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#familiarize yourself with your odds of success
ailinu · 9 months
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blasting into a discord with my 750,000 simulated dice rolls and stem background to argue about the rules of a game with the designer
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cherry-leclerc · 6 months
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lolita ☆ cs55
genre: age gap (10 years), porn with plot, affairs, forbidden romance, angst, mentions of suicide, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature
word count: 14.9k
You were young, alluring, floating through a disastrous life with the touch of a thousand angels. Carlos was successful, irresistible and someone who often kept a distance from catastrophe. Never in a million years did he think he would have a complete moment of weakness. Especially the week of his wedding. 
nsfw warning under the cut!
18+... sexual tension, penetrative sex, dry humping, riding, size kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), semi - public sex, deepthroating, praise, fingering, handjobs, lots of dirty foreplay, slapping (like once AH), a bit of edging, overstimulation, a bit of crying, sucking on fingers, squirting - i should stop now, oh god.  
inspired by this and this !
STOP AND READ:
This by no means - in any shape or form - is something that should be admired or looked up to. It does deal with serious topics such as: grooming, suicide, and drugs. While the reader is of age (19), this is not my way of impulsing my own readers - especially younger ones, if by any chance they come across this - to follow this mindset. Dark themes will take place and if that is not something you are comfortable with, then that is okay, I definitely have more light hearted fics in my masterlist. “Love stories” aren’t always filled with flowers and rainbows, they can also be hurtful and confusing, often misunderstood. This is fictional. Given, this is inspired by Lolita and Blue Velvet by Lana Del Rey (*everyone cheers*) – what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending. Verses of Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov are also mentioned (extremely controversial book - as it should be).
cherry here!…hi, guys! i hope you all enjoy and i’m gonna do it now: I’M SORRY. 
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She was as dangerous as poison could ever be - with no good intentions. She was malicious, sweet laughter that would make anyone fall in love. An Angel walking on Earth, curiously making it her playground. 
He was intelligent. A man of few words, but also simply so, the seven deadly sins all wrapped up in one. Keeping a distance from things he knew would bring him no good.
But in order to understand, we would have to take you back to where it all began. 
Where Paradise met Hell.
-
Growing up in Italy for some odd reason made you out to be the girl you were. Men there would throw themselves at any opportunity if they saw a single daisy looking girl in eyesight. At first it felt as if you were walking a tightrope; you knew it wouldn’t be the wisest idea to fall straight into their traps. Except, slowly, it made sense.
They knew how to sweet talk someone so young and naive - you’ll give them that. It only took one taste and that was the moment you knew. 
You liked them older.
Men fucked in a way boys never would. Every single one would always put your needs first - but there was this one man that had you realizing how fucked up you could be in order to get what you want. That’s one prize you’d cheat to win.
And that’s a story for later.
-
Moving away for college was the best decision you felt you would ever make in your entire life. Given, Italy was home, but the people in it weren’t. Often, you find yourself missing your rendezvous but studying abroad in Spain wasn’t much different.
Note; you didn’t grow up with a tight knit family. Your mother was a drug addict with half of her days knocked out on the couch, your father was someone who was occasionally in the picture. He tried his best.
And your older sister, Ollie? 
Well, you’d honestly forgotten you even had one. 
Some may say that you’re a whore, a slut, a homewrecker, or any other Spanish slur that spits Madrid, but you never cared. You were having fun and why were you the one always being blamed? Perhaps, men, too, should think with their heads rather than their dicks.
Which is how you find yourself still repeating the familiar pattern you had started a long time ago. Riding your professor shouldn’t feel this good. Mierda, he would groan as you bounce up and down like a bunny. Mewling, you shake the feeling of remorse. Not when he felt this good. 
Your phone ringing is what makes you stop, him still inside of you, twitching. Ciao? His calloused fingers would slide up to pinch your nipples as you lightly gasped. 
“Tesoro! Haven’t heard your voice in so long.”
Your father’s tone makes you wince at the reminder. Occasionally, he would check up on you in a way you would assume other fathers did for their daughters. You could never hate him, though. In his own way, deep down, he still cared.
“Papi, how are you?”
Sliding off of his lap, you zip your dress back on as you pace the lecture room. Bored, he takes out his secret whiskey from under his desk. Your sister is getting married in a few weeks! I was thinking you could fly back home so you could join us. The thought alone made your stomach churn as you bit down onto your thumb. Signaling at the older man, you click your fingers, hinting for a glass of your own. He obliges, handing it to you.
“I’m busy with summer courses. Maybe I can send a gift?”
You try everything in the book in order to get out of what seems like a crappy, dull, Italian wedding. It had been ages since you last stepped foot there. In no right mind would Ollie’s wedding be the one to change that. But he says things that get to you. I haven’t seen you in years. Neither has your sister. She misses you, you know?
You bite down on a snarky remark as you down the rest of the gold liquid. Last time you spoke, she promised that you were dead to her. That she never wanted to hear from you again. In the moment, it hurt, but you grew used to the idea. And what younger sister doesn’t pick up on what older sister says? Now, you despised her as much as she did you.
“Ovviamente. I’ll be there.”
-
It’s hot as soon as you land. That you didn’t miss. Ale, your fathers chauffeur, picks you up with a bright smile. Saddened, it dawns on you that you hadn’t seen one of those in ages. He’s nice. Let's you sit in the passenger's seat as he introduces himself. He mentions he has 5 granddaughters and has been married for almost 50 years. It’s sweet. Makes you feel human.
Pulling into the driveway, you almost want to correct him. This isn’t my fathers house. You must be mistaken. Only, he says he isn’t. That he had recently moved into his Italian mansion a year ago. You’re skeptical for a minute, but realize you can’t be one to tell. Years have passed; things change.
Still, that didn’t stop you from gawking at the ginormous house that sits on a hill; overlooking all of Tuscany. It even had a beautiful view of the ocean. Why couldn’t you grow up with this?
“I’ll inform your father that you have arrived safely.”
Taking it all in, you slowly pace the entrance, analyzing everything in sight. The crystals hanging from the chandelier, large - expensive - portraits, shiny mirrors. Quirking your head to the side, you glide over to the golden trophy sitting in the middle of the spacious entry.
Carlos Sainz Sr. : Rally Driver of-
“That belonged to my father. He passed away a year ago.”
Startled, you grip onto the trophy tighter as you slightly jump in panic. You curse yourself for being caught as you delicately place it back down before turning your attention to the booming voice.
Instantly, you’re hit with lust. Standing in front of you is a tall man - around his 20’s, perhaps - dark brown eyes narrowed down on you like knives. Messy, untamed, brown hair. Large nose, plump lips, dark brows. His figure is something you can’t wrap your head around that even exists. Richard Mille's watch clung onto his wrist. Giorgio Armani pressed up against his chest, it almost looked as if it didn’t fit due to his rippling muscles. Woody, rich, scent filling up the room. 
He was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. 
“I am so, so, sorry.”
Your voice is so soft, it has him intrigued. You wore a short pastel yellow dress that didn’t leave much to his imagination; paired with converse and tube socks. Rosy tint on your cheekbones from the humidity. Berry lips. Wide, innocent eyes. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t take his own breath away. Even though you stood far enough away, he could still smell your vanilla perfume. 
Inching closer, he waves you off. “I was kidding. My father is well and alive.” You tippy toe nervously before planting your feet back down. 
“That’s not a nice thing to say.”
And he’s surprised with your response. Yet, he finds himself extending his tan hand out to you. “I’m Carlos.”
Carlos. His name sounds as attractive as his appearance. Strong and sure. But also…dark. You shake his hand, legs quivering at his warm touch. Deep down, he knew how much he affected you - it’s something he’s grown quite accustomed to, having people admire his looks, but it took a lot to not show that you had the same effect on him.
“Nice to meet you, Carlos. Do you work for my father?”
Amused, he lets out a deep chuckle. Even a simple sound like that had you pressing your legs together, arousal dripping in between. 
“You don’t know who I am?” You shake your head, confused. Should you? He smiles. “That’s okay. We haven’t met before…Though you should get to know me since you’re already here…”
Wait.
“You know,” he leans his head a bit, floppy hair following, “Ollie.”
No, no, no.
“It’s so nice to finally meet my fiancée’s sister.”
Foolishly, you try your best to hide your surprise. How does a man like him end up with a bratty, narcissist, like your sister?
What was so fucking special about her?
Envy fills your veins as you try to show that this hasn’t phased you. Excited cheers echo down the hallway as your father runs over, embracing you into a warm hug. You’re here! Wincing, you lean into his touch, eyes still trained on the magnetic man. 
Only then, did Ollie fly down the stairs, immediately running into Carlos’ arms. Making a big deal out of it, she kisses him as she runs her hands against his chest. 
“Come here, tesoro. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”
The entire time; Carlos kept his eyes trained on you. 
-
It didn’t make sense. Part of you knows it never will. You’ve only just met him, but you can tell he must’ve been fucked in the head to willingly choose someone like Ollie. Sure, she seemed sweet and kind, but she was anything but that. 
