy to him.

“Ready, big boy?” 

Satoru was born ready. He curled forward, wiggling further up the pillows to give himself more leverage to plant his mouth on your waiting cunt. You gasped, completely taken aback by how feverishly Gojo was eating you out—eating up his best friend’s cum from your abused hole.

Your eyes were halfway rolling back into your skull, small fingers gripping the headboard with enough strength to leave a dent behind. 

Satoru was in pure heaven—if heaven was tainted with the taste of hell. 

The bitter taste of another man lingering in between your folds filled him with a mixture of disgust and exhilaration. Never in a million years would the Satoru Gojo—the universe’s favourite and blessed one—think he would be in such a situation. This release of power filled him with a rush of disorientating high, kind of like that one time he ate twenty daifukus in one go. 

And judging from the sweet sounds you made, you were just as turned on from this taboo act as he was. 

Gojo swore he could cum from just one touch of his cock; Gojo Jr. was flushed red with neglect, begging for you to pay attention to him. 

The relief which flooded through his chest could’ve rendered him on his knees, in tears, when you pried your pussy away from him, focused now on fisting his cock.

“D-Don’t,” Gojo stuttered coarsely. “Might cum, sweetheart—f-fuck—wanna do it inside.”

His disjointed words and broken moans shot straight up in your head, leaving you dizzy with the pure power of rendering the strongest sorcerer incoherent. Gojo actually whimpered when you nudged his fat tip past your entrance, his beautiful oceanic eyes glazing over. 

“F-fuck, pumpkin,” he groaned obscenely, and you couldn’t take it anymore—bottoming out in a sharp, swift movement, the both of you crying out in ecstasy. 

“Oh, fuck,” Gojo swore lowly when you began to buckle your hips, riding him all slow and sensual. 

His head thumped back into the soft pillows, a ragged moan of surrender leaving his peachy lips. You were too distracted by how plush they looked, and pitched forward swiftly to kiss him while you rode him to oblivion.

There were no sounds in the room but both your harsh breathing. You were growing dizzier and dizzier, all the oxygen knocked out from your lungs as you tried to chase your high because as much as you were teasing Gojo, you were teasing yourself, too.

“‘Toru,” you whimpered. He eyed you rubbing your clit with pure hunger in those ethereal eyes, lost in the mind-numbing motion of you bucking your hips back and forth back and forth to take him to that sacred point. 

Your thighs were beginning to tremble, and Gojo immediately knew you were going to cum. You clamped down on him at the same time your head tossed back, and before you could comprehend, Gojo used whatever remained of his core strength to flip you onto the mattress.

With his hands tied behind his back, Satoru still managed to fuck you into the sheets. You instinctively steadied him, arms vined tightly around his shoulders. This position was incredibly intimate; you could feel his broken moans fanning across your neck, his face hidden in the crook of your jaw. Every pore of his body was bleeding into yours, the both of you physically closer than any human could be.

And yet, it wasn’t enough. You wanted to live in his skin, be one with his bones.

Satoru was a part of you, and you were a part of him. Always.

He lived in your every trembling exhale, while you made a home on his lips, where he could taste you for a lifetime of pleasure.

“I love you,” your harsh whisper made the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. 

Roaming your hands down his broad back, you grazed your nails on his undercut, eliciting a full-bodied shiver from the strongest sorcerer.

“I love you, Satoru.”

“‘Course you do,” he grunted, lifting his face to clumsily kiss down your jaw. “M’the only one who could ever make you cum, baby.” 

And as he predicted so smugly, his words were true. 

Your connection with Gojo would forever break through any logic or emotions, even the boundaries of what your body was capable of.

In a few short minutes, you were dissolving for him, your cries of pleasure filling his ears like the prettiest sonnets. Gojo continued to fuck you through your climax, and you were too keyed up enough that you came again; your wails could’ve brought the ceiling down. White splashed out in your vision, your mouth opened in a silent scream.

A well of warmth filled you up, reclaiming his mark on your womb. 

Instantly, Gojo’s entire body weight sank into you, smothering the breath from your aching lungs.

You took a few minutes to come back to the ground, fluttering your eyes open and finding him still trying to catch his breath.

Quickly, you unwound the ropes from him, and just like you predicted, the imprints left in his skin were glorious. You held him in the seam of embrace as you massaged his aching shoulders, careful to show him more love now that he was all vulnerable and pouty.

“Satoru?” you whispered carefully.

Gojo mumbled something under his breath, and you fought back a spreading smile from how petulant he sounded.

“You alright, sweetie?” 

“Hmm,” he rubbed his cheeks into your throat like a needy kitten. “Never been better.”

“I love you, you know that?”

He hummed again. 

“Baby?” 

Tuning in fully, you nodded. “Yeah, baby?” 

“Next time I share you with Suguru, you’re gonna be the one tied up.”

Not a request; it was a statement.

You could barely wait till the next devious time.

intellectual property of ©️lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or play around with my sentence structures, plots and characterization.

[mxstellatayte]

Thoughts on if the drivers would use toys ( and what kind) on themselves and their partners?

ok i could only come up with a mtl for this one so here we goooooooo!

nsfw under the cut <3 minors please do not interact!

🧡lando norris

oh my god this man is SUCH A WHOREEE. he's actually the first person to bring it up in your relationship, and he doesn't so much bring it up as it brings itself up. the two of you and some other drivers and their partners are out after monaco, and something seems off about him, but you don't realize exactly what it is until you're grinding your ass on him on the dance floor and he is very, very hard. when you ask what's going on, he can barely say it without moaning because every move of your hips against his, making his own move in turn, nudges the plug he'd put in before leaving just barely against his prostate. safe to say that later that night, lando was a whining mess, gripping the sheets and head thrown back while you fold him in half with the strap he'd bought a few weeks prior in hopes of this exact situation happening buried in his ass. (got a little carried away there OOPSIES)

🩶george russell

george is actually a bit of a wild card on this list. his preference for toys leans a bit more towards the pain and restraint side of them, but he doesn't mind the occasional plug or vibrator. his own kinks make their appearance when you run up to him after a good race, kiss him, and press your hands to his chest so he can set his hands on your hips the way he likes to. what you aren't expecting, though, is for the outside of your left hand to brush something hard and plastic and for george to *whimper* into the kiss. that slut had worn nipple clamps during the race. his personal favorite combination of toys is having his hands cuffed to the headboard, completely unable to fight you off as you have your merry way with him. (as long as he gets a pat on the head and a shoulder rub with his favorite body lotion and cuddles afterwards ofc <3)

🧡oscar piastri

oscar is the flip of a coin. he's more than happy to quickly tie your wrists together with his tie if you're being a brat at an event or take his time lacing together a beautiful, intricate shibari harness to keep you in place while he uses your mouth to get himself off. when he takes the time for shibari, he'll take a lot of photos of you, maybe even a few videos to use later when he's halfway across the globe. as for toys on himself, he mainly only goes for a simple fleshlight (or lando). surprisingly, one thing he enjoys is laying back blindfolded and letting you have your way with him, as long as you aren't too mean.

🩶lewis hamilton

lewis has a very "if you're down, i'm down" attitude about most things when it comes to sex. as long as the two of you are comfortable and enjoying it, he's game on for a lot of stuff! his hard nos when it comes to toys on himself and his partner are anything that could potentially put one of you in danger or anything even vaguely involving animals. the first time you two really start exploring the world of sex toys of all sorts, he's constantly checking in with you, making sure you're feeling good, and if you tap out at any point, the aftercare is amazing bc he feels bad </3

🩵logan sargeant

oh this man LOVES fucking and getting fucked, and if there's toys involved, he's even happier. i can imagine him sending you a new toy when a big event happens that he can't be there for, and, to make up for it, he buys it for you so that you can fuck over the phone that night. he absolutely loves watching you fuck yourself with anything- your fingers, a toy, even using him to get yourself off is hot as hell to him. i also can't get the thought of him tied up in shibari with a ball gag in his mouth as you tease the fuck out of him, fucking his ass with a dildo that might be bordering on too big and jerking him off slowly at the same time (bonus points if it's in front of a mirror so he can see what a mess of himself he's making 🫣)

💙daniel ricciardo

the first time you bring up the idea of toys with danny, youre both high on the beach outside cancun over winter break, talking about all the random things two high adults talk about, and the topic of him eating you out feels. you passingly mention how much you love it when he moans while he's attached to your clit, and the idea of getting you a vibrator sparks in his mind. when you're in bed that night, the high long gone, he asks you just that, and you're so close to sleep that, when you wake up the next morning, you aren't sure if you remember what happened properly the previous night. you did, in fact, remember correctly, and when you get back to australia, there's a package laying on your bed. "happy late christmas baby xx -danny" inside is a baby pink suction vibrator that you cum with three times, saving a voice memo and texting it to him after you're done catching your breath.

💛charles leclerc

this goes without saying, but charles is more than happy to spend hours between your legs if he could. he's such a pleasure dom that sometimes you have to pull him away from your clit by his hair, and fuck if that sight alone doesn't prep you for another hour of his tongue ravishing you, you don't know what will. his cheeks, lips, chin, even the tip of his nose are shiny with a mix of your cum and his saliva, his pupils are wide and his mouth hangs open, breath heavy and fanning against you so perfectly. when you being up the idea of using toys, he's over the moon. when he finds out the toys you had in mind are ones you can wear to ferrari events under your dress, the remote hiding perfectly in the pocket of his pants? shit, he's on neptune.

🩵alex albon

what is it with the williams drivers being sub leaning? alex is similar to lewis in having the "if you're down, i'm down" attitude, and he's just as focused on his partner's pleasure as he is his own. he's the first to bring it up in the relationship, asking (very very shyly) if you'd maybe possibly under no pressure whatsoever be willing to try pegging him, and when his eyes light up when you agree, you have a feeling toys are going to start being a semi-regular addition to your sex life. on the occasion that neither of you have any (or you simply don't have the time or effort), alex is more than willing to have you ride him or fuck you himself, because i do think that, if teased enough, alex will top purely out of spite.

💙yuki tsunkda

yuki's idea of toys is much more unconventional. it could be your pillow when the two of you are fucking over the phone, the armrest of the couch in his driver's room, or your favorite dildo or vibrator. he's honestly kinda cool with most stuff, as long as it makes you feel good and is safe. as for himself, his favorite is a cock ring around him while you ride him, so that way you're both getting the best of it while he can still hold on to your tits :D he also tied your wrists together one time with a ribbon from the gift he got you for your two year anniversary and he still keeps the ribbon in his nightstand to remind him of you on nights when he's especially lonely.

❤️max verstappen

really, really prefers to fuck you himself in whatever way he can. whether he's fucking you into the mattress with his dick or sending you to heaven with his tongue and fingers or making you ride his thigh because you were being a little brat, he just loves the feeling of your skin on his. if you're being especially bratty, though, he will not hesitate to make you fuck yourself but of course you won't get to cum... why would he let you do that when you've been a brat? no, it's nearing overstimulation and tears running down your face begging for him to let you cum from the toy before he even considers giving you the release of fucking you himself.

🩷pierre gasly

pierre is a fluffy little fluff boy. just. the actual sweetest in bed. he prefers to be able to feel you himself rather than adding a toy to the mix, but if you're just really, really turned on while you're not around and feel like messing with him you'll send him a video of you fucking yourself with your favorite toy and it gets him so riled up he has to stop whatever he's doing and run to the motorhome so he can deal with his boner lol

💛carlos sainz

carlos is a very hands-on guy. he doesn't really go for dedicated toys per se, leaning more towards shoving your panties in your mouth or tying your wrists together with his tie. sometimes he doesn't even need that, though- sometimes his hand is more than enough to cover your mouth or hold your wrists together if there's no other option.

🤍nico hülkenberg

like carlos, he's very hands-on with you. the only real "toys" he uses with you are blindfolds and ribbons to hold your wrists in place. one time, he tried handcuffing you to the bed but seeing the marks on your wrists scared him so he threw them away after that :((

drivers i think just wouldn't be into toys very much, if at all:

valtteri bottas, fernando alonso, zhou guanyu

intentionally excluded: checo, lance, kmag, ocon

[satorusugurugurl]

If this request makes you uncomfortable or isn’t something you want to write, I apologize and please ignore my request!

Heyy! I was wondering if I could request a satoru x reader x Suguru smut? With like, some bdsm mixed in yk. Tying reader up, satoru is a tease, and likes to make her squirm and ask questions he know she can’t answer because Suguru is fucking her throat. But Suguru is mean. Mean and tougher than satoru. He tells satoru to stop being so gentle with you, that not only do you deserve rough treatment but you like it. And satoru listens to him, of course. I just want them to run through me like a train😞

Also same mean geto anon (again lol) I’m gonna just sign off w an emoji now :3 -🍭

Hi Anon!

This isn't my cup of tea, it's my FUCKING jam!!

Summary: Gojo and Geto had been on a two-week-long mission, which hadn't gone as smoothly as Suguru wanted. He was pent-up and frustrated. So, of course, Gojo called you to warn you it might not be a good idea to come over. You, of course, did not heed his warning. The second you get home, you realize that you were screwed.

Word Count: 3,706

Warnings: BDSM, rough sex, oral sex, so much sex, degradation, teasing, the smuttiest of smut

A/N: Good God, Satoru x Reader x Suguru is my weakness!! I put my whole heart into this. Geto Suguru, teacher AU, is my kryptonite!

Part Two

She Likes it Like That

“Y/N babe,” Gojo said in a hushed whisper, “you probably shouldn't come home tonight.”

You cocked an eyebrow, looking away from the first year's training. “I'm sorry, did you just tell me not to come home. . .to our apartment?” The world ‘our’ came out like acid.

Gojo sighed overdramatically. “Don't say it like that. I'm trying to save you! Suguru is in such a bad mood.” You listened to him walking around. “I sighed out loud when I noticed the last of my mochi was gone. Fuck you for that, by the way, and do you know what he said to me?” You pinched at the bridge of your nose, waiting for the rant to continue. “He told me to shut the fuck up! For sighing!”

“What did you do to piss him off? Oh, and just an FYI, I bought you more mochi, asshole.”

“Oh—” silence, “thank you-I’m sorry, please don't return it.”

“Satoru! Forget about the mochi. What happened to Sugu?”

The mission your partners were sent on did not go as planned. Their hotel had flooded; it was not like they had time to consider sleeping. The higher-ups sent them to an abandoned mountainside village full of cursed spirits. Poor Suguru had to swallow dozens for nearly two weeks. Gojo had enough; he couldn't stand the pained expression on his face as he gagged the last spirit down. So he decided to Hollow-Purpled the entire village.

The second they got back, the higher-ups scolded the hell out of them. Chastising them, complaining that they didn't do a good enough job. After all their hard work, the time they spent away from home, from you. Those bastards dared to complain about their hard work. It sent Suguru into a terrible mood, one that was bound to end with either a fight or someone getting fucked into the mattress.

One thing about Suguru was that when he was pissy, things felt out of his control. He needed to take control back. Which meant he wanted to have sex. He would be rough, really rough, tying either you or Satoru up, not letting you go until he had calmed down. Or if one of you was fucked too stupid to continue, his eyes focused on the other that wasn't tied up.

“So please, just stay with Ieiri tonight. I'm going to lock myself in my room. Last time he was this pissed off, the both of us were so sore we couldn't move.”

“Ugh, fuckin’ whatever.” This whole situation wasn't fair. You hated how your boyfriends were mistreated.

“Yeah, just stay the—oh, hi Suguru.” There was a shuffling in the background. “No, I wasn't talking shit.” Satoru nervously laughed. “Look, Sugu—no, put down the rope—”

“Toru?” Panic for your boyfriend sank into your stomach.

“Hey! Wait a second—Sugu—”

Before any other indication of what was happening came through the receiver, the other line cut off. So you quickly yelled to the students you had to leave and took off. By the time you made it, you were breathless from running and realized that in your panic, you left your keys at work.

You picked up the spare key hidden under the doormat. Just as you were about to unlock the door, it flew open. You slowly blinked, looking up at a very irritated Suguru. The man radiated gloom and tension. He was in his sweatpants, and his hair was tied in a messy bun, and, dear God, he looked pent up.

“Why the fuck are you using the spare key?”

“I-I uh—”

“Ooooh~ there she is~!” a hand gently rested against Suguru’s shoulder as Satoru peered down at you from behind your dark-haired boyfriend. “There's our girl!”

It only took a moment to see that Satoru mirrored Suguru’s frustration and anger. Oh fuck. The key fell from your hand as you took a step back. Suguru was demanding and rough when he was pent up. Satoru, on the other hand, was a tease. He liked pushing you, making you cry. Both of them being in a pissy mood simultaneously, this was a nightmare for you.

“Y-You, I thought you were in trouble!”

