#luis in name and body

[savage-rhi]

Duality

Chapter 14: The Ritual

Summary: Sawyer Kiddo has walked a razor's edge as a hacktivist for several years, driven by the loss of her family in the Raccoon City incident. Haunted by past choices and fueled with desire for vigilante justice, Sawyer's work takes an unexpected turn when she ventures to Spain and crosses paths with Luis Serra—a man with blood on his hands long thought to be dead. Together they unravel a web of corruption and face an impending bioterror threat, fighting not only monsters but also the darker elements of their humanity. As they delve deeper into each other's pasts and the conspiracy at large, Sawyer begins to sense something unsettling about Luis—something that might be even more dangerous than their mutual enemies.

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"How's your arm holding up?" Two Legs asked, glancing over his shoulder as he stirred a skillet of vegetables sizzling in olive oil. The rich, savory aroma filled the kitchen as he flipped the pieces with a spatula. He tried to focus on the food, but the faint rustling behind him—Sawyer moving around—kept his nerves on edge.

Even though she hadn't shown any signs of hostility, he couldn't suppress his instincts. Turning his back on her made him feel exposed, as if her gaze might pierce through his shirt and spot the breathing hole hidden in Luis's back. The thought was absurd, but it stuck to him.

"It's holding up like I got shot," Sawyer replied with a crooked smile, cutting her remark short with a pained yelp as she tried—and failed—to roll her shoulders.

"I heard that!" Two Legs turned immediately; he frowned as his gaze locked on her injured arm. He stepped closer to the right, his movements fluid but tense as if ready to catch her if she fell. "You're going to tear apart my stitch work if you keep pushing it."

Sawyer winced, murmuring an apology before flashing him a mischievous grin. "Told you earlier on the way back—I don't know when to quit."

"And then some," Two Legs chuckled, echoing one of her favorite phrases with a playful edge. He turned back to the skillet, but his gaze kept drifting back to her. A gentler warmth settled over his face as his thoughts wandered to their earlier conversation during the walk back to his home, a lingering giddiness bubbling up from learning Sawyer's favorite color was purple.

Two Legs was so caught up in his head, thinking of her smile that contrasted with the glimmer in her sorrowful eyes when they spotted a patch of lavender in the fields, that he leaned into one of Luis's old flirtations without thinking.

"I like that in women, by the way. Stubbornness."

"Oh yeah?" Sawyer's brow arched, surprise lighting up her face. "I always assumed that was a flaw."

"Maybe it is in the States, " he replied with a grin, flipping a piece of bell pepper with his spatula. "But you saw Ida earlier. Stubborn to a fault, and somehow she made it past sixty."

"I'm 29 and way past my expiration date."

"At least you're not milk!"

Sawyer snorted. "It's leeche , right?"

"Pardon?"

" Leeche is Spanish for milk?"

"You're close. It's pronounced leh-chey, not like leech . " He began to chuckle, the sound rippling up as Sawyer raised a brow, eyeing him.

"What's so funny? "  

"Now I'm picturing a leech having the time of its life swimming in milk, getting a taste, and swearing off blood. 

Sawyer shook her head, suppressing a laugh. "You've got one active imagination for a guy, Luis."

"I gotta give credit where it's due—you're the muse here."

Their laughter mingled, easy and unguarded, filling the space between them.

"No, but really, " Two Legs said, shaking his head and clearing his throat as their laughter faded. "I like stubborn women because they're bold, y'know? "

"I'll alert the media, " Sawyer quipped. 

"The media? " Two Legs tilted his head, his expression genuinely puzzled. "Why would they care about my taste in ladies?"

"I was trying to be funny, " Sawyer said, smirk shifting into a bashful smile. "Guess I missed the mark—but don't beat your head over it."

Two Legs chuckled, his grin quick and lively as he turned from the stove to look at her. "Wouldn't be the first time my head got knocked around."

Sawyer became acutely aware of how intently she was watching him then. The kitchen island between them felt irrelevant—the weight of his gaze made it seem like he was standing right before her. The faint orange around his pupils glowed like polished amber amidst a pool of water, drawing her in despite herself. She wondered which parent had given him that intense yet gentle stare, not recalling ever meeting someone with traits like his.

A faint chill tugged her arms, pulling Sawyer back to the present. She quickly shifted her gaze past him toward the stove, breaking whatever spell had taken hold.

"Luis, " she said, clearing her throat.

"Yeah?"

"Your food is burning."

"Shit! " His startled reaction was priceless, and Sawyer stifled a laugh as he scrambled back to the skillet.

She let her gaze wander across the kitchen's open, airy design—high ceilings, spacious counters, and warm light spilling in from the windows. It reminded her of the ranch houses VITA used for conferences in California. That time felt distant as she inhaled slowly, trying to remain present.

"You sure you don't want something to eat? " Two Legs interrupted. "Paella is good for the soul around here. "  

"I'm positive. I don't think I could stomach anything right now. "  

"Not a fan of saffron and spices? "  

Sawyer smirked. "I may be a white American, but I appreciate flavors. "  

He chuckled his back still to her. "After everything we've been through, I never doubted that."

Sawyer let her fingers drift over the cool marble countertop before finally settling into one of the kitchen island's stools. Her ears tuned into the sizzle of vegetables, the oil snapping and hissing under Luis's spatula. She looked at a blue bowl of pre-cooked rice waiting nearby, which he scooped up and stirred into the fragrant skillet.

"Remind me, " she said, breaking the quiet. "You said we're in the Costa Brava region, right?"

"Yep! " Two Legs glanced over his shoulder, flashing a grin that seemed too deliberate like he was trying to lift the mood. “San Viento del Mar, to be precise. Quiet area, lots of sun, the town's close enough, and no annoying neighbor s…e xcept for Ida. " His smile turned slightly lopsided. "Pretty perfect for laying low, wouldn't you say?"

Sawyer nodded absently, her brow furrowing as curiosity—or maybe disbelief—started to bite at her. "So… how'd you score a place like this?"

" How did a scoundrel like me end up here, you mean? " Two Legs quipped, a trace of mischief in his eyes. But his smile faltered at the seriousness in her gaze. Turning to the stove, he stirred the pan and lowered the heat. "Ah…well, I guess I lucked out."

" You guess? " Her head tilted slightly, her eyes steady on him.

Two Legs hesitated, the faint ticking of the stove filling the pause as he sifted through Luis's memories, double-checking each detail. "This place—it belonged to my…I guess you'd call them foster family. Arlo and Ramona Jacinto. They were old but decent people."

" Were ?"

A faint hum escaped him as he nodded. "They passed. Ramona, around the time I started college. Arlo, the year after."

"I'm sorry, " Sawyer said softly.

"No need to be. I like to think they're reunited somewhere else, y'know? " Two Legs offered a strained smile, trying to soften the moment despite the chill running down his spine. The thought of "The Other Place " lingered, looming in his mind. 

"So you're not from here, then?"

" No, " Two Legs replied, his voice quieter now, as if the words might cost him something. "I grew up in a village with my Abuelo—Valdelobos, it was called. Out in the country. We didn't have much, just the basics. I left when I was about nin e…m aybe ten? Can't remember exactly."

" What made you leave so young?"

Two Legs stirred the rice, his movements slowing as if an unseen weight pressed down on him.

"I lost my heart, " he said softly. "My Abuelo…he—he didn't make it."

Sawyer swallowed. He didn't need to elaborate for her to get the gist. The way his voice wavered, as though brushing too close to a wound that hadn't fully healed, made her second-guess offering an apology or condolence. Neither felt like enough.

"Don't worry about it," Two Legs said quickly. He forced a grin, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's all in the past. Arlo and Ramona helped me when I wandered here. They gave me a fresh start and even paid for my studies. I think I turned out alright for the most part."

Sawyer was quiet, letting this new piece of his story settle over her. She could sense there was still so much left unspoken, stuff she'd have to reanalyze later since she was still in recovery, both in body and spirit.

"What about you? " Two Legs asked, his voice tentative. "Where's home for you?"

"I don't have one, " she admitted after a beat. "I was renting in California for a bit before I came here, though. "  

"But you did at some point, didn't you? "  

" Well, I grew up in Raccoon City, out in the suburbs with my parents. " Sawyer exhaled, her guard slipping just enough to let a sliver of the past through. "My aunt, uncle, and cousin lived a few blocks down. We didn't have the classic white picket fence life or anything, bu t…l ooking back, it wasn't all bad. Even though we were broke and couldn't make ends meet half the time."

"Kind of like me, huh?"

A small, wistful smile found its way to Sawyer's lips. "Yeah. Kinda like you."

The kitchen went quiet, save for the occasional clinking of the spatula against the pan. Sawyer became lost in thought as her eyes dropped to her hands. She was absently tracing a crack in the countertop before her attention went to Luis. Something about the quiet pull beneath his humor and charm left her wondering what he wasn't saying. Of all the invisible elephants in the room, one seemed to loom larger now, demanding to be addressed.

"How'd you end up working for Umbrella?"

Two Legs arched a brow, his stirring slowing down. 

"You sure know how to go for the throat, " he teased lightly, though the humor didn't fully mask the shift in his tone. His hand hovered over the pan as his smile faded, replaced by a distant look. After a second, he sighed. "Arlo—my foster dad—was a retired Umbrella executive. Worked for their European branch back in the day."

" Huh. " Sawyer frowned, a dry scoff slipping out. "So much for the wholesome grandpa I pictured."

" He was a lot of things, " Two Legs replied evenly, his voice soft but persistent. "But not a bad man. Maybe a little…misguided, but not what you're imagining. He didn't work with monsters like I did."

The conviction in his tone caught her off guard. Sawyer watched as his gaze grew unfocused. Luis's past seemed to linger in his expression, provoking something protective.

He blinked and exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing. "Lo siento. I didn't mean to get tense."

"It's fine, " Sawyer murmured, her frown deepening as she searched for the right words. "I mean, I'd be pissed if you spoke ill of my dad. I get it."

" Hmm. " Two Legs nodded, his focus shifting to the food as he adjusted the temperature, the spatula moving in planned strokes.

"So, " Sawyer pressed gently, her curiosity lingering. "Arlo was your key into Umbrella?"

" Yep! " His response was quick, accompanied by a breath to ease the tension. "Arlo had connections all over the company—old colleagues who owed him favors. When I was at university, he talked me up to the execs. My ideas and passion projects. By the time I graduated, I was basically the pick of the litter."

" What kind of pull did he have at Umbrella to swing that kind of favor?"

" Being good at math and being imaginative, " Two Legs quipped, a short laugh escaping as he glanced over his shoulder. Catching the faint, knowing frown on Sawyer's face, he grinned, undeterred by the skepticism. "He led Umbrella Europe's financial department—secured major funding for projects, the kind that shaped the company's direction. Before Arlo retired, his mantra was 'brains over brawn.' He pushed for smarter, more efficient BOWs. Meanwhile, the American branch?" He snorted. "They were all about brute strength."

His chuckle at the end was light, but there was an edge, a faint tension hinting at the rivalry between the branches—still simmering deep in Luis's memories somewhere.

"So, you were part of all that, " Sawyer said, her words sharp and steady. "Making monsters. Pushing the envelope until it finally bit you in the ass. "  

Memories of headlines and classified VITA reports flashed in her mind—each more horrifying than the last, especially the tidbit regarding Umbrella's rivalry with its sister locations. What was once speculation and rumor was now truth, thanks to Luis. Her fingers tightened against the countertop as her glare pinned Luis's back.

"Yeah, " Two Legs murmured, almost regretful. "I was. "  

His shoulders seemed to slump, jaw tightening as the consequence of his admission pulled at his face. "I was young. Idealistic. I thought we were working on cures, you know? We knew Umbrella was messing with viruses, but I assumed it was for good intentions. I was wrong, and I know that doesn't absolve me."

" What made you grow a conscience?"

"I found out later what they were really up to. That's why I left."

"And what was that?"

" Eugenics, " he said grimly. "They wanted to speed up human evolution through viruses and parasites—organisms like the ones I studied."

Sawyer frowned, her thoughts turning over his words. She weighed her next question, her tone easing just slightly. "And Kari? How does she fit into this?"

"Remember the inscriptions on my lighter? "  

Sawyer nodded. 

"Kari was the head of that—the Dream Team, " Two Legs began, his tone easing as he strolled through Luis's memories. "We started as a cohort, running independent experiments under the old chief. Then Kari showed up, no-nonsense and big ambitions. She and I clashed constantly—mostly about where to take the research. I wanted to focus on parasitic applications to fight disease, but she kept doubling down on BOW development."

"That's why she has it out for you?"

" To my knowledge, yeah. " He furrowed his brows, his spatula pausing mid-stir. "We got under each other's skin one too many times. But even then, her hostility on the roof? Out of left field. "  

"It was to get us to turn on each other if you recall, " Sawyer interjected, her voice taking on an edge. "Kari knew she was backed into a corner because I caught her lying about what happened at Soldado's hideaway. Like a rat, she tried to chew her way out."

Two Legs let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "It almost makes you wish you were stuck on your original mission, huh? Dealing with Jean-Jacques instead of all this extra nonsense."

Sawyer's eyes narrowed as she tested the waters. "Not to change the subject, but before she shot at us, Kari told me Soldado tried to force himself on her, and she killed him. Does that sound like something he'd do?"

Force himself...? The words held implications he couldn't fully grasp. Luis's memories supplied fragments—intimacy twisted with violence, flashes of the Plaga hijacking bodies, and a chilling revelation of how closely human instincts could mirror those of monsters. He returned his focus to the food as if stirring the pan might dispel the unease knotting in his chest. 

"Jean was my work nemesis, " he said finally. "But he never gave me the impression he was capable of… that. "  

That… whatever it was, he didn't understand it, but knew he didn't like it. 

Sawyer studied him, her frown worsening as a memory tugged at the edges of her mind about Kari and how it was hard to tell a truth from a lie in this context, even with Luis's assurance. For a moment, she debated pursuing the subject further, but the thought of dredging up the details of Soldado's alleged sins—and Kari's manipulations—felt like staring into an abyss with no answers. She exhaled, letting it drop.

"After our fight that night in the hotel, " Sawyer began, shifting gears, "I saw a US document about you in the VITA archives. It said you allegedly died in some remote village in 2004. I'm guessing that's Valdelobos."

Two Legs's lips stretched into a thin, humorless smile. "Yeah…about that."

" What happened?"