Dinner that night is carbonara. Carlos is extremely talented. He cooked this just for you. Tight lipped, you thank him, looking down at your plate to avoid his burning gaze. 
“How’s school?”
Turning to your father, you remind yourself that you were here for him; because he wanted you there. That’s all that should matter. “Very good. Thank you for asking, papi.”
The sound of glass hitting the table erupts as Carlos hurriedly goes to pick it up, quickly murmuring a strong apology. His dark gaze shortly flickers past you. It leaves you squirming. 
Clearing his throat, he takes a sip of his wine. “Where do you study?” Spain, you tell him as he beams. “No way. I was born and raised in Madrid. Moved to Italy a few years ago for work.” Letting out a laugh, you find the coincidence funny. He moved from Spain to Italy and you moved from Italy to Spain. 
“What do you do for work?”
“He’s a Formula 1 driver. Drives for Scuderia Ferrari,” Ollie weasels in as she smirks down on you. Anger bubbles inside of her when your attention remains on the Spaniard. Drumming your fingers against the table, you lick your lips. Formula 1? He’s about to explain it all up until Ollie butts in once again. She rubs his hand, a glistening ring shining right in front of you. You physically have to force yourself to look away. “Oh, amor, she doesn’t know what that is. She’s too…young.” 
You know she’s trying to make a weak point: you’re only a baby, therefore, you don’t compare to her. And yes, you are young, 19, but it was stupid of her to think that it bothered you. You tsk before leaning back against your chair. 
“Of course, my mistake. I forgot I was still a pure flower instead of a wilting one.”
Ollie’s face switches to bright red as she grips onto his hand. An entertained smile slips onto his lips before flattening back out. He rubs her hand, trying to calm her down. You can’t stop the jealousy burning from within.
“I didn’t mean you, Mr. Sainz.”
The 29 year old brushed you as if nothing, a smile displayed. Eyeing you both, Ollie suddenly stands up, chair screeching. Why don’t you help me bring out the cookies I baked? Ever so gracefully, you nod. Following after her, you stop suddenly as she spins, hair slapping her face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here? Are you here to ruin my life with your existence?”
“I might.”
Her left eye twitches as she growls angrily. If she didn’t make it this easy to tick her off, then you’d be bored, but luckily for you, it was unchallenging to get under her skin. “This is my wedding; my future husband - so don’t fuck that up like everything else you’ve ever done.”
You try to pretend as if her words didn’t affect you as you stare back blankly. Marching over to the counter, she opens up a box of cookies before sliding them onto a polished dish, leaving you standing there alone.
-
You thank the higher Gods for not letting you cross roads with Ollie for the next few days. Though, you’re a bit bummed out that you haven’t seen Carlos much either. Peeking out the window, you could see the way a group of workers hurried to set up for the joint bachelorette taking place later that night, right on the beach. The waves look magnificent, so without a second thought, you slip on a bikini before rushing out the door with your necessities. 
Lathering a goop of coconut sunscreen, you hum softly to yourself. Weren’t you going out with your sister? Looking up, you see Carlos standing in front of you with his face slightly scrunched up from the bright sun. His cheeks looked as if they’d just been pinched. “Where to?”
He takes a seat next to you. “She said she was going out to go buy a few flowers for later. Said she would invite you.” You shake your head, already bored with the idea.
“You know her,” you tap your head, “Forgetful.”
He cocks his head to the side as he shuts his right eye for a moment. “You two don’t get along, do you?” You try making up a silly excuse. Of course we do. We’re sisters. But he’s looking right into your orbs as if he sees right past your weak attempts. “You’re right. I could be wrong.”
It stays quiet for a while - only the soft breeze being heard. You can see him from your peripheral vision; eyes shut as he takes in the moment of peace he hasn’t had since dawn. Long lashes fan his face, freckles scattered all over. 
“Aren’t you too busy to be talking to me?”
“No. Plus, I should take time to get to know my future sister-in-law. Especially since I don't know anything about her even after dating her sister for 7 years.”
7 years.
Squinting at the waves, you slide your sunglasses on. “There’s not much to know, but I can try. I’m 19 years old, studying abroad in Spain, and grew up in Italy. I love the ocean, love a nice cup of hot chocolate - even though I’m allergic - so I only allow myself small sips during the winter. I like to pretend I know how to dance and I kill it in karaoke.” He laughs. You can’t dance? “Unfortunately, I can’t. Once, during my friend's wedding reception, I twirled right into her cake. I spent the entire day on supervision.”
“Dios mío…Remind me to watch out for you on our wedding day.”
Our wedding day. His words slightly sting as you pinch your nose swiftly. Standing up, you brush beads of sand off your legs. Your eyes roam the area before you find your father waving you over. “I should go,” you say as you look down at him. His brown eyes scan you before nodding and standing up. He, too, looks over to where your father waits to introduce you to a group of businessmen. He frowns and that's when you realize just how revealing your bikini might have been, only it's too late now.
“Papi always taught us to greet our elders.”
He clenches his jaw, eyes closing for a second. When his gaze meets yours, you almost choke with how dark and twisted it’s become. “Aren’t you too old to be calling him that?” Confused, you tilt your head.
“Calling him wh- Papi?”
He grinds his teeth together - and then just like that - he’s smiling again. 
“Forget it. How would I know?”
-
Standing next to an empty table, you watch as Carlos and your sister dance along with everyone else. This party has allowed you to pick up on the fact that they seemed to be a much more important couple than you had anticipated. Everyone looked at the Spaniard as if he were a God himself - and being quite truthful - you would agree. There was nothing about him that wasn’t flawless. 
Then, Ollie, just looked like any other person. Her eyes were bright, but any time anyone would walk up to him, her stare would become threatening. As if she was his owner and no one else could get close enough to breathe the same air.
Everyone here was older; that much you could tell. Attendees were accompanied by girlfriends or fiancée’s of their own. It made you feel a bit childish, since you clearly were the youngest one there. Reaching out for your margarita, you twirl the straw.
“Not having fun?”
Your attention directs itself to a dirty, blondish, brunette. He looks a bit tipsy, face flushed as he smiles sweetly. He’s tall, handsome. But not as much as Carlos.
“Max,” he introduces himself. Politely, you shake his hand. He points to the large group that dances on the sand. He lets out a croaky laugh. “They could get a bit much sometimes.” You laugh, nodding along with him. He continues talking to you. Brings up how he knows Carlos from driving with him; except he’s signed to Red Bull.
“Everyone here is invited only if they're a driver, huh?” It’s a lame joke, but he laughs and throws his head back as if it were the most fascinating thing he’s heard all night. 
“It’s a small circle, but I promise, they're all nice lads.” Discreetly, he takes in your appearance. The way your black dress dances with the wind. Painted red nails glistening under the golden lights. 
You were beautiful. Tragically, beautiful.
“You know the groom or the bride?”
“Bride.”
He nods, taking a sip of the beer bottle he had been nursing. You both continue your conversation for a while longer. He’s Dutch. Recently 26. You mention your headache before he brushes his fingers against your hand. Looking down, he pulls away before clearing his throat. He apologizes and asks if you would like to dance. A soft melody now plays and you find yourself taking his hand. It's big as yours disappears into it.
Almost as if he’s shy, he carefully slides his hands down to your waist. You giggle as you throw yours over his shoulders. “I hope slowing down helps get rid of your migraine. Sucks. I get lots of those during race weekends.” 
“It is. Thank you for caring.”
He’s sweet. You can tell with the way he blushes when you mention the way you like his dimples. Slowly, you find yourself enjoying his company. You’re in the middle of laughing at some stupid joke he just told, when someone rudely clears their throat. Carlos’ smile appears bitter as he shakes his head.
“I’m sorry - I’ve probably killed the mood.”
“No problem, mate. We were just talking.”
He clicks his tongue before turning to you. Under his scrutiny, you feel as if you’ve just been caught smoking weed for the first time. Dazed, you hum, waiting for him to say something. You know it’s not your place to feel as if he owes you an apology, but you can’t help it. 
“Ollie said it’s best if you went to bed.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. Since when does she care if I get a good night's rest? He huffs before running a hand through his hair. “She - she…Just do as you’re told, please.”
Now you’re bothered. Up until that point, you were actually having a good time. Dumbfounded, you turn to Max as he smiles understandingly. Pursing your lips, you apologize. Tippy toeing, you lean up to press a kiss against his stubble. He smiles.
“See you around?”
“See you around, Maxie.”
Walking into the lonely house, you let out a sigh as you pour yourself a cup of water. The summer heat had completely dehydrated you. You could still hear the soft beat playing from outside as you sway in the kitchen. You were upset - angry - that your sister had cut your night short. And any other time you would have put up a good fight, but thought it’d be best to not make a fool out of yourself. Especially in front of people you barely knew.