“Oh yeah, no.” Suguru’s soured face slowly twisted into a smirk as Satoru licked his lip. “But you~?” Suguru’s hand darted out, grabbing you by the front of your shirt, preventing you from moving further back. “You're royally fucked.” Before you even had a chance to respond, Suguru and Satoru grabbed you, yanking you inside.

“Awe~” Satoru hummed as he trailed his kiss up the bare thighs he lay between. “Look at you~ trying to clamp your thighs shut.” Gojo’s fingers were buried deep inside of you. Finger fucking you to the edge of yet another orgasm he would deny. “But you can't, can you~? Suguru’s got you all tied to the bed, spread out for us to use you.” A muffled moan escaped you. “Huh? What was that princess? You gotta use your big girl words.” Satoru tilted his head, cupping his free hand around the back of his ear. “Oooh! That's right, you can't talk when getting your throat fucked.”

You gagged as Suguru's cock hit the back of your throat. He was quiet, his eyes shut in concentration. He looked so fucking hot, so focused on the feeling of your mouth. Sweat was beading on his forehead as he pulled in and out of your mouth, grunting softly as you hollowed your cheeks. But the more Satoru spoke, the more Suguru knitted his eyebrows.

“I bet you want me to stuff your pussy, too, don't you~? You want to be spit-roasted between your two boyfriends?” Your pussy twitched at his words. “Oooh~!! Your cunt just twitched. Is that what our sweet girl wants—”

“Satoru,” Suguru snarled, “shut the fuck up.”

“Well, excuse the fuck out of me. Y/N likes it when I tease her.”

Suguru tsked, pulling his thick cock out of your mouth. You gasped and coughed, spit and precum coating your chin. Between your pants and the gasps for air, Suguru went to what you thought would be a head pat. Instead, his fingers tangled in your air with a hard yank, pulling you up to look down at Satoru. His face was flushed, cerulean eyes wide as he looked between his two partners.

“Look at the fucking slutty face she's making.” The grip on your hair tightened. “You think she looks like this because of your pitiful teasing?” A shaky moan escaped you as he tightened his grip harder. “No, she looks like this because this little slut likes it rough.”

Fuck, you wanted more, to run your hands over Suguru’s arms, to grip his cock, urging him to keep fucking your throat. You were desperate to trap Satoru's head firmly between your thighs, forcing him to kiss and lick your clit. Instead, you weakly tugged at the purple restraints tied to both your wrists and ankles. Suguru had set up the rigging underneath the mattress, making it impossible for you to move. Meaning if you wanted his cock back in your mouth or Satoru’s tongue inside of you, you had to wait for them.

What made it more frustrating was the fact that you were completely bare. Not allowing you to hide the way your body reacted to Suguru’s dirty words. He was telling the truth. And the truth was behind your body's reactions. Gojo could see it in the way your tight entrance clenched around his fingers. He could feel your pussy drip around him, your wetness running down his knuckles. Suguru was right; you did like it; no, like wasn't the right word.

You fucking loved it.

Suguru could see the wheels turning in Satoru’s head as his eyes glittered with lust and excitement. “Satoru~ do you finally see it?~” The way Suguru purred his name had Satoru’s cock throbbing. “You see why she came home, even though she knew she’d get fucked?”

“Yeah, yeah, she's a fucking slut.”

“Yeah, she is.” A sharp tug on your head made you yelp. Suguru grinned, cocking an eyebrow at you. “You want it rough? Want me to fuck your throat so hard you cry, pretty girl?”

“Y-Yes, please.”

Gripping his cock at the base, Suguru slapped his thick meat against your cheek. “That's a good girl. Now open up.” slowly, you opened your mouth to him. Watching your tongue slip out had his tip angry, throbbing red. “Now,” he smeared the beading precum over your bottom lip, “say ah~.”

“Ahh~” The second that sound left your pretty mouth Suguru shoved his cock in your mouth. Your eyes stung as tears filled your eyes.

Satoru’s fingers had stopped their slow movements inside of you. His mouth was dry as he gulped. Suguru had been rough before, but this was a whole new level. His thick fingers wrapped around your Y/H/C hair, holding your head in place. His hips pull back before slamming forward, his ass clenching with the force of each thrust. Blue eyes slowly trailed over to your face. Your eyes were red, big tears slowly down your cheeks, and your throat was fucked. Satoru swore he could see Suguru’s tip bulging in your slender neck.

This was fucking hot. Suguru’s bare back glittered in the low light of the bedroom, a sheen of sweat beaded over his toned muscles. It was like watching a god fuck a mortal Suguru radiated a dominating power as he watched their girlfriend choke and gag on his cock. Satoru’s cock was so hard it fucking hurt. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around his throbbing shaft, jerking it slowly as he leaned down, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs.

The gentle kisses had you sighing contently around Suguru’s cock. Looking over his shoulder, Suguru sighed as he watched Satoru. His pink tongue was stuck out, gently teasing your damp folds. The sensation had you sighing around his dick, and that was not what he needed right this fucking second. Suguru wanted more; he needed it to relieve the tension in his shoulder. But that relief, the release he needed, wouldn’t happen, with Satoru teasing you like he loved to do.

“Satoru,” Suguru's voice was rough, “I just told you Y/N likes it rough.”

“Uh-huh~” Satoru’s voice was muffled as his face buried in your pussy, making you whine around the cock buried in your mouth.

“You’re not being rough enough.” Satoru pulled back, making you whine in protest. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to come down here and eat Y/N’s pussy while I get my dick sucked?”

“No.” The cocky smile that was beginning to form on Satoru’s face was suddenly gone as Suguru reached his free hand down, wrapping his fingers in soft white hair. “I want you to fucking eat her cunt out like you fucking hate her.” Your eyes rolled back as Satoru was slammed back down into your pussy. The moan that left his mouth vibrated just right against our clit, making you cry out. “Ah~ fuck yes.” Your cries vibrated around Suguru’s cock, just the way he wanted. “That’s it, Satoru, keep it up.”

“Mmmmph.” Finally, having a picture of how Suguru wanted him to act, Satoru found himself motivated. Again, it might be because his boyfriend was tugging and pulling at his sensitive hairline. Yeah, that was motivating him. Fuck you like he hated you, he could do that. He was just as pent-up as Suguru was.

Fingers slammed inside your pussy, fucking in and out of your tight hole with a force and speed that had you crying out in pleasure. Your moans felt so fucking good, and the more you opened your mouth to cry, the deeper Suguru fucked your throat. He hit the back over and over again, his hand pressing firmly against Satoru’s head, pushing him harder against your clit. The two of you moaned while your mouths were being used; the sounds of whimpers, squelches, and gagging were like a symphony to Suguru’s ears.

Out of all the ways for him to relieve his stress, this was by far his favorite.

“Hah—fuck keep that up, Satoru, bring her right to the edge, then stop. I want her cumming with both of us inside of her. Fucking her so rough she has to call out of work tomorrow and Friday.” The thought of that had you pulling on your restraints. “Oooh oh, you like that? You like knowing the two of us will make sure you can’t walk or talk tomorrow?” Your muffled moans were quickly molded into gags as Suguru roughly fucked your face. “Yeah, you fucking do, you nasty little slut.”

Your mind was spinning as you felt yourself climbing closer and closer to your orgasm. The room was so hot and reeked of sex. It was all you could do not to allow yourself to cum right then and there. Satoru could feel it, the way your little swollen clit throbbed against his tongue, how your walls clamped down on his fingers. He wanted to send you over the edge. He was close to following you as he fucked his hips helplessly into the mattress, wishing it was your wet pussy instead.

One orgasm wouldn’t hurt, would it? You had been so good to them, allowing the duo to drag you into the house, strip you in the entryway, and tie you to the bed. Plus, on top of all that, they had left you alone for two weeks. You had to rely on that stupid vibrator Suguru insisted on allowing you to keep. That stupid toy was nothing compared to his tongue. Which was probably why he was bringing you to a mind-blowing orgasm in under three minutes.

Yeah, he was going to let you cum.

Curling his fingers up into your g-spot, Satoru fucked you as fast as his wrist would allow. Suguru instantly knew what was happening. From the way your eyes shut to how loud you were moaning around him, you were seconds away from cumming. If he was in a better mood, he might have allowed it to happen. Unfortunately, he wasn’t done with you yet.

“Stop.” Suguru scolded, pulling Satoru away from your dripping sex.

Both you and Satoru made disapproving groans as your orgasm slowly faded out of sight. “Doesn’t she deserve a treat? She’s been so good!” Satoru whined, licking your juices off his lips.

“I agree. Y/N does deserve a reward. But you need to give it to her in the roughest way that you can.” Suguru pulled his cock out of your mouth, allowing you to catch your breath. “Look at it this way. We get to blow off the steam while we make up for making her play with herself for two weeks.”

“Huh?” Those words struck a different chord in Satoru, and his cock twitched.

“Y/N, sweetheart, how often would you say you played with yourself when we were gone.”

You swallowed at the air greedily. “I don’t know, seven, maybe eight times.” Both your boyfriends shuddered, hearing the hoarseness of your voice.

“And out of all of those times, did you cum as hard as you do with us.”

“Not at all. They were all baby orgasms.”

Suguru shut his eyes, nodding his head. “See, Satoru, not only does our little slut like us rough and demanding, but we have to make up for those eight little orgasms.” When the dark-haired man looked back at Satoru, he saw a flash of white before your scream of shock and please bounced off the walls.

Suguru’s eyes were slightly wide as his brain tried to catch up with what his eyes had just witnessed. What he saw was Satoru balls deep inside of you. His thrusts were sloppy and needy, and fuck you looked as stunned as Suguru. One second you had been empty, pussy craving a cock deep inside of it from the denied orgasm. In the blink of an eye, Satoru was fucking into you more brutal than he’d ever fucked you before.

“I fucking told you, that toy was nothing compared to us.” Satoru snarled against the crook of your neck, digging his teeth into the sensitive skin. “Fucking stupid toy, not pleasing my girl.”

“Oh my—fuck, holy fuck!” You cried out, mouth wide open. Giving Suguru the perfect opportunity to get back to fucking your throat. The bittersweet taste of pre-cum had your mouth watering. He returned to the brutal pace he was in several minutes again.

“She needs that Satoru. What if we get sent on another long mission? She’s just supposed to suffer?” The thought of that had Suguru tilting his head, bangs falling in front of his eye. “You know what, I think you might be on to something. If we take her toy away, then we’d have to fuck her even harder the next time we get home.”

Satoru’s teeth sank harder into your neck as the tip of his cock slammed almost too hard into your cervix, making you scream around Suguru. “Exactly. Let me use reversal red on it, Y/N, please, baby.” You started to shake your head in a desperate plea to let you keep it. But Suguru’s cock in your throat made it impossible to do so. “What was that? Oh, right, you have your mouth full.” His lips moved against your pulse as his fingers dug into your hips. “Guess we’ll just have to say the way your clamping down on my cock is a yes in our book.” Your eyes darted up to Suguru, who had bought you the toy, for help.

“Mhmm fuck, yeah, I’m pretty sure she just hummed an ‘uh-huh’ around my cock.”

You wanted to argue, to fight against this rash decision, but you felt so good it was almost impossible to care. You were screaming around Suguru’s cock. Tears streaming down your face, leaving behind trails of mascara. They were both being so mean and rough. God, it was so fucking good. Who cared about a clit sucker when your throat and pussy were being fucked into next week.

“She’s close.” Satoru cried out, his balls slapping against your ass. “Oh fuck she’s hugging my cock so tight I’m going to explode Suguru.”

With blurry eyes, you glanced up at Suguru. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes shut tight. “I know, oh fuck I know, I’m so close, Satoru, don’t fuckin’ stop, make her cum, make her cum so hard.” Both his hands grabbed your face fucking your throat roughly as Satoru cried out, his hand pressing roughly on your clit, rubbing it in fast circles.

That was all that you needed. You cried out, squirting all over Satoru’s crotch, abdomen, and the mattress. Your orgasm set a domino effect between your boyfriends. Suguru followed behind you, his body hunched over you, his hands gently squeezing your head as he filled your mouth full of his thick cum. You weakly tried swallowing all of it, but that was somewhat difficult as Satoru extended your orgasm.

His thumb continues to rub your clit until his face scrunch up, mouth open in a feral growl. Satoru's orgasm hit him like a punch in the gut. He fucked all three of you harder, closer to oblivion. The headboard slamming against the wall as the restraint dug into your wrists was the only thing grounding you to remain on Earth. Satoru didn’t let up on the rough thrusts until he felt his cum dripping around his cock onto the bed.

The throbbing pain in the back of your throat, deep inside of your pussy was all the confirmation you needed that your boyfriends had fulfilled their promise. Never in your life had you been fucked so roughly. But it was a pain that you warmly welcomed.

After coming down, Suguru was the first to move gently. The rough hands that had been holding you in a vice gently held you as he pulled his softening cock out of your mouth. “Lay down.” His gruff, gentle voice whispered as he helped rest you against a pillow.

“Oh fuck—“ Satoru lifted his head off your shoulder, “I haven’t cum that hard in a while.” He was so slow, pulling out of you, grimacing as you cried out. “Sorry, fuck I’m sorry, baby.”

You shut your eyes, listening to Satoru getting out of bed. You could hear water running in the bathroom as gentle fingers began undoing your restraints. “You did such a good job, Y/N,” Suguru whispered. “Such a good girl for us.” His praise had you humming happily as he made quick work of the rest of the ropes.

“Suguru, let’s order in, yeah?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

The next half hour was a blur of warm happiness. Satoru helped wash your body in a bubble bath before Suguru joined you, kneeling next to the tub, lovingly stroking your face and hair. After you were cleaned up, your hair brushed, and pajamas on. You crawled into your bed with fresh sheets and relaxed. Satoru and Suguru fluffed your pillows and brought you a cup of tea for your raw throat. When your dinner arrived, the three of you sat in bed together to eat as a B-grade horror movie played on the television.

After eating, Satoru left to throw out the take-out containers. “Mmm, thank you for letting us do all that,” Suguru said as he crawled into bed after his shower. “That mission, it was rough.”

“I’m always happy to help.” Your voice cracked, making Suguru frown. “Stop frowning,” you flicked his forehead. “I like it rough.”

The bed dipped, and Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist. “Y/N can handle it. She is dating the two strongest, after all.” Both you and Suguru scoffed, relaxing in the growing silence. “Oh, by the way, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You yawned, snuggling into Suguru’s chest as he turned the bedside lamp off.

“Did you bring home my mochi?”

In the dark of the room, you heard a thump and Satoru’s whine before Suguru pulled the three of you closer to him. “Satoru shut the fuck up about the mochi.”

[mariclerc]

Falling for you | cl16

Summary: thanks to a debt owed by your father you have to marry the boss of the mafia.

Warnings: angst, fake marriage, mafia au, mentions of blood and gunshots, 5 years age gap, mafia boss!Charles with a soft spot for reader and a little bit of fluff.

Part 2, part 3, part 4

You knew that your father was not a good person, and he is someone who is quite bad and incompetent towards you, for him you are just a pawn in the middle of his game and not his daughter. There is never a lack of mistreatment and shocking looks with him, but the worst of all is that due to a debt owed by one of his businesses, so he decided to make a forced marriage between his 22-year-old daughter and the head of the Monegasque mafia in order to "solve his debts."

So here you find yourself, tied to a fake marriage with le diable de monte carlo (the devil of monte carlo) and he is not someone very nice, let's say, he is not someone you like and you can assure that he doesn't like you either.

Now you are in an opulent living room bathed in the soft glow of a fireplace, Charles sits by the fire, a glass of amber liquid swirling in his hand, he looks a little troubled... Across the room, you clutch a throw pillow on the plush couch with downcast eyes, an awkward silence stretches between you two.

He sighs. “We should probably talk.”

You steal a glance at him, then quickly look away. “Talk? About what?” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

He sets down his glass. “This whole... situation, the marriage... your father.”

You tense up, your father's betrayal and your forced marriage are fresh wounds. “There's not much to say, is there? He owed you a debt with his business, and... Well, here we are.”

“It doesn't have to be like this. I know this isn't what you wanted.” he says looking at you.

You let out a sigh. “Of course it's not! My whole life has been a series of things I never wanted, thanks to him! And now I'm stuck in a gilded cage with a... a...” you say with a slightly rising voice.

You struggle to find the right words.

Charles rises an eyebrow. “A what?”

You feel your frustration bubbling up. “A… a fucking pretentious and arrogant idiot who thinks the world revolves around him and his fucking business!” you finally say.

The words tumble out, surprising even you, Charles stares at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

“So that's how you see me, huh?” he says chuckling. “It's pretty accurate I might say.” his voice is low and dangerous.

You take a shaky breath. “I… I don't know what I see! This whole thing is crazy. We barely know each other, and now we're married? It's all a damn fucking mess!” you say as tears form in your eyes.

You break down in tears, burying your face in the pillow. Charles hesitate for a bit, then rises and walks towards you, he sits beside you, a hint of gentleness in his movements.