"I'd love to tell you, " he said with resignation, "but I don't remember much. I was hurt—real bad, I have amnesia. "  

"Amnesia?"

"Uh huh," He paused, his tone growing quieter as he sifted through the fragmented remnants of Luis's memories. "I do remember that shortly before Umbrella bit the dust with Raccoon City, I went home. I was disillusioned—done with everything. Maybe I thought returning to my roots would give me clarity or a clean slate. But...that didn't pan out. A cult got to the village while I was away. They sank their teeth into the locals, turning them into something else . When I returned, it was like walking into a nightmare. And they wanted my research."

Two Legs drew in a sharp breath, staring blankly into the pan as the rice hissed. "Then came Ashley—the girl they brought in. And the US government sent someone to retrieve her—Leon. We worked together, but…things didn't go according to plan. We got separated, and that's when I think it happened. I must've hit my head. Maybe it was worse. I woke up in a cave, alone. No memory of how I got there, just…"

" Pieces? " she finished for him.

"Yeah, " Two Legs nodded, glancing over his shoulder with a quick frown. "I know that's not what you want to hear."

Sawyer sighed through her nose, nodding once. "You'd be right. But…I know you can't help it."

For a fleeting moment, guilt twisted in Two Legs's gut. He hadn't lied outright, but withholding the truth wasn't much better. Still, it was safer this way. Until he could untangle Luis's fractured memories from his chaotic stint in "The Other Place," keeping things vague seemed the best course of action. The truth—that she'd been speaking to, quite literally, a dead man walking—was a revelation Two Legs wasn't ready for her to face, much less himself.

Even so, there was something in her tone, a quiet empathy that clashed with her not-so-subtle suspicion. Sawyer didn't entirely believe him; he could feel it. Yet, she wasn't pushing. 

"Could this Leon guy help us out? " she asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Do you know how to get in touch?"

" Unfortunately, no on the getting-in-touch part, " Two Legs said sincerely, stirring the food with a lazy rhythm after adding chicken stock to the rice mix. "I have a feeling he'd know what to do, but we never got around to exchanging numbers. Hard to do that with a cult riding up your ass."

Sawyer smirked. "Is it bad that I'm thinking that's called karma on your part for all the shit you've done?"

Two Legs turned his head, raising an eyebrow as he shook his head at her, though an amused huff escaped. "You're lucky I like you."

" Hit close to home?"

" More like hit under the belt. " He let out a scoff, followed by a laugh, a small grin creeping across his face. The banter shifted something in his mood as an idea struck him. "Hey, say I got you a computer—could you maybe track Leon down?"

" Possibly, " Sawyer replied, though her nod was hesitant. "It depends on whether I can access the VITA Network. Even then, hacking government info—especially on agents—is like trying to steal from a bear trap. It's messy, high-risk, and more often than not, you get caught. I'd have to tread carefully. The last thing I want is to get deported before I can find Kari and wring her damn neck."

Her voice honed at the last part, and Two Legs was torn between amusement and admiration.

"So… you've decided to stay in Spain? " he asked, tilting his head slightly.

"For now, yeah. I'm not leaving empty-handed, " Sawyer murmured, her gaze shifting to the floor as if speaking more to herself than him. She missed the genuine smile spreading across Luis's face. "If it's alright, I'd like to stay longer. Here, I mean. "  

"Never thought you'd ask, " Two Legs replied, grinning wide enough to make his skin tingle with a strange warmth. "It's kinda nice having a nestmate after so many years."

Sawyer blinked. "Come again? "  

"Er—roommate! I meant roommate. Sorry, brain glitch, " he said quickly, a hand flying up as if to wave the slip away. He turned back to the stove, switching off the burner and pulling the pan off the heat. After the steam tampered a bit, he began scooping the paella into a large bowl he had already set up before cooking, using a spoon nearby to mix the contents further.

"Walk me through your plans, " he said over his shoulder. "What're you thinking?"

" I want to go after Kari. Get to her before she gets to us, " Sawyer replied, despite the hesitation that crept up on her. "It might be stupid, but I've got this gut feeling there's something bigger going on with her."

" Such as? " Two Legs asked, plucking a piece of meat from the pan and popping it into his mouth.

Sawyer frowned slightly, her fingers drumming against the kitchen island top as she mulled over her words. "Think about it: Kari was the chief of Team 6. Both you and Soldado worked under her, and she conveniently killed the bastard and tried to kill you. It can't be a coincidence."

Two Legs paused mid-chew, the meat sitting heavy on his tongue. He swallowed slowly, Sawyer's words planting an uneasy seed in his mind.

"Luis, " Sawyer pressed, leaning forward slightly. "are you sure you don't know why she'd go after you?"

" If I knew, I'd tell you. And like I said, my memory isn't the best since what happened in the village. " His hand tightened around the spoon, the metal pressing against his palm as a darker memory went through him--the moment Kari had seen his true face. He knew this would be a problem later but pushed it aside, keeping his expression neutral.

"That said, " he added, meeting her eyes, "I've had this feeling since you were shot that she has unfinished business with me. So if we work together and catch her, then what happens?"

Sawyer didn't hesitate. "Preferably? We let VITA know what's been going on, get reinforcements to help us, and throw her ass in prison for life."

" And if you can't reach VITA?"

" Then we're on our own, " Sawyer admitted, her voice dipping lower. "And I have no idea where to start."

"We'll figure it out, " Two Legs said, offering her an encouraging smile. "First, let's get you a computer. Then you can work your magic! We can head into town later if you're up for it and take care of that."

Sawyer mulled over his suggestion, her fingers lightly tracing the table's edge. After a moment, she let out a tired breath. "Maybe tomorrow. I'm still not feeling right."

"Still achey?"

"You have no idea."

Two Legs gave her a sympathetic nod, though he didn't push for details. Instead, he took a large bite of paella, savoring the flavors with a hum of approval.

"Not bad," he muttered more to himself than to her, licking a stray grain of rice from his thumb.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Sawyer glance at the bowl, her gaze lingering briefly on the shrimp nestled in the rice. He suppressed a knowing smile when she quickly turned her head, feigning disinterest. He sat the bowl down on the kitchen island across from her.

"I've gotta hit the bathroom. Be right back, " Two Legs said casually, slipping out of the kitchen and leaving Sawyer alone with the meal.

Once he was gone, Sawyer leaned back in her chair, the quiet settling around her. If someone had told her years ago she'd be working side by side with someone from Umbrella, she'd have laughed in their face. Maybe even do jail time for assault. Yet here she was, sharing a roof with an adversary, an adversary that literally gave her his blood to save her life. The absurdity brought a bit of amusement to Sawyer's lips—how far her life had veered off course. He wasn't like the others she'd dealt with, though. Luis had layers, and though she didn't have the full picture, she felt in her gut she could trust him moving forward. That's when she frowned, staring at the bowl he had left behind. 

Samuel's death hung solemnly in her mind, a constant loop of what-ifs. It had been like this for some time now, letting the guilt take root, punishing herself as if starving could somehow atone for her failure to save him. Nonetheless, the deprivation was wearing her down. She could feel how weak her body had become during the walk with Luis and knew despite her stubbornness, she couldn't keep this up forever. 

Her stomach clenched, drawing her eyes back to the bowl of paella. She hesitated, glancing toward the doorway to ensure Luis wasn't around before grabbing the spoon and taking a chunk out of the rice pile.

The first bite melted on her tongue, the warmth and rich flavor breaking her defenses. Before she realized it, she'd taken another bite, then another. Each mouthful dulled the edges of her sorrow, and Sawyer was beginning to realize Luis had a point earlier: paella was good for the soul, enough to where she was practically gorging on it.

"There any left for me?"

She jumped, nearly dropping the spoon, her cheeks flushing as she whipped around. Two Legs stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a smug grin playing on his lips.

"How long were you standing there? " she demanded, flustered.

"Long enough, " he chuckled. "Don't worry; I actually did use the bathroom. Catching this was just a bonus. "

" Screw you, " she muttered, her tone hovering somewhere between annoyance and embarrassment. Still, the corner of her mouth betrayed a reluctant smile as she took another bite.

Two Legs moved to one of the cabinets while she ate, retrieving an extra bowl and silverware for himself. He returned to the kitchen island and settled into the chair beside her, his movements casual. As he reached for Sawyer's bowl and started scooping out some of the paella for himself, he flinched when she suddenly jumped, her posture stiffening like a startled cat. His eyes narrowed slightly as he tilted his head out of concern with how she stared at him as if he were a ghost.

"Is there something on my face?"

"No."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Her stomach twisted. "I'm not looking at you like anything. "

" Uh, yeah, you are, " he countered, his voice softened with curiosity. "You're looking at me like...that."

The tension hung between them, almost too stumped for words.

"Your cologne is strong, " Sawyer finally said, gesturing vaguely after clearing her throat. "Where did you get it? "

" Oh, this? " He glanced down as if surprised by the question. "Picked it up in Seville a while back. Is it bothering you? "

" I, uh... " She hesitated, then met his gaze with a timid shrug. "Collecting cologne's sort of my thing. I like it—the way you smell, I mean. "

"I wouldn't have guessed. Thanks, I think? " Two Legs blinked, caught off guard. Then, a lopsided grin crept onto his face as he settled into his seat. "Hey, if you want to wear any, I have a bunch of different colognes in the bathroom in the upper cabinet."

"I'll keep that in mind. "

That was...weird. He frowned. 

" Is there a brand you like in particular? " he asked, leaning back casually.

Sawyer steadied herself, her gaze dropping to the bowl before her. She picked at one of the shrimps in the paella, biting into it hesitantly before answering. "Well, you can't go wrong with Old Spice. But before I left the States, I got hooked on this new one...Terre d'Hermès or something. I think it's French. "

"What does it smell like? " He asked curiously. 

Sawyer hummed, her eyes distant as she searched for the right words. She didn't notice Two Legs's gaze lingering on her, studying her posture with quiet focus. He could sense the tension in her body, though it seemed to be slowly ebbing away. Whatever spooked her was subsiding.

"Earthy, " she said at last, her voice soft. "Bitter orange and smoky in parts. Kind of like the scent dry dirt gives off when it first rains. "

" It sounds nice, " Two Legs remarked with a small smile, her description sparking nostalgia. It reminded him briefly of the caves he had once called home, their damp, earthy scent mingling with the rain outside. He wanted to say something further to that but decided against it, letting the thought settle into the quiet. 

They ate silently for a while, the time-out ending when the scrape of Sawyer's spoon against her empty bowl caught Two Legs's attention. His lips quirked into a smile before, without a word, he tipped what was left of his portion back into her bowl from his.

"Aren't you hungry? " she asked, looking at him skeptically.

"Not as much as you, obviously, " he chuckled. Before Sawyer could protest, he raised a hand to cut her off. "I'll be fine. I don't normally eat breakfast."

"You put a lot of time into it. You should enjoy what you've made."

"Seeing you eat does that for me."

Sawyer blushed, realizing he'd gone to the trouble of cooking entirely on her behalf. A part of her felt embarrassed for reasons she couldn't explain. Whatever the case, she didn't have the strength to fend it off, much less him. A quiet sigh escaped her, a light smile pulling at her lips as she returned to eating.

Unaware of Two Legs' intense gaze on her, Sawyer missed how his expression shifted. His features were calm, yet there was a bite to his fixation as if he were wrestling with something implicit. He forced himself to swallow the last bit of rice in his mouth, discomfort hidden behind practiced ease as sweat trickled down his neck.

Hours later at night, it was late when the nausea hit, a wave so violent that Two Legs barely made it to the bathroom in time. He gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles whitening as his body heaved, rejecting the meal he'd forced himself to endure earlier. The taste of bile burned his throat, and his chest rattled with each strangled cough.

Though Two Legs could digest human food and even enjoyed it, there were limits—a fine line between indulgence and toxicity. Today, he'd crossed it with the rice. Grains generally seemed to have an ill effect on his kind, or maybe he was just unlucky. Two Legs thought of it like a dog eating chocolate: a small taste was tolerable, but too much could be fatal. Despite that, he'd do it all over again. He got Sawyer to eat, really eat , and even convinced her to snack on little things throughout the day. The sight had eased a knot in Two Legs that had grown tightly around his heart, one less thing he had to worry about regarding her save for the ebb and flow of her distance. He found it odd how, for one moment, Sawyer wanted to hang and talk with him; then, she would take space elsewhere in the house and nap periodically. The way humans processed their physical trauma compared to the plaga eluded him immensely, but Two Legs absorbed the small victories. At least she seemed comfortable.  

After expending the last grains, Two Legs leaned over the sink, turning on the faucet to wash the sour tang from his mouth. The cold water shocked his system but couldn't mask the other sensation chewing at him—a hunger he hadn't felt in weeks.

As the room steadied, his mind wandered to the medical supply facility, to the moment he'd tasted Sawyer's blood to know her type so he could transfuse Luis's blood to her. Since then, he hadn't thought much about it, burying it under layers of denial. But now, as his stomach churned and his senses sharpened in the dark, the memory surfaced unbidden. Two Legs could still recall the taste: metallic, warm, and laced with something unique, enough to raise his arms with little bumps that tickled his flesh.

His body tautened, the compulsion creeping over him like a tide. It was the same urge he'd fought when he'd first wanted to devour Sawyer, but different now—more insidious, like a whisper instead of a roar. He recoiled from it. He didn't want to hurt her, not anymore. That much he was sure of, but this new hunger was impulsive. He felt so confused, being hungry but not ... hungry . Not in the manner by which he was accustomed to.

By the time he stumbled into the bedroom to prepare the hammock above his bed, Two Legs was exhausted. That didn't stop him from doing a double-take. Sawyer lay curled on the mattress, her chest rising and falling steadily. The soft light from the moon poured through the window, catching on her hair and casting delicate shadows across her face. She must've wandered up alone, Two Legs remembering her passing out in the living room an hour or two ago while watching TV.

He froze in place, scanning her as something stirred. His gaze lingered too long, breath catching in his throat as his vision glitched. He was drawn to the pulse at her neck, the fragile curve of her shoulder. All he had to do was wander over. All he had to do was act.

After all, she was his pet.

The spider and frog.

After all, he wanted her.

He could have her.

Consume her.

Her ...

The trance broke, leaving him unnerved. Without a second thought, Two Legs ventured downstairs, grabbed his coat, and slipped outside, needing the night air to clear his head.

The quiet of the woods shrouded him as he walked, his feet crunching softly against the ground. For a while, his thoughts stilled, the cool air soothing the feverish warmth that had taken hold, but he came to a halt like before. His brain seemingly honed in on an impulse that needed to be taken care of, like a severe itch that needed to be scratched until it bled raw.