The door sliding open has you alert as you look up. Carlos silently makes his way in as he groans with exhaustion. Loopy eyes match yours as he clears his throat awkwardly. “So…What were you talking about with Max?”
“Nothing that should concern you.”
His jaw clenches, a large hand running along it. Stepping closer, he takes your cup of water before chugging it down. It leaves you hot and bothered just how close he is. It’s a mixture of salt and musk, his scent. It makes your head spin. Lazily, he takes a step back before nodding.
“Right. Have a good night.”
-
Carlos knew he had messed up. He had no right lying and saying Ollie had ordered for you to go to bed. That was completely him. It’s just that - seeing you with Max, laughing, smiling, made him seethe - when he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. It wasn’t like he was your boyfriend, after all. 
So, he was embarrassed. He kept his distance. In his head it made sense. If you weren’t near then he wouldn’t feel the need to keep his eyes on you all the time. The house felt lonelier, colder without you sliding down the hallways. Rightfully so, you had spent your days locked up in your room. The only person that made happy was Ollie.
Either way, maybe it was for the best. He had a ton of shit to do. Starting with changing their honeymoon destination for what seemed like the millionth time that month. First, it was the Maldives, then Cancún - God - he knew that in a few hours his fiancée would come up with a new place. 
“I know, I know we said that, but it’s changed.” He paces the office, stressed. “Can you please just make it fucking happen?”
“Ouch.”
Turning his attention, he sees you peeking at the entrance, phone still pressed up against his ear. Pouting, you enter, sweet aroma filling the room. Excusing himself, he ends the call. “Need anything?” He honestly cared for your response. It had been days without seeing you and he was afraid he blew it before he even had a chance to marry your sister. He told himself it was only because he cared for your relationship with Ollie. But fuck that - he knew not even you both cared that much about each other.
Shaking your head, you walk closer. “You sounded mean. Not a nice look on you, Mr. Sainz.” You’re teasing. You had to be. 
“That wasn’t mean. It's called being straight forward.”
Ignoring him, you curiously eye the dark office. Books, trophies, helmets. Letting out a snort, you pick up the nearest picture frame. In it, it’s Carlos and Ollie, smiling wide. Tears brim her eyes as he looks down at her. The sight makes you want to puke. 
“When was this taken?”
“The day of our engagement.”
You hum, already setting it back down. You can’t help but picture the impossible. That in the picture it was you instead of her, that you wore that diamond ring, that he looked at you. 
Fuck her, honestly. 
“Why’d you propose?”
He’s thrown off by your question. He’s expecting you to bring up the fact that it was a joke, but when you looked back for a response, he found himself with a dry mouth. Because I love her?
“Jesus,” you shudder, taking a seat on top of his desk. His eyes wander down your tan legs as you rest them on top of his chair. You're playing mind games - he’s well aware -  and still he found himself following them. You were the worst temptation out there. It’s as if you knew the power you held. “I bet fucking her is a chore.”
Shocked at your words, he finds himself dumbstruck. He knew you two didn’t get along, but what the fuck happened for you to aim such insults? 
He knows Ollie. Sure, she was a bit much at times, but she was nice. She was pretty. There was no need for your vile words. 
You can tell he’s about to get defensive about her and that makes you shrink. Willing, you had handed him a reason to choose her over you. 
Looking back at the picture, you purse your lips. “Sorry. That wasn't the right thing to say.”
“You should leave.”
You’re embarrassed over him kicking you out, but you knew you had crossed the line. So much for a peaceful afternoon. You comply, jumping off the desk. Not before making your way over, pressing your soft lips against his neck, which was the only place you could reach, even after tippy toeing. You felt him get stiff. 
“Excuse my manners, Carlos.”
Skipping out the door, he’s left with a single thought. 
He’s fucked. 
-
The next morning, you’re forced to spend the day with your sister. Whether it was for running errands, fighting; it didn’t matter. As long as you made your father happy. All he wanted was for his girls to get along. 
“Go,” Ollie growls as she hands you your bridesmaid dress. Snatching it from her, you slowly climb up the stairs to your room. 
It’s a beautiful dress. Strong, dark, cherry red. Just like blood. It hugs your curves the way you’ve always thought all dresses should. For that reason, too, it made you look…older. Trying your best to get rid of the wrinkles, you smooth it down before making your way back. 
Papi loves it as he starts throwing out compliments. You look beautiful, tesoro! You are a true gem. His eyes are bright and proud as you stand there with a shy smile. And though you thanked him, nothing else mattered but the man right in front of you. 
The Spaniard had just gotten back from a meeting. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep the rest of the day, but as soon as he saw a balsé Ollie and an eager father-in-law, he was interested. She had told him to go relax; practically pushing him away. But as soon as you walked down those stairs, he swore his heart had never melted with such a sight. 
His eyes became fixated to the point of no return. You stand there like a divine temptress. A siren who was mixed with innocence. Enough to drool over, but also, to adore from afar. Someone he could worship. If God decided this were his last day on Earth, then he would happily follow, since he finally felt as if his life were complete. 
His big brown eyes are glued onto you as your father spins you. Ollie’s attention flickers between her younger sister and her fiancé. Tears fill up her eyes as she springs off the couch. You’re not bothered by it; don’t even bat an eye. That is until Carlos quickly runs off after her. That was a slap to the face as you show off a wounded smile to your father who stands there lost at the sudden commotion. 
Later on that day, you find yourself trying to forget it all with watered down tequila. That’s really all you could find in such short notice. Leaning against the balcony, you study the soft waves, cold wind causing your skin to flash small goosebumps. 
“Disgusting,” you mumble as you finish the rest of the alcoholic drink. Who knew a simple encounter would set you off?
“Woah there. Are you okay?”
Max cautiously steps closer as you shrug with a sigh. What was there to say? I’m a horrible person. I’m a horrible sister. And yes, we might not get along, but never in a million years did I think I would be falling in love with my future brother-in-law. 
“What are you doing up so late?”
Sheepishly, he raises his cigarette. Letting out a low hum, you raise a brow. “Can I have one?” He knows he shouldn't be the one to give a teenager a form of drug, but you looked so upset, so drained, that he felt as if you needed it. Lighting it up, you bring it up to your lips as you squint at him. He laughs. 
“First time?”
“No. It’s just been a while.”
You’re still not looking at him, but he notices the way you let out shaky breaths. The way you softly pinch your forearm. He frowns. 
“I know we only just met, but do you want to talk about it?”
And maybe it was the gist of the moment. Or that he was being sweet - showing that he cared, but it worked because next thing you knew, you were kissing. He lets out an erotic moan with the taste of your lips. All a mix of cigarettes and tequila. This is wrong. He was friends with Carlos and you were only doing this in a moment of weakness, but you just couldn’t stop. Neither could he. Not when you tasted like a thousand crimes. 
His large hands grab your ass as you gasp, brushing against his cock. He hissed as he pressed his lips much harder. Surely, you will have bruises tomorrow. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you grind against him. Clumsily, you both make your way to the couch that’s nearby. Straddling him, you continue to dry humping. Slowly, but surely, the warm sensation between your legs starts to form. Panting, you pull away as he tries to angle his face closer to yours. You smile tauntingly. 
“You know what you remind me of?”
You hum, leisurely picking up your filthy actions. He bites back a smile as he grips harder onto your hips. 
“A Lolita.”
A menacing smile looks down at him before you kiss down his thick neck, soft bites being left behind. You can’t recall the moment you start bouncing on his cock, or when he sprawls you open like a map, kneeling down in front of you. It’s all a haze; a delicious one, too. You’re falling like a feather from your climax when you hear a thud. Did you hear that? No, he would mumble as he peppers kisses onto your soft skin. 
The tides are crashing harder now, signaling that the night was growing older. Timidly, you share a goodbye as you start to skip your way back into your room, but one last thing caught your attention.
A broken flower pot on its side and dirt trailing into the Italian home. 
-
More days had passed since your last encounter with the devilish Spaniard. If you were ever in the same room, he wouldn’t even glance at you. He would simply just walk past by. He was mad. Upset about something. You tried to think of what it might’ve been, but when he walked into his office with an infuriated expression, you decided it was time to call a truce. 
Knocking, you flinch at his sharp tone when he commands you away. Ignoring it, you still step in. Head thrown against his chair, man spreading, he has his eyes screwed shut.
“Are you okay?”
Your tone is sticky like honey. It annoys him the way it strings him in. Drumming his finger against the large chair, he angles his head to look at you. You’re almost scared to ask again, so you decide to stand still until he speaks up. 
“Why’d you do it?”
Puzzled, you purse your lips, waiting for further explanation. What was he talking about? Did you do something to make him upset? The thought alone made you feel queasy. When he notices you still don’t understand, he clicks his tongue. 
“Why would you fuck a friend of mine?”