“Hey... Look at me y/n.” he says softly, you sniffle and hesitantly lift your head, Charles meets your gaze, his expression is unreadable. “I know this is a huge mess... But maybe, there's a way to make it work... For both of us.” he swipe his thumb to clean your tears and he extends a hand hesitantly, you stare at it for a long moment, then slowly reach out and take it.

“Why are you being so gentle towards me all of a sudden?” you ask him shyly.

He shrugged. “Why not?” he whispered with a low voice. “Look, I may be a son of a bitch out there, but I can try to treat you nice inside of this big ass mansion.” he sighed. “I know we don't like each other and this sucks, but I don't think you deserve any more shit than you've already gotten.” he says softly.

You look at him perplexed, not knowing what to say to him, it is well known that he is arrogant and perhaps the most feared man in all of Monaco, but now he is giving you hints of a somewhat sweet side of him. Which is quite unexpected for you.

***

After that night a couple of weeks have passed, and the truth it's that he kept his word, outside he may be a son of a bitch, but inside the mansion he does everything possible to treat you well, as you deserve, but apart from that, it is the same monotonous routine and one or another event that you have to attend with him because of course, in front of the people you are his "wife", but you don't feel that way, you are simply with Charles to benefit your father and that's it.

The mansion is dark, the only light spilling from the city skyline outside the window, you're curled up on the bed, a book in your lap, but the words blur before your eyes and unease prickles your skin. Charles is at a late-night business meeting, and worry gnaws at you, he normally arrives late at night, but he must have already arrived home, usually if he arrives and you are asleep he gives you a soft kiss on the forehead, it is his way of telling you that he has arrived.

Suddenly, a crash shatters the silence and you hear the front door splinting open, a panicked gasp escape your lips. You scramble off the bed, heart hammering in your chest, footsteps pound into the apartment and your phone fumbles in your hand as you dial Charles' number, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Then, the gunshots erupt and you scream, the sound raw with terror, scrambling for cover, you fling yourself towards the walk-in closet, slamming the door shut just as rough voices fill the room. You huddle in the darkness, phone clutched in one hand, the other pressed against your mouth to stifle your sobs. Every creak of the floorboards, every muttered word sounds amplified.

Minutes tick by like hours and, finally, more gunshots, followed by a tense silence. Your legs are like jelly, your breath ragged, then, the creak of the closet door turning slowly makes your heart lurch, you squeeze your eyes shut, tears stinging your cheeks hoping for the worst.

A hand, rough but surprisingly gentle, reaches out and covers your mouth. A warm body presses against yours, a familiar scent of leather and cologne filling your senses.

“It's okay, it's me baby, shhh...” You hear Charles low and urgent voice.

You open your eyes a crack, relief washing over you as you see Charles' face. He looks grim, his eyes narrowed, but there's a flicker of worry in them as they meet yours, his hands are stained a shocking red, making you gasp.

He scoops you up cradled in his arms, his voice a low murmur against your ear. “Don't worry tesoro, it's alright. You're safe now.” he says soothingly. (darling)

He carries you swiftly through the darkened mansion, his movements sure despite the blood on his hands. You bury your face in his chest, the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart a stark contrast to the chilling scene you narrowly escaped. He flips on the light of the hallway, revealing the extent of the carnage: there are bullet holes in the walls, furniture overturned, blood spatters staining the pristine white tiles. You cling to him, trembling and Charles rushes you into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He gently sets you down and reaches for the first-aid kit, his movements are efficient as he cleanses a small cut on your arm that you hadn't even noticed in your panic.

“Charles… what happened? Who were those men?” you asked with hoarse voice.

“Just some... business associates who overstepped their boundaries, that's all.” he says avoiding your gaze.

You frown, knowing he's not telling you everything, you reach out and touch the blood on his hand, your voice barely a whisper.

”Charles, is it… is it my father? Did he… he sent those guys?” you whisper terrified.

Charles meets your gaze, his face a mask of cold fury. “Let's just say, his people won't be bothering us anymore, I promise.” he says steely, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his hold both protective and fiercely possessive.

The silence after Charles' last words hangs heavy in the air, thick with unspoken emotions. You stare up at him, his hold on you a lifeline in the aftermath of the terrifying ordeal.

“Charles, I… I don't even know what to say.” you say with trembling voice.

He leans back a fraction, concern softening his features. “You don't have to say anything baby, not yet. Just… know that you're safe now. That's all that matters to me.” he says gently.

But the words tumble out before you can stop them, a flood of emotions breaking the dam.

“No, it's not all that matters. This whole thing… it's been terrifying, confusing. But… being here with you, even in the middle of this mess it felt different. Safe, somehow, and maybe… a little bit comforting.” you say as your eyes fill with tears again.

A flicker of surprise crosses Charles' face, quickly replaced by a warmth that takes your breath away. His thumb brushes away a stray tear from your cheek, the feeling of his fingertip on your face feels like a soft caress.

“Comforting, huh? That's an interesting word choice for a situation involving gunshots and gangsters.” he says with a low and husky voice.

You manage a weak smile. “But it's the truth! And maybe… that's because… because deep down, despite everything, despite how we got here… I think I… I might be starting to feel something for you, Charles.” you say with a small and shy voice.

The air crackles with unspoken confessions Charles stares at you, his gaze searching yours. Then, a slow smile spreads across his face, chasing away the shadows of violence.

He smiles at you, the dimples making him present on his face. “Well, that's a relief, because believe it or not, tesoro, I feel the same way as you do... you know, being stuck in a loveless marriage with a cute pretty girl wasn't exactly on my agenda either.” he chuckled. (darling)

You laugh, a shaky sound that breaks the tension. He leans in, his lips hovering close to yours.

“How about we forget the whole arranged marriage thing, and see where this… feeling… takes us?” he says with his voice above a whisper.

His eyes hold yours, a question and a promise all at once, your heart beats a frantic rhythm in your chest. There's a world of uncertainty ahead, but for the first time, you feel a flicker of hope.

“I think I'd like that.” you say while nodding and smiling again.

He closes the gap between you, the kiss was a little hesitant at first, then it deepens with a newfound tenderness. The taste of blood mingles with the salt of your tears, a stark reminder of the danger you narrowly escaped, but the kiss itself is a promise of something new, something hopeful. In the wreckage of your forced marriage, a seed of real love has begun to bloom between the two of you.

***

The following days after the break-in are a real-life nightmare for you, you constantly wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares and so on, but at the same time, there are moments of calm like the one you are experiencing now. You're curled up on the couch, a book in your lap, but your eyes keep drifting towards Charles, who's engrossed in paperwork at the coffee table.

Charles glances up, catching your gaze, he smiles, a genuine one that reaches his eyes, and sets down his pen. “Daydreaming again, I see, hm?” he asked you while smiling softly.

You blush, self-consciously tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Just… thinking about... How things have changed so much, so quickly.” you smile back at him.

He walks over and sits beside you, his arm brushing yours in a way that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Not all changes are bad, are they love?” he says lightly.

You shake your head. “Definitely not, especially not the ones that involve delicious takeout and avoiding gangsters all day.” you let out a soft giggle.

He chuckles, the sound warm and inviting. “Speaking of avoiding things, how about a change of scenery? A getaway? Just the two of us, before things get too… normal.”

The way he says "normal" makes you laugh... The normal life with Charles Leclerc, mafia boss (or ex-mafia boss, you haven't quite figured that out yet) is anything but normal in your book.

“A getaway? Where did you have in mind?” you asked intrigued.

He leans in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “How about Italy? We can go there and go unnoticed, plus it would be in a fairly quiet place where we wouldn't have to worry about anything or anyone, how does that sound chérie?” he says softly. (darling)

A mix of emotions washes over you – excitement and nervousness... But mostly, you feel a thrill of anticipation. Italy with Charles, on your own terms, feels like a new beginning.

“Italy, huh? Sounds… interesting.” you sighed. “When would we leave then?”

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about tomorrow? Pack your bags, tesoro. We're leaving the chaos behind and heading for sunshine, good food, and maybe a little bit of… romance.” he smiled and you could swear his eyes were shining.

Your heart skips a beat... Italy with Charles, a chance to explore a new side of him, a side free from the pressures of his past life. Maybe, just maybe, this trip could be the start of something truly extraordinary.

“Consider it packed! Let's go and see what Italy has in store for us.” you say with a bright smile on your face.

He pulls you into a tight embrace, his kiss a promise of adventure and a deeper connection waiting to be discovered, the weight of your past may linger, but as you break away from the kiss, you know with a newfound certainty that your future, unlike your forced marriage, is something you'll write together.

***

Rolling hills bathed in the golden light of the setting sun stretch out before you, lavender fields shimmer in the distance, and the air is fragrant with the scent of wildflowers and fresh herbs. You stand on a terrace overlooking this idyllic scene, a glass of chilled prosecco in your hand, Charles leans against the railing beside you, a contented smile playing on his lips.

“This is perfect. I can't remember the last time I felt this… peaceful.” you sigh contentedly.

He reaches out and takes a strand of hair that's escaped your messy braid, tucking it behind your ear.

“Me neither, maybe all we needed was a little sunshine and a whole lot of beautiful countryside to escape the chaos.” you turn to face him, your eyes meeting his.

The past few weeks in Italy have been a revelation. You've explored charming towns, tasted incredible food, and most importantly, discovered a side of Charles you never knew existed: a man who appreciates quiet evenings on the terrace, who laughs easily at your dumb jokes, and whose eyes hold a tenderness you haven't seen before.

You smile softly. “It's more than the sunshine, Charles, it's the feeling of starting over! Of leaving behind the expectations and the dangers... Here, we can just be us.”

He pulls you into a gentle embrace, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “Just us, and that's all that matters... Though, maybe a little less danger in the future would be nice.”

You laugh, the sound echoing across the quiet landscape.

“No promises, Mr. Leclerc. But I wouldn't mind a little less excitement for a while.” you said teasingly.

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours. “Speaking of Leclerc… this whole marriage situation. It's obviously not ideal... What do you... what do you want to do?” he speaks in a more serious tone.

You take a sip of your prosecco, considering your options... The truth is, being Charles' wife has opened your eyes to a world you never knew existed: It's thrilling, exhilarating, and sometimes terrifying. But one thing is certain - you don't want to lose him.

“How about we forget the whole arranged marriage thing? Let's start over, for real this time... Just Charles and y/n, seeing where this… feeling takes us.” you say softly while smiling confidently.

A slow smile spreads across Charles' face, brighter than the setting sun. He takes your hand, his touch sending a spark through you.

“Now that's an offer I can't refuse, so... Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Leclerc… Hold on tight, because the journey is exciting.” he said while grinning.

You laugh, the sound echoing through the Tuscan hills. In the distance, a church bell tolls, marking the end of the day. As you raise your glass towards the vibrant orange sky, you know that this new beginning, forged in the heart of Italy, holds the promise of a future brighter than any sunset.

A comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the chirping of crickets and the gentle rustling of leaves in the warm breeze.

Charles takes a long sip of his prosecco, then sets the glass down on the railing, he turns to you, his gaze intense.

“So, Ms. Y/n Leclerc. This new life… it doesn't start tomorrow... It starts right now, with you.” He says with a low, husky voice.

His words send a shiver down your spine, he steps closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His touch is warm, sending a delicious warmth through your body.

“There's something about this place, about you… it makes me want to be a better man, you know? The kind of man who deserves a woman sweet like you.” he continue speaking quietly, looking into your eyes.

You lean into his touch, your heart pounding in your chest. “You already are a good man, Charles... A complex man, yes, but you're trying to be such a good one.” you say with your voice barely a whisper.

He dips his head, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to yours. The last rays of the setting sun cast a golden glow on his beautiful face, highlighting the vulnerability in his eyes, a vulnerability that you have only been able to see on this trip.

“Then let me show you just how good I can be amore.” he said with his voice husky with desire.

He closes the gap between you, the kiss both passionate and tender. It's a kiss that speaks of new beginnings, of unspoken promises, and of a love that has blossomed amidst chaos and found its strength in a shared desire for peace.

As you pull away, breathless and exhilarated, you know that this kiss isn't just a moment in time, it's a declaration, a commitment to write your own story, together, under the warm Italian sky.

The stars begin to twinkle overhead, and a gentle breeze carries the scent of jasmine, Charles pulls you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively and you lean your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm. You know that this is the true beginning of something quite special between the two of you, something that you long for and so does he.

***

After a couple of days, you and Charles stroll hand-in-hand through the villa's sprawling gardens, the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers filling the air.

“I can't believe we actually own a place like this! It's so amazing and beautiful!” you say while smiling.

Charles squeezes your hand as you spot a vine laden with ripe figs and reach up to pluck one, Charles watches you with a fond smile.

“Careful there piccola mia, don't get too carried away.” he says teasingly. (little one)

You toss the fig into your mouth while closing your eyes, savoring the sweet, juicy flavor. “I can't help it Cha! Everything here is so delicious and sweet.” you say giggling.

Charles steps closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, I'm glad you like it... But I think there's something even sweeter here.” he says leaning in.

He dips his head and kisses you softly, his lips lingering on yours and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer towards you.

“I'll take that as a compliment!” you smile.

He pulls away, his eyes still filled with warmth.

“A compliment? More like a promise chérie, a promise of many, many more delicious things to come... And I have a few ideas on my mind.” he says while smirking. (darling)

You playfully swat at his arm, but he just laughs, catching your hand and holding it tightly, together, you wander through the gardens, picking figs, grapes, strawberries, and juicy tomatoes. Charles playfully gives you nicknames based on the fruits and vegetables you pick.

“You're my little figgy, picking all the sweetest fruits.” he says while tickling.

You giggle, trying to swat away his tickling fingers. “Stop it Charlie! I'm not a figgy, I'm a tomato girl!”

Charles pretends to pout.

“A tomato girl? How disappointing, I was hoping for a little fig girl, someone sweet and juicy.” he says in a dramatic way.

You roll your eyes, but you can't help but smile. “Oh, please. You'd be lucky to have a tomato girl like me!” you chuckled.

Charles leans in and kisses your cheek. “Lucky? Oh, baby, i'm the luckiest man in the world because I have you by my side.”

You blush, your heart fluttering in your chest. As you continue to wander through the gardens, picking fruits and vegetables, you feel a sense of peace and contentment washing over you... This is more than just a gateway, it's a chance to start fresh, to build a new life together as a married couple, away from all the chaos and danger of your past. And with Charles by your side, you know that anything is possible.

[actuallysaiyan]

Can I please get #9 with Aizawa? 😫😫😫 I love you!

warnings: smut, suggestive themes, vaginal fingering, rough kissing

Dating Eraser Head proved to be interesting most times. He wasn’t one to spend much time in the limelight. In fact, it was always the opposite. He kept himself hidden from the public eye whenever he was able to.

And especially when it comes to matters about you. He kept that very private. So that meant barely any PDA. He didn’t want anyone to find out. And it wasn’t because he was embarrassed or ashamed. It was because he knew what the press and society and the world would do if they found out about your relationship. They’d never shut up. All the cameras and all the questions, it just made him feel so gross about the situation.

So things were always kept private, until one day…

He doesn’t even understand why he’s feeling this way. Shota Aizawa has pretty good self-control, but today you are looking just a little too damn cute. Having you work with him as a teacher at UA sometimes makes it harder for him to keep you at arms length in terms of hiding the relationship.

It’s just after school when he’s grading papers that it hits him even harder. He’s been having to see you in that damn cute dress all day and it drives him up a wall. He knows you’re not doing it on purpose; you’ve always loved to dress nicely. But fuck, did you have to give him an almost hard-on every time you pass by?

You knock on the door, smiling when you see him so hard at work. The minute he looks up at you, he’s done for. The man gets up from his chair, and then he grabs you lightly by the wrist to pull you into the teacher’s lounge. He closes and locks the door, pinning you to it so he can kiss you roughly.

“Wearing that fucking cute dress all god damn day,” he grunts as he nips at your bottom lip. He guides your hand to his crotch. “Do you fucking feel that? Feel how hard you got me.”

You squeeze teasingly, and Shota growls. He hikes your dress up over your hips and his long fingers begin to tease your pussy through your panties. He’s had enough of this. He’s going to have you at his mercy now. Your head falls back against the door as he slowly circles your clit with precision.

“Awhhh, how cute. Have I rendered you speechless?” 

You let out a cute mewl when he kisses your neck, followed by a loud moan when he bites down and sucks on the tender flesh. His fingers continue to press and rub on your swollen nub through the soaked fabric of your underwear. He chuckles at the way you’re moaning for him.

“You’re just trouble,” he breathes into your ear. “Causing problems for me all day in that cute little dress and those stockings. You wanted me to notice you, didn’t you?”

Your cheeks burn at his word, your tongue feeling tied. Shota has this very effect on you. He just knows exactly how to press your buttons to keep you on your toes. He smirks when he looks at your cute reaction. Then he pushes your panties to the side, sliding two of his fingers into your wet pussy. You let out a very loud cry, making him kiss you hungrily.