Two Legs found himself on his hands and knees not long after, digging almost ritualistically. He didn't know why he was doing it, only that it felt necessary—that he needed to do this, or the pillars keeping him afloat and human would fall at the seams.  

By dawn, a massive mandala-like structure had taken shape—a sprawling pattern etched into the dirt with meticulous detail, with rocks and pebbles highlighting certain curves. He stepped back, studying the intricate swirls and lines, allowing himself to breathe as his body finally shuddered, clothes covered in grime and dirt, chemicals zipping through his brain and bloodstream.

It was beautiful, and it was hers.

[yippetbh]

I KEEP FORGETTING TO UPLOAD MY ART HELP

re4r cabin trio au where las plagas has specific side effects depending on who u are... is this an excuse to torture luis and project my paranoia and sleep paralysis on him? Maybe.....

[beginningobserver]

“W-what are you?!”

They were afraid of me, but... An officer just called them out. And then he asked me about my relatives... So I gave them the contact of my aunt and uncle and they left me in their hands.

“Rui-kun…? Why are you wearing an eyepatch? Did something happen?”

Yuna, my cousin, asked me questions because... she was worried. But... I couldn't tell her the truth... Not even to her boyfriend (who is now her husband), Kouda-san.

“Rui-kun…!?”

“...”

I kept everyone away from me to protect myself. People thought I was antisocial or a Chuuni in high school. They seemed to avoid me, but mostly because of the... rumors.

"Isn't that the boy from the mysterious murder scene? They said they found him all alone with a monster eye in his face...!" “Can he really be a real person…?!” “You’re lying right?! He’s just a showoff!!”

I didn't know what to do or how to defend myself. I let my bangs grow and started using my hair to cover my eyepatch. People started to think I wasn't a freak, just... uh... emo?

“What’s with that haircut and black clothes…?”

“I’m trying to try a new style! Leave me alone!” I only snapped at Yuna once, already tired of these accusations.

“You don’t need to be rude! I want to understand you!”

“...!! I’m sorry. I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Thank you anyway.”

But... thanks to Yuna and her parents, I... survived again. They helped me until I moved out.

RE:CONNECT [Yes?] [No?]

※ Chapter 8 is out!! ※

[mortemcatabasis]

Repostober Day 4

Titled in order: "Maxwell's Entry", "Acid's Entry" & "Louis' Entry" All are dated September 28th 2015

Yet another childhood project and its the biggest one yet, it was called "A Firefly's Path" and was going to be renamed "Star Field" but ol Bethany Esda beat me to that one, AFP was basically mario galaxy & homestuck kinda just shoved in a blender with a good helping of dark souls boss design inspo. This lil series was supposed to be opening scenes of some of the characters awakening in their respective purgatory where they will imminently be reduced to chunky marinara by the denizens of the planets.

[weregreatatcrime]

Just realized I hadn't shared my roblox pressure ocs to Tumblr at all???? Anyways here's Mike a 5 foot tall construction worker who got lost in the vents and started turning into a wall dweller, aaaand Marigold, a convict who was mixed with big fin squid and searchlight DNA and ended up way too fuckin big for containment. They're pals!

[boricuasirena25]

loser, nerdy 2000s ellie x popular, bimbo, mean girl fem!reader headcanons

authors note : just wanted to say thank uu sm for the support i’ve seen on my last post abt nerdy ellie, i fr posted it without thinking and i can tell a lot of yall like it! im taking requests for her so lmk what uu want. :)

cw : some nsfw (some of the things i put in the nsfw might be like pg13 but i still put them there anyways idk 😭), lotta jokes abt boobies, ellie’s PAINFULLY nerdy like oh my goodness. takes place in the late 2000s to be oddly specific.

— SFW

• she has fantasies of you and her in the medieval times, you being the glamorous princess and her being your daring, knight in shinning armor. she literally draws it in her sketchbook, pages filled with doodles of you in corsets or big and gorgeous low cut gowns, her holding up a sword towards your “boyfriend” adrian, who in her medieval universe is “lord adrian of valebrume”, a totally made-up kingdom name that sounds dark and full of lies. she made sure it rhymed with gloom, doom, and consume—because duh, he’s the villain.

• and her favorite medieval scenarios? saving you. you’re chained in a tower. a dragon’s outside. adrian is there, trying to “rescue” you but being a fool. ellie shows up on horseback, sword drawn, cloak flapping dramatically. she slays the dragon, pushes adrian off a cliff, and drops to one knee like: “my lady. i have come for you.” you run into her arms, kiss her hard, and whisper, “you’re all I ever wanted, sir williams…”

• she can solve a rubik’s cube in under a minute. but she will not do it in front of people because she’s been bullied enough. only her stuffed triceratops knows how smart she really is.

• she’s so soft for you it’s pathetic. you could insult her in front of the entire class and she’d still smile and go “you’re so funny…” like a kicked puppy. you could say “shut up, ellie” and she’d respond with “yes ma’am” and a full-body shiver.

• 100% draws on her converse “E + (your initial)” with a heart inside of it.

• she’s, OF COURSE, obsessed with dinosaurs. she’ll say corny pick up lines like “i think if i was a dinosaur, i’d be a simp-o-saurus. because… y’know… for you. i’m simpin’ real hard.” and then she’d probably smack herself in the head after like “what the f*ck was i thinking…”.

• even though she’s HEAVILY bullied (specifically for being a lesbian who’s obsessed with you) shes blessed enough to constantly third wheel with dina and jesse.

• quite literally owns a rubber “i heart boobies” bracelet that she insists is for breast cancer awareness, but really she just thinks boobs are awesome and it’s the only time she’s allowed to say it out loud.

• she’s knows how to skate and does it quite frequently as a source of transportation (until joel gives her his rusted up, old, monster truck that ellie isn’t allowed to get till she passes spanish).

• death note is her favorite manga. she bought the first volume from a crusty used bookstore with joel, and it unlocked something feral inside her. the intensity? the drama? the moral conflict? she ate it up. once accidentally moaned when reading a panel of misa sitting on light’s lap. would never admit that.

• she owns a fake death note she made and writes adrian’s name in it “adrian luis davis – punched in the nuts by a ghost and then falls in a porta-potty in front of the whole school. dies of embarrassment.” then she drew a tiny doodle of him slipping on a banana peel. and if another boy makes you laugh? she flips open her ‘death note’, glares over her glasses, and mutters “he’s done for.”.

• she’d be a marching band lesbian idc, she’d play percussion and have the most wrinkled up band uniform ever. and she literally never wears the hat right. it’s always tilted or falling off her head. one time it flew off during a performance and she had to kick it off the field. she was mad until she looked over and saw you laughing at her in the stands.

• still plays the guitar, (she does in every universe), and she practices every single day. after school, while watching invader zim. she zones out completely when she’s playing. it’s the only time her brain shuts up—unless she’s thinking about your boobs. then it’s just chaos. one night she was home alone and played “the only exception” by paramore after smoking weed and cried because it reminded her of you.

• she didn’t tell anyone. just laid on the floor of her living room like a snow angel in her spider-man boxers whimpering.

• she owns a jennifer’s body DVD and keeps it hidden under her bed. watches it on mute when joel isn’t home. she has the kiss scene with needy memorized (she sometimes even rewatches it and imagines it as u and her).

• she owns a chunky PS3 and plays GTA IV when she’s had a bad day, or is just like super angry as her own therapy. she’ll storm into her room, throw her backpack down, and boots up her fat, fingerprint-covered PS3. the fan’s loud, the controller’s kinda sticky from soda, and the GTA IV disc is always already in. she plays like a menace—steals a car, blasts the liberty rock radio station, and causes chaos in liberty city.

• but if she’s super mad?! like adrian calling her out in front of the whole class once again?! his arms around your waist while you just sit there?! she types cheat codes into her cracked notebook and gives niko bellic rocket launchers and infinite health. she’s full on blowing up traffic jams, launching grenades into alleyways, and driving into the water just for the hell of it.

• when joel checks on her like, “you alright, kiddo?” she just grunts “yeah,” while casually tossing molotovs at cop cars with dead eyes. but she plays minecraft when she’s just chilling. she builds the ugliest dirt houses with torches everywhere and lives like a little swamp gremlin. has one big chest labeled “STUFF” and refuses to organize it. she wears full iron armor and still falls in lava. blames lag.

• OBSESSED WITH SPIDER-MAN. she literally has spider-man bedsheets and posters in her room; one above her bed, one crooked on the celling holding on by a thread (when her fan is on too long it almost blows off), and one behind her door.

• when she writes about you in her journal she puts “my MJ <3”. she even draws it. little comic panels where she’s spidey saving MJ (you) from some made-up villain that originates from adrian. ellie gives herself abs and a six-pack. no shame.

• she also owns a knock off spider-man costume. it’s from walmart and a little too tight, with faded colors and one busted web-shooter strap. she wears it with her dirty converse and grey sweatpants and thinks she’s the coolest thing ever. wears it to the store when joel isn’t paying attention. she once got it stuck in the dryer and cried.

• only wears boxers. various different pairs that r always peaking out of her sweatpants, cargos, or jeans. her favorite pair? her prized possession? a pair of faded-ass spider-man boxers. they’re red and blue with tiny spidey logos all over. she’s had them since middle school and refuses to let them go—even though they’re worn thin, have a little hole on the thigh, and the elastic’s basically screaming for mercy.

• she calls them her “lucky boxers” and lowkey wears them on days she knows she might see you. she also owns black boxers with little green dinosaurs on them and classic plaid ones that r oversized and practically fall off her hips. the waistband’s always showing. always. at this point, it’s part of the fit. she doesn’t even care if they get bunched under her jeans—just tugs at them in the hallway like “gotta air it out.”

• if she’s nervous around you, she adjusts her boxers way too much and acts like it’s not because she’s turned on.

• and for some reason, this loser is like freakishly good at soccer? beastly good. jaw-dropping good. weirdly good. but then again it’s probably because she’s a lesbian. she’s fast, aggressive, strategic—she plays forward like she isn’t afraid to slide tackle some 6’0 dude to the ground. she gets called for fouls all the time because she plays like she’s ready to fight. her coach yells at her all the time; “williams! dial it down!”, “williams, it’s not that deep—GET OFF HER!”.

• she wears the same cleats from middle school. they’re black, duct-taped, and smell like her garage. her shin guards are always crooked, and her socks never match.

• she once tried to hit you up by calling you mamacita with the worst accent you’ve ever heard. thought it was smooth. just for you to hit her with the dirtiest look ever. let’s just say she never said that out loud again.

• her all time favorite soda is dr pepper. she drinks it a little too much… her bedroom is a crime scene of empty cans. they’re stacked into little pyramids on her windowsill, crammed into her backpack, one might even be under her pillow. joel once tripped over a can pyramid and she screamed like he destroyed a sacred monument. BUT she swears it “makes her smarter.” she’ll sip it during math tests like it’s brain juice. “it’s got 23 flavors, joel. i’m running on 23 IQ boosts right now.”.

• literally owns a faded, crusty dr pepper graphic tee. it’s oversized and has holes in the collar, but she thinks it’s high fashion. it was $3 at goodwill and she treats it like a designer item. if she’s wearing it under her flannel, it’s a special day. she also 100% has a dr pepper can tab on a necklace chain. she popped it off her “lucky can” and wears it under her shirt. when you find it one day and asks about it, ellie stutters, “it’s—it’s like, uh, for good luck. and stuff…”

• dina notices ellie in class going through her sketchbook, finds one page where your name is written next to a sketch of you in a princess outfit. next to it? ellie’s self-insert knight version—sword drawn, hearts floating around them. dina looks up slowly and goes, “ellie… have you spoken to her yet?”

• “she said ‘thanks’ when I let her borrow a pencil. we’re basically married.”

— NSFW

• she gets turned on by the stupidest things about you. the way you chew gum, the way you fix your hair, the sound of your laugh, the way you tie your shoes, the way you stretch in class and your shirt rides up a little. she’ll cross her legs in AP biology like “be cool. don’t squirm. don’t look at her boobs again.” just to take another quick glance down.

• ellie found out what a strap was from the L word. she saw shane pull it out of a drawer once and nearly passed out. didn’t even know what it was called at first—just googled “lesbian harness thing from l word” on ask jeeves. then, when scrolling online she saw this neon green strap-on with a ugly, cheap, fake leather, hideous colored harness—and for some reason, she bought it. i mean the harness was only $29.99, dildo $14.99 and with a shipping of $8 dollars, it’s not like she could afford those $90 ones. now it’s growing dust under her bed.

• her cute, hideous glasses always slide off her nose when she catches you near her in a mini skirt (or she pushes them up to get a better look at my tits) and because of this, she can quite literally draw your tits from pure memory. no reference. no glances. just pure gay brain storage. she knows the exact curve, how they rest when you’re sitting vs standing, how they look in that one white top with the scoop neckline that makes her borderline pass out.

• but even though she knows them like the back of her hand, she still sneaks glances when she thinks you’re not looking. sometimes you’re bent over the locker room bathroom mirror, adjusting your necklace or putting on lip gloss, and she’s across the room—pretending to tie her converse back on but she’s staring dead at your tits in the mirror reflection like she’s about to start drooling.

• and she’s memorized every single bra you own. color, fabric, lace pattern, where it cuts on your back, how the straps sit on your shoulders, whether the padding lifts your tits or not. she knows which ones you wear when you want to feel cute and which ones are for laundry day.

• when she’s high? forget about it. she starts rambling about the “artistic gravity” of your tits, how the curve reminds her of renaissance sculptures, and how she wants to sculpt them from memory using clay she found behind the garage. dina and jesse once walked in on this monologue and left in silence.

• she doesn’t even smoke that often—maybe once every couple weeks if someone else has it. but every time she does? she turns into a flushed, squirmy, glassy-eyed mess who gets insanely horny within ten minutes. like clockwork. doesn’t matter if it’s a chill high or a head high—ellie’s already halfway down bad the moment it hits her bloodstream.

• one time she smoked weed in dina’s garage with her and jesse. the three of them snuck out to her garage—lights off, old couch, lava lamp glowing. they pass it around like total amateurs, coughing and giggling and pretending to be cool. ten minutes in, ellie is absolutely done for.