Oh. Was it possible that this was something he was jealous of? Bewildered, you know you can’t deny it so you start to word-vomit. I am so sorry, Carlos. He came onto me that night - he kissed me first. I was confused. I was lured in by his words. I didn’t know what I was doing-
His eyes soften up as you try your best to break it down. But you were a liar; a good one. You knew damn well it was all you. You had kissed him first. You threw him under the bus and you knew that. Did he deserve it? No. Of course not. But you couldn't handle the Spaniard being mad at you.
He signals for you to get closer. Securely, he grasps your hand and hauls you onto his lap. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve suddenly become; how your mind replicates a plate of jello. 
“I’m sorry he made you feel like that.”
His rough fingers slide up and down your arms and even that leaves you buzzing. Suddenly, you feel feeble. You assure him that you were fine - that it was no big deal. The way he looks at you is what gives you the confidence to lean in closer. A trace of panic slashes his face for a second. He should probably stop this before anything else happens. There was nothing okay about your ass pressed up against him. Or him craving to taste your plump lips. 
“He didn’t make me feel anything I haven't before.”
Your implication irks him far too much, he starts to consider this all an unhealthy encounter. He can’t stop the images of you being with other men. Someone else kissing you, pleasuring you. Whilst your words were suggestive, your features were anything but that. Wide eyes stare back at him, slightly crinkled. Moving your body, you scoot closer as if you weren't already. He growls as he pinches your hip. Then, you're kissing his neck, and he should be pushing you off, but he’s too far gone to pick up on how wrong this all was. I’m sorry I’ve upset you, Mr. Sainz. I didn’t think you would care who fucked me or not.
“I-I don’t. It’s just that you shouldn't be doing stuff like that. You’re too young for all that.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” You narrow your eyes. “I’m wiser than one might think. I’m mature enough to know who can and can’t fuck me the way I like.” Your gaze focuses extra hard with your confession. As if it were meant for him.
Pressing your ass one last time against his tight pants, you leap off, giggling. 
“Take care, Carlos.”
-
It's a business dinner, your father fills you in as you sit nearby, enjoying a bowl of ice cream, hairollers dangling around your head. Pouting, you reach up to clip one back into place. He smiles.
“You know, lots of young, talented guys are going to be here. It could be a great opportunity to meet someone.”
You make a face at his idea. “Yeah. No, thank you.” Marching over to him, you gently pat his cheek. “I’m not here to meet anyone.”
Signhing, he grabs your hands. “Can I ask you something?” 
“Sure.”
“Are you and Carlos…” Choking on your own saliva, you push away. What? No. Of course not! Why would you even think that? He lets out a breath of relief. “It’s nothing. Ollie just brought it up, but I told her you would never actually do something like that. I know my precious girl.”
The door creaks open as Satan herself walks in, followed by an Angel. First thing you noticed are their intertwined hands. Ollie tries to be coy as she flashes the action right in front of you. She mainly greets your father as she sticks by Carlos like a piece of gum. Hello, he would say to you as you bite back a smile.
“What are we talking about?”
“Your sister might have a boyfriend by the end of the night, that's what,” your father jokes as you slap his shoulder. Boyfriend? The Spaniard’s eyes burn you, subtle threat evident. Ollie fakes a smile as she tugs him back a bit.
“Wow. You know what? That might actually be a good idea. Could help with how uptight you are. But I’m confused, boyfriend as in Max?”
Fury fills you as you shoot daggers right at her. Ollie’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction. You’re dating Max? “Of course not, papi! Ollie is just being a bitch.”
“No, no, no - I don’t think telling the truth is being a bitch. You should be happy, baby sister! You sure sounded like it when you let him fuck you out in the balcony.”
Shocked at her words, you can’t bring yourself to look at your father who stands disappointed. Ollie, that's enough, Carlos warns as he squeezes her hand. She yanks it away, jewelry clinging against each other. 
“My bad. Shit, I forgot. I forgot no one knew what a slut you are. Opening your legs for any man around you. We’re lucky you’re not attracted to your own father.” She lets out a sour laugh. “Now, that would be fucked up.”
“That’s low, Ollie,” you spit, skin feeling as if it's on fire. You know where all this pent up anger is coming from, but she had no right to make up shit for fun. What kind of sister does that? Embarrassed, your eyes flicker to where Carlos stands with a hopeless expression. Licking your lips, you force yourself to walk away.
Slamming the door shut, you let out a loud scream. Why? Why was she always like this to you? A hard knock is what makes you wipe your tears away. Ollie slithers her way in. It hurt you how proud she looked. As if she had achieved something spectacular. 
“The fuck - Are you crying?”
“What do you want?”
She takes a seat on your desk as she dusts off imaginary lint. “I just want to talk. The way sisters do.”
Ricocheting off the bed, you march over to her as you glare. “Sisters? No. You’re nothing of mine.” Ollie yawns as she rubs her eyes. Then, she clears her throat.
“Do you want to know why I hate you? You’re so stupid you probably don’t even know, but don’t worry - that’s what older sisters are for. I’ll explain it to you. Do you remember, Romeo?”
You do. It hits you all at once; the memories of the first man you ever slept with. He was nice - kind enough to teach you what a man likes. He had jet black hair, a smirk always lingering on his lips. He was tall and a local from where you grew up. He was the perfect experience. 
But that still didn’t make any sense. What did he have to do with Ollie?
She lets out a wet laugh. Already, you can see her own tears as she tries to quickly wipe them away. 
“I loved you; I did. You were my sister before my enemy. But I also loved him. He was my first love. Promised me a home high up in the hills. But do you know what it feels like to see someone you love fuck your little sister against a wall?”
We probably shouldn’t-
Don’t worry. I’ve got you. No ones going to see us. Men love a good thrill.
“You and him…”
She licks her chapped lips. “We had barely started dating.” 
“I didn’t know - I swear to God, I didn’t know!”
If you had, you never would’ve looked his way. Ollie was everything to you growing up. You admired her. Loved her. That’s why it broke you when she started pushing you away as if you were some disease. Later, when your parents got a divorce, she didn’t second guess it when she made the decision to stay behind; causing you to leave with your mother. She never cared for you after that and you never knew why.
But now you did.
“I was young…Younger than I am now, how was I supposed to know?”
“Well, I’m glad we agree on something. You truly don’t know anything.” Strolling over to you, she smiles at your desperate state. “Which is why I’m not making the same mistake twice. Stay away from my husband.”
-
Ollie’s words felt as if they had opened up past scars. You meant what you said. Romeo would have been someone you would have disregarded if you had known the truth. But like always, you were the one with the entire blame and that you didn’t like.
Despite wearing a pretty dress - one that everyone gawked at you for - you felt ugly. Has it always been this way? Maybe it did make sense as to why she despised you. Playing with your bracelets, you try to pretend you’re interested in meeting your fathers investors. You feel completely exposed when they all stare straight at your chest area.
“How are we all doing?”
They all look up at the Spanirad as they start spitting out their congratulations for his upcoming wedding. He thanks them before checking up on you. His eyes connect with yours. Butterflies swirl inside your stomach as you smile weakly. He’s the first one to truly talk to you that night. To show he cares about your wellbeing rather than the way your dress fits you. Though, you looked stunning as always. Excusing yourself, you make your way into the kitchen, looking for something stronger.
Serving yourself a shot of vodka, you throw your head back, burning sensation sliding down your throat. Coughing, you grip onto the counter. Soft moans whisper in between the walls. You stop breathing for a minute as you try your best to identify where it might be coming from. Striding closer, you press your ear against the closet door. Fuck, a mans voice groans. This is not something you should intervene with, it's not your right, but that all changes when you hear a name that makes you burn all over again. So fucking tight, Ollie.
Pushing the door open, you see your sister banging one of your fathers investors. Ben, you think his name is. Honestly, you could care less. Briskly, she pushes her gown back down as he zips his pants. You let out a cold laugh as you clap in amusement.
“Oh, God. This is great. Amazing. You really outdid yourself, Ol.”
Stepping forwards, she grabs your arm harshly as she tugs you out. “How much did you see?”
You purse your lips as you theatrically scrunch your face up in pleasure. “Oh, Ben! Fuck me! Oh, oh, yes, baby, right there!” You bow. “That much.”
“How old are you, sweetheart?” The brunette says as he scans your body. Ollie glares at him as he steps back.
“Not a word of this to Carlos.”
“Why would I keep this a secret? He deserves to know. What do you think, Benny?”
Panicked, the older man shakes his head as his eyes plead for mercy. That’s enough. Raising your hands up in defense, you grin back at Ollie. “You’re not mentioning anything if you know what's good for you.”
“Oh, yeah?” You tilt your head back. “And what’s good for me?”
“If you tell him anything of what you just heard - saw - then I’ll just tell him how you’ve been bending over for every man in this house. Charles, Lando, Lewis, Pierre…you name it.”
“He won’t believe you…”
She laughs sinisterly. “No, I think he will. I mean…You’ve already done it before.”
“Hey,” his soft voice enters the room as you turn to look at him. The Spaniard’s eyes dance between you and your sister and Ben. “Is something wrong?”