“Shhh! You don’t want to get caught, do you?”

You shake your head, but you’re just a trembling mess now as he pumps his fingers into you, hitting your sweet spot. Aizawa smirks at the way he’s rendered you absolutely weak.

“Better keep yourself quiet,” he grunts as his nips at your earlobe. “Or else I’ll have to make you grade those papers.”

dividers: @adornedwithlight

[thenationofzaun]

The Vander/Silco Shitshow - generic, juvenile, and gimmicky slop

So, I think that Vander/Silco flashback was terrible. Tropey, careless, juvenile, clichéd bullshit that stripped away everything that made their season 1 story nuanced and poignant, while simultaneously ripping open a fat plot hole because the team got careless and did not catch the discrepancy between the story they'd written in their heads and the visuals that ended up on screen in season 1. This is just going to be a long rant post detailing the reasons I absolutely despised this flashback. Obligatory disclaimer that this is just my (strongly held) opinion.

1) The timeline plot hole

No, I'm not misusing the term. So a plot hole is an inconsistency in a fictional narrative that cannot be explained away by any plausible in-universe justifications. There are many moments of weak writing in Arcane that may be contrived, rushed, weird, convenient, etc. but aren't plot holes.

This Vander/Silco situation however. Oh boy. If you all remember, Season 1 opened with the bridge massacre, also known as the Day of Ash. Vander is shown cracking enforcers' skulls. He looks like this.

The sisters, seemingly recognizing him, ask him where their parents are. He gestures to their corpses, the sisters cry, Vander has his "violence is not the answer" epiphany, drops the gauntlets very dramatically to underscore this massive turning point of character development for him, then picks the girls up and leaves the bridge.

In episode 3, we are shown a flashback. Vander is trying to kill Silco in the river. He looks like this.

Let's compare this to how he looked like on the Day of Ash.

Yeah. According to the visuals shown in Season 1, the falling out of Vander and Silco seems to have occured in the past before the Day of Ash, evidenced by how much younger Vander looks. Unless Silco is a time traveller who jumped forward to the future to throw a molotov at the riot because he just loves violent extremism that much, or Vander took the time to shave his beard and apply heavy duty anti-aging lotion on his face before hunting Silco down, there are no plausible in-universe explanations for this inconsistency. Not to mention, if Silco and Vander were really as close as brothers and the sisters knew Vander, then it's impossible they wouldn't have known who Silco was.

Yet, in Season 1, that's exactly what we see - not a single sliver of recognition between Silco and the girls, nothing to imply they knew of his existence before episode 3. Not a single conversation between Jinx and Silco implied that he knew, let alone was close to, her mother. Nothing from Vi throughout the entire first season indicated that she knew of his past friendships with her mother and Vander. They acted like total strangers to each other.

Many fans already caught this inconsistency during the three-year gap after writers' comments online implied Silco was involved in the Day of Ash. We had hoped the writers would catch on to this discrepancy too and either iron out the timeline if they want to do serious flashbacks, or just avoid calling attention to it completely by not doing flashbacks of their falling out. Alas.

2) Leonardo Dicaprio pointing meme

Death to the everybody-knows-everyone trope and lines that only exist to invoke the "Leonardo Dicaprio pointing" meme. Throw them into a fucking fire. Boring, mind-numbing, clichéd, overdone garbage. Not every character needs to have some kind of half-baked relation with each other. Not every major incident needs to be tied back to the main characters. Not every single detail needs to be overexplained and justified and again, somehow tied to a main character. They are unnecessary, and make the world feel so much more claustrophobic and smaller than it should be.

"The enforcers actually commited the Day of Ash massacre because SILCO threw a molotov. Vander actually tried to kill Silco because of VI AND JINX'S mother. She knew both Silco and Vander personally and TOLD THEM to help her raise her kids. VANDER named Vi."

Bullshit like this really fucks with immersion, because it becomes clear very quickly that the world is only occupied by a small handful of real characters while the thousands of other people in it are nothing more than inconsequential set dressing and wallpaper. The story and world no longer feel real, vast, and immersive. And these forced "connections" between main characters are so obviously manufactured to generate "OUGHHH" and Dicaprio pointing reactions. Idk about anyone else, but it takes me completely out of the story when I can obviously tell the writing is trying too hard to blow my mind.

The girls' mom waltzing up to Vander and Silco and just. Fucking telling them to help her with her kids lmfaoooooooo. (OUGHH and they both really ended up raising her kids WOAGH😱🤯). Jinx's mom saying choosing a name is stressful because her child will feel stuck with it (GASP and Powder ended up changing her name WOOOOWW😱). Vander coming up with Vi's fucking name. (OUGHHHH HE REALLY WAS MEANT TO BE FATHER ALL ALONG WOADGHHGHDHDH🤯🤯🤯).

Fucking kill me. Arcane Season 1 was surprisingly good precisely because they DIDN'T, for the most part, resort to tropey bullshit like this. It had, for the most part, originality. Uniqueness. In fact all the strongest aspects of Season 1, aspects I loved, were deliberate subversions of overdone clichés. For Season 2 to resort to this kind of writing reminiscent of Disney slop is insanely disappointing.

I'm waiting for a character to unironically say, "What are we, some kind of League of Legends?" in Act 3 now.

3) "Ohhhhh so THAT'S why he did that!!!!!!!!!"

Also death to overexplanations and giving justifications for things that never needed justifications. You know what I was never confused by while watching Season 1 of Arcane? Why Vander adopted the girls. Why Silco adopted Jinx. Why both came to care for their girls so much, they were willing to sacrifice so much for them. I thought the reasons for those things were very clear and poignant in the first season. I never needed an extra on-the-nose justification for the adoptions in the form of, "they wuved yo mama". It's not only redundant, it's also one of the most tired ass tropes in fiction. To me, Vander taking in the girls and Silco taking in Jinx are so much more powerful if they really were just random guys with no real connection to the girls' parents.

But I've already seen some positive reactions to this flashback with "Ohhhhh so THAT's why Silco/Vander cared for the girls so much, now I understand😯🤯😓" mf what exactly did you not understand before??

4) Character motivations

The motivations of both Vander and Silco are made downright bizarre by this flashback. So Silco was hellbent on murdering Vi last season, despite being close friends with her mom whose death he may feel guilty for? Literally despised her and wanted to kill her the entire time with no hesitation lol. So Vander had that aforementioned dramatic moment of character development, dropped the gauntlets, realized violence wasn't the answer, and carried the kids to safety... then doubled back to violently hunt down and murder Silco? But not before shaving his beard and applying youthful lotion of course. Can't kill your bro while looking crusty. Then he failed to kill Silco so he just... went back to the kids and pretended like nothing happened? Lol.

Silco being close to, let alone loving, the girls' parents makes no fucking sense for his character. Vander knowing them at least makes sense, but casual friends would have sufficed. "I was lowkey crushing (?????) on your mom and also named you" just cheapened the entire Vander/Vi and Silco/Jinx surrogate father dynamic. Vander's motivation for killing Silco being yet another fridged woman is also weak as fuck. First Viktor with Sky, and now Vander/Silco. They really should have left this one up to our imaginations if this was the boring tripe they came up with.

[norrizzandpia]

Can you please write exes to lovers angst with lando

Y’all know the way to my heart with these angst requests

A Second Chance (LN4)

Summary: Secrets are a hard thing to live with, they always come out in the end. When it comes to Y/n and Lando, their loved ones struggle to understand what occurred between the two when both of them refuse to discuss it. What happened that night that warranted two people so in love to separate? What triggered Lando to become so violent, so hostile? Why is there a lone engagement ring lingering in Lando’s apartment when it’s meant to rest on Y/n’s finger? What’s happened?

Warnings: lots of fights, language, literal screaming matches, lando breaking y/n’s heart while he’s drunk, this ones hella rough when it comes to angst, whata rollercoaster, HAPPY ENDING THO YALL JUST BUCKLE UP FOR THE RIDE AND TRUST ME

Note: i decided to really play with y’all here because you don’t end up knowing what caused them to breakup until the very end, so enjoy 6,000 words of subtle hints and you on the edge of your seat bc I’m evil 😚

Some things were better left unsaid. That’s the mantra Lando repeated to himself every time he felt the urge to pick up the phone and pour his heart out to the girl he let get away.

Some things are better left unsaid.

Some things are better left unsaid.

Some things are better left unsaid.

He was sick of the words, wanting to rip them out of his mind, out of his mouth every time he uttered their syllables. His thumb laid so close to her phone number, he was frightened one wrong move would make the decision for him.

All he saw, not just in that moment but every moment, was her face as he spewed off words of anger, violent insults that held no truth to them.

He wanted to apologize, yearned to hear her breathing as he said the things he had rehearsed in the mirror for God knows how long. There was blood on his hands, her blood, the blood of her being when he killed her spirit and the character he had fallen in love with. He couldn’t live with that.

Couldn’t live with the knowledge he had destroyed the beauty of her happiness, the beauty of who she had been.

Selfish, maybe, but he called her anyway. Whether the apology was for her or for him, he wasn’t sure, he just needed to know she knew that he never meant for those things to tumble from his mouth. He never meant to tear her down when he had spent the entirety of their relationship building her up.

The ringing sounded, it blaring loudly in the quiet of his room. He stared at her contact photo, he never changed it. The picture was one his friend had taken of her as she gazed upon him at the Silverstone Grand Prix, when he got his podium. She was smiling up, looking at him as if he held her entire life right in the palm of his hands.

She had loved him, put her heart in his hands, and he had thrown it back in her face like he was disgusted by it.

His mind was taken back to the moment when, after one ring, the call went straight to voicemail.

Fuck it, he thought, I’ve already called her once.

So, he tried again.

One ring, then voicemail.

Again.

One ring, then voicemail.

Again.

One ring, then voicemail.

By the end of his calling spree, he was sitting up in his bed, the sheets falling down his toned chest as he stared at the brightness emitting from his phone. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he searched up why he was only getting one ring.

The answer that popped up stopped the world around him. He threw his phone down to the side, it falling harshly onto the floor. He stormed from his bed, ripping open his door and throwing on a random hoodie strewn about his couch. His eyes glazed over as he tied his shoes and left the apartment, beginning to run. His running was in vain, however, as he was only trying to run from the thing that got him into this situation. Himself.

The phone stayed behind, lingering on the floor with its screen cracked yet still displaying what had set Lando off in the first place.

The Google search engine painfully informed him of Y/n blocking him.

—

“How have you been since the breakup?” Max said softly, looking at his best friend with gentle eyes.

Lando looked down to his lap, “I’m doing fine. Getting by.”

Max’s quietness lingered like he knew something.

“What is it?” Lando asked spitefully, sick of feeling like his loved ones were tip toeing around him.

Max sighed, “You’re not sleeping.”

“How do you know that?”

“Life360 shows me where you’ve gone in the last twenty-four hours, Lando. It also gives me notifications when you leave your house. At first, I wanted to stay out of it, but you’re doing it every night, going to random parks and staying there for hours. What are you doing?”

Lando smacked his hand on the table out of frustration, strangers sat close to them glancing over suspiciously, “So, you’re monitoring me now?”

Max scoffed, “Yeah! Your family and your friends are worried for you.”

“Well, don’t.” Lando gave him a pointed look.

Max shoved his face into his hands, “It’s not that fucking easy, Lando. Everyone thought you two were going to get married. You had a ring. Then, all of a sudden, you two ended. The people that love you are obviously going to be wondering about you when shit like that comes out of left field.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Lando began, face heating up, “You don’t think I look at the engagement ring everyday and wonder where I would be today? Maybe engaged to her like I had always wanted? You don’t think I know this shit? You don’t think I have to live with it, sleep with it, exist with it?”

It dawns on Max as he listens to Lando’s every word, “You’re going for walks in the night? To get away from thinking about it when you’re trying to sleep? Trying to distract yourself?”

Lando’s eyes look down once more, “Running. I’ve been running.”

In a rare form of physical affection, Max leans over and lays his hand over his friend’s, “What happened that night?”

Lando flinches, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

His hand is heavy on top of Lando’s as he tries again, “Lando, I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand. What the fuck happened? When are you going to be comfortable talking about it? It’s been five months.”

Something fiery triggers within Lando and Max knows it’s the reminder of how long he’s gone without her, “I know how fucking long it’s been.”

At the gridded teeth and hostile tone, Max relents. He sits back in his chair just when Lando’s gaze is caught behind him. His head turns to see what’s got Lando and he’s met with a woman that looks identical to Y/n.

He breathes out, turning back around to tilt his head at his best friend. Max opens his mouth to say something, but Lando interrupts him by the loud screech of his chair being pushed away from him.

He watches in horror and disappointment as Lando walks over to the woman and begins flirting with her. That smile, which was once reserved only for Y/n, is now exploited to get one singular taste of something like her, however fleeting.

In no time, Lando’s trading numbers with her and returning to the table. He sees the way Max looks at him, an expression that makes him hate himself more, and picks up his things, “If you’re not going to support me, sit across from me and patronize me for everything that’s happened, then I’m fucking out.”

Max laughs in disbelief, “Lando, I don’t know what the fuck happened! Maybe if I did, I could actually help you instead of this fucked up coping mechanism you’ve developed of sleeping with women that look like her.”

Lando snarls at him, stomping off and out of the establishment, texting the new number he’d gained immediately and asking when they were free to come to his apartment.

Max watches him through the window, anger at him dissipating and worry taking over once more for the boy he used to know.

The waitress comes by and drops the check off, three digits staring back at Max.

—

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO INVITE HER!” Lando screams at Charlotte, nostrils flaring as he shoots daggers into her soul.

“WHAT’S THE FUCKING PROBLEM? CAN’T FUCKING FACE YOU EX OF EIGHT MONTHS?!” Charlotte yells.

Lando counters, “YOU KNOW I FEEL ABOUT HER! HOW I FELT ABOUT HER! I DON’T FUCKING WANT HER IN THE CROWD OF THE NEW CAR LAUNCH!”

Charlotte rolls her eyes, “WELL, GET OVER IT! IT’S HAPPENING!”

“I’M THE DRIVER, I RUN THE SHOW! I SAY SHE GETS TAKEN OFF THE INVITE, SHE GETS TAKEN OFF THE INVITE!”

“SHE’S ALREADY BEEN INVITED, DUMBASS! WE CAN’T RETRACT THE INVITATION NOW. IT WOULD LOOK BAD.”

“I DON’T CARE! FUCK, CHARLOTTE, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” Spit flies from his mouth, his volume so loud it jostles the walls.

Charlotte, being the strong woman she was and fed up with Lando’s recent behavior, fires back, “IT’S NOT MY FAULT SHE’S ON THE AUTOMATIC INVITE LIST! YOU KNOW THIS! GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS!”

He lets out a loud grunt, turning around in the room like it’s closing in on him. He’s so in his mind as it suffocates him with memories of her, he steps toward the wall and almost puts his fist through it. However, right before his hand comes in contact, he hesitates.

He can feel Charlotte’s horrified eyes on him as he turns around, chest heaving from the unreleased anger. He can’t fully meet her stare, knowing it’ll break him further.

However, that doesn’t matter as she puts her hands on her hips and whispers, “Who even are you anymore?”

She slams the door on her way out and Lando can hear her lash out at his father, detailing how he needs to get his son in check if Lando wants any kind of continued future in F1. They go back and forth for a moment, Adam standing up for his son in a time where there’s no defending able to be done. His father reminds Charlotte of the relationship she’s cultivated with Lando, reminding her of how she once referred to him as her son, and she’s ready with her heartbreaking answer: he’s not the same person she once knew.

That gives Adam no room to fight back, silence overtaking the atmosphere for a moment before he’s entering the room. Lando sits on one of the many office room chairs, head hanging low as he picks at his fingernails.

Adam sits in the one closest to him, breathing slowly as he tries to gather what he wants to say.

“Lando, what happened that night?” He repeats, reminding him of the countless conversations they’ve had that started with that question and ended with Lando refusing to talk about it.

His son shakes his head, something dying inside Adam once more, “I told you. I’m not talking about it.”

A moment passes before Adam snaps, “Lando! I know you’re hurting and I’m so sorry. But, Jesus fucking Christ! You can’t go on like this forever! This isn’t healthy! She’s not coming back! She’s stopped communicating because she doesn’t want to hear from you! You’re going to need to move on sometime!”

Lando stands abruptly from his seat, his father’s words hitting him hard, “You have no fucking right to say that! You don’t know what’s going through her mind!”

Adam stands to get in his face, “No, but I do know you two were happy, she was happy, and you were in love, and then it was over! People don’t fall out of a love like that if someone didn’t fuck up royally!”

Lando moves to the door, “I don’t want to hear this anymore.”

Adam grabs his arm before he can leave, staring at him with a stone cold gaze, “You keep pushing people away, treating people like shit, and you’ll ruin your career.”