• her knees are pulled up to her chest, hoodie sleeves over her hands, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed bright pink. she’s quiet, too quiet, until dina looks over and goes: “ellie… you good?” and ellie just mumbles, “mhm… i’m chillin’…” while clearly not chillin’.

• she’s thinking about you in a miniskirt. she’s thinking about your glossed-up lips. she’s thinking about your thighs on either side of her head. jesse’s rambling about alien conspiracies meanwhile ellie’s gripping the edge of the blanket, vibrating with how badly she needs to excuse herself. she finally blurts out “i’m gonna go… uh… bathroom. real quick.”

• she bolts toward the house, slamming the bathroom door shut. she barely locks it before her hand’s down her boxers—moaning softly into her arm, her mind spiraling with nothing but you. how pretty you are, how good you smell, how soft your thighs would feel wrapped around her flushed face.

• and her sketchbook is a problem. deep in her sketchbook, the parts she refuses to let anyone else see, are filthy. you sitting on her face, moaning. you spread open with your fingers, juice dripping down your thighs, her name scratched onto your skin. you with hickeys on your chest, teary eyes, flushed cheeks, and the exact position your mouth makes when you’re cumming.

• she’s drawn close-ups of your tits in her sketchbook more times than she can count. like full-studies. the shading, the softness, how the nipples perk when you’re cold. she knows which way they tilt when you’re laying on your side. she draws them squished under her hands. she draws them from memory and gets mad when it’s not perfect.

• and some of her sketches are drawn from scenarios she wishes happened. you sitting in her lap in just your mini skirt with your hand around her neck, you pulling her by the collar into bed with a kiss, you in the school bathroom kissing her against a stall door.

• in which ellie draws herself completely cornered against the stall door. her cheeks are flushed bright red, glasses fogged up, and her lips are shiny from your lip gloss—because you kissed it off her. in the corner of the page, ellie scribbled: “she wore juicy perfume. i could smell it all over me after.”

• remember ellie’s medieval fantasies? well let’s just say they’re not all innocent… a specific one is where she drew you pressed to the castle wall, dress lifted, bent over. ellie’s behind you, armor still on, her gauntlet clamped around your mouth while she takes you with a thick medieval strap—drawn with detailed curve and shimmer of neon green (yes, she draws the neon green strap even in fantasy).

• you’re moaning through her hand, crown slipping, legs shaking while your heels dig into the stone. she adds notes like: “told her to be quiet. she couldn’t.”, “her moans echoed through the halls.”

[monstrousgourmandizingcats]

i watched conclave and now I really want to know more about all the drama with cardinals, how do you find out about that kind of stuff?

Ohhhh boy. Where to even begin?

Well, to start with, a lot of the cardinals in Conclave are based on real people! Bellini is obviously Carlo Maria Martini (right down to having a surname that's a mixed drink), especially in the book, where he's apparently Italian rather than Italian-American (I love that, unlike with Lawrence, who's also Italian in the book,* they didn't change his name; Stanley Tucci is eminently capable of playing an ItAm guy named Aldo Bellini <3). Martini was a "liberal" Archbishop of Milan who for much of the 90s was widely expected to succeed Pope John Paul II but ended up stalling out at the 2005 conclave.** Tedesco has a lot in common with Raymond Burke, an archconservative cardinal who's still alive and very vocal in the media, although Burke, conversely, is American rather than Italian. (America unfortunately has a very conservative local Catholic Church in general these days.) Tedesco and Burke even look similar, right down to the campy, "muffled sounds of 'Good Luck, Babe!' playing in the distance" fashion sense and body language. Tremblay has a similar career trajectory to Marc Ouellet, who, like Tremblay, was widely respected and seen as pretty middle-of-the-road until serious scandals started coming out. Adeyemi doesn't seem to be based on or inspired by any one real person, but the virulent homophobe who isn't that reactionary otherwise is a very common type of sub-Saharan African cardinal, perhaps most prominently represented currently by Fridolin Ambongo Besungu. Like with Adeyemi, I can see Ambongo picking up steam but then imploding over the course of the next IRL conclave, although it would be uncharitable to Ambongo to assume it would be for the same reasons. And so on.

(Benitez is an ideal, rather than someone inspired by a real person or ideological type, but there are cardinals who've had similarly high-stress and altruistic career and life trajectories, like Marco Zenari, Pierbattista Pizzaballa (which is seriously his name),*** and, in fairness to him, also Ambongo, who is Congolese and is regularly physically threatened by political and paramilitary forces within the DRC.)

As to how one learns more about this, you could start by setting news alerts for some of these people's names--Matteo Zuppi, Luis Antonio Tagle, Pietro Parolin, Peter Erdo, and Victor Manuel Fernandez are other names to potentially watch--or reading some books that have been written recently about the current politics of the Church, the Curia, and the Francis papacy. There's one called In the Closet of the Vatican that is incredibly scurrilous, as its title would suggest, but a rip-roaring read if you're not too concerned about forming possibly-unfair negative opinions of some of these guys. There are also writers like Austen Ivereigh and (gag) Edward Pentin who've made whole careers of being Vatican Inside Baseball Understanders, especially since Pope Francis was elected in 2013.****

In general I'd say Conclave is a very good representation of the way these people think and act, especially the constant tension between venal ambition and genuine belief that they are participating in a divine agency in the world. The tendency in non-Catholic and even some Catholic circles is to assume that only the former is present, but people are complicated.

I hope some of this helps, anon!

*I looked it up and in the book he's called Jacopo Lomeli. I've never seen this surname before, but apparently some real people do have it.

**The Catholic Church has its own ideological spectrum and there are ways in which liberal, progressive, conservative, etc. are not very useful terms, but for broad purposes they work here.

***Patriarch of Jerusalem, the only Palestinian cardinal (cardinals are counted as "from" the countries that they lived in when they became cardinals, not necessarily the countries they're from originally; in his case his country of origin is, unsurprisingly, Italy). As you might imagine, he's been in religious news a lot lately.

****Francis, or Jorge Mario Bergoglio as he was then, is widely believed to have been the runner-up at the above-mentioned 2005 conclave, which produced Pope Benedict XVI.

[woso-story]

Better Boyfriend Than Him - Part Seven

Alexia Putellas x Reader - Other Parts

The moment you saw her sitting there, something inside you snapped.

You didn’t want to see Alexia. Not now. Not ever.

It felt like everything that had happened was her fault. You knew that wasn’t true, not really, but it was easier to blame her than to face the truth. If she hadn’t started dancing with you. If she hadn’t looked at you like that. If she hadn’t made you feel something that you weren’t supposed to feel—

Then maybe none of this would have happened.

Maybe Luis wouldn’t have cheated on you.

But deep down, a bitter voice whispered, this was all on you.

You had ruined your own relationship.

You didn’t spend enough time with him.

You didn’t give him what he wanted, what he needed.

He told you that himself.

And he was right.

You were the failure.

The person who always got it wrong.

And now, you were falling apart right in front of everyone.

Your body was trembling, hands shaking so badly that you had to clutch your arms just to steady yourself. Tears streamed down your face, but you barely even registered them. You could hear voices—someone saying your name, a hand reaching out to you—but it all felt distant.

You were drowning in your own thoughts, spiraling so fast that you couldn’t stop it.

Then Mapi was in front of you, gripping your shoulders, eyes filled with concern.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice gentle but firm.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.

Ingrid hovered nearby, looking between you and Mapi, completely lost on what to do.

And Alexia—she just sat there, staring at you, looking just as lost.

She had never seen you like this before. No one had.

You were always so put together. Always in control.

But right now?

You were breaking.

“Hey,” Mapi tried again, giving your arm a small squeeze. “Talk to me.”

Your lips trembled, and when you finally spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper.

“…It’s my fault.”

Mapi’s brows furrowed. “What?”

You swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut.

Say it. Just say it.

“It’s my fault,” you said louder, your voice shaking.

Mapi’s grip on you tightened. “What do you mean? What’s your fault?”

And then, the words ripped out of you.

“Luis cheated on me! And it’s all my fault!”

The room went completely still.

For a second, no one said anything.

Then, as if the weight of your own words crashed into you, a sob tore from your throat, and you collapsed into Mapi’s arms.

She caught you instantly, pulling you close, holding you tightly as you broke.

You were crying so hard that your whole body shook, your sobs echoing through the apartment. Mapi didn’t say anything at first. She just held you, rubbing soothing circles on your back, whispering softly in Spanish—words you couldn’t even process through your grief.

Ingrid and Alexia exchanged a shocked look.

Neither of them had expected that.

Ingrid glanced toward the kitchen, then back at Mapi, who was holding you protectively. She nodded toward the other room, silently telling Alexia to follow her.

Alexia hesitated, her gaze still locked on you, but eventually, she forced herself to stand and walked into the kitchen with Ingrid.

The moment they were alone, Ingrid let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her hair. “I can’t believe this.”

Alexia was still staring toward the living room, her jaw clenched.

Luis.

That bastard.

How could he do this to you?

You were everything. So strong. So passionate. So full of fire.

And now you were in the other room, completely shattered because of him.

Alexia’s hands curled into fists.

“He’s an idiot,” Ingrid muttered.

Alexia nodded immediately, her voice tight. “Yeah. He is.”

How could anyone throw away someone like you?

And worse—how could you think this was your fault?

Alexia could still hear your sobs, and it made something twist painfully in her chest.

Ingrid exhaled, shaking her head. “I’ll make some tea. It might help calm her down.”

Alexia didn’t respond.

She just kept watching.

Watching as Mapi held you. Watching as you cried harder than she had ever seen anyone cry before.

Watching as you broke.

She had never seen you like this.

And she hated it.

---

By the time Ingrid brought the tea into the living room, your sobs had turned into quiet sniffles. You leaned back slightly, wiping at your face, your fingers still shaking.

Ingrid placed the cup into your hands, offering you a small, gentle smile. “Here. It’ll help.”

You nodded, your voice hoarse. “Thank you.”

Ingrid sat beside you, placing a comforting hand on your leg. “We’re here for you, okay?”

You nodded again, swallowing back another sob. “I know. Thank you.”

Then, slowly, you glanced up—

And locked eyes with Alexia.

She was standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable.

For some reason, seeing her made your stomach twist with embarrassment.

You hated that she had seen you like this.

But there was no taking it back now.

Alexia hesitated before stepping forward.

When she spoke, her voice was softer than you had ever heard it.

“You shouldn’t think this is your fault.”

You swallowed, gripping your tea tighter.

Alexia sat down across from you, her eyes burning into yours.

“Luis is the one at fault,” she continued. “Not you. Never you.”

You looked down, blinking back fresh tears. “Thank you.”

And you meant it.

You didn’t know what you would have done if you hadn’t come here.

If they hadn’t been here.

These three women—Mapi, Ingrid, and Alexia—were the only people you had right now.

And you were so, so grateful.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of soft conversations and quiet comfort.

At some point, someone put on a movie, and you all curled up on the couch together.

Mapi on one side of you, Ingrid on the other.

And Alexia?

She sat nearby, her eyes flickering toward you every so often, a small crease between her brows.

She wasn’t teasing.

She wasn’t flirting.

She was just watching.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to pretend you were okay.

For the first time, you let yourself just… exist.

[lipglossanon]

October 30th

Kink: Rape play

Pairing: Corrupt Cop!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (feat. Jack Krauser & Luis Serra)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, rape play, cnc, dirty talk, degradation, humiliation, slight predator/prey, bullying, voyeurism, controlling Leon, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread

A few of Leon’s work friends are having a bonfire out in Arklay; their own little shindig away from the usual drunken rowdiness of bars and overcrowded clubs. You’re invited along of course. 

“Can’t leave my pretty girl all alone, can I?” His dark tone sends shivers down spine. 

Shaking your head no, you went along with him and now, you’re seated on a log next to the warm flame of their fire. Leon’s sitting next to you, arm over your shoulders to keep you tucked into his side while he talks with his buddies. 

You thought there would be more to this hangout but aside from you and Leon, there’s only two other guys. Leon introduced the dark haired one as Luis and the other with a gnarly scar twisting across his face as Krauser. It’s an odd first name you think, but maybe he’s German. 

They talk a lot about their jobs, things that go over your head with references and inside jokes of people and places you’ve never seen. Instead of feeling left out though, it’s actually nice that you can just sit next to Leon and enjoy the atmosphere—no need to make small talk with anyone. That’s not to say they don’t rope you into the conversation from time to time; but, you mostly sit on the sideline, eyes bouncing from person to person as they talk with each other.

It’s late when they start to act like they’re wrapping things up; Luis puts away the cooler and drinks with Krauser helping. Leon helps you stand, warm hands brushing over your ass and making you glance to him nervously. 

“Think it’s time for a little fun,” he murmurs against your ear. 

“Fun?” You repeat, brows pinching with the question. 

“Fun,” he states, blue eyes glittering in the low light. “We’re going to play my favorite game, the same as we played last year. Make sure to sell it, sweetheart.”

Pulse hammering in your throat, you nod jerkily, panties quickly becoming sticky with slick. Leon chasing you down to fuck you in the woods is always a fun time and it never gets old. Your tongue wets your bottom lip and his eyes track the movement, pupils dilating subtly. 

“Yes, daddy,” you whisper, sucking your wet bottom lip into your mouth. 

Turning, you walk towards his car parked under the trees some distance away. You swerve past the bumper and walk deeper into the forest. Once you feel you’re far enough, you pick up the pace. You think you hear Leon’s dark laugh somewhere in the distance, but you don’t stop to ponder it. 

You try and run, but your head’s out of sorts from the idea being sprung on you, so it’s not your best on display. The thrill of hearing Leon chase after you makes your heart race. It’s not long at all before his thick arms wrap around your chest and stomach, yanking you back against him. 

“Think you can get away? You little slut,” he rasps against your ear, tongue running across the shell. “Just for that, I’m gonna fuck this hot pussy right here, right now.”

“You can’t!” You wail. “Please, don’t, please.”

His palm covers your mouth, “There’ll be plenty of time for begging later, pretty girl.”

You twist and squirm against him, but all it does is grind his stiff cock against your ass. Arousal pools low in your belly and you whimper behind his hand. Chuckling low in his throat, Leon makes quick work of your panties, ripping them from your body and tossing them down onto the forest floor. 

A low whistle from the side makes you jerk your head, eyes widening to see Leon’s friends watching you two. 

Leon whispers in your ear, “Aren’t you going to ask them for help?”

“P-please,” tears bead your waterline, embarrassment a hot stone in your chest. “Please help me. H-he’s raping me.”