Ollie shakes her head with a bright smile as she walks up and kisses him. You flinch. “Nothing, amor. We were just talking.” She runs her hands through his hair as his eyes remain on you. 
“Are you okay?” 
Nodding, you grind your teeth together. “Yes. Ollie was just introducing me to Ben.” Awkwardly, the man waves from behind you. Slowly, Carlos nods.
“Papi asked me to introduce them. You know - with the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing!”
“He was serious about tha- Oh. Okay.” He reaches down to take your sister's hand as he eyes you and Ben. “We should probably leave you two alone then.”
Hastily, you nod. “Sure.”
-
If you were willing to try and fix your relationship with Ollie before, then that was long gone. This is what you knew her for. A pretender. She wistfully makes everyone believe she’s some sort of saint, when really, she’s a wolf in sheep's clothing. She’s a hypocrite. She has a man that everyone desires and she does this? 
You hated her.
You hated seeing the way she beams when Carlos’ mother gives her a necklace that belonged to her own mother. She didn’t deserve it. Or the way his sisters helped her slip in and out of her dress, making sure it's perfect for the big day.
Still, you try your best to be a supportive sister. Especially around the woman who raised a man like Carlos. Biting down on your lip, you take a sip of your champagne as Ollie disappears behind the curtains with the lady who is taking some last minute measurements. Reyes smiles warmly.
“We didn’t know Ollie had a younger sister.”
You smile. “Best well kept secret, right?” The older lady laughs. Your heart warms up as you notice it's the same way Carlos does. Ana and Blanca grin.
“Well, we’re glad to finally get to know you. Might I add, you’re beautiful. Those eyes!”
“Thank you,” you blush.
Ana takes a sip of her drink before clicking her fingers. “That’s what you remind me of! You - Carlos - almost have the same puppy eyes!” She turns to her mother. “Mamá! What’s that saying? Soulmates look alike…Something like that, no?”
“Be quiet, Ani,” Blanca hisses before smiling apologetically. “Excuse her - she can be a bit invasive.”
“No problem,” you reassure as you bite back a smile. Ana frowns.
“Lo siento, I don’t mean to come off as overbearing. It’s just that you do…”
Reyes clears her throat as she winks over at her daughter. “Don’t misunderstand us, please. We love Ollie, we do! It’s just…you’re different.” She examines you. “I like you.”
Their words stick with you like a post it. Do soulmates look alike? Playing with the sand, you circle your finger agonizingly slow. Why did their words matter so much to you?
“I always find you alone.”
You stick your tongue out at Carlos as he chuckles at your childish behavior. You pat the sand, inviting him to join you. What are you doing out here? You point at the ocean. “I told you it was my favorite place.” 
“Ah. I see.” 
You sneak in a quick look before looking straight ahead. “Nervous?”
“About?”
“Marrying a monster.”
He gives you a deadpan look, bumping his shoulder to yours. “She’s not that bad, you know.” He glances at you. “Ollie has been there for me through so much. Through my failures. Through my accomplishments. She’s the one who convinced me not to quit racing.”
“You were thinking of quitting?”
He nods. “It’s not as easy as it looks. It fucks you up mentally. But she…” He smiles. “She helped me overcome that. I thank her everyday for it.”
It’s a bittersweet feeling hearing him talk about her like that. On one hand, you’re thankful that she had made him realize that he should carry on doing what he loved. On the other, you knew her true reasons. She loved having a famous fiancé; someone she can brag out to the rest of the world.
Somewhere, far away, you hear a melody. It’s low enough that if you didn’t pay close attention, you wouldn’t catch on to it, but you did. You grab his hand, leading him to stand up. He quirks a full brow. 
“Want to dance?”
“I thought you said you didn’t know how to.”
“Nice memory, old man.” You gently kick some sand towards him. “But I feel like dancing. Plus, you should be practicing.”
Tugging you closer, he hums. “Alright. Only because that's true.”
His hands feel warm against you - so much so - it feels as if he’s on fire. An ease comes to it, too, as you both sway under the moonlight. You giggle when he spins you, dress flying around you like petals. The way you grin makes his heart speed up in a way he’s never felt before. It’s alarming. He pinches your hip as you yelp.
“Mentirosa.”
“Wha- No, I’m not! Can’t dance to save my life.” Clumsily, you dig your toes into the sand. He winces playfully. 
The air grows heavy the moment he brushes your hair behind your ear. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean against his warm hand. One look, and he’s hooked. It’s meant to be something lighthearted, but the way he wishes to feel your soft lips against his indicates that it’s not. He’s tried his best to see you for what you are; his fiancée’s little sister. Someone he shouldn’t find himself caring if they slept well, ate their three meals a day, or that they didn’t talk to any other man that wasn’t him or your father. This was sick and twisted and yet…
His lips meet yours as your eyes spring open for a nanosecond before letting yourself go under. It feels as if you’re exploding like firecrackers on a Fourth of July. Something about the way he cradles your face endearingly has your head spinning. Knees become weak, but his grip is secure. It’s better than you could have ever imagined. His tongue fights for dominance and when you don’t give it to him, he squeezes your ass. Moaning, you open your mouth and that's all it took. He kisses you the way you’ve seen in movies - only better. He’s hungry - desperate - for you as you smile against him. Biting down on his bottom lip, he groans as he kisses you harder than before. You were beginning to think your lips were about to snap. 
Letting go, he stands there, staggered. He’s ashamed when he realizes that he regrets nothing. You both stay quiet; only waves crashing and heavy pants being heard. At first you think he’s going to apologize, and maybe that might have been the case, but no words would come out. Pressing a peck against his swollen lips, you smile.
“Goodnight, Carlos.”
-
Carlos rues the day that he kissed you because that only made things more complicated. He couldn’t find a way to not look for you when he walks into the garden, full of family and friends. Or the way he would want to punch Max when he made you laugh. But there is also something sweet. Like the way you would gossip with his sisters and share stories with his parents. He had never seen them laugh and smile so much, not even with Ollie. 
He flinches at the cold hand that wraps around his own. Faking a smile, he presses a soft kiss on top of his fiancée’s head. Continuing the clicking against her glass, she smiles widely. 
“Grazie a tutti per esservi uniti a noi!”
Everyone claps and a few of the drivers whistle. Rolling your eyes, you lean your head against your father’s shoulder. His heart skips a beat. Ollie continued her speech filled with thank you’s, thank you’s and more thank you’s. Your father kissed your cheek before making his way up to his eldest. Taking the microphone from Ollie, he starts to share warm felt memories about her. You have to admit, you’re jealous about their bond. Somewhere in the past, that had been viciously stolen from you. He notices the way you shrink with sadness and he finds himself about to walk over to you when Ollie laughs awkwardly. Amor. It’s your turn.
“Right.” Fixing his rolled up sleeves, he smiles at the crowd of guests. “Uh…Well like my fiancée said, we’re extremely happy to have you all here. It takes a lot to get this many people out here all at once.” A few laughs echo as he continues. “This means a lot to me, too, to have my friends and family. To have met new faces.” His gaze flickers past you as your breath hitches. “Many ask me what about Ollie made me fall in love with her…And I’m here to be as brutally honest as I could get. I love the way she makes me feel as crazy as the ocean. I could spend calm days with her and not worry about getting bored. Or I could find myself getting into trouble. Ollie has made me a better man. Because of her I know what true love is…” His loopy eyes meet yours. “True love are the waves that meet the shore.” 
He lets out a sheepish smile. I want love like that, Lando yells out as he downs his glass of milk. Everyone claps and cheers and that’s where your nightmare begins. 
Let’s give it up for the happy couple! Kiss, kiss, kiss!
The chants continue as Carlos let out a nervous laugh. That’s something private between me and her, he tries but finds himself being booed. Leaning down, he pulls Ollie in for a peck before pulling away with a tight lipped smile. He hates himself for his sudden realization.
Kissing her suddenly did feel like a chore.
With all the whoops and whistles being thrown out by friends, he finds himself trying to find you. It doesn’t take long as he notices you had picked up on your conversation with the Dutchman. His jaw clenches. 
“Maybe Ollie’s younger sister would like to share a few words.”
Why would he say that? Frozen, you choke mid sip. Me? Your father beams as he nods excitedly. Oh! That’s such a great idea! Unfamiliar faces turn to look at you as they wait. Taking in a deep breath, you nod as you make your way over.
As he hands you the microphone, he can’t stop himself from grazing his fingers against your hand. Coughing, you yank it fast. 
“Ciao a tutti.” Everyone greets you back as you lick your lips. You take a moment to figure out what to say, but there’s not much. Cringing, you try to come up with anything. “As some may know, I’m Ollie’s sister…And I could go on forever about how great she is-” You suppress a sarcastic laugh as Carlos knowingly winks. Your nerves ease up. “But I think I should talk about the man who makes my sister the happiest. Carlos Sainz…When I first met you, you seemed uptight - more than the Grinch - but slowly I got to know the man that even my papi swoons over.” 