“Who said I even cared about my career anymore?”

—

As much as he hates it, Lando’s eyes immediately search for her once he and Oscar are let into the room. The new car sits under a drape, a crowd of people standing around it, and, even with all the exciting things around him, he looks for the greatest heartbreak of his life.

He wants to see how she is, see if her eyes are as sunken as his are, if her body is as thin as his. Yet, he fails to see her. He knows she’s here, having seen her acceptance of the invitation on the guest list.

He’s being pulled to the front of the room by PR members, their pushes making him stumble into Oscar’s side as he keeps his gaze locked on the sea of people in front of him.

Time goes by slowly, the ceremony moving easily with applause when Oscar and him roll back the material covering the racing car.

They’re in the midst of an interview, microphones held tightly in their hands as they converse with the reporter.

He’s still distracted, his eyes still searching throughout the party to see her, but he’s called back when Oscar nudges his shoulder, “Sorry, what?”

The reporter smiles, “You’ve just gone through a break up and it seems she’s here. Does that say you two ended on good terms?”

He cries of laughter in his head. The idea that they ended on good terms is the funniest thing he’s heard in a while.

He puts on his fake smile, though, nodding strongly like this isn’t a question that has broken his soul, “Yeah! Y/n and I still talk from time to time. She supports me and I support her.”

He feels as if Oscar is staring at him, as if the entire room is staring at him, as he lies through his teeth. Y/n and him haven’t spoken in a year, her having cut off all contact from the very beginning.

The interview continues, nonetheless, with the journalist accepting his answer without question.

Once they’re done, Lando feels sick. Sick of trying to salvage his image, sick of having to appear at these functions, sick of wanting her back and knowing she’ll never let him in again. He excuses himself quickly, mumbling about needing to use the restroom, before dashing off down an empty hallway and locking himself in a stall.

He sits on the toilet, racing suit falling over the edge of the porcelain bowl as he lays his head in his hands.

He breathes heavily, lungs not taking in enough air, and he feels as if the first tears are about to fall when the door opens and the conversation of two men floods through.

“They broke up, you know?” One of the men states as they begin looking at themselves in the mirror, Lando watching them through the cracks of his stall.

The other one nods, seemingly excited, “Yeah, I’ve never been happier. She’s so hot, we finally have a chance.”

Lando’s eyebrows furrowed together. Who are they talking about?

“I know, mate. I saw her tonight. I think she’s still here. You saw that orange dress she’s in? Hot as fuck. It really does justice to that body of hers.”

Lando grimaces at their words.

However, they continue, revealing more about their topic of conversation this time, “Yeah, one hundred percent. Y/n Y/l/n has never looked better. I saw her walk in and I was ready to fuck her instantly.”

The color drains from Lando’s face when her name slips past their lips, their previous words having an entirely different impact on him now. He sees red at their vulgar words, pulling himself from the stall and walking out with a dangerous, cold air to him.

The two men stop quickly, looking at each other in the mirror when Lando sidles up in between them. Beginning to wash his hands, he makes eye contact with both of them.

“Having a nice conversation here, boys?”

The two of them gulp, clearly nervous at the man’s presence. They say nothing, rather letting Lando continue.

“You know, we may not be together anymore, but that doesn’t mean she’ll get with you two. She has standards and, after being with her for five years, I can tell you: you two aren’t it. Keep dreaming, though, yeah? That’s how I got to where I am now, making millions of dollars a year and such.”

He waltzes out, throwing out the paper towel he had grabbed in the middle of his words and nodding at them.

Suddenly, as he stands in the quiet hallway, his demeanor has shifted. He feels lighter. Consciously, he doesn’t know why, but, subconsciously, he knows it’s because he just asserted his dominance over her, his possession. Reminding the two men of how long he was with her, how long he had her, a duration of time they’ll never see, mended his pain for a minute or two.

It comes back quickly, though, when he turns the corner and runs into the infamous papaya colored dress that had laid on the floor of his bedroom many times before. He halts, so does she, and for a moment, the two of them keep their eyes trained on the other’s clothes, not wanting to look up and face something they aren’t ready to face.

Although, cruelly, that moment inevitably comes and Lando’s breath is taken from his lungs at how radiant she stands before him. His eyes trail over her face, the tape that was once holding his heart together now ripping apart at the sight of her. She seems strong, looking at him in a removed manner, as if she truly isn’t there with him at the moment.

His hand hovers over her bicep, fingers tingling as they plead with him to touch her.

“Hi, Lando.” His name falling from her lips, sounding soft and warm, reminds him of why he knew her coming to this, seeing her, would ruin whatever kind of progress he had developed in the year they’d been apart.

His mouth opens, then closes, and he struggles to get words out as his mind races with all the things he wishes to say. Knowing everything he’s tried to tell her is not meant to be said in a place as open as this, he settles for, “Hi, Y/n.”

She smiles at him, completely different from the fury in her features the last time he saw her, and mumbles out, “How have you been?”

He takes a leap, “Been better.”

She ignores it, “Listen, I need to go to the bathroom, but it was nice seeing you!”

Y/n tries to slip past him, but he’s quick to grab her arm. Looking in her eyes as if he’s trying to show her the happy memories that now are too painful to remember, he speaks lowly, “Hear me out.”

She shakes her head, “No, Lando. I’ve been done with us for a year.”

“Have you?” He challenges her, staring down at her and willing her to try again.

She rolls her eyes, looking anywhere but him, “Yes.”

“Look at me.”

When she fails to do so, he shakes her arm lightly.

“Look at me.”

And when she does, he tilts his head, leaning down to hover his lips over hers, “Tell me we’re done. Look at me and tell me you don’t love me anymore.”

“That’s not fair.” She whispers, lips brushing against his.

“Why?”

“Because of what you did.”

He looks on at her, their eyes holding the other’s as they relive the moments of that night. They both know there’s no way for him to counter, no way to fight back or fight for when she throws that in his face. What he did to her, what he said to her, has tarnished the trust she gave to him.

He pulls back, breathing in deep when she rips her arm from his grasp and flees further down the hall.

Watching her disappear behind the door of the restroom, Lando curses himself.

Curses the alcohol, curses that night, curses his words, curses the love they had, curses the memories that won’t leave him alone.

Curses the existence of their relationship entirely.

—

Lando’s never felt confusion of this level before. He stares down at Paige’s, Y/n’s best friend, contact as it calls Lando’s phone.

He hesitantly answers, putting it to his ear slowly, and whispering, “Hello?”

“Lando?” Paige sounds concerned.

Lando shakes his head, attempting to wake himself from the sleep he had just been having, “What’s going on?”

“Y/n is so fucking wasted and, I have no clue what happened between you, but she keeps asking for you. She won’t stop drinking, won’t leave the club, until you get here. I didn’t want to call you, partially because of how late it is and partially because of what’s going on between you two, but, if I’m honest, I’m glad I have an excuse. I’m worried about my best friend and it started when you two broke up.”

By the end of her words, Lando’s already out of his bed and halfway out the door. His keys jingle in his hand as he continues to converse with her, “I’m on my way to pick her up. I’ll be there soon. Just try and keep the drinks out of her hands.”

Before he can hang up, the engine of his car revving to life, Paige interjects, “Lando, one more thing. You’re going to have to let Y/n sleep at your place. She moved out of her apartment a few months ago and has been sleeping on my couch while she finds a new place. But, we have other friends here and I can’t just leave them to make sure she gets into my house.”

Lando nods, “That’s fine, but why’d she move out? She loved it there.”

Paige sighs, “Because she couldn’t stand the fact that everywhere she turned, all she saw was you.”

—

Lando pulls up to the club, its lights bright and music loud as he spots Y/n and Paige waiting on the curb. He gets out, rushing over to them and not loving the way Y/n seems to be hunched over in pain.

Paige pawns her off into Lando’s arms, Y/n melting into them and clinging to him when he holds her softly.

Paige begins to walk back toward the entrance of the club, “Thank you, Lando! You were always someone I could count on to take care of her. Have fun and please, for the love of God, fix whatever is wrong between you.”

At that, she disappears back into the colorful lights and Lando is left with his girl.

She’s mumbling quiet things into his chest, words he can’t make out as he gently lowers her into the passenger seat of his McLaren. When he’s finished buckling her seatbelt and triple checking that she’s secure in the car, he pulls back, but not before she’s grasping his hand and looking up at him with weeping eyes, “I miss you.”

Three words he’s yearned to hear for so long and yet, now, he can’t take them seriously. She’s drunk, she’s blacked out, and she very clearly doesn’t know what she’s saying.

This isn’t real.

He knows that.

But, what if it is?

—

When they stumble through his threshold, Y/n bolts to the bathroom. He smiles softly at the way she still, even in her drunken mind, knows exactly the layout of his apartment. Retching emitted from the small room and he’s running over, kneeling down beside her as she empties her stomach into the toilet. His hand rubs up and down her back as the other holds her hair back, whispering sweet and soft words of love in her ear.

“It’s okay, Y/n. I’m right here.” Knowing she’ll wake up tomorrow and be disgusted by his presence makes the moment even more tender. He knows what will be lost tomorrow, he wants to savor it now.

Her hand moves from the toilet to grasp his shirt, the material hanging from his waist below her. It hurts to feel her touch, to know she seeks comfort in him, but it hurts even more to think of rejecting her, pushing her hand away. So, he lets it rest there, lets it seep into his skin and burn the area, marking it as her own and reminding him there will never be another girl as precious to him as her.

When she’s done, dry heaving the only thing sounding as she lays against the wall behind her, he sits with his legs crossed to the side. His hands rub her thighs as she recovers, and all he can do is stare at her. Her eyes are closed yet he can picture the exact color of them. He memorizes her nose, its upturn and freckles; he memorizes the Cupid’s bow of her lips, the feeling of the plush and soft skin tattooed on his; he memorizes the moles dotted across her neck and the cleavage of her boobs in her dress; he memorizes her arms, their warmth forever ingrained in his brain after Spa 2021 and she was the only thing he needed; he memorizes her legs, and her hands, her hair, the way her eyebrows are shaped, and jawline he’s wished to kiss again.

For it will be gone tomorrow.

—

He’s the first to wake up, thankfully. In case she woke up before him, he slept on the couch, her body taking up his bed for the night. He makes coffee with trembles in his hands as he awaits the moment she wakes up.

And when she does, she storms out of his bedroom, striding into the kitchen still in his t-shirt and sweatpants, the items he dressed her in the night before.

“WHY THE FUCK AM I HERE?” She screams at him, hands flailing at her sides as her cheeks redden with anger.

“You got drunk and wouldn’t leave the club until I came and got you, so Paige called me.” He responds calmly, knowing how uncomfortable she must be.

She scoffs, “AND I JUST COINCIDENTALLY HAD TO SLEEP HERE?!”

He shakes his head, “No, Y/n. Paige told me you had to sleep here because she still had to make sure the other girls got home safe. She didn’t have the time to get you back to her place herself.”

She quietens down, looking at him with a distant stare, “Did we fuck?”

He reels back, eyes bulging, “NO! YOU THINK I’D DO THAT WHEN YOU WERE WASTED AND IN THE MIDST OF WHAT WE’RE GOING THROUGH?”

“WE AREN’T GOING THROUGH ANYTHING, LANDO! WE ARE DONE!” She fires back.

“YEAH? THEN, WHY DO WE KEEP SEEING EACH OTHER?”

“I DON’T KNOW! IT’S NOT LIKE I’M ASKING FOR IT!”

Lando steps closer to her, taking a deep breath, “Last night, you told me you missed me. Is that true?”

“No.”

It hangs in the air, full of lies and deception.

“Yes, you do.”

She groans, “NO, I FUCKING DON’T! STOP TRYING TO HOLD ON TO SOMETHING I DON’T WANT ANYMORE!”

“WE WERE IN LOVE, Y/N! I KNOW YOU STILL LOVE ME IN THE WAY I DO!”

Her hands shoved at his chest, tears beginning to leak from her eyes, “THAT DOESN’T CHANGE WHAT YOU SAID TO ME!”

Unwillingly, Lando is taken back to the night that ruined it all. Refreshing his memory horrifically.

A YEAR EARLIER

Y/n chuckled as she threw Lando onto the couch, his drunken body landing in an awkward position.

“I’ll be right back, Lan. I’m just going to get you some water.”

He nodded, groaning at the swirling in his stomach. He heard her clank around in the kitchen, getting up and wandering off toward the sound.

When he reached her, he was very quickly overcome with desire and lust for his girlfriend. He stumbled over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her back to him. He began kissing her neck, spit and slobber coating the skin in an uncomfortable way.

Y/n dodged him, “Lan, baby, I love you, but you’re really wasted right now.”

He hummed, “It’s fine, Y/n.”

He tried to kiss her again, but she slid out from his hold, “No, Lando. Plus, I’m not in the mood.”

He reached out for her, but she moved too quickly for his drunken mind. He groaned in frustration, “Y/n!”

“Lando!” She gave right back, shaking her head at his antics as she continued to fill up his water.

When she gave him nothing as he stared at her expectantly, he said the first thing that came to his foggy mind, “Fine, I didn’t want to fuck you anyway.”

She giggled, not fully hearing what he was saying, “Sorry, what?”

“I said, I didn’t want to fuck you anyway. I’ll just go into my Instagram messages and find someone better, it’s whatever, don’t worry about it.”

He saw the way she slowly turned her head to him, “Lando, what are you say-”

He interrupted her, “Who do you think I should look out for? Someone with a bigger ass than yours? Or maybe with bigger boobs? How about skinnier? Or perhaps with a prettier face?”

She just stood and stared at him, the glass in her hands slowly slipping from her grip, “What the fuck?”

He laughed at her, “Come on, Y/n!” He pulled out his phone, waving it in her face, “Who should I look out for as a replacement for the girlfriend who won’t fucking do shit for me?”

Her hip popped out, his demeanor change blindsiding her, “Why are you saying these things?”

He huffed as he slurred, “Because you’re a fucking shit girlfriend! I’ve put up with it for years, your inadequacy to fulfill me! I’m fucking done. I’m over not being satisfied in everything we do. You aren’t attractive to me anymore, you aren’t funny anymore to me, you just don’t do it for me anymore. Someone, I know, can surely be better than you.”

His words were malicious and hot on his tongue as if he had been waiting to say them. The glass, like her heart, slipped from her hands and shattered at her feet. Shards littered the floor, cutting her bare feet, as Lando began laughing at her, “Oh, perfect! And, now, you can’t fucking hold a glass! Fucking pathetic.”

He waltzed out of the room, as if everything was fine and retreated to his room, slamming the door shut.

There, as she stood in the middle of a wet pool of glass, she cried.

Cried for the pain in her feet; cried for the man she loved; cried for the death of her confidence; and cried for the love that had just been ruined.

PRESENT TIME

Lando remembers waking up that next morning without her beside him, and being utterly confused. That was until he read the text message in which she reminded him of the things he said to her, informing him they were over, she wouldn’t look at his face ever again, and she was already on a plane away from Monaco, to not chase her.

He had never been given the chance to explain to her just how drunk he had been that night, how his words weren’t really his.

“I DIDN’T MEAN WHAT I SAID TO YOU!” He yelled in her face, trying desperately to get through to her.

“DRUNK WORDS ARE SOBER THOUGHTS, HUH?” She argued, hands pushing against his arms.

“ARE ROOFIED WORDS SOBER THOUGHTS?”

She stopped, taking a step back and staring at him. She was quiet, looking up at him with a newfound curiosity, “What?”

“I was drugged that night, Y/n.” He responded, finally allowing for the truth to come out.

Her eyes softened, looking up at him with the love he knew was within her. She walked back to him, closer this time, and wrapped her arms gently around his neck, “Are you okay?”

Testing boundaries, he laid his hands on her waist and when she didn’t protest, he leaned into her fully.

“When I woke up that morning, I had a really hard time reading your text. I got through it, but I couldn’t shake the fact that I genuinely felt like I couldn’t see. My vision was fucked. I got up, I wanted to go to the kitchen and drink some water, but my legs gave out under me and I fell to the floor. I struggled to walk, my head ached in a way I never knew was possible, and I puked all over the floor of my bedroom. I, obviously, knew something was seriously wrong, so I called Jon. He came and helped me into his car. I must’ve been pretty removed because he tells me, to this day, that I was mumbling things about you leaving me, shit I don’t remember ever saying. But, anyways, he drove me to the hospital and they did a shit ton of tests. The drug test, that’s how we found out I was drugged with Rohypnol, a roofie. They helped get it out of my system, but I was pretty fucked up for the next few days. And, then, when I truly came to about a week or so later, I realized the gravity of what happened between us, but, obviously, by that point, it was too late.”

His explanation left Y/n feeling slightly guilty. She had been with him that night, it was her job to make sure he was safe as she promised him she would be his designated driver, the sober one.