“Look at that,” Krauser grins, palming his bulge. “What a slut.”

Luis laughs. “Aren’t we the lucky ones, eh, amigo?”

They must be in on it, too. The thought only makes your pussy wetter. While they distract you, Leon undoes his jeans and pulls his dick out. Notching the head at your clenching heat, he thrusts his dripping cock deep inside your pussy with a groan.

“Nooo, help me, please,” you cry out, pussy clamping down on Leon’s cock as he splits you open. “Stop, you’re hurting me!”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he laughs meanly in your ear. “Fuck, feels like this soft pussy’s aching for a good fuck.” 

You turn pleading eyes up to the two men in front of you, watching as they each take their cocks out, jerking off to the scene of you and Leon. More slick leaks down your thighs, clit throbbing as you watch them get off. Leon shifts his hands down to grip your waist. He pinches your side and you hiccup a moan. 

Lips trembling, you call out, “H-help me.”

“Fuuuck,” Krauser grunts, stroking his thick cock in a meaty fist. “Beg me harder and I might help, sweet thing.”

“Please, please,” you choke out a whine, clit throbbing while Leon pounds into your sopping wet cunt. “Ohh, he’s raping my little pussy and you’re just watching.”

All three men moan and Leon slaps your ass. 

“Yeah, baby, tell’em how it feels to have your sweet little pussy raped,” he goads, fingers digging into the fat of your hips. “Gripping me so tight, like you don’t even want me pulling out. Hungry for my cock, aren’t you?”

“Nooo,” you whimper, tits bouncing with every thrust. “You’re being mean and gross.” 

Louis spits into his palm and jerks himself off a little rougher, “Can’t believe you’d just let him fuck your tight pussy like that, cariño. You’re basically asking for it.”

A shudder runs through your body, pussy gushing around Leon’s pistoning cock. 

“Getting rawed like that must feel pretty good,” Krauser cuts in, “she’s not even putting up that much of a fight.”

They both laugh and it makes your stomach burn, heat pooling low in your core.

“She’s so fucking tight,” Leon bites out. “Gonna make me cum in your breedable little pussy, aren’t you? Fucking slut.”

He hisses the last part, fingers digging so tight into your skin it hurts. You’re so turned on, knowing the two men in front of you—practically strangers—are beating off to your struggle, to the faux rape taking place mere feet in front of them. Leon’s pounding your sopping wet pussy so hard, the tip kisses your cervix sending a dull wave of pain that twists into pleasure. 

“Stop, stop, please, I don’t want this,” you babble, lashes fluttering while your toes curl in their shoes. “I don’t wanna cum on your cock.”

“Stuff that greedy pussy, Leon,” Luis cuts in with a groan, hand a blur as he fists his cock again and again. “Make her cream all over your cock.”

“Yeah, make that bitch cum,” Krauser tacks on with a low pant.

Leon laughs and it makes you whine, “Don’t worry, this little hole’s going to cum whether she wants it or not. Then, I’m going to fill her up like the cumdump she is. Right, sweetheart?”

“Nooo,” you protest weakly, pussy walls fluttering and clenching on his cock. Your hands reach back and claw at his arms. “Stop it, you’re going to ruin my pussy.”

“Fuck,” he bites out. “Always know just what to say, don’t you? Yeah, take it, you fucking whore. It’s not rape if you’re this wet, baby.”

He sinks his teeth into the side of your neck and it topples you over the edge, climax hitting you like a ton of bricks. White sparks light up behind your eyes while your body jerks and twitches against his hold. You scream, pussy milking and fluttering around his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

Body relaxing, you slump back against him, legs noodles and making Leon hold you in place. He doesn’t stop rutting his fat cock into your cunt, groaning and sighing against the back of your neck while he fucks you until he spills hot and thick inside you. You briefly think about the men watching it take place, but you’re too tired to care now. 

Their voices wash over you like white noise as they walk closer. Leon eases out of your messy pussy with a low grunt, fingers patting against your cum covered slit. 

“Oye, thanks for the fun night.”

Leon hums, “Don’t expect it too often.”

“Of course not, comrade.”

All three laugh and then Leon’s hoisting you up into his arm. 

“Can we see?”

A cool breeze drifts across your wet pussy when Leon flips your skirt up. A low whistle comes from somewhere to your left. 

“Mi corazón, what a delicious sight.”

“Wouldn’t want to let us have a little taste now would ya, Kennedy?”

“Both of you can go fuck yourselves.”

Leon’s voice shifts into that cold tone that makes you stiffen against him. He drops a quick kiss to your hairline and begins to walk off, back to his car you assume. 

“Let’s get back home so I can make out with that hot pussy, pretty girl,” he murmurs down at you and you whine in reply. 

[vicolette]

His Fault !

– A/N : that pic of him smiling🥲🥲🥲

– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, mentions of y/n & pet names, stuttering, swearing, mentions of insecurities & injuries, angst (with comfort), not proofread

"What a loser."

Your tone of voice had pure frustration lingering within it as you replayed the same video of Pau getting injured, feeling the irritation bubble inside you as you leaned against the bed's headboard. Whenever there was a slight scene where Luis – the coach – came up, you seethed with rage.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend was mindlessly laying right next to you, yet his back was facing you as he merely stared at the wall after returning to Barcelona. His ankle was aching and, although it was just a so called minor sprain in his ankle, Pau wanted to cry on the spot.

Sensing your annoyance, he started to think that it was his fault. That Spain drawing 2:2 was his fault, that the tackle was his fault, that every single thing on this planet was his fault.

After a few long moments of pure silence, you placed your phone down and stared at Pau's head, hesitating, before you reached out to ruffle his hair like one of a dog’s. The impact was immediate, since you saw how he flinched at the touch, but was quick to calm down.

"Pau?" Your voice was quiet, barely audible for him, as you adjusted and changed your position to lay down behind him, even with his big body towering over yours. "You alright, baby?"

A low hum was all you got as a response, but you didn’t take it for granted and instead hugged him tightly, pressing a few kisses on his neck here and there. When you suddenly stopped, thinking that he was getting annoyed by them, Pau immediately sat up.

"Don’t stop, Y/n." Once he switched sides to finally face you after all this, you saw the tears that threatened to spill over his eyes, your own widening in surprise. Pau laid his whole body on top of yours and his his face on your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your waist. "Don’t…"

"I'm not." As soon as your words reached his ears, he slowly pulled away to gaze below you, and it made your heart melt. At that moment, a tear left his eye, and then another, and another, until they were running down his cheeks.

Pau hugged you tightly, almost suffocating you underneath him, as he sobbed on your shoulder and cried his heart out. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, but all of the pressure built up inside him and he couldn’t hide it anymore.

He knew that he was going to look ridiculous after this, after this crying session and full break down, yet your presence was too comforting to looked away from his problems and act normal.

"F-Fuck…" Shame washed over him as he suddenly sat up and looked down, seeing how wet the spot on your shirt was now due to his tears, but he couldn’t help himself from downright sobbing. While he was still crying, you sat up and cupped his face softly, bringing him closer until you could feel his heavy breathing against your skin.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Your attempts to comfort him barely managed to help him, yet actions spoke louder than words as you placed another delicate kiss on him, this time on his forehead as you smiled at him. As he watched you try to soothe him with gentle movements, Pau slowly yet surely calmed down.

Time passed by quickly and soon enough, you ended up with an exhausted Pau laying on top of you, not letting you escape from him so easily, not like you'd try in the first place. With him on the verge of passing out, you could tell that he was still thinking about the Spanish national team and how he had disappointed them, but you didn’t let him have these thoughts.

"It’s whatever, Pau." The said person peacefully nodded his head, agreeing to whatever you were saying without even listening, just because you were his girlfriend and could do no wrong. "That bastard of a coach doesn’t even have common sense, letting you guys play without giving you any rest."

"Yeah, yeah." His reply made you sarcastically raise an eyebrow, which made him chuckle when he saw you. It seemed like second nature for you to help him, especially in times when he needed you the most, or only needed you.

"Are you even listening?"

"Mhm, yeah…"

– A/N : created a fake account on insta to stalk people from my town does anyone have tips

[greengoblinswifey]

lu after your showerrr. how patiently he waits for you in bed and the look he gives when you when you come out in a robe and wet hair😩

a/n— you’re talking about my baby lulu right?🤭

Luigi’s patience was firm, but tonight it was wearing thin. He sat on the edge of the bed, his frame relaxed, his chest bare, and the faint light from the bedside lamp casting a soft glow over his skin. He wore only his boxers, and his foot tapped the carpet rhythmically as he waited.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open drew his attention. You stepped out, steam around you, curls dripping water onto your silk robe. The robe clung to your damp skin in a way that felt effortless, the sash tied loosely around your waist.

Luigi’s gaze darkened, and you didn’t miss the way his body reacted, the growing bulge in his boxers betraying his thoughts. You tilted your head, smirking. “Happy to see me?” you teased.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he crossed the space between you in a few swift steps, his hands finding your waist and pulling you onto the bed with a firm but gentle motion. His lips crashed against yours, hot and insistent, his hands slipping up your sides as he leaned into you.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured against your lips.

You hummed in response, threading your fingers through his dark curly hair, tugging gently as he deepened the kiss. His hands explored your ass, his touch possessive.

In one smooth motion, Luigi shifted, flipping you beneath him, his weight balanced on his forearms as he hovered over you. The silk of your robe parted slightly, and his gaze flickered over your skin, his lips curling into a small smirk.

“You look so fucking good,” he muttered. He pressed a trail of slow kisses down your neck, each one sending shivers through you.

Your breath hitched as his lips returned to yours, and he whispered between kisses, “I’ve been waiting for you all day, amore. And now, I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“Then don’t,” you whispered back.

And he didn’t. His patience had reached its limit. His hands moved to your waist, gripping the silk robe and ripping it open, the soft fabric slipping off your shoulders and pooling on the bed. His boxers followed next, discarded swiftly, leaving you both naked.

He pressed his body against yours, his cock hard, grinding into you as you gasped, your head tilting back against the pillows. “Lu,” you whimpered, your voice breathless, and his lips curved into his signature smile.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky. “Every fucking inch of you, amore.”

Without hesitation, he thrusted into you, and your cry of pleasure filled the room. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he fucked you with roughness that left no room for doubt about how much he wanted you.

“You feel so fucking good,” he whispered. “So perfect. Taking me so well, amore. You drive me insane.”

You bit your lip, trying to stifle the moans spilling as he pounded into you, but he wasn’t having it. “Let me hear you,” he urged. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear how good I’m fucking you.”

Each thrust was precise, deep, as if he wanted to memorize every part of your pussy, every shudder and moan. His hands roamed your body, fingers moving over your curves as he whispered praises.

When you felt yourself nearing the edge, you tangled your fingers in his curls, pulling him closer. “Lui,” you breathed, your voice trembling. “I want to cum with you, cum inside me.”

He moaned at your words, his pounding growing more frantic. “Beg me,” he demanded, his eyes locking with yours.

“Please,” you whispered. “I need your cum. Please, Luigi.”

His grip on your hips tightened as he went harder,“That’s my girl. Cum on my cock.”

You came together, his name spilling from your lips as his thrusts slowed and his hot cum coated your walls, his forehead pressing against yours. His breathing was ragged, his words soft as he cradled you in his arms. “You’re incredible, amore. Mine, always.”

[ann1-wr1tes]

Luis Sera NSFW Alphabet

Dynamics: Luis Sera x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Spicy Alphabet

Warnings: Adult themes, obviously smut

A/N: I just love Luis so, so, so, so much. He is my bbg so ofc I had to write for him.

------

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

-Luis is so sweet with aftercare. He'll hold you close while peppering kisses all over your face and he'll call you plenty of petnames in Spanish. Now he is a bit lazy so he'll probably want to rest a bit before he runs a bath or shower but he just wants to make sure you are cozy and feel good.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

-On you he loves your eyes. He loves how expressive they are, how he could just get lost in your lustful gaze while he kneels between your thighs or rolls his hips into yours.

-On himself he likes his mouth. Not only does he talk a lot, but he can put his mouth to good use by kissing you, leaving hickies on your skin, or nestling his face between your thighs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

-On your chest. He loves to cum all over your chest and watch as it drips everywhere and makes a mess. In his opinion you look beautiful covered in his seed.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

-He wants to be pegged. Is that a bit of a blunt way of saying it? Yes. But I can totally see Luis just wanting to be ruined by you in such a way that it has his eyes rolling back into his head and his entire body shivering as he comes undo all over his stomach...

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

-Luis has decent experience. Not as crazy as everyone thinks, but Luis isn't a stranger to having sex and is actually quite experienced with it.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

-Now as freaky as we all like to imagine Luis to be, I think he'd enjoy missionary. As simple as it is, it gives him the perfect view of your face, letting him see all you pretty facial expressions, gauge all your emotions. It makes it all more intimate and sweet, getting watch your reactions and how your body feels while he experiences it with you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

-Luis can never be too serious, lets be honest. He loves to crack a good joke here and there but I think he mainly leans more heavy on the teasing remarks. He keeps it heated and flirty to not ruin the mood but of course he's going to crack a joke when its needed as well.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

-Not bare, but neat. He doesn't like to shave it all completely and opts for having it trimmed neatly, leaving hair behind and of course his happy trail...ifykyk.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

-Luis can get very into it. When you set aside his teasing and few jokes, he's looking at you with love in his eyes. Every time you moan or your body reacts to him, he swears he's been graced by an angel. So he can be pretty passionate and sweet in the moment. Not to mention all the sickly sweet Spanish pet names he'd be calling you while he coaxes sweet sounds out of you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

-Without a s/o he'd probably do it on a regular basis. Y'know just relieve stress and whatnot but why would he bother getting himself off when he has you? If you are together then you best believe that he will be coming to you and he won't even bother masturbating unless you aren't around or in the mood.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

-Okay hear me out....hair pulling. When he's going down on you, he's got his head nestled between your thighs, his tongue prodding and licking up all your slick while his hands trail up to your chest...this man is making you see stars and your hands are tangled in his hair. You are so close to cumming so you pull him closer by his hair, accidentally tugging a little and he lets out the sweetest moan. He's got long beautiful hair for a reason and gosh he loves when you play with it or give it a good tug to show him how well he's doing.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

-He doesn't care. As long as you have some sort of privacy he's down.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

-Just you in general. He truly believes that you are so perfect, so beautiful. It's honestly a challenge for him to keep his hands off of you but I think that anything you do to initiate it has him getting all hot and bothered whether that be a steamy kiss or your hands working off his clothes...he's just down bad.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

-Anything that could hurt you. So obviously no weapons, I don't think he'd be huge into impact play and would get nervous with choking. If you asked nicely for him to choke you, he may think about it but don't expect him to go too hard..