True, your father laughs. “You’re kind, respectful, and charming…Ollie is one very lucky girl. But there’s something also sensitive inside of you…Despite the permanent frown on your face, you still seem to like days by the ocean. Maybe it's a reminder that peace still exists or maybe it's the way…” Looking up, you see everyone staring deeply. Suddenly, you feel like this might be oversharing as you twirl your dress. “...Or maybe it's the way your face lights up when you take my sister dancing on the sand. Uh…Thank you for making her happy.” Handing the mic back to Carlos, you smile weakly at the strong claps. 
“That was quite sentimental,” Max points out as you bite down on your finger. Was it too much? He shakes his head. “Don’t worry. It looks like you and Carlos get along well enough. I, for sure, thought he hated you with the way he looks at you.”
“Oh. Yeah.” You pause. “I thought so, too.”
-
Aside from the fact that the wedding was approaching quickly, the mansion was quiet. The silence can almost be heard; it's scary. Carefully, you fix your dress as you skip down the stairs barefoot, lollipop painting your lips red. 
Peeking around the corner, giddiness fills your body as you snatch a handful of pre-washed cherries. Earlier that day, your father had scolded you for finishing the new batch. Popping them into your mouth, you hum a song as you kick your legs against the kitchen counter. It creeps you out the moment a chill runs down your spine. As if someone were watching.
“Boo!”
“Santa mierda,” you yelp as you clutch your heart. Laughing loudly, the Spaniard bends over as he gasps for air. You pout and kick his knee. “Cabrón, you scared me! Warn a girl!”
“Fuck - I’m sorry.” His lips form a thin line as he stands firm. Slowly, the corners lift up, wobbly at his poor attempt to not burst out laughing. You frown.
“You’re fucked up.”
Again, his laughs echo the dimly lit kitchen. “Can I have some?”
“No. They’re mine. Grab your own.”
He narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you on cherry prohibition or something like that?” You gasp as you look around before flipping him off.
“Keep your voice low or papi will disown me!”
He zips his lips as he whispers. “I won’t tell a soul. But I want one of those in exchange.”
Tapping your finger against your lip, you pretend to think about it before nodding. You extend your hand out, a single red cherry for him. You’re waiting for him to take it and leave to where he came from, but what he does instead has you swallowing a lump down your throat.
Crouching down, he opens his mouth as he picks up the cherry, lips slightly wrapping around your fingers. This was triggering you as you tried your best to keep sane. But there was no way of going about that when he looked up at you with deep, brown eyes. Licking the red juice sliding down your hands, he steps back. He licks his lips before swallowing. It amazes you the way his Adam’s Apple jumps up and down; thick neck begging to be sucked on.
“Fucking delicious.”
Blinking, you look down at the rest of the cherries in hand. All of a sudden they seemed like a sultry fruit rather than a drupe. 
“Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Of cours-s-e.”
Stupefied, you throw the leftovers straight into the trash bin. You had no clue what made you do that. A small chuckle escapes past his lips as you shut your eyes in embarrassment. Maybe they weren’t as sweet as you made them seem. Too mortified to speak, you keep your eyes focused on the way your feet hit the wood as a distraction. It takes all of you to not run away as he steps closer once again.
“Is there something in that dirty little mind of yours?”
The room feels hot all of a sudden as you shake your head. There’s no words in your vocabulary when he stands this close. You can smell his cologne mixed with shampoo. If richness were a scent then this would definitely be it. His hands cage you in like a butterfly behind glass. Clicking his tongue, he steps aside as you let out a shaky breath. Taking the opportunity, you jump off the edge, bare feet slapping against the cold tiles. Cuidado, he mutters when you almost slip from the sudden action. 
“If you need anything I’ll be upstairs.”
Not sure why you said that, but it seemed like a rationalized excuse. Por supuesto. And that would have been the end of your night. That would have been another successful day of not falling for the forbidden apple. You had held out for so long; the kiss didn’t count. But it only takes a few steps for him to clear his throat. Almost as if this were your secret language, you spin and you find him staring after you; dazzling eyes following your every movement as if he’s trying his best to decipher anything you do.
Smiling wide enough for your eyes to look as if they had a smile of their own, you think - fuck the consequences - as you clumsily run up to him; jumping like a kid onto a tree. Legs wrap around his torso and his hands hold you close to him.
“Do you-”
“Yes,” he whispers. “Since the first day you walked through those doors: yes.”
If you had thought you were obsessed with his kisses before, you were wrong. So very wrong. Because now you were addicted. He kisses you with urgency as you run your hands through his locks, so soft against your fingers. He grunts when you tug on it. 
His kisses were stimulating enough for you to plead for something. Anything. Smirking, he pecks your nose before leading you both upstairs. It amazed you how he could continue kissing you as he hurried to get to the bedroom. Noticing him making his way into his and Ollie’s, you pull away. There’s no way you would let him do that. You spin your finger lazily through his hair.
“How about mine?”
He doesn't care if he fucked you against the floor, he needed you. Kicking the door shut, he throws you onto your bed as you squeal. He smiles fondly as you brush your hair out of your face. He’s had his fair share of girls. Models, nepo-babies, Ollie, but none of them compare to you. 
He was almost scared of touching you again, even though that’s exactly what he wanted. Doe eyes stare back at him as his cock gets harder at the sight. Ollie had always tried her best to look at him that way, but you didn’t even have to try. It naturally happened. Nothing about this felt forced.
You look untouchable. Like a complete goddess waiting to be ruined. Carlos, you would say as you squeeze your tits, eyes struggling to stay open. Carlos, please. Don’t be mean. Towering over you, he shakes his head.
“Linda, I could never be mean to you.”
Slipping your dress off, he groans when he sees you weren’t wearing anything underneath. He shuts his eyes as he tries to not finish inside his pants, which by the way, were starting to hurt. He pinches your nipple before slapping your tits. You hiss. 
“Please tell me you did this for me and no one else…”
“You know it’s always been for you.”
With that, he stands up as he yanks his shirt off; jeans and boxers following right after. A bit worried, you find yourself staring at his rock hard dick. You had never been with some as big as him; it kind of looked as if it would split you right open. That didn’t stop you from wanting it, though.
“Don’t worry. I’ll prepare you nice and good, cariño.”
His lustful tone snaps you out of it as you nod. His fingers rub your wet folds as you cling onto his bicep. C-Carlos. “I know, baby, I know,” he coos as he focuses on the way your face pinches. He slowly starts slipping his finger in as you gasp at the thickness. So big and long. He chuckles. “Oh, come on now. It’s not even fully inside of you yet.”
Stunned, you look down and sure enough, it isn’t. You almost cry out when you notice it’s barely even the tip. “I don’t think it’s going to fit.” He kisses your temple as he slips his finger back out. 
“Let’s start off with something else then.”
You almost pass out when he angles himself in front of your pussy. Glistening clit stares back at him as he moans. So pretty, he thinks as he touches you slowly. He stops himself, though, as he goes in for kitten licks instead. You squirm. His large hands pushed you down against the bed, to keep you in place. 
“Do you want me to make the ache in between your legs go away?”
“Yes.”
His pink tongue teases you as he hums. You bite down sharply. “You’re going to have to stay still. Relax, bonita.” Following instructions, you close your eyes, trying your best to not think of the handsome Spaniard. As if that were possible. Impressed, he leans in again as he licks you, picking up your pre-cum. Oh, fuck. 
Then it’s almost as if Carlos is taken over by something as he dives in like some animal. His stubble burns your legs, but you’re too fucked out to even care. You’re sure you're being loud, but how can you not be when he licks and sticks his tongue inside of you, exploring places you never knew existed. You choke back a moan when he rubs his nose against your clit, only adding to the euphoria. 
“Yes. Oh. Fuck, yes.” Looking down at the brunette, you find him taking in your appearance as he rubs himself against the sheets; a way to try and pleasure himself. And that’s enough for you to cum all over his face. He smiles as he greedily tries to drink up everything you give him. He knows he lost control, but he loves the way you were able to keep up. To take everything he gave you.
And that was only going to multiply.
“You taste so fucking sweet,” he groans in between your legs, picking up the white nectar. Crying out, you push his face away as you gasp for air. He sucks your tits as you take a break. His tongue swirls around your bud as you wiggle against him like a fish that jumped out onto land. He laughs. “Can you handle my fingers, now?”
No, you whisper as you push him away. But he knows you’re giving up too soon. He knows there’s an animal inside of you and he’s just waiting for it to decide to join him. He ignores you as he slides his fingers down to your center. You mewl against him. “Hey, hey, I got you, cariño. I’m right here.” 
His voice makes you clench harder against his fingers as he grins like a kid at a candy store. Slowly, you start dripping more than before, making it easier for his fingers to slide in and out of your hole. Can you handle a third? “Yes,” you respond, eyes still screwed shut. Hot air hits your ear.
“There she is…Good girl. Justo asi.”