“Do you know who did it?” She asked to which he shook his head.

“No, I’m not sure. I don’t remember much from that night.”

He saw it in her eyes, “Y/n, don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. There’s no way you could’ve known.”

Her eyes watered, “But, I should’ve known what you were saying to me wasn’t you, or even drunk you. I shouldn’t have shut you out. I should’ve given you time to explain.”

He nodded his head to each side, “Maybe, but what I said to you was horrific. Of course, you left me.”

She separated herself from him, walking into the living room as she cried. He sat down next to her on the couch, her tears soaking the shirt she wore as she struggled to gain her breath.

He pulled her into him once more, “Y/n, it’s okay. Your actions are justified.”

She shook her head, “No, it’s not that. I mean, it sort of is, but it’s mostly the fact that I spent this past year thinking you never really loved me. What you said to me that night, I’ve never forgotten it and I just spent so much time berating myself for thinking, for five years, you loved me back. I degraded myself over something that was completely manipulated.”

He laid his head on hers as he nodded softly, “I’m so sorry. If it’s worth anything, I truly did love you all five years. I still love you. I never stopped loving you.”

She pulled back, hands on his chest as she stared at him, “I still love you even if those words still haunt me.”

“Don’t let them, please. The fact that they came out of my mouth is enough. Don’t let them have any kind of value. You were and are the love of my life. There’s no one like you, Y/n. No one who could be better suited for me. You are more than enough for me. You’ve satisfied me in every part of our relationship. What I said that night, it couldn’t be farther than the truth. I could never fall out of love with you ever. There is no one I want to take up the other part of my bed than you.”

She wiped her tears, “What about those girls you were seen with this past year?”

He shook his head, “Didn’t hold a candle to you. Not my finest moment, baby. I’m sorry for it.”

“No, you don’t have to apologize for trying to move on, I just want to make sure you’re in this with me.”

He threw his head back, “Of course, I am. I’ll always be all in if you are too.”

She lightly smiled at him, returning to her spot against his chest as he laid them back against the cushions.

They laid there with each other, in silence, until the afternoon. Something that was once broken, now whole. Something that was once destined to end, now beginning again. Something that was once messy and complicated, now clear. Something that was once mistrusted, now fully capable of any challenge.

Maybe Lando could put that engagement ring to use now.

[yanderestarangel]

HEADCANONS MK1 | YANDERE!TRIO LIN KUEI

A/N: I finally finished this shit.

smut confectionery event ┆cinnamon cake ┆gang bang, degradation, praise, kidnapping. ˖⁺ ⊹୨ "yandere brothers + defenseless darling."୧⊹ ⁺˖ ── SMUT

˖⁺ ⊹୨ 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓪𝓭𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝔀. 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 ୧⊹ ⁺˖

𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 🎀

TW: kidnapping, manipulation, stall syndrome, porn plot, dark smut, afab reader, nicknames like "good boy or good girl" used, praise, degradation, v!sex, blowjob, unprotected sex, breedkink, face fuck, deep throat, rough sex, stimulation, dumbfication, anal sex, degradation, yandere themes, gang bang.

Being in love with someone was complicated, but three people falling in love with the same person was a situation you didn't see every day ─ especially if these three guys in question were the three most powerful in all of China. Bi Han, Kuai Liang and Tomas Vrbada, all eyeing the same person. You. They didn't know who had been first.

Maybe when Bi Han saw you wandering around the Lin Kuei forests alone and picking some fruits, instead of moving you away from his clan's land he felt the strange urgency to help you. You looked like a deer lost in the snow, ready to be devoured by someone predator ─ the grandmaster himself fit this role well, but from that first instance he just helped you pick the apples you needed and let you go, you had messed with his world without even knowing it.

Maybe it could have been Kuai Liang, when he saw you bathing in the waterfall near his house. The white and loose peasant-style dress fell on your shoulders and clung to your curves due to the coolness of the icy water that accumulated on the smooth stones ─ the ninja pyromancer's focus had quickly shifted to your breasts that moved gracefully in the transparent fabric, begging for attention involuntarily. Your nipples hardened from the cold as he looked at the delicate curvature of your pussy, like a flower that was unopened and needed to be explored. The fire ninja didn't dare to come close to you - just watching you from afar, but his heart was racing, warming his body even more.

Or maybe it was Tomas Vrbada when he first saw you helping Madame Bo in her restaurant. You looked beautiful and oblivious to the smoke ninja's eyes that practically burned you, for you he was just another customer on a night with a lot of customers. But to him, you were the image of perfection he sought after the faith he had lost after losing his family too... He watched your graceful movements and even the way you smiled beautifully while serving his table. He felt his smoke powers go out of control each time he looked deeper into you ── it was like looking at a work of Renaissance art, the longer he looked at the more hidden details he could perceive.

Even with the unusual situation, the three brothers decided to make the best decision, join forces and share you. And the best way to stop anyone from having you was a quick kidnapping. After Bi Han asked Sentir to find everything about you, especially where you lived ─ Tomas used his smoke powers to fill your house with a suffocating gas enough to cause you to faint, without much harm to you obviously. Kuai Liang used his fire powers to overheat the door lock and break it, seeing you lying unconscious to it all... Scorpion's arms wrapped around you as he carried you away and his older brother, Bi Han, led their way guaranteed that no one would question anything after all who would question three ninja assassins?

You had gotten in their way, without even realizing it, you had marked your own destiny. Being woken up with restraints on your wrists and tied to a comfortable bed unlike at home was scary for you and especially seeing the three muscular men watching you in the corner of the room, but what could a weak boy/girl like you do? Just accept fate.

The rules were simple, don't try to escape, and respect everyone there. The words that came out of the grandmaster's mouth were sharp and harsh, demanding linear and blind obedience to them. Kuai Liang agreed with his brother, trying to soften his words with "we just want to keep you safe. And if you obey us you will be rewarded for it."

Tomas on the other hand was still insecure and anxious, with an underlying fear of rejection from you, he stayed quiet and let his older brothers talk while he watched everything. They wouldn't touch you for the first few days, making you comfortable enough in your new life. The best food, clothes and treats you could think of you had now ─ it was a prince's/princess's life, only in a bizarre way and in a narrative twisted by their obsessive minds

˖⁺ ⊹୨ How would they act?

Tomas Vrbada

He would be your caretaker while Kuai and Bi Han went on missions for Lord Liu Kang. He was responsible for making sure you didn't try to escape. But this served to bring the two of you closer together, the silver-haired man was soft, a soft giant. He always made a point of asking how you were, if he needed anything and even let you free from the ropes and chains that his brothers put on you to make sure you wouldn't run away from them. "I'll let you go, but you promise you won't run, right?"

He likes to be with you most of the time. He knows how to share you with his brothers but he prefers to be with you and hug you tightly, keep you protected behind his muscles and stroke your hair. The first time you had sex was also with him ─ the ninja felt over the moon when you said that in front of Kuai and Bi Han, making them respect your decision and let the Czech take you first.

You are treated so well when you have sex with him that it makes you forget that they kidnapped you and you are now in a beautiful cage surrounded by soft pillows and luxury ─ his cock is thick and big enough to give affectionate and warm kisses to one of your uterus, making you moan and writhe beneath him with each compliment that accompanies a thrust of his hips deep into your core.

"So beautiful and so tight my prince/princess, I knew you would like this. Open up more for me please... I can't move with your pretty pussy holding me like that.- FUCK!-" Vrbada is sensitive seeing you cling to him, the result of a stalling syndrome because of the situation you were in. He gives you kisses and praises you every time you suck his dick so well, telling you that you can continue and he will do whatever you want later. "Please make me cum, that's-! Yes... Damn such a beautiful and good mouth, you're a great boy/girl." He protects you from any punishment from Kuai or Bi Han, but if you betray his trust and try to escape, he will be extremely disappointed in you and he will treat you coldly and with sarcasm every time you speak, even refusing to keep you company.

"I should have thought of that before trying to escape." Were the words that left his lips as he just gave you a dark look and closed the door to your room, leaving you alone about your actions.

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang is a bit more stoic and closed off than Tomas. He will just look at you a few times and warn you not to try to run away ─ once again telling the false illusion of you being"safe with them" his personality even as Yandere is the perfect balance between strict and calm.

He will use unconventional methods to get you close to him and gain your trust, whether through manipulation convincing you that being with him and his brothers is the best way to live, where you would be kept beautifully there with them just having to be an obedient boy. or he could also be passive aggressive and intimidate you, telling you how he knew exactly where your friends and family lived and that if you tried to run away from Lin Kuei lands you might get a nasty surprise when you got back home... A subtle but functional threat .

Regardless, when you are mentally corrupted enough to cling to him, the fire ninja will take advantage of this opportunity and make you his for nights on end. Fucking you on a soft mattress surrounded by transparent curtains and the wind that bathed you both ─ he would bite, slap your ass while holding your head against the feather pillow making you arch your back even more towards him and giving him the view of your pussy drooling on his cock.

You knew you couldn't enjoy it so much, after all, that man was also responsible for your kidnapping... But you couldn't resist each strong thrust of Scorpion's super heated cock. Whispering how well you're doing, how he likes to see your body bounce with each thrust, how your pussy drools his cock... How you're his. "All i have to do is talk to u, don't I sweetheart? You're a shaking, beautiful mess, you're soaking the cloths baby boy/baby girl ... And my dick too. You're going to clean me up later with that pretty mouth, aren't you? It is?" Kuai Liang would bury his cock even deeper in your pussy, making you practically see stars and look at the eyes behind your skull, making you milk his cock and grip the sheets beneath you.

"I never thought a cute boy/girl like you would be such a greedy slut for cock..." He taunted again as he spilled his hot seed deep into your womb, filling you to the brim and giving one last bite to your neck. He would take care of you after sex, giving you a hot bath but keeping the chains that prevented you from running away from him ─ he is not easy to manipulate, you can convince him to let you free from the bonds after getting close enough and saying that I would never leave him. However, if you try to escape and he catches you he will definitely punish you, he would be angry enough to breed your pussy all night.

Bi Han and Tomas would only hear the banging of the bed against the wall and the grunts of his pyromancer brother as you were fucked into abandonment, even if you begged him to stop that you would behave he would just hold your neck and smirk. "stop? Oh my little dumb boy/girl, you should have thought of that before you tried to run away like a scared bunny- now spread your legs like the good slut you are and let me fill you up again." Kuai Liang would growl as he spit contemptuously into your pussy, his saliva helping his thick cock slide further in and out of your poor little cunt.

Bi Han

Because he's the oldest and has Napoleon syndrome, he really thinks you're there to serve him. You remember the bittersweet memory of having crossed his path for the first time, but you could no longer complain or beg for mercy. Even with the grandmaster's anger and imminent cruelty, he will be protective of you and give you the most expensive things money can buy ─ a tactic to distract you from the situation you are in now and start seeing him and his brothers as perhaps more than you. that just crazy people obsessed with your love.

He would have you on his lap while he did the paperwork, pulling on the chain that was attached to your neck with every inopportune movement you made or if you tried to get off of him."Be a good boy/girl and stay here okay? I can reward you later, maybe something you've wanted for a long time hm?" The ice ninja would speak, bringing you to him again, looking at your face and giving you an icy, expectant kiss on your cheek ─ like a sunny day that hid a night of heavy storms, that was the definition of your captor.

Sex with him is extremely good, making you turn off your brain with each rough thrust he made into your pussy while you sucked his fingers to muffle your moans. You felt his muscular body against his and how his hoarse moans made your pussy get even more wet and drip onto the floor, while you fought to keep your knees from sinking and falling to the floor. "Fuck- you are so fucking beautiful like this... Begging for a cock to fill you. Such a beautiful boy/girl for your master." Bi Han would moan hoarsely and distribute hickeys on your neck, cupping your soft breasts with his hands while he smiled, pleased to see you accept him so well and without question, the three brothers had corrected your behavior and turned you into their broken and corrupted little doll. One, two or three orgasms, maybe you had even squirted on his cock.

At this point you wouldn't even try to run away anymore, you had three men who loved you in a sick way, a comfortable place and being full of cum every night... You were satisfied with your new life or maybe you just settled.

gang bang with the lin kuei trio.

You were filled with Bi Han's cock in your pussy and Tomas followed behind, fucking your ass with half of his cock, your mouth was occupied with Kuai Liang's cock. You felt your brain go numb and go numb with each joint thrust of the ninja trio into your body.

Bi Han's hands found your clit as you moaned into his brother's member, making him smile sadistically ── they were jointly ruining their precious boy/girl. It was beautiful how fat tears fell from your teary eyes and you couldn't protest or say anything, too busy with the taste of Scorpion's warm musk on your tongue.

The smoke ninja's hands went to your hips as you heard his needy moans and how his dick filled your tight hole even without him even putting it all the way in.

Your womb had cold kisses given by the grandmaster's fat cock, making you lean on Liang's muscular thighs while he pulled your head and made your nose touch his pelvis. The voices mixed in your ears, and you just let yourself be deliciously destroyed by the three men. "You're close... Almost there... But not yet... Not until I feel you cumming around my cock again..." He pants heavily, his breath hot against your ear.

Bi Han’s eyes are almost black with lust, his hands gripping your neck tightly as he continues pounding into you, his thrusts match his younger brother's in your other hole, the two of them practically lift you off the ground while Kuai Liang hits you and enters your throat unceremoniously. "Holy fuck honey... Did you swallow me down to my throat? What a good slut." He groaned as you felt your saliva run from your mouth to your chin, wetting his balls.

Tomas only knew how to moan, and with one final thrust he came inside your tight ass, leaving a wet trail making you moan and the ice ninja who fucked your pussy came inside your uterus, breed your pussy deliciously, like a creampie. Kuai was not far behind and took his cock out of your mouth with a loud pop, cumming on your face and hitting his member on your cheek.

You collapsed against Bi Han's firm chest, while the once dominant hands turned into tender and soft touches, praising you for being so good to them, with their voices telling you to rest a little and have a happy sleep, filled with their seeds.

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 6

summary ;; This is the reality of Jake Sully: the father and Olo'eyktan of the People cannot coexist, Eywa teaches her lessons in the toughest ways. PART 5 | NEXT (wip) pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; well this took a hot minute. am back on my bs WARNING for violence and t0rture, reader discretion is advised. Please excuse my mistakes if you see any!

Jake moved on pure primitive instinct, unbridled arctic rage honing all his senses into one laser point of focus. It wasn’t survival, and it surely wasn’t prey running from predator, there was nothing noble about what he was trying to achieve. 

That avatar was going to die today, and Jake was going to make it hurt. No fair game. No warrior’s death. No respect. 

Devoid of the shape of humanity or the ties that bound him to it, he was the embodiment of a creature’s killer intent, body taking over and consciousness disappearing to the backseat as he catapulted his tomahawk at the avatar, taking advantage of the miniscule opening provided by a magazine change needed after emptying all of his bullets to a Jake luring him into wasting his resources away. 

The dull squelch of the hand-carved ax’s head plunging into flesh couldn’t be dampened by the avatar’s choked and short shout, and Jake was jumping out of cover in no time, a bull to red, advancing towards the man, footsteps not hidden out of having no concern for it at all, let him panic or try to struggle for all Jake cared. 

Opposite of what he expected, the rifle wasn’t picked up or fumbled to aim at him. The avatar, pale in the face and pupils having devoured the yellow, fear trumping the pain of his arm almost sliced off from shoulder, crawled away on his back from Jake in full speed, getting up before Jake could reach him, and started staggering into the forest, dropping the tomahawk in the process. 

Jake stopped in his tracks for a moment and picked his weapon up, the dark liquid glistening purple in the light of the Tree of Souls, droplets of blood making the moss light up as they hit the ground. His chest heaved in controlled, loud breaths, mouth pulled back in a snarl, watching the pathetic son of a bitch trying to get away. 

He was one of the lot who’d shot you, hurt you, tortured you — simply to get a reaction out of Jake. 

He was the one who pulled Jake away before he could fix his mistakes, undo the damage they had done, and get you back. 

Jake was so close. So close. 

You were there. You were right there. He could still feel you in his arms, his shoulder imprinted with your tears, shiest of smiles at a better future he could build with you from the burnt soil of your relationship. 

If it hadn’t been for him… 

That man was your murderer. 

He deserved the hell of a father’s making.

This avatar was a marine — and the fucking idiot was running into the oblivion blind worse than a normal civilian would in this situation, had all those years of training evaporated in one second? Jake’s steps were determined, yet lax following after the guy, nose picking up the trail of blood left behind, eyes watching the red splatters. This was all Hansel and Gretel for him, playing follow the breadcrumbs.