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

-LOVES GIVING! One of his favorite things is just laying down on his stomach and burying his head into your heat. It's just so easy, so nice, so relaxing to him. It's easy for him to get lost in all of you while your gushing on his tongue and your thighs are squeezing around his head...he swears he could die happy right then and there. (heaven forbid you sit on his face, he'll beg you to do it again when you finish)

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

-He prefers a slow more deep pace. He likes to take his time with you, feel you, show you how much he wants you and loves you. Of course if you want It rough he'll oblige but he prefers to just take his time while he's making you see stars.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

-So like I said, he likes to take his time but if you both are in a rush then there's nothing wrong with a little quickie here and there. He will want to get you alone again to really get to be slow and take his time but he isn't opposed to a quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

-Luis doesn't mind taking some risks. As long as you can't get hurt then he's fine with trying anything at least once.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

-So because Luis likes to go slower, his rounds last a decent bit. So i'd say maybe two rounds, three if he's really feeling needy. Plus lets add in the foreplay which he always does beforehand...its safe to say that your mind will be melted by the end of it all.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

-I think he may own one or two toys. Like maybe a fleshlight or cock ring? But nothing too insane. If you have some though or wanted to use toys he would love to oblige. He'd let you use some on him too..

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

-SUCH A DAMN TEASE! During foreplay he won't shut up! Like bro is dirty talking, cooing at you and calling you sweet nicknames in Spanish. He teases you and goes..."Mi Vida, you're so wet." or "Keep making those pretty sounds for me Carino~"

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

-Noisy asf. He's got a loud mouth and will make it known when he's feeling good. I think it consists of a lot of grunts and whines in the beginning that turn into panting and loud moans with lots of dirty talk mixed in.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

-If you take the time to really love on him and specifically love on the scar on his chest that he got from extracting the Las Plagas he will melt. Trace it and presses kisses against the scar and its game over. He'll look at you with hearts in his eyes.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

-Thick enough to stretch you out and long enough to hit all the deep spots. I'd say maybe 7 inches with a few veins running along his shaft and a pretty, flushed tip when he's aroused.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

-Very high sex drive, esp with you. He's the man who would end up having wet dreams about you and you may wake up to him rutting against your ass bc he's pent up.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

-Tries his hardest to sleep after you have fallen asleep first. He honestly also loves to just watch you drift off. You look so perfect, so peaceful and still in his arms. He can run his hands through your hair, press kisses to your cheeks while you doze off.

[wishyouloveme]

Too Big

Song rec:Candy shop (50 Cent ft. Olivia)

Warnings:MDNI BEYOND THIS POINT.  Smut. literally just pure smut if the title didn’t indicate it. Oral (fem giving), gagging, Swearing (Is that really a warning anymore, all my stories have it lmao), SLIGHT VERY SLIGHT use of teeth (not enough to injure), slight Manhandling (But papi can manhandle me anyday), Use of pet names (Papi, mami, mi amor, puta (Slut in spanish))

A/N Note: Hey lovelies! I know I know, I've been gone too long. I think it’s just a thing I do now lol. But its been exactly 17 days since y’all got a masterpiece from me, courtesy of me being fucking clumsy and cutting open my finger, and then practically murdering my own foot. But, here’s your masterpiece for the next…hmmm…million years.

JK, I love all of you. Especially you wifey <3 @bloodlinemadness 

Further links: Wishyouloveme (Main blog) Pairing: Luis Berrios Martine Jr. “Damian Priest” x fem! Reader

Further information: Requested, timeline is while he won his belt (Cause lets all be honest, he never should’ve lost it)

TAG TIME: @hannah-h-pleb

@boundbyeclipse

@bloodlinemadness (Ik i already tagged you but shush) 

Oh my god.

He had done it.

He had finally fucking done it.

He had been wanting this from day one, and he had finally done it.

He had finally won his first world title, and with barely any help from the judgement day. He has finally done it. You were now married to a world heavyweight champion.

You kind of figured this meant you wouldn’t see him until the wee hours of the morning, no doubt wanting to celebrate even though he’s known it’s coming for the past few weeks, So you easily settle into the pillows of the shared king size bed, that Damian had practically begged you two to get because “he’s big and he needs space.” That wasn’t really a lie on his part, he is big, in more ways than one, and he does need space. But just because he needs it doesn’t mean he gets it. Most of the time he’ll wake up to you curled into his side late at night, because he hadn’t been home in weeks, and you just missed his scent, his body, just…his everything/ Pulling out the book you had been reading from under the pillow, where it had slipped in your utter happiness for the fact of your boyfriend winning the title. Thankfully, you had the sense to bookmark it before launching it. Opening it to the page you had left on, the words fly past your eyes. Usually you loved to read, but tonight the words weren’t sticking like they did. Like they were supposed to. Instead of the words, you were imagining your husband's hands, the way they wrapped around that belt..oh god. You just wanted him home. I mean, yes, it is selfish, but also, you don’t care. But, you don’t want to ruin his night out. So instead, you send him a quick and simple text.

‘Hey handsome. So proud of you tonight! Have fun with the group, call me if you need a ride or anything at all. Love you!’

But, before you could hit send, you hear the front door open, and feel confusion flood your senses. You knew you had locked the doors earlier when making dinner, ‘cause you had music on blast and wouldn’t hear the door. So the only way someone could get in was a key, and the only people who had keys were you, Damian and your parents, and the man himself. Thinking maybe your mom had come over to congratulate Damian, you stand, pulling a hoodie over the sports bra you had on. Don’t wanna flash your mom, even though she’s seen everything already, multiple times over the years.

Making your way down the stairs, you shiver a little at how cold the hardwood floor is. Another thing you have to bring up to your husband at some point, either heated floors or carpet. As you round the last stair, you hear the clinking sound of keys being deposited into the bowl next to the entrance. Your heart speeds up as you round the corner, and your body baulks surprisedly. This was definitely not your mom. “Baby!” Your eyes were wide, definitely not suspecting him to be home already.

He lets out a small chuckle,  shrugging off the jacket you had bought him months ago that looked so good on him. “Mi amor” He all but groans out, quickly wrapping his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. The sight was downright laughable. This 6 '5 giant hugging what looked like a gnome next to him. You wrap your arms around him, scratching at the back of his neck like you always did. “You did so fucking good today.” You whisper into his ear, planting a small kiss below it. He lets out a small groan, and you feel something bulky against your upper stomach. You break away from the hug slightly, your breath hitching when you realize he’s broughten the belt home with him. You let out a practically silent swear at how fucking good your husband looks right now. Fully black clothing, his hair done up in fresh braids, which he no doubt got done for wrestlemania, the gold belt hanging low on his stomach. He lets out a small chuckle, no doubt taking you in the same way. The smaller shorts that you had thrown on after your shower, the hoodie that looked fresh out of the laundry and somehow like it’s been in the closet for months on end at the same time. He gently swipes his thumb over your hip bone, kissing the edge of your jaw. “You get all dolled up for me?” His voice was low, strained like he was holding back on something. 

“No, actually. I thought it was my mom.” You admit with a small laugh, and continue. “I just had the sports bra and shorts on while watching Wrestlemania, which I'm so proud of you for.” You say softly, leaning up and tugging him down softly, kissing him, trying to pour how proud you were of him into the kiss. He responds in earnest, tugging you closer to him, one of his hands going to red on the side of your head, the other trailing down your spine to your ass, resting there.

You kept kissing him, gently bringing a hand up to his braids, which you could tell weren’t as tender as they were when he left. You were still careful running your hands through them though. He lets out a pleasured groan into your mouth, pushing you back against the wall that separated the entrance and the kitchen. He breaks away, exhaling as he kisses all over your face. “I couldn’t have done it without my amazing wife behind me through every step.” He said, his voice going slightly emotional. You gently caress the side of his face, practically tearing up yourself. “I didn’t do anything. I just believed in what was already there.” His face changes a little, and then he’s kissing you again. A fast, hurried kiss, like he couldn’t get enough of you fast enough. His hands go up to the hoodie, and he breaks the kiss long enough to tug it off of you. You barely hear it hit the ground before he's picking you up, not giving you time to speak as he goes up the stairs into the shared room. He pauses, his eyes flicking with an emotion you don’t have time to place, before he moves the book, putting you on the bed. “You bookmarked this?” He asks, and at the nod of your head, he throws it somewhere random, pushing you back onto the bed as he gets onto it. He starts to take off the belt, but pauses as your hand goes on top of one of his much larger ones. “Leave it on” You urge softly, sitting up to help him get off his shirt, your body practically convulsing at the sight of his chest. “Fuck am I lucky.” You said quietly, running your hands over the panes of his chest, over the tattoo’s there. His breath had already escaped him at you wanting him to keep the belt on, but he let out a groan when your hands felt along his chest. He stares down at you, taking everything about you in, before he leans down, tugging your hair back and kissing down your jaw. “Get on the ground, on your knees.’ He says, his tone leaving nothing to be questioned. You smirk slightly, and take your bra off slowly. Hands slowly go back, brushing along your back as you undo the hooks, gradually making it looser until they pop from the last ringlets, and you slowly slide your hands back to the front, snapping the straps teasingly before pulling it off fully. Heeding the demand, you slowly slip onto the floor, backing up a little before she drops onto her knees, letting out an exhale at the coldness of the hardwood floor. He pauses at the exhale, and he raises an eyebrow. “Either we need to get you a physiotherapist, or different floors.” He comments, undoing his jeans. He comes over, lifting your head. You swallow as you look up at the perfect man in front of you.Your mouth opens at a gentle nudge from his thumb, and he steps back, pushing his boxers down. You knew he was big, but he doesn’t fail to surprise you every single time. You feel your back straighten as he comes closer, but your mouth stays open.You knew what he expected.

He slips his dick into your mouth with little to no friction, and he lets out a small groan. “Fuck princesa” He groans out, feeling the warmth envelop him like a welcoming blanket. “Thats right Mi amor, let the champion fuck this pretty mouth, hm?” He cooes out, running a hand over your hair that felt oh so soft. He pushes further into you, relishing in the small gag he hears come from your mouth, god he loves that. You moan around him, feeling his hand in your hair, and your hips flinch against the floor, the shorts suddenly feeling too tight on your hips. You gag slightly, your eyes rolling back and fluttering closed at the taste of him, feeling a larger vein go across your tongue. You exhale through your nose as he pulls back slightly, and you swallow around him, your hand’s coming up to rest on his thighs. “Fuck I love you, perfect little Puta” He groans out, his hands fisting your hair as he pushes back further. You gag harder when he hits the back of your throat, and your eyes shoot open as you feel something warm and salty hit your back tastebuds. “Fuck baby, c’mon, swallow.” God you were so proud of this man. And god you loved how big his dick was, and how he knew exactly to make you fold.

[beginningobserver]

[RE:CONNECT - blog v.] Link 12- The faded colors of the truth

[AO3 version]

[CW: Murder mention; body horror mention; child abuse mention]

"He doesn't seem to be the same person I met before... again."

Somehow, Hiroomi was remembering his brief talk with Daisuke about Rui. He didn’t understand why his own words were bugging him, or rather… Why his own beliefs about who Rui was seemed to be completely wrong.

He never had been this close to Rui before Ukkomon appeared. He had been just a scaredy-cat witnessing the bullies pestering Rui. He had wanted to help Rui out, but…

“... Do I know him anyway…?”

The boy sighed. He was just sitting on his scooter's seat and looking at the horizon. He saw people and digimon in the distance, walking to different directions. The bay area had a ton of those critters now… Accompanied by children, teenagers or adults.

“Ayame might know him the best, she’s like him too…” he sighed, “Being a Chosen Child might connect him to other people who’re like him and can relate to his struggles though…”

At this point, he believed even Daisuke was more capable of knowing the real Rui than him.

“He doesn’t trust me, but he can trust Ayame at least.”

He didn't want to feel left behind. But he wouldn't complain, as long as he could help Ayame and Rui with everything within his reach...?

However, the feeling of not being able to understand Rui's feelings bothered him.

“... Maybe I was… rude to them all… Because I can’t get how it is to have a digimon by my side.”

Suddenly, his phone beeped. It was a message…?

“Huh?” He took the phone from his pocket and checked his inbox:

Hey, Koyama. Got a time to talk about something? We will be at Yamatoya Ramen.

“Huh…??” Hiroomi blinked, “What do you want to talk to me, Motomiya-san?”

What would Daisuke want with Hiroomi though? It was simple:

“You know Rui better than me, and there’s still things that are not clear.”

“What do you mean?”

Daisuke sighed, and rested his arms on the counter stool, “Rui told us his part of the story, but we never got to hear it from Ukkomon’s side, or even, yours and Nakajima’s.”

“It sounds like you’re doubting him when you put this way…” the other frowned, somehow doubting Rui's words sounded pretty unfair but…

“It’s not that,” he shook his head, “I want to be fair and listen to your own version of that. You said he ‘changed’ and he kinda mentioned something like that, about how his life simply changed all of a sudden when Ukkomon appeared.”

Hiroomi frowned, “I see…”

V-mon was sitting on the counter stool, being quite silent about it. Yet, he’s still interested in the conversation between the two humans.

Hiroomi felt like he was in one of those murder mystery series, and was just interrogated by the ones investigating the case. At first, it would be exciting but…

He wasn’t really feeling excited about that.

“Rui was… Exactly like I told you before, he used to be bullied at school. He was always wearing long sleeves and pants, we never knew why, maybe his body was sensitive to the weather? He wore those even on the hottest days of summer too…”

Unfortunately, Daisuke knew what was the reason behind that detail.

“He also… Didn’t feel like he was taking care of himself too, but despite everything he would be gentle and friendly to everyone, and yet…”

“... He had no friends, right?” V-mon completed that phrase, making Hiroomi just nod his head in response.

“Yeah, because of the bullies, nobody wanted to get involved with him. Nobody wanted to help him out either…” and another sigh came from him. Then, he continued:

“I wanted to help him but I couldn’t. I was weak and a coward. I’m still a coward, so…”

“Wanting to help but not being able to do anything hurts a lot, but you shouldn’t blame yourself as if you were purposely denying to help him” Daisuke said with a serious tone. And with this Hiroomi noticed that perhaps Daisuke had something in common with him…?