Picking up speed, his fingers reach the gummy part inside of you as you scratch his arms in an attempt to remind yourself to not black out. His long fingers cross, doing figure 8’s as he touches your g-spot as if he knows your entire body better than any map. Leaning up, he bites down onto your nipple before sucking hard. You should be embarrassed with the way you squeal and shake against his actions, but he just made it so hard not to. Much to your surprise, if you dare believe it, he does the thing you last expected.
He adds a fourth digit.
“No, no, no,” you pathetically chant as your eyes fly open. He cocks his head to he side as he clicks in tongue as if seeing you struggle filled him with pride. 
“Ah, ah, ah. Just trust me; do you trust me?”
He didn’t need to ask because he knew you did. I do, you whimper out as you start grinding against his fingers. Amazement fills his dark eyes as he looks down to where you clench around him, juices sliding down his arm. It only takes a couple of more swirls before your shriek, velvety walls clenching around him as you reach your climax. 
Bringing his fingers up to his mouth, he licks your cum as if it were a meal he’s dreamed of having his entire life. Your mouth hangs open as you watch him lick them clean. You’re sure he’s going to fuck you now, but that flies out the window as he lays down as he drags you onto his face.
This man had stamina. Lots of it. You're trying to beg for a break of some sort. I can suck your dick. Give you a handjob. Just please let me rest. But he wasn’t even listening. 
Maybe somewhere deep down, he knew this would be the only night he would have you to himself and if that meant no pauses, then he would push all your buttons.
Like a starved man, he starts licking you all over as you grind against his face. The way he sucks on your clit and adds his fingers make you squeal as you push down harder. His nose rubs against you in such a way, it has you seeing stars. He seems to be enjoying that though, as his moans vibrate against you. Biting hard onto your lip, you try to distract yourself as you reach behind you for his rock hard cock. The moment your small hand wraps around him, he growls like a lion.
Smug over his reaction, your hand slowly starts jerking him off as he eats you out with more urgency. It takes all of you to control your actions as he shakes his face in between your legs. S-slow down, Carlos. He grunts as his actions speed up, but so does your hand. Gripping onto his erection much harder, you furrow your brows as you twist your wrist. Choking on your juices, he opens his eyes wide, whimpers flying past his lips.
Smiling down like the devil, you nod as your hand picks up its pace. Now it's his turn to be groaning with pleasure. He seems to have forgotten what he was doing as he takes in strong whiffs of your aroma. You shudder when his warm breaths escape to warm up your dripping pussy.
His cock twitches and he seems to snap right back into it; already diving back into your hole. Lurching forward, you grip onto his hair as the other remains wrapped around him. It’s a game to see who can make the other cum first, and you were not about to be the loser. 
Lively, you circle your thumb around his pink tip as he groans and finishes all around your hand. Sucking hard, he bites gently onto your clit as you screech and trap his head between your thighs. Shaking, you twitch against him as you reach your third orgasm that night. Huffing, you roll off him as he laps his tongue.
The way he looks at you makes you want to ride his face all over again, but you know you needed a break if you didn’t want the night to end so soon. Kneeling in front of him, you raise your ass up high as you lean down to wrap your lips around his cock. He flinches, slightly sensitive, but doesn’t dare push you away. Instead, he rubs your face with his calloused thumb; encouraging you. There's something so hot about the way your lips stretch around his fat cock. The way drool exits your mouth, messy blots of mascaras on the corners of your eyes.
Light of my life. Fire of my loins.
Gagging around him, you squeeze your eyes shut, feet curling up along the way. For sure, your throat would be bruised tomorrow, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you wanted that. Deepthroating him as best as you can, your small hands wrap around the rest of his length. He was huge. Dirty slurps bounce off the walls. You try your best to not pull away when you feel his sticky pre-cum connect inside your throat. Not when he looked so good with his head thrown back. His thick neck is a clear display. With his large hands wrapped around your hair as he fucks your face like theres no tomorrow. Spanish curses flowing past his lips. 
“Que linda. Arrodillada como una santa.”
When you giggle around his erection, he groans, head thudding against the headboard. His mind quickly slips over to Ollie - but not in the way one might expect. It hits him like a truck when he compares her to you. With Ollie, she would last at least 20 minutes before calling it a night. He pretended not to mind - he would never force her to do something she doesn’t want to, of course - but once she would knock out, his large hand would slide down past his boxers, looking for a new release. 
Then there’s you, ever so pretty. It seems like with everything you do, you want more. You sucking him off as if you’ve done this for him a lifetime ago. Sure, you’re struggling, but that only makes him harder. You’re trying to keep up with him and it’s working. Now, it’s like he’s the one trying to keep up. Swallowing, your throat closes around him as he flies forward, voice cracking as he presses for more. 
Glossy eyes look back up at him as you repeat your action. With one last blow, he pulls out as he cums all over your face. His dick immediately gets hard again when you smile wide, fingers going to pick up his mess. Greedily, you pout as you wrap your lips around your finger like the lollipop you had been sucking on a few hours ago.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, abs contracting together as he tries his best to even out his breaths. 
“Will you fuck me now?” 
You’re moving at a snail's pace as you lick his sweaty neck. A chill runs down his spine with the feeling of your warm tongue. Grinding slowly against his thigh, you throw your head back with pleasure, wet lips rubbing against him. He smiles.
“You’re a dirty girl, you know that?”
“I thought that’s what you liked about me, papi.”
In a flash, he flips you onto your back as he hovers over you like a giant. A beautiful, beautiful, giant. His large muscles he works so hard for stare back at you as you admire with an open mouth. It looks as if he could carry mountains on his shoulders. Dilated pupils admire you as you let out a pathetic whimper. Long gone were his brown eyes as they now appear completely black. Sensual.
“Then you should be fucked as such.”
With that, he swings your tan legs over his broad shoulders, practically bending you like a pretzel. You pat yourself on the back for all those pilate classes. Jerking himself off a bit, he looks straight at you, making sure this was something you wanted. The way you bat your cartoon eyes is all he needs to slip inside of you.
First thing he notices is how tight you are despite him already stretching you out to perfection. Raw moans leave both your lips as you try your best to adjust to his size. You had been with men before - that’s all you really knew - but no one’s cock had ever made you burn with such satisfaction. More than satisfaction. He’s reassuring you with his words in order for you to relax.
I’ve got you, preciosa. Just let go for me. I’m right here.
Still, you can’t help but squirm underneath him. His fingers make their way to your mouth as you stare back confused. Suck, he commands before forcing them in. Caught off guard, you gag around them for a bit before your tongue begins to twirl around them. Your cheeks burn up as you hear your low mewls. Ah- ah- ah, you cry out against his digits as he grins down at you. Retracting them, he slides them down to your clit as he starts rubbing small circles.
“Oh God.”
Instantly, you open up against his tired cock as he hums. There you go, he praises as you make it easier for him to thrust into you. You should both be ashamed of the way gushy sounds bloom from your mixed cum. Or the way he pounds into you so hard and fast that it has you sliding further back against the bed, hair tangling along the way. His fingers dig into your calves as he holds them in place.
“Mierda,” he wheezes as he throws his head back, ripping his eyes away from the way your puffy clit envelopes around him. Pants and whimpers escape you as you arch your back from the fulfillment. 
Carlos is a man - you know that - but in this moment; right now: he’s proving it the way a scientist would their hypothesis. His cock brushes against your g-spot as you gasp at the sensation. He’s looking at you as if you held the key to all secrets. 
The keys for the gate to Heaven.
Though he knows that this all feels like Heaven, he deserves nothing but Hell for cheating on Ollie. But that’s the least of his worries.
“Does that feel good, bonita?” 
Wide eyes look up at him desperately as you nod to the point where your neck starts to ache. Yes - Oh God, yes. So good, Carlitos. Yeah, baby - right there. Snapping his hips harder against you, your mind goes foggy with the way his hair flops around him. Sweat causing long strands to stick to his face. Beads of sweat drip down your legs as he presses sloppy kisses. His cheeks look as if he’s been out in the sun for hours. 
In this moment; he looked immortal.
“Carlos, I’m gonna-”
“Hold it.”
Like a doll, you flop back against the bed as you start to leak acid. No - please. Don’t ask me to do that. Feeling a sharp sting, you gasp. His hands dives back in to massage your cheek after slapping you. He cocks his head with fake sympathy. “I know you can do it,” - thrust - “Wait for me, yeah?”
You have no word as you wail - tits bouncing with every assault from his hip. Your stomach burns with the way his abs glisten, with the way his bottom lip juts out, or the way his muscles shine with a layer of sweat as they hug your legs like a teddy bear. 
He was yours. In this moment, he was yours.
“Alright, linda-” He brushes your hair out of your face as he wipes your sweat with his hand. “Cum for me?”
It’s an out of body experience the moment you squirt around his dick - the way your tummy feels like it's on fire. Sore groans leave his lips as he finishes inside of you, brown eyes trained on the way you gush around him. He freezes in place at the feeling. You squirm for a few seconds below falling limp against the bed. The room smells like nothing but filthy sex. 