The sound of thumping, frantic running, bumping into obstacles, crashing into flora, all was distinguishable from the natural song of the forest Jake had gotten so familiar with in these fifteen years. No response came from the avatar, but Jake wasn’t hurrying. He would have him. Let the bastard tire himself out first — but he wouldn’t let him die. No. He could smell the fear, the blood, anger at bay, all ice, knowing the trees would carry all the sounds he needed to Jake. He could hear exactly where the avatar was. and If he was hoping he’d bleed himself out faster than Jake could reach him to save himself from what was going to happen, well… 

He’d better start praying for mercy to whatever deity held his worthless faith, because Jake had none of it. They had no mercy for you, his sinless, innocent child, all but wails and yelps and blood, and apologies for it. 

Every time Jake thought of you in that tremendous pain to the brink of delirium, he burned in his heart’s ice until he was black and purple all over. Your smile was so real, your embrace was tiny and warm in his arms and he had a chance, the only chance no parent could ever get in this life. Jake had dissolved together with that mirage.   

The part of him engulfed in flames wanted to end this quickly and painfully—to burn it all, break that man in, scream his lungs out, the other part of him, frozen fury that scalded over in the loss of you, wanted to draw it out, wanted to inflict never-ending pain, to bring the avatar back from the brink of death over and over again just to repeat it in a cycle. 

His child. His baby. 

The ties that held Jake together were getting pulled tight, the pressure building like deep water currents, thinner threads snapping and crackling, body being pulled to all five directions from all five limbs. Awareness went out and barged its way back in hot flashes, he couldn’t comprehend the passing of time and how long he let your murderer catch the delusion of shaking Jake off his tail — but, his instincts knew to reveal himself before the avatar could be claimed by blood loss. 

Dangling hope right in front of his face just to snatch it away wasn’t enough. It could never be enough compared to you who had dragged your own corpse back home, muted to your own pain cocooned between those who should have meant nothing but home and safety to you. Torture. You had lived torture in your last hours with help just one step, one word away. 

Nothing would ever be enough.  

Jake emerged from the thick flora like the grim reaper himself who would always be waiting right at the spot of the reaping wherever the soul ran away to, detached and unimpressed, blank face not reflecting the scorched soul inside. The almost passed out avatar jolted awake when he smelled the smoke from Jake’s shadow falling on him, and could only press his back further to the body of the cluster of big rocks he had taken shelter against as if somehow becoming one with it could shield him away from Jake’s wrath.  

The man’s breathing was getting louder and shakier the more Jake stood there motionless. “C’mon then,” he said between clenched teeth, spasming hand dropping from his mutilated shoulder, squaring up the last drops of his courage. “Get on with it.”

Jake’s whitened fingers were making noise against the handle of his tomahawk, but his voice was hauntingly hollow, unfeeling now that he had the man right in his palm. “Thought I should let you live what you did to my daughter first.”

The avatar began to scream. “Fuck you, man, we didn’t do none of this shit to that kid—”

Jake’s tone didn’t change, but it cut worse than a knife. “You killed my kid.”

His eyes widened, breath hitching, the reality of what was coming to him finally sinking in and Jake witnessed every panicked second of it. “Fuck…” His gaze wildly alternated between Jake and the tomahawk, raising his better, trembling hand up for feeble defense. “Look, look, listen, we didn’t kill her, alright? We patched her up, okay, she was going to be a prisoner, what happened happened because you engaged in battle, we wouldn’t do that to a—AGH!”

He was interrupted by Jake sharply shoving the head of the tomahawk into his injury, just putting it in there, not moving it further down. “Do you have children, marine?”

The man palmed at the weapon, fingernails digging into the wood, but no matter how much he pushed, it didn’t budge one bit. “Stop, stop! Fuck—”

Jake repeated again, firmer. “I asked you a question, do you have children?”

“No!— No, god, argh!” 

He spaced out for a while, watching him squirm and trash to get away with defeated, half-assed attempts, also unable to because of how much of an immovable object Jake was making the weapon buried in the open wound be. It would hit the bone if he used more strength. 

With a fixed, stony stare, Jake removed the tomahawk, waiting for the man’s deplorable whimpers to recede before breaking him the news like reading it off a doctor’s report. “You won’t get to have any.”

He didn’t look like he cared about something like that, but the man knew his fate insinuated by the words. Nevertheless,it didn’t mean he could be free from the survivor’s instinct’s mood swings his body was putting him through. Denial to bargaining within minutes. “Just kill me already, you deserter piece of—”

“Oh, no, no no,” Jake reassured, the only flicker of emotion he had shown since he’d cornered the avatar. “You won’t get to die for a long time, either.” 

The avatar grunted, head falling down before he started to shake it. “Please just let it end—man, just let it end, I’m sorry, okay, please!” A whole body-trembling begging shifted to anger the more Jake remained non-responsive. Watching. Just watching. The hole in his chest getting wider the more he fed this man’s suffering to it — it wasn’t enough. “Just fucking do it! Pussy ass bitch! Come on you blue motherfucker, kill me! Kill m—”

“Are you the one who shot my daughter?” 

“What?”

“Are you. The one. Who shot my daughter?”

The avatar’s face twisted. “It wasn’t me—it wasn’t—asshole, you already killed the guy, I didn’t fucking do anything!—”

“You... didn’t do anything?”

A beat. The forest fell silent in Jake’s ears. Just like how the noises you made had abruptly died down as he was putting pressure on your wound.

And like that, the thick haze that had Jake desensitized blew over, unadulterated anger rushed to his body, acidic and nauseating, soul stitching back to his limbs by a million needles and he began to shake, face contorting, teeth showing itself, the hiss that lacerated his throat was the most terrifying one of his life yet, it didn’t sound like it belonged to a sentient being, twisted by a grieving, demented animalistic horror. The avatar’s breath hitched, whatever protest and voice he had escaping deep inside his body, ears pinned back to his head. 

“Of course,” Jake glowered, swallowing the scorching stones blocking his throat. He closed his burning eyes, and was greeted by the image of you, opening them back again, and shaking the ax as if it was an accusing finger. 

And without a word of warning, his hand shot down and grabbed the avatar from the neck of his tactical vest, hurling him over the chest-level array of big rocks forming a pointy bed above, ignoring the cries of pain as the abused, torn open flesh of the wound dragged through the sharp teeth of the gravel, dousing them in blood. “Please, please, stop!—I’m sorry, I was wrong, that wasn’t right, shit, shit!”

Jake snatched the man’s dominant arm that was coincidentally the same one dangling by fractured bone and tendons from the shoulder. His soul had known what he wanted right from the start before his brain had processed it. “This hand,” he spat, holding it from the wrist, gnashing his teeth. “that pulled the trigger at me…” 

Murdered his daughter for a second time. 

All a soldier’s worth for. One hand to hold the stock tight against the body and one to fire. All that to take a single life.

Leaning the hand down against the rock in a sudden move, Jake slammed on the blunt, pointy end of the tomahawk on it like he was hammering a nail, the sickening crack of the bones breaking got followed by the avatar’s fractured scream. 

Jake saw you hunched, cheekily laughing in the blue and purple of the creek, freckles glowing because of the eclipse, silhouette illuminated by the floating bioluminescent bugs.  

Spinning the tomahawk in his clammy hand in a full 360 turn, he smashed it down once more, stronger. The metal broke skin and sank into spongy muscle. His ears were buzzing, ringing from how the shrill yells. 

Jake was hugging you after what seemed to be years, and your little arms were clinging to him for life — you were sand slipping from his fingers. 

Jake hammered again. 

You were telling him how mean he was to you, your voice suppressing the avatar’s. 

He brought it down one more time and felt the tomahawk recoil from hitting rock. 

You were bashful as you repeated how Jake would always love you. 

Guttural breaths getting louder with effort each hit, he kept slamming it down until everything was his beautiful little sweet girl. 

Again. 

Again. 

Again. 

Again and again and again and again and again until there was no resistance from the limb anymore and the man had gone silent and it was all mashed meat he was pounding— 

And then he almost plunged it to your bleeding, battered corpse, your stomach covered in reddish brown from the dried brown, body ashen blue, and Jake cried out in terror, jumping back and losing strength in his legs as the tomahawk flew from his hand and he fell over. 

His lungs constricted, refusing to take any breaths in and his heart ricocheted around in his ribcage, he was gaping at the wall of rock now washed red as if it was some white rose painted red in Alice in Wonderland. 

Jake sat there for the longest time, dissociated.

In those moments, he wasn’t Toruk Makto, he wasn’t Olo’eyktan, he wasn’t the pillar of a family of seven. He was simply Jake Sully. 

However, he wasn’t allowed to be stripped down to the bone until all that’s left was a mourning father. That was Jake’s reality. 

He had to cast the crippled man aside, the tragedy of his child away, and bring the leader of the People out right as your ghost rippled in his vision, watching spitefully within the forest — because all you wanted was for him to be your father, and he couldn’t even fucking do that after your death. 

This avatar was a valuable asset, a hostage to question. For the sake of his people. 

He wasn’t allowed revenge. 

A single drop of tear rolled down expressionless face. When he looked down, Jake’s hands were still stained with your blood. 

The only instance a child should be covered in blood is when they come out of their mother’s womb, little lungs being burned with existence for the first time, crying from the pain of being separated from Eywa’s arms, birth mother a complete stranger to them. 

The gore of you barely clinging to life, unmoving, drenched in your own blood, wiped and wiped to the point Neytiri had to change buckets of water until it turned light pink was overlapping with the joyful image of your newborn self she had lovingly and gently cleaned of the remains of labor with wetted mothsilk, skin too sensitive for water for the moment, the blue coming alive as the blood and other clotted bodily fluids were cleansed. 

It wasn’t the broken, ice-cold, lithe body of a young girl Neytiri had cleaned in the torment of her excoriated, unraveling mind, it was her baby’s. Her baby, her poor baby with a gaping hole in the middle of your body, memories marauding Neytiri’s lucidity. 

She lived the moment of your first cleansing over and over again. 

You were a particularly indomitable cryer, Neytiri had known you would be infamous for your battle cries right as she was brought back from the blackout of post-birth by your overly-healthy wailing — or perhaps you would best Ninat as a singer when you’d unapologetically blossom, but one thing was ascertained: her first daughter was a fierce, fiery blue ball of ardor compared to Neteyam, who was almost shy and reluctant in disturbing people around him in his weeping that a collective worry for his health had plagued the whole clan. 

As you squirmed, smeared in chunks of her flesh and blood, as if you wanted to jump off from her arms and start walking already, Neytiri had smiled up at her Jake, your father, unable to take his eyes off you, stuck between awe and laughs that came and went. “She has your heart,” she’d told him, spent and hurting, but wonderfully alive. “Strong.”

He’d traced his thumb through her drenched hairline. “Lungs, you mean?” His scent, wind and hearthfire, had enveloped Neytiri when Jake had leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I think they’re yours.” The teasing about how you had made Neytiri scream in labor wouldn’t have gone unpunished if she wasn’t on the edge of sleep held up only by your crying, so, he’d gotten a light hit on the side of his face instead. But Jake knew how to apologize, he’d always been spectacular at it. “I’d say she takes after me in appearance, look at her little ugly face.”

To Neytiri, you were beautiful, face dark purple from how strong you were screaming, and a mini-village elder with the wrinkles, swinging those little fists — things that made you lovely in her eyes. Her first daughter. 

She had learned motherhood from Neteyam, but she would learn to understand her mother and her choices through you, someone she thought couldn’t be more different from her — Neytiri, all Mo’at could have been, and Mo’at, all Neytiri might have become, once. She prayed you would love her as much as she’d begun to love you the second you were in her arms. 

To think the enormity of her love hadn’t reached you — it was one of the greatest failures of Neytiri’s life. If it had, you’d be wounded, but perfectly conscious and well in her mother’s tent. If it had, you would have been beyond comfortable telling those demons had hurt you. 

In that all-consuming devastation, the woven towel she was using to wipe the thin sheet of sweat that formed on your body slipped from her uncoordinated hands and fell on your chest, and Neytiri had to hold back the breath that spiked to become a hiccup by covering her mouth, and immediately, her curled hand was engulfed in a smaller, five-fingered one. She came eye-to-eye with Kiri after raising her head, putting her other hand on hers at the girl’s more disheveled and messy self, heart dropping to her stomach at the fatigue varnishing an extra layer of moisture in her daughter’s drooping eyes. 

“Oh Kiri,” Neytiri mumbled, caressing her cheek and brushing the tangled hair away from her face. 

“Why don’t you go get some rest, mom, hm?” 

“Even if I somehow agreed to that, I could never agree to leaving my daughter alone in this.”

“I’m fine.” Stopping to take a breath, she sighed, collecting the towel and starting to fold it. “Well, not really fine, but don't worry about me. We’re all miserable here. And that’s natural.” Fiddling with the corners of the cloth, she leaned in a bit and lowered her voice, light reflecting from the yellow of her irises making it look like they shone from within. “I… I know she’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. Eywa has bestowed us a gift she has never given to anyone before and it’s for a reason. I feel that everything will be set right.” She shook her head up and down, determined. “Dad will do it. I know he will.”

Neytiri trusted Kiri with her intuition and understanding when it came to the inscrutable intentions of Eywa, she was closer to the Great Mother than any Tsahik was — so close that she would drift away too much from her family. And deep down, Neytiri was heartsick by this invisible line that separated her from her daughter, any parent in her place would be unsettled like this.

She was also hog-tied to close the distance growing between them because of the human boy Spider and how she would find camaraderie in him in their ‘orphan’ status as she called it. Kiri was already faraway in her obscure existence and unwittingly separated herself as if she didn’t see herself as a real part of the family some days, and Neytiri hated that the ‘kinship’ she’d formed with Spider was planting these ideas into her head when she was her and Jake’s daughter, no more, no less. To overwrite those feelings, she tried so hard to reach Kiri, but was unsettled by the feeling of being hated sometimes, again, more or less for her stance in placing Spider at the outskirts of their family. 

But oftentimes Kiri would express her affection through small, otherwise unnoticeable actions, just like this one, a caring touch and reassurance that could melt an ice cube — and Neytiri basked in the babiest of steps between them. And maybe this was how Jake had it with you, too, she had never thought about it like this before. 

Taking in Neytiri’s solemn silence, Kiri grumbled, suddenly agitated about something. “I just… I just wish I had isirka resin and xhikul seeds for this paste and cover her wound with it. Grandmother’s extract isn’t enough to stimulate the bone marrow and ugh—” The girl groaned with the obvious guilt at groaning in the first place, as well. “I’m sorry, mom, I don’t know what—”

“It’s alright, Kiri,” Neytiri said, weariness blending with tenderness, knowing you’d agree too. You would have probably told her to not waste her energy and wait around when there wasn’t anything left to do anyway. “Maybe it’s you who needs some rest. You’ve worked hard. Harder than any of us. You do need rest, too.”

Kiri was quick to refuse. “I’m trying something new, I can’t go anywhere.”

“I’m sure one of your brothers—”

Her earpiece buzzed alive. “Neytiri, do you read me?”

The unexpected timing of it caught her off guard, her hand flying up to the device, drums of alarm going off in her head by the croaky, despondent note to his voice. The impact of their previous argument evaporated from existence just by hearing his distress. “Jake?” She focused on you, not observing any difference, and frowned in worry, her pulse picking up pace as Kiri also locked her attention to her the moment she heard her father was on the line. “What happened?”

“I have here one of Quaritch’s dreamwalkers—whatever they are.” Neytiri’s mouth opened and closed at the reveal, forehead creasing. “Alive. Somehow survived to get to the Tree of Souls.”

Her hand instinctively descended to touch your cool and clammy arm closest to her. “Tree of Souls…? But you were—”

“Yeah. Yeah, he… I couldn’t. I couldn’t…” 

She stared at your face, all thoughts draining from her mind. “What are you saying, Jake?”

Silence.

“Jake,” Neytiri implored, her voice snuffed out towards the end. She tried again. “Jake, I don’t understand. What does this mean..?”

“Son of a bitch pulled me out before I could… before I could finish talking to her.” Kiri reached for her when she let out an incoherent, disbelieving voice, getting more panicked as Neytiri clawed at her tightening chest with his next words. “I failed, Neytiri. I couldn’t… She…” 

Neytiri was physically helpless to respond, and Kiri couldn’t hold back from inquiring seeing the state she was in. “Mom? Mom! What’s wrong?”

“This man, if it wasn’t for this man, I had it.” Jake kept talking at an increasing speed the longer Neytiri didn’t say anything. “I had her right in my arms, making future plans, smiling, everything was perfect, and then he—” His breath quivered. “He fucking—” And he stopped the sentence abruptly to get some semblance of control back because Eywa knew Neytiri was losing it ever so slowly. “I need you here with me right now, please. Please, I…” 

Neytiri refused to acknowledge what Jake couldn’t say out loud. You were still breathing, she felt your chest rise and fall even if the pattern was weak. You had life left in you. Jake saying he failed made no sense to her, she didn’t believe it. 