Only those who know Daisuke’s whole story would notice that he was a victim from the Vamdemon army’s invasion on August 3 1999. The reason he wanted so badly to be strong and protect others was because he couldn’t do anything back in time.

“I don’t think you’re a coward if you’re trying to help him now,” he added.

“... Thanks,” the young man said in return.

“He changed, right?” V-mon asked, rhetorically though, “Once Ukkomon appeared everyone got to know him better and he started to be less scary?”

“Yeah, I don’t say he was ‘scary’ but… He really didn’t look like a good person. It was stupid tho, judging him by his appearance like that.”

“You should never judge a book by its cover,” V-mon said, “It’s what Ken said once. If the art of a popular manga is not catchy enough but the story is pretty cool, then why would you judge it by the art?!”

Daisuke didn’t know if V-mon was being serious or just trying to make the poor Hiroomi smile by taking that phrase too literally.

Hiroomi chuckled, “That’s right, you shouldn’t judge manga and people by their looks! But you still have to judge other stuff by their appearance and smell, like vegetables and meat, to know if they’re fresh and not rotten.”

“Yeah yeah…!” V-mon nodded sagely.

Well, I guess it worked…?

“But seriously, Rui changed immediately once Ukkomon appeared. He cut his hair shorter and it was neat. His dad miraculously recovered from whatever the disease he had, his mother was much more lively and joyful… Things that caused a whiplash on everyone around.”

“I see…” Daisuke commented. Yeah, that tracks with Rui’s own story.

“At school, Ukkomon caused another huge impact because everyone had never seen a digimon before, or even knew what a digimon was at all. And then he made the bullies stop bugging Rui, and that… That gave me courage to stand up for Rui and myself too.”

“So, you were bullied too, huh…” Daisuke caught that a bit later though…

“Y-yeah… I was,” he confirmed and then continued, “But Ukkomon taught everyone to not let those bullies bother us anymore, so we all became Rui’s friends…”

“But it wasn’t just because of Ukkomon, right?” Daisuke raised an eyebrow.

“... In my and Ayame’s case, no. We got to know Rui because of Ukkomon… But we really noticed he was just a kid struggling with something . I think it was because of his dad, but I do remember hearing him crying outside on the balcony sometimes…”

And Daisuke discreetly clenched his fist. He also knew why Rui would’ve been crying outside on the balcony though…

“But I’m not sure about the others,” he shrugged, “We weren’t close to them either. Another kid from the building used to get along with us, but I dunno if he liked us and Rui for real.”

“Hmm…” Daisuke and V-mon were thoughtful but still listening to him.

“Pretty sure everyone else only got along with Rui because of Ukkomon and only for Ukkomon. Like when kids see you with a cool toy and only care about the toy and not you at all.”

Rui mentioned that Ukkomon confessed to have been hijacking the minds of people besides of his parents’ brains tho -- Daisuke mused.

“... Everything was going great for us until… He and Ukkomon disappeared.”

V-mon frowned, but Daisuke was still serious and looking at Hiroomi. At this point of the story, he was well aware what was about to happen, and it simply gave him another punch in the gut like it had happened when Rui had narrated that part to them a year ago.

“I wasn’t at home when that happened, but Ayame was. And she heard something weird happening at Rui’s home. She can’t remember the details well, but there were a lot of screams and it made the neighbors, including her and her family, worried.”

“...”

“They called the police and then… The rumors started.”

“Rumors?” that caught Daisuke’s attention, but he did remember Rui had mentioned something like that before too.

“You see, Rui’s parents suddenly died and nobody knew how. The police only found them lifeless in the entrance hall and Rui… Rui was fine but there was something about a monster eye on him, trying to be hidden by toilet paper.”

“I guess Rui had told you what happened that night, right?” V-mon asked.

“Yeah, he did later… Some bad guy tried to rob their house, murdered his parents and Ukkomon managed to protect him by opening a gate or something and throwing it directly in the jail.”

“Hmmmm…”

Daisuke and V-mon were aware that it was a lie, but…

“And he told us he got hurt in that same incident and Ukkomon desperately tried to help him out. Ukkomon gave his own eye to Rui, and this is why they fought, because Rui didn’t want him to do something like that.”

“Yeah, he told us too…” V-mon tried to keep the lie going, but he was grimacing.

“Anyway, he and Ukkomon disappeared and there were rumors about the ‘monster eyed kid from Hikarigaoka’ which made Ayame and I mad. Everyone else talked about it! And Rui wasn’t around anymore…”

“He was left with his relatives,” Daisuke remembered, “And spent the rest of his childhood with them until he finished High School and moved out.”

“He told you then…”

“He did,” the other nodded.

He also said those rumors hit where he was at the moment and made things difficult for him too… -- Daisuke added, but mentally because he wasn’t sure if Rui would be ok sharing that detail. Better leave it to Rui himself, if he ever tells Hiroomi and Ayame about that part.

“We kept trying to find him, but… We had no success” Hiroomi said, a bit melancholically,  “No one knew Rui’s family well enough and we didn’t know if he had relatives either. We didn’t want to think that anything horrible and tragic had happened to him.”

“...”

“And then we all parted ways, Ayame went to a medical university and I was just… attending a technical school with no idea what to do with my life. I got to meet her again two years ago and I learned she got a digimon, Cutemon, in the same year Rui disappeared.”

“The same year…?”

“Yeah, in September.” he elaborated, “The reason she hadn’t told me before was that she feared someone trying to come after Cutemon. It was when we started thinking that maybe someone tried to get Ukkomon that unfortunate night of March 2003.”

“...”

“But now there’s a lot of digimon around, right?” Hiroomi commented, “They’re appearing day by day, so I don’t think it’s easy to commit crimes like murder or kidnapping to steal a digimon when your neighbors or relatives can have one too and assist to protect you, right?”

“Hmm… True,” Daisuke mused.

“But… I think you guys understand him better than I do because of that.”

“Huh…?”

“I’m not a Chosen Child like you guys,” he chuckled nervously, quite sad though, “So I can't understand how the life of having a digimon living at your home or handling difficult cases like world-saving and being a hero is.”

“... It’s pretty normal,” Daisuke replied with a shrug, “People make a big deal of having a digimon but we’re still ourselves. The difference is we got dragged into a big thing at a young age.”

Hiroomi felt like he just messed things up when he had said that.

“But… Even if we got ‘chosen’ by someone or something,” Daisuke continued, “We are the ones who make our own choices. Nobody tells us to go and risk ourselves to protect a digimon or a human. We’re not obliged to fight if we don’t want to.” 

“...”

“I chose to fight because there’s things worth protecting and taking the risks.”

“...!!”

“What I’m saying is… You matter to Rui and Nakajima, with or without a digimon, they just see you by who you are. Your feelings and friendship are important so don’t worry about it.”

Hiroomi silently nodded, he just felt he really had hit a sore point Daisuke potentially hated . But the truth is… Daisuke didn’t want him to feel excluded from anything just for not having a digimon.

Having a digimon does not make us special, it’s what Daisuke meant.

“... I just wish I could do more for you guys though…” he muttered, but since the building was closed and nobody but them were inside, Daisuke clearly heard that.

“I think you’re doing your best and that’s what counts. People can still help without a digimon partner, there’s some people who simply lost theirs but they didn’t give up on helping everyone.”

“People… losing digimon?” and Hiroomi’s eyes widened, “W-what do you mean?!”

“It’s something we didn’t know until two years ago, but… It’s not a set-in-stone rule,” he explained, “three of our digimon seniors lost their partners, there’s something that went off with them and sadly…”

“... That’s horrible…” Now he worried about Cutemon and Ukkomon, also Daisuke’s V-mon and all the digi-friends he made.

“Well, if Taichi-san said it’s not something to worry about and that they will solve this… They will solve this and we shouldn’t think too much about it.”

“But why…?”

“They’re good at solving problems like that, and I trust Taichi-san when he says he will definitely find a way to bring all digimon who parted due to that awful partnership dissolution thing.”

“Yeah!” V-mon nodded, “No one will separate us from our partners forever!”

The other boy was just impressed how Daisuke and V-mon were like beacons of optimism and hope even when something cruel like losing their digimon was a real problem.

“You two really are incredibly inspiring, don’t ya?” he blinked.

“Nah, We’re just easy to understand,” Daisuke grinned.

Maybe thanks to that talk with Daisuke at late hours last night Hiroomi was relieved. But he overslept that morning… He thought he and Daisuke had become a little bit closer, because they didn’t know each other very well at first.

To Daisuke, Koyama Hiroomi was just a goofy funny guy who would sometimes pass by and do some delivery orders for his boss. But now he knew Hiroomi a little better, especially how the other was feeling detached from Rui and Ayame because of not having a digimon partner like them. And he deeply cared about Ukkomon and Cutemon, also V-mon and the others despite that.

And to Hiroomi, Motomiya Daisuke was just a very cool hero who saved the day and was just working at Yamatoya Ramen for some reason, but he did remember Motomiya telling him he wanted to run a Ramen shop too. But now he realized that Daisuke was just a very very ordinary guy dragged into the digi-business but, as Daisuke put it, ‘we’re the ones who make our own choices and we are not obliged to fight if we don’t want to.’ -- and that Daisuke’s choice was to help others because he wanted to.

[wroetolando]

𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚃𝚘 𝙳𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚍 | 𝙾𝙿𝟾𝟷

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where oscar finally stops pretending he doesn’t feel something more

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: illicit affairs - taylor swift

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: mild language, slight drinking

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The music thumped through the concrete walls of the club, bass vibrating through your bones, but your head was elsewhere—tilted slightly toward your friend as she leaned in to shout something over the noise. You gave her a lazy smile, lifting your drink in a half-hearted cheers. Around you, the place was buzzing: lights low and flickering, shadows moving across faces, bodies pressed too close together on the dance floor. The Monaco Grand Prix had wrapped up a few hours ago, and the entire grid was out blowing off steam.

Your eyes scanned the room.

Oscar had been there earlier—quiet, low-key as always—nursing a bottle of water and looking half-amused at the chaos around him. You hadn’t seen him for a while now. A couple of the McLaren engineers had dragged him off to some corner, and the last time you’d made eye contact, he’d given you a small smile and a nod, like he always did. Polite. Reserved. Maybe even too reserved sometimes.

You liked to think you understood him, though. You liked his quiet.

He wasn’t loud like some of the others. Didn’t need to be. He watched everything, took everything in, and when he said something, it always mattered. You found comfort in that—his steadiness. The way he never tried to be anything he wasn’t.

But just as your mind started drifting back to that moment—his hand brushing your back on the way past you earlier, a touch so subtle it barely counted—someone else appeared in your space.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” a voice purred beside you. Male. Confident. A little too close.

You blinked and turned your head.

He was tall, smug in the way only someone who thought the world owed them attention could be. Not a stranger—you recognized him immediately. Luis from the Red Bull garage. Not a driver, but in the inner circle. Technical lead, maybe? Something important enough to give him that air of entitlement. He leaned in with a smirk, already invading your bubble.

You shifted slightly but didn’t step back. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

He chuckled like you’d made a joke. “Because you don’t really strike me as the clubbing type. More… sophisticated, maybe.”

You gave a tight smile. “Not sure if that’s a compliment or a diss.”

He lifted his drink, clinking it against yours without asking. “It’s a compliment. Trust me. I’ve noticed you.”

Of course you had. You were Oscar’s longtime friend, often seen in his garage, close enough to raise questions in the media, though neither of you had ever confirmed anything. You’d met before he ever joined F1—he was your best friend before the world knew his name.

And lately… things had started to shift. Long looks. Lingering touches. The silence between you wasn’t just comfortable anymore—it was charged.

Luis clearly didn’t care about any of that.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

You held up your half-full glass. “Already got one.”

“Then let me keep you company while you finish it.”

Before you could answer, someone stepped up behind you—close, solid, familiar in a way that instantly settled your spine.

Oscar.

You didn’t even have to look to know it was him. You felt him in the space beside you, in the calm he carried like armor.

His voice was cool, perfectly even. “Is there a problem?”

Luis raised an eyebrow, clearly not recognizing him immediately in the low lighting. “No problem here, mate. Just talking.”

Oscar didn’t even glance at him. His eyes were on you.

“You good?” he asked, voice low but firm.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Luis seemed to realize who he was dealing with and straightened slightly, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “Oh—Piastri, right? Big win today. Congrats.”

Oscar gave a curt nod. “Thanks.”

There was a pause. Tense. Awkward. Charged.

Luis gestured to your drink. “We were just having a chat. Didn’t realize I needed to check in first.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. Just a flicker—but you saw it. He didn’t rise to the bait.

“She’s not interested,” he said simply.

You blinked. Luis laughed, a short, incredulous sound. “Is that right?” He looked at you, smirking. “You need him to speak for you?”

Before you could reply, Oscar stepped forward just slightly. Not aggressive, not loud—just enough to shift the balance of power. You felt your heart jump.

“She doesn’t,” he said, voice calm. “But she shouldn’t have to waste her breath turning you down when she’s clearly uncomfortable.”

Luis’s expression shifted, irritation sparking behind his eyes. “You always this protective?”

Oscar didn’t blink. “Only when it’s mine to protect.”

Your breath caught.

Luis raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Message received.” He looked at you again, a final smirk. “If you change your mind…”

You didn’t even answer. Just turned away.

He walked off with his ego barely intact, and the moment he disappeared into the crowd, Oscar exhaled—shoulders softening, eyes finally meeting yours properly.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded, a little stunned. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead, he just glanced toward the exit. “Wanna get out of here?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

You followed him out into the cool Monaco night, the music fading behind you, replaced by the distant sounds of waves and the muted buzz of traffic. The air smelled like salt and perfume and faint smoke.

You walked in silence for a while. Then, finally:

“What you said back there…” you started.

Oscar kept his gaze forward. “I meant it.”

Your stomach flipped.

“You said—‘Only when it’s mine to protect.’ What does that mean?”

He stopped walking.

Turned to face you.

“It means I’ve been trying to ignore this for a long time,” he said softly. “You and me. But tonight, seeing someone else touch you—try to get close to you like that—it made me realize I don’t want to ignore it anymore.”

Your heartbeat was a drum in your chest. “Oscar…”

“I know I’m not always good at… this. Saying what I feel. But you’re not just someone I want to protect. You’re someone I—” He faltered. Then tried again. “You’re someone I care about. More than I’ve ever let myself say.”

You took a step closer. “Then say it now.”