“Neytiri, I need to question this… this filth, need to learn all I can about what’s going on, but I can’t do it on my own. I’ll kill him. In a heartbeat. I want to squeeze the life out of him with my hands right this moment and I— I can’t… We have to know how they could have gotten this far, what they’re planning—and now right to the Tree of Souls too, and…” The rambling that got chaotic and disconnected faded off eventually, as if he’d lost his voice. “Shit.”

And throughout all that, Neytiri had gone from confused, in denial, at the threshold of grief but not nearly in there anchored by your pulse, and lusting for blood within minutes. Kiri was taken aback by the anger radiating from her. “Bring him here!”

“I can’t. He could have a tracker on him—they could have put it in his body. I can’t risk that.”

Neytiri stood up with only one thing in her mind, and it didn’t match Jake’s. “Where are you?”

“You gotta let me pass, buddy, come on! You wanna take my head off or something? Why are you being like this!” 

Hands up and quick on his feet, Lo’ak was trying to negotiate. 

With an ikran of all things. Not even his.

Yours. 

Mom storming out like a wronged, vengeful spirit had been the perfect chance for him to do a quick supply run sneak off, but your overgrown big bird with the exact same attitude as you was getting in his way and blocking Lo’ak off by snapping its jaw at his head and opening its sunset fire tinged wings every time he attempted to cross over to his own ikran. They were basically at a standstill and he had no idea why. 

Lo’ak just wanted to help. Help you. 

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Shit. 

Neteyam. Making his way to him with such speed that got his braids swinging and of course he’d sniffed Lo’ak out like a nantang. Followed the odd silence, probably. Eywa, he should have thought this out better. 

“Skxawng, do you not remember what dad said?”

“I do,” Lo’ak hummed and hawed, and that was the problem. He’d never felt this guilty about disobeying dad’s orders before, it was making him squirm. “But look, Kiri said she needed isirka resin and xhikul seeds or whatever to treat her, I’m going—”

Neteyam’s jaw had flexed when he said whatever, but there was no visible agitation after he gave a sharp breath through his nose.  “So let’s call mother or—”

“They’re busy with some sky person dad caught—”

“I know. The same ones who did this to our sister. I know, Lo’ak.” Neteyam aggressively gestured to the exit of the cave system, shaking his arm while speaking. “What do you think will happen if you go off on your own and land yourself in bigger trouble than she did? Huh?”

Lo’ak threw resentful looks at your ikran. “I can’t stay put like this. I have to do something.”

“This again? There is nothing we can do.” He hadn’t said that in his normal drilling of dad’s orders — Neteyam had the same pain of acceptance that were Lo’ak’s bruises etched onto his face.

And that made Lo’ak want to throw up all over the place. He’d experienced countless sicknesses his siblings had fallen to over the years, none of those were as fatal as this and he didn’t know what the fuck to do. What was he supposed to do when his sister was dying? What did one do when a family member was in this situation anyway? Nothing seemed right to him. 

And something was finally, finally within his power — and Lo’ak would of course rise up to the challenge without hesitation. He wasn’t just going to sit down and let that possibility of your salvation slip by. “But there is. Kiri said—”

“Lo’ak if you leave right now and somehow get caught dad will never trust you again. He was the most open he’s ever been, don’t betray him like that.” 

He was getting annoyed that Neteyam was ignoring the whole point, though it wasn’t as if Lo’ak didn’t know. He was fully aware, and that’s why this was supposed to be a secret. Dad couldn’t be hurt by what he didn’t know now, could he? Not only were you getting Kiri’s remedy, which he was sure as his name was Lo’ak that would end up most effective, but he also wasn’t breaking his promise to dad when the tiniest thread of trust in his son was knotted by the man just recently.  

Neteyam grabbed him by the top of his head in a brotherly manner but his hold was of steel, the boy tried to grumpily push him off but he didn’t budge, staring right into his soul. “Use what’s in this for once and just tell dad or mother, they’re down in the forest already anyway.” When he let go, Lo’ak stumbled back, rubbing the sting off, and the semi-playful older brother was back. “And one of them will actually know what to look for.”

His immediate response was refusal. “I know what I’m looking for—”

“What does isirka look like?”

The sounds your ikran was making was eerily close to laughter and Lo’ak felt heat rush up to the tips of his ears. “It’s a tree.”

Neteyam didn’t have brow hair like Lo’ak did, but the way he raised the lines was always more expressive than how he did it. “Xhikul, then?”

“Flower, skxawng.”

“Wrong.” Lo’ak’s tail started beating the air at the condescending tone. “Kiri is talking about the fruit. Xhika is its flower.”

He rolled his eyes, turning away. “Whatever—”

“Is it whatever?” Neteyam grabbed Lo’ak by the shoulder and spun him around so rough that he got dizzy. “Are you calling my sister’s life whatever?”

Lo’ak was going to explode from how wrong this was going and how insistent Neteyam was to twist his words. “That’s not what I meant bro!” 

“You are so careless.” Neteyam’s tail had shot up ramrod straight, the little bush of hair at the end of it all puffed up, ears perking in all directions. He wasn’t necessarily yelling but was tense all over, something he did whenever they were playing back in the day and he was about to pounce after staying still enough to implant a false seed of safety. “You don’t even think about what can happen if you were to bring a completely different ingredient! You don’t think!”

“Sorry that I’m trying to help! What are you doing?”

“Keeping us safe. Keeping you safe.” He pressed his lips together on a thin line, but couldn’t hold back whatever was bubbling inside. “I’m not losing another sibling, Lo’ak!”

Only a small gasp escaped Lo’ak when he opened his mouth in retaliation. He couldn’t have found his voice even if he found something to say to that rawness in return, anyway. 

The gut-churning guilt doubled. 

“Hey… I—”

“Go,” Neteyam whispered, tilting his head together with the lone word. “Since you’re dying to help, help Kiri. She’s exhausted. I don’t think grandmother will refuse.”

“What about you?” And there he goes again. Wrong words. Neteyam was looking more closed-off than before. “I’m not accusing or anything—”

“I can’t go in there.”

“What?”

“I can’t,” Neteyam took a deep breath and loudly let it go, tail deflating, the arch of it depressing as hell for some reason. “I can’t look at her.”

Neteyam just gave a forlorn smile in return to Lo’ak’s heavily concerned looks demanding he continue but not knowing how to word it, his back looked weirdly lonely as he was tending to your significantly calmer ikran to join back the horde. 

Buried in negative thoughts all the way back and ignoring the pitiful looks from the rest of the clan, he met Kiri outside of the healing tent talking to Spider, and he could see Tuk’s back covering the view to you in his peripheral.

They were whispering about something and it was obvious even from a distance where they were nothing but stick figures. At least try to look less suspicious, Lo’ak thought. 

The only part he caught from the conversation was Spider saying, “Just describe them to me,” — Kiri was really leaning in towards him. 

“What’s going on?” 

The two looked like they were caught in the middle of scheming, and it clicked almost immediately. 

If Lo’ak had thought of going off on his own, so had they. 

“You aren’t going anywhere, bro,” he said, draping his arm across the human boy’s shoulders. “Neteyam’s literally patrolling.”

“You have to be kidding me,” Spider groaned, visibly disappointed. It warmed Lo’ak’s heart to see he was totally down for sneaking off the camp for you. “You said your dad told him to rest.”

“Yeah, he did. Except Neteyam never rests. He has a dancing glow worm up his ass.”

The conversation couldn’t continue because Kiri did a double take at something. 

“Tuk!” Kiri took a few steps aside, squinting as if she didn’t think she was seeing it right. Then her expression burst into panic, her hands flying forward as she ran to the tent, Spider and Lo’ak could only stare, baffled. “Tuk, oh Eywa, what are you doing!—” 

“I’m giving her water, she’s thirsty.”

“What?”

He actually rushed to the entrance of the tent, nearly falling headfirst in, having stumbled on some rock. Your mouth was actually open. And Tuk was really trying to get you to drink from the bowl she was holding against your mouth.

You choked at one point, still unconscious, but it was a sign of life. Lo’ak didn’t know if the shocked screech came from him or Kiri.  

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[mamawasatesttube]

someone sent me an ask about timkon love square au stuff and i, dingus that i am, accidentally deleted it instead of answering 😭 i forgot who sent it BUT hopefully they will see this post. because yes! i think it's very fun if they manage to get into a true ridiculous love square situation between themselves and their hero identities. i have created a chart to illustrate:

the thing that fascinates me about kon and secret identities is that while tim is great at compartmentalizing and separating "tim drake" from "robin" or "red robin" (to a frankly kind of concerning degree? tim are you fucking good?), kon is... not. conner kent comes later, after kon-el. he's a hero first, and only starts to learn how to be a regular person after that. this is in direct contrast to tim, who is by all counts a mostly normal kid before he becomes robin, and has to learn to be a hero.

for kon, secret identities are therefore tied directly to trust. he doesn't have a secret to protect for a long time! and when he finds out that superman does have a secret identity, it kinda blows him away. he's shocked that superman isn't just superman all the time. before he even learns that, he expresses that it's nice in smallville, that it must be nice to have a place to "fall off the map" (superman '87 #155). when he does learn superman's identity, he's upset that superman never told him, not because he feels like he's entitled to that information but because he feels like he's failed to be someone superman would trust with it (superboy '84 #70). to me, that feeling is the crux of why he's so upset about tim not sharing his identity in yj98: everyone else in the group has deemed him worthy, like cissie and cassie and bart. so what has he done to tim, that tim won't tell him or any of them? (and like, he's 15-16, he's not grasping the whole picture, sure. but it's not just coming from a place of entitlement, is my point. it's about trust and feeling unvalued.)

BUT in an au where the supers are more closed off from the rest of the world or something, where literally anyone but karl kesel got to control kon's narrative, kon would have a secret identity earlier on, because he'd end up at the kents' way sooner, etc. so suddenly he has to grapple with a whole new set of feelings: that superman has trusted him with his biggest secret, and brought him into the family as part of it, and he can't let superman down. so he has to learn to make those distinctions, to accept that people can trust him and he can trust them and that's why they don't share their identities with each other until circumstances dictate it's actually a good time.

so. let's say tim somehow ends up in smallville for a bit, has absolutely NO idea that the superfam even have secret identities, and kon's going aaaa!!! aaaaaa!!! why is red robin here!!!! ma whatever you do DON'T look at him!!!! and meanwhile tim's going oh god i think i'm bisexual but i didn't know that that means i might like TWO boys?!?!? oh god. oh fuck. (he may be stupid.)

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 1 of the Blood Ties Series.

When Your Line is Crossed, I Get Off

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: The Quarry

Warnings: Poorly written smut (p in v), slight mention of injuries

Summary: Sometimes, you just need to let off some steam and you have your very own ill-tempered, complicated redneck to help with that goal.

A/N: Help, I’m stuck on Quarry/CDC/Farm Daryl and he’s got me in a chokehold. I like it.

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

*gif is not mine

It should have made you feel ashamed; guilty, even. You were putting your family at risk. You had been for weeks. The Turn had brought out the worst in humanity. Rapists, murderers, plunderers. You had heard at least one story of each every single run into the city you made. 

You despised the city, even before the world went to shit. You had grown up in the woods. Being from a small no-name town meant sometimes it was necessary to find your own food. You helped your dad with a small garden, helped him hunt. You took over doing both when the car accident took his leg. Your mom had split when you were a toddler, so your dad was everything. You made sure he knew that by stepping up when the time came for you to care for him. 

You had made sure everything he needed was packed before grabbing anything of your own. The two of you had left to meet up with your aunt and two uncles in the mountains. The further from strangers you were, the better. Family came first. 

That’s why the tree bark scraping your back while eight inches of redneck from a nearby camp slammed into your pussy should have made you feel all sorts of bad. 

Daryl was everything your father had told you to stay away from, but when you stumbled across one another while tracking the same deer, you felt drawn to him in a way that was unfamiliar. He had slung several insults at you that you had boomeranged with some clever ones of your own. You had relented that day, retreating toward your own camp with a watchful eye over your shoulder to ensure you weren’t followed. 

You met him twice more after that. He never seemed to hunt in the same area, which made sense. It also meant that you were bound to run into one another again. It was the second meeting when it changed. He was more tense and you could sense something was different. Even after only a couple of chance encounters, you didn’t feel threatened. So, you did what any girl in your situation would do. 

You offered him a blow job. 

Given your current position, he had obviously accepted. The two of you met up regularly now to “destress.” You never really found time for conversation but you knew two things for certain: 

Daryl Dixon was an excellent hunter. 

Daryl Dixon knew how to fuck.  

“Right there! Fuck, harder!” You clawed at his shoulders, angling your knees outward while your ankles remained locked against his ass. The angle pulled him deeper, his tip pressing even harder against that delicious spot inside you. 

As per usual, you were utterly bare. Daryl had an obsession with being able to touch every inch of your skin. Licking, biting, kissing with an eagerness that made you feel worshiped. He would leave marks that— like your abused cunt— pleasantly ached for a couple of days, only leaving you yearning for the next encounter. 

Daryl, on the other hand, remained clothed. You had never seen more than his cock and a patch of his lower stomach. It was odd and he had snapped at you to stop being a nosey bitch when you had questioned. If it hadn’t been for the shame you could see in those striking blue eyes, things might have gone much differently. You had yet to bring it up again. 

“Takin’ me so well. Can’t get enough’a this, can ya?” He panted against the shell of your ear, dragging his tongue over to your jaw before claiming your mouth. He was swallowing your moans, knowing how loud you could be, especially when you were nearing your end. 

“You feel so good—mmm, ah—inside me.” His grip on your ass tightened, his thrusts becoming harder, more desperate. 

“Yeah? That’s cause this pussy’s mine, ain’t it? Made just for me to fuck.” You could feel the heat churning in your lower belly, your walls fluttering around him as your orgasm crept closer. His words only made you burn hotter. “Say it. Tell me s’mine.”

“It’s yours, Daryl, it’s yours.” You whined, grinding your hips in time with his thrusts, desperate to feel that spiraling pleasure. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it then, woman. Cum for me.” Daryl breathed, already feeling you begin to clamp down around him. He knew from experience to place a palm over your mouth, your screams loud enough to scare the birds from their perches in the canopy. You cried out against his hand, clawing at his back before settling for gathering fistfuls of his tank top as you spasmed and shook in his hold. “Ah, fuck!” 

He followed you over the edge, his warmth emptying into you with each lazy pump of his hips. You both gasped, the feeling too overwhelming for either of you to fully grasp in the midst of the pleasure consuming you. Your walls continued to contract, milking every drop and pulling it further inside of you as the world went from a kaleidoscope of colors back to the quiet greens and browns of nature. 

The redneck was always surprisingly gentle when separating from you. He pressed one last kiss to your mouth, chaste and uncoordinated, as he pulled out and lowered your legs. It was almost intimate. Not something either of you had ever verbalized wanting, but it comforted you. It made you feel less guilty, less dirty, so you never corrected him. 

However, a line was crossed that needed confronting. 

You watched him tuck himself away, already inspecting the area for tracks, while you redressed. You had slipped on your jeans and panties, fastening your bra before you decided he wasn’t going to speak on it first. 

“You came inside me, Dixon.” He gave you a sharp look. He knew exactly what he had done, whether it was intentional or not. 

“Yeah, so?” He shrugged a shoulder and began gathering his weapons and supplies. You weren’t stupid. It had clearly been an accident, but Daryl wasn’t the kind of man to apologize easily. 

“I’m not sure if your parents ever had the talk with you, but what just happened more often than not leads to the creation of these things known as babies.”

“Ain’t stupid, Y/N. I know what it means.” He snapped, his body angled toward you but his gaze off toward the direction of his camp. 

“And if that happens?”

“Won’t.”

“Humor me.” You deadpanned, your own bag now snug against your shoulder and your rifle balanced on your hip. He began to gnaw on the side of his thumb, something he did when he was uncomfortable, you had noticed. 

“We’ll handle it.”

“We?” You smirked, earning a quick lift of his middle finger. 

“Didn’t stutter, did I, Sunshine?”

“Holy shit. You breed me like a rabbit and then give me a nickname? You got a ring in your pocket for me?”

“Fuck off.”

“Three days, midday.” You were nervous, but there was nothing you could do about it now. Daryl was acting like he wasn’t feeling it but his body language screamed otherwise. Maybe he wouldn’t even show up next time. Something about that thought made your heart a little heavier but you wouldn’t linger on that. 

“Alright.” He drawled, taking the first couple of steps away from you. It seemed he had something else he wanted to say, but in the end, he chose to keep walking. 

“Dixon.” You called after him, smiling when he looked back over his shoulder. “Bring condoms.” You were pretty sure that jerk of his head was a nod before he disappeared into the trees. You turned back toward your own camp, grabbing your string of rabbits. 

Your thoughts were consumed by Daryl the entire way back, wondering if you’d ever see him again after that day. Little did you know that he forewent returning to his own camp, making a single run to the outskirts of Atlanta to grab every box of rubbers he could get his hands on. 

Chapter 2