His eyes searched yours.

“I want you,” he said quietly. “Not just as a friend. Not just around when it’s convenient. I want to be the person who gets to hold your hand in public. The one who walks you out of clubs and doesn’t have to pretend it’s just friendly concern.”

You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body alive. “Then take me.”

He reached for your hand—his touch gentle, grounding—and pulled you toward him like he couldn’t help it anymore.

“Mine to defend,” he murmured again.

And this time, it didn’t sound like a warning.

It sounded like a promise.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

You didn’t go home right away. Neither of you said it out loud, but there was a magnetic pull that kept your steps slow, meandering, following the coastline until the club lights had faded into the distance and only the soft splash of the sea against the rocks remained. The wind picked up slightly, and Oscar wordlessly shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It still smelled like him—clean, warm, something subtly expensive that reminded you of hotel sheets and late nights watching onboard footage while he mumbled strategy notes under his breath.

He didn’t let go of your hand.

You both sat on a low stone wall, looking out over the dark water. The city behind you pulsed with life, but here it was quiet. Still.

Oscar tilted his head, watching your profile. “You know I’ve always had your back, right?”

You turned your face toward him. “Yeah. But tonight was different.”

“I know.” His eyes dropped to where your fingers were laced. “I think I just… I got tired of pretending it wasn’t more than that.”

You gave a soft laugh. “Took you long enough.”

He smiled, that rare, private thing he only ever gave you—no cameras, no crowds. “You knew?”

“I hoped,” you admitted. “But you’re so… you. Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re reading telemetry or reading my mind.”

Oscar leaned his shoulder into yours. “Maybe both.”

A comfortable silence stretched out between you again, broken only by the distant buzz of engines and ocean. But beneath it, there was a different kind of tension now—like the air had shifted, like something fragile had cracked open.

You looked at him again, this time really looking.

“Why haven’t you ever made a move before?”

He hesitated. “Because I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

“And now?”

His thumb traced the back of your hand. “Now I think I’d rather risk everything than keep pretending I don’t want more.”

You inhaled sharply, the weight of his words sinking deep.

Before you could answer, he tilted his head, eyes searching yours again. “Can I kiss you?”

You didn’t answer with words. You leaned in, close enough that his breath mingled with yours, close enough to feel the way his fingers flexed against your hand.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t wild or frantic.

It was slow. Intentional. Like he’d waited forever for the moment and wanted to savor every second of it.

His lips were soft, but the way he kissed you was firm—sure. He wasn’t guessing. He knew. Knew how long you’d both waited, how close you’d always been, how inevitable this moment had become.

When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his, your breath caught between a laugh and a sigh.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” you murmured.

He smiled, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Only because I didn’t want to get it wrong.”

“You didn’t.”

Another silence. But now it felt different. Now it felt like a space being filled, not avoided.

You let your head fall onto his shoulder, and he leaned into you gently, his arm wrapping around your waist.

After a while, he spoke again.

“You know, I wasn’t going to say anything tonight.”

You raised your eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I was going to let you have fun. Keep my distance. Same as always. But then he touched you.” His voice dipped lower. “And I saw your face. You didn’t want it, but you smiled anyway. Like you felt like you had to. And something in me just… snapped.”

You stayed quiet, letting the words settle.

“I’m not jealous,” he added quickly. “It’s not that. I just hated the idea of you feeling like you had to be polite when you were uncomfortable. And I hated that it wasn’t me standing next to you, making sure no one got the chance to cross that line.”

You sat up, turning to face him. “It’s okay to be protective.”

He shook his head. “It’s not just that. It’s the fact that you’re you. You always take care of everyone else. I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re alone in that.”

Your throat tightened unexpectedly. “Oscar…”

“I want to be the person who makes things easier. Not heavier.”

Your heart stuttered, emotions catching you off guard. You weren’t used to this from him—not like this. He was always the calm one. The steady hand. But now, he was the one laying himself bare, piece by piece.

You reached out, cupping his jaw gently. “You already are.”

The wind picked up again, and this time, you leaned into him not just because you wanted to—but because you could. Because he’d given you space to do so. Because he’d stepped out of his quiet shell and into something more.

He turned and kissed your temple. “So… what now?”

You gave him a crooked smile. “Now? You walk me back. You hold my hand. And tomorrow, maybe you buy me breakfast.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And after that?”

You shrugged, lips twitching. “I guess we see where this goes.”

He squeezed your hand, eyes never leaving yours. “I already know where it’s going.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not letting go this time.”

And somehow, in that moment, you believed him. Not because of the words, but because of the way he said them—quiet and steady, like everything else he did. Like a vow whispered in the dark, meant only for you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The streets of Monaco were mostly empty by the time Oscar walked you home, the city quiet in the way only post-race weekends could be—like it had finally exhaled after holding its breath through qualifying laps and champagne showers.

Neither of you said much, but the silence felt different now. Not awkward, not uncertain. Just… warm. You walked with your fingers intertwined, brushing shoulders every so often as if reminding yourselves this was real now. That nothing had to be hidden anymore.

When you reached the entrance of your building, you paused at the bottom step, turning to face him.

“So…” you began softly, voice low, tentative. “Is this the part where you say goodnight?”

Oscar looked down at you, his expression unreadable at first, then slowly melting into something softer. He glanced up at the building behind you. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you want me to say goodnight now, or in the morning.”

You smiled, heart skipping a beat. “In the morning sounds nice.”

His mouth twitched upward. “Yeah. I was hoping you’d say that.”

You led him upstairs with a quiet laugh, unlocking the door with slightly shaking hands. As you stepped into the cool, dim apartment, the nerves started to bubble—but Oscar’s hand at your back grounded you. Gentle. Steady. Still there.

He didn’t rush anything. He never did.

You offered him something to drink, and he took a glass of water, leaning against your kitchen counter while you sipped yours. The two of you talked quietly—about the race, the insane weather in FP2, the weird snack Daniel had dared Lando to eat during a team meeting—normal things. Familiar. Comforting.

But the longer the minutes passed, the more the unspoken pull between you built again.

You set your glass down first, stepping in front of him with eyes locked. His hands found your waist instinctively, and yours moved up to rest on his chest.

“You sure?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, whispering, “Yeah. I’m sure.”

And when he kissed you this time, it wasn’t the slow exploration of a first kiss. It was fuller, deeper—like a promise being made in pieces. His hands held your hips with reverence, his mouth on yours soft but certain, like he’d been waiting years to touch you like this.

You barely made it to the bedroom before his jacket fell to the floor, followed by yours, clothing shed like caution, tossed aside in favor of something braver. Something real.

Everything about Oscar that night was careful. Not hesitant—intentional. His touches weren’t possessive, but there was something about the way he held you, kissed you, looked at you like you were the only thing in his orbit that made it crystal clear:

You were his. And he was yours.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The morning came with soft sunlight spilling across the bed and tangled sheets. The Monaco streets below were waking up slowly, horns and footsteps echoing faintly through the open window.

You stirred before he did, blinking sleepily as you turned onto your side to face him.

Oscar was already halfway there—one arm draped lazily over your waist, his breathing steady. He looked so different like this. Softer. The faintest curls of hair messed up across his forehead, long lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks, lips parted slightly with sleep.

You reached out, running a fingertip lightly down the curve of his cheek.

His eyes blinked open slowly.

“Morning,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep but still impossibly gentle.

“Hi,” you whispered, smiling.

He tucked his face into the pillow and groaned softly. “Tell me this isn’t a dream.”

You laughed. “It’s not.”

He peeked at you with one eye. “Good. I’d be really pissed at myself if I made that whole speech in a dream and then woke up alone.”

“You mean the one where you said I’m yours to protect?”

His gaze turned clearer at that, more focused. “I meant it.”

You nodded. “I know. That’s why I let you stay.”

Oscar reached out, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “I’ve never really felt like this about someone before. Not like… this.”

You swallowed thickly. “Me either.”

“I was scared,” he admitted. “That if I told you how I felt, I’d ruin everything.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No,” he said softly, eyes scanning your face. “I think I finally got something right.”

You leaned in, your forehead resting against his. “You got a lot of things right.”

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped in warmth, hearts beating steady and quiet beneath the sheets. There was no need to rush. No media to answer to. No expectations yet.

Eventually, he rolled onto his back, sighing. “Do you want coffee?”

You grinned. “Only if you make it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You trust me with your morning coffee?”

“I trust you with a lot more than that, Piastri.”

He turned his head, smiling fully now. “Good. Because I’m planning on being around for a long time.”

You reached for his hand beneath the covers, interlacing your fingers again, the same way you had the night before.

And this time, when he held on—he didn’t let go.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

masterlist

[hexxedgod]

‧꒰ luis can't resist you wearing his clothes ꒱‧

pairing: luis serra x fem!reader

summary: you wear just an oversize shirt of luis around him.

warnings: sexual content.

words: 1.4k

Luis leaned against the doorframe, his dark eyes roaming over your figure as you stood by the window, the moonlight casting a soft glow over your bare legs. You were wearing one of his shirts, the oversized fabric slipping off one shoulder, exposing the curve of your collarbone. The sight made his breath catch, his hands itching to touch you.

“What are you doing standing there, cariño?” he asked, his voice low and smooth as he stepped into the room.

You turned to look at him, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “Thinking.”

“Dangerous,” he murmured, closing the distance between you with a slow, deliberate stride. His eyes never left yours as he came to a stop in front of you, his hands slipping to your waist. “Care to share?”

“I was just wondering how long you were going to stand there before doing something about this.” Your fingers slid up his chest, your touch light but purposeful as they traced the open collar of his shirt.

Luis chuckled softly, the sound low and rough as his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer. “Dios, you are so breathtaking.” His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a moment before he leaned in, capturing them in a kiss that was both soft and demanding.

His hands slid lower, slipping under the hem of the shirt you wore, his fingers brushing against your bare skin. “You’re not making this easy,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire as his hands moved higher, his thumbs grazing the sides of your breasts.

“Do I look like I want to make it easy?” you teased, your breath hitching as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric, cupping your breasts with a confidence that made your knees weak.

Luis groaned softly, his lips trailing down your neck as his thumbs brushed over your hardened peaks, teasing them with a skill that left you gasping. “You’re trouble,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. “And I can’t get enough of you.”

You arched into his touch, your hands tangling in his hair as his mouth moved lower, his lips tracing a path down to your collarbone. “Luis…” His name left your lips in a breathless whisper, your fingers tightening in his hair as his hands continued their exploration.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice a reverent whisper as he pushed the shirt further up, exposing more of your skin to his hungry gaze. His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you to the bed.

He laid you down gently, his body following yours as he hovered over you, his dark eyes drinking you in. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked, his voice rough as his hands slid up your legs, parting them as he settled between them.

“Why don’t you show me?” you challenged, your voice trembling with anticipation as your hands reached for the buttons of his shirt, your fingers working to free him of the fabric.

Luis chuckled, the sound low and sinful as he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that left you breathless. His hands moved with purpose, sliding the shirt off your body, leaving you bare beneath him. His gaze darkened as he took you in, his hands roaming over your curves with a possessive hunger.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough as his hands slid up to cup your breasts, his thumbs teasing your peaks as he pressed his hard length against you. “So beautiful, mi amor.”

You gasped, your back arching as he took one of your hardened peaks into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it with a skill that left you trembling. His other hand slid lower, his fingers brushing against your core, teasing you with featherlight touches that made you moan.

“Luis, please…” you begged, your voice a desperate whisper as your hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer.

“Patience, cariño,” he murmured, his lips curving into a smirk as he continued his torment, his fingers pressing against you with just enough pressure to drive you wild. “I want to savor this.”

“Luis,” you gasped, your body arching into his touch as he finally gave you what you wanted, his fingers slipping inside you with a skill that left you breathless. His movements were slow and deliberate, his lips never leaving your skin as he drove you to the edge.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire as he pressed a kiss to your lips, his movements growing more urgent as he lost himself in you. “So tight, so beautiful.”

You could only moan in response, your body trembling as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. His name fell from your lips in a desperate plea, your hands clutching at him as he pushed you over, his touch sending you spiraling into bliss.

Luis’s smirk widened as he positioned himself over you, the heat between your bodies almost unbearable. His hands slid up your thighs, parting them wider as he pressed his hips against yours, his hard length brushing against your core. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your breath hitching as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

“You’re already trembling for me,” he murmured, his voice a low growl against your mouth. “You’re perfect, mi amor. So tight… so ready for me.”

You whimpered, your hands gripping his shoulders as he teased you, the hard length of him sliding against your slickness but not quite giving you what you craved. “Luis, stop teasing,” you gasped, your voice breaking with desperation. “Please.”

Luis’s dark eyes locked onto yours, his expression raw and filled with hunger. “Cariño, you have no idea how good this is going to feel,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “But I’ll take my time.”

He shifted slightly, his hips pressing forward as he began to push into you, his hard length stretching you inch by inch. You gasped, your nails digging into his back as he filled you, the sensation intense and overwhelming.

“Dios mío,” he groaned, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he stilled for a moment, letting you adjust. “You feel… incredible. So tight, mi amor. So perfect.”

You arched against him, your legs wrapping around his waist as you urged him deeper. “Luis, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I need you.”

Luis groaned, his hips pulling back before he thrust forward again, this time deeper, his movements slow and deliberate as he set a rhythm. Each thrust was firm and calculated, his hard length hitting spots inside you that made your vision blur.

“You take me so well,” he murmured, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. “God, you’re incredible. Look at you.” His hand slid up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over the hardened peak as his lips found yours again, claiming you in a kiss that left you breathless.

Your moans filled the room as he moved faster, his hips driving into you with a desperation that matched your own. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer with each thrust, his body pressing into yours as if he couldn’t get close enough.

“Luis…” His name fell from your lips in a broken gasp as the tension inside you built, your body trembling beneath him.

“I’ve got you, cariño,” he murmured, his voice rough as he felt you tighten around him. “Let go for me. Come for me.”

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his hips, sent you spiraling over the edge, your body arching against his as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Luis groaned loudly, his thrusts growing erratic as he followed moments later, his body shuddering as he buried himself deep inside you.

For a long moment, the room was silent except for your shared, ragged breathing. Luis collapsed against you, his weight grounding you as his hands slid up to cradle your face. “You’re everything, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice soft and filled with reverence.

You smiled, your fingers brushing through his hair as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “And you’re mine.”

Luis chuckled, the sound low and warm as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as if he never wanted to let go. “Always.”