Pulling out of you, he carefully places your legs back down before kissing your ribs. Then your bruised tits. Then your cheeks, forehead, and lastly, your lips that taste like home. Sighing against him, you try your best to remember the way he kisses you as if you're the only form of oxygen that exists. As if this were a dystopian world and you were the only source of survival.
He pecks your lips once more before brushing his fingers against your temple. “Get some sleep.” Yawning, you nod as your eyes flutter like a butterfly's wings. Will you stay? And he doesn’t know what takes over him when he says-
“I will.”
-
When you wake up you notice it’s still dark out. The moon shines, eyes flickering around, looking for the Spaniard. You let out a low breath of relief when you see him sitting on the edge of the bed. 
“Ollie,” he whispers into the phone as he runs a hand against his jaw. “...I made a mistake.”
Your heart stops with his words. He makes sure to speak low, thinking you're sound asleep. She - I - it was a mistake. She’s just a kid…Fuck. She’s just a child. Your heart shatters with the evident blame in his voice. You weren’t a kid. Sniffling, you stop breathing when you realize you’re crying. He pauses for a moment before standing up and making sure you’re okay. Bringing the phone up against his ear, he shakes, already walking out the door.
“Where are you? Let me just see you, amor. I’ll explain it all.”
-
There’s a saying that goes: You know, a heart can be broken, but it keeps on beating, just the same.
You would personally like to punch that person in the face. It’s not true. It doesn’t beat the same - because then why does it hurt everytime it pounds against your chest? Why is it hard to breath when the priest says-
“You may now kiss the bride!”
Everyone’s faces are blurry; cheers sound far away. You can’t be too sure you're standing upright as your father beams at the sight of Ollie pressing her lips up against Carlos. The way his hands slide down to her waist as shows her off proudly like some champion ring is what hurts the most. You feel flames all over your skin, letting out a flinch when your fathers signals for you to clap, too.
You don’t know what happened after that night. Whether Ollie forgave him or not - though clearly she had. Maybe she didn’t know about you the same way he didn’t know about Ben. This was all starting to feel like some nightmare. But it’s very much real life with the way the newlyweds hold hands, smiling brightly as guests throw a mixture of confetti and baby breath.
“Nice ceremony.”
“What? Oh.” You shrug towards Max as he points over at the couple. “Y-yeah. It was…”
He goes over his next words for a moment because Lord knows that if he has it all wrong then he would appear to be the biggest jerk to ever exist. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?”
“I-I-I’m not sure I understand,” you trample over your words as your cheeks burn the same color of your red dress. He shares a small smile.
“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”
Walking away, you’re left alone, second guessing everything. The violin seemed too happy. The guests seemed too bright. All of this was fake, couldn’t they see? Pursing your lips, you try your best to hide your broken heart as you catch up with old friends. How is college? How does it feel like having a brother-in-law who drives for Formula 1? Must feel pretty great, right? 
The night is boring. Half of it you spend faking smiles and the other you spend trying to avoid the Spaniard. Life was better back in Spain, where ironically, he was never around despite it being his home country. You’re in the middle of conversing with the Dutchman - who quite frankly is an honest listener - when Ollie walks up looking like a ball of whipped cream. Can I talk to my sister alone, please? Max’s concerned eyes ask if you’re okay with that as you nod. Slumping away, he squeezes your knee one last time.
Blue Velvet plays as she fixes herself onto the stool right next to you. “Have you tried the cocktails? They have cherry flavored; your favorite.” Something about her sweet voice makes you unsteady as you raise a brow. She shows off her veneers. “This is weird. Sorry. I’m just so…happy.” 
“Good to know.”
“But enough about me!” She places her left hand over yours, shiny rock sitting perfectly. You wince. “I want to talk about you! How’s school?”
“Like you care.”
She pouts. “I do now…” You furrow your brows. What do you mean now? She gasps. “Oh, you poor thing! You don’t know I know!” Your stomach drops. “Well, you know, as your older sister, I’m also your guardian since our mother is too fucked up to look after you…And a little birdie filled me in on your reputation back in Spain.” She giggles as she takes a sip of your drink. “Doesn’t surprise me, though. It only makes sense that you keep messing around with men old enough to be your father. You always had a thing for those.”
“What does this have to do with anything?”
Ollie grins ear to ear when she notices how annoyed you’ve become. “Carlos told you he was born in Madrid, right? Okay, well, he also has a whole bloodline there. And let’s just say, a cousin of his - my goodness, his daughters are beautiful - is a professor at your Uni.”
No.
“And well this birdie also told me how you’ve been sneaking in and out of his lecture room, late at night. And I wonder…What have you and him been doing behind closed doors?”
It can’t be. 
Professor Vázquez de Castro, he says as he extends his hand out, eyes roaming every inch of your body.
Suddenly, the name sounds familiar. The surname is Carlos’ extended one. Ollie’s eyes shine. “I see it’s clicking.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to leave me and my husband alone. I want you to grab your things and leave. Don’t look back; just leave. Don’t contact papi ever again. I don’t want to hear a single thing from you. It’s bad enough you’ve already fucked my spouse.”
She knows. He told her. And they still got married. 
“Ollie, don’t…”
Tugging your hand harshly, she slaps her phone on it. And you don’t know how, but in it, it’s a video of you riding your Professor - Carlos’ cousin.
“Leave or I’ll show this to him. Your choice.”
Wet sobs leave your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief. How did this happen? Who took this video?
“Ollie, please…I love him.”
Her gaze sharpens as she takes the phone back and stands up. “You know what to do.”
Bringing your shaky hand up to your lips, you stare in shock. Wobbly legs walk past Max as he asks if you’re okay. One last smile looks back at him before you brush past by. 
Carlos is craning his neck, looking for you. He had confessed that night, but so had Ollie. He was breaking off the engagement. Spilling apologies as she cried against his chest. Despite it all, he still cared for your sister. But he knew it wasn’t going to work out. He was ready to leave when she brought up the tape of you and a cousin he didn’t even know he had. I’ll get her expelled. Don’t do this, Carlos. And so he stayed. He knew how much you loved school, regardless of what others might think. I just want to help others, you swooned one day by the pool. It’s what I wish someone had done for me.
You get to him before he spots you as you tap on his shoulder. He fills up with worry when he sees your red brimmed eyes. Sheepishly, you take his handkerchief as you wipe your rosy nose. What happened? Who made you cry? You shrug.
“Carlos…I love you.” He blinks. You let out a wet laugh as you lean up to kiss him. You didn’t care who saw anymore. This was it. He doesn’t seem to care either as his hands wrap around your waist. Holding you close, as if you might vanish into thin air. He was the waves, you were the shore. Pulling away, you wink. “Save me a dance, yeah?” 
Then, you’re walking away. Becoming smaller as you stroll over to the Italian house. Clutching his chest, he chokes: I-I…I.
“Carlos!”
Turning to face Ollie, he sees her waving him over to the giant cake. 
“Coming.”
-
Running into the quiet house, he calls your name. He looks behind every door, hoping to find the girl in red. Stumbling up the stairs, he swings your door open. He breathes heavily when he doesn’t find you, even here. Panicked, he grips his hair in despair. Only then, does it occur to him to open the restroom door, hoping to not scare you.
“¿Bonita?”
Silence. He still pushes it open as he carefully walks in, finding no harm in checking. And why? Why couldn’t he be as truthful like you were? Risk it the way you would have willingly done. Why did he let you walk into the house alone?
Falling to his knees, he desperately crawls over to your lifeless body, dark blood flowing from your wrists. 
As red as your dress.
He must be dreaming. This can’t be real. Surely, it can’t.
“No, no, no.” He drags your limp body into his arms. He can’t even pinpoint the moment his tears flow down his face. “Bonita, no. No. No. No.” The Spaniard cradles your colorless face into his hands. He gently taps your face a few times, but almost stops breathing himself when it only rolls back. Blood stains his white shirt. “Hey, hey.  C’mon, please. You want me to say it?” Hurriedly, he picks up your head as he kisses your lips over and over. He winces when he feels how chapped they’ve become.
“It doesn’t feel forced. I’m not saying it because I think it’s what you want to hear - I love you. I do. I love you as infinite as the ocean. I love the way you laugh, the way you trip over anything in your way, the way you say my name…I love you.” 
But he knew you weren’t listening. Not anymore. 
A piece of him died that day along with you. After that, life was a sickening blur. He’s out of it the moment he hears your father yelling out in agony or when Ollie screams at the gruesome scene. 
None of it mattered anymore.
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Why Writers Don't Finish Writing Their Stories, and How to Fix It
Hello fellow writers and storytellers,
The journey of writing a story is an exhilarating adventure, but it's not without its share of obstacles. Many of us have embarked on a creative endeavor, only to find ourselves mired in the struggle to finish what we started. In this blog post, I'll unravel the common reasons why writers don't finish their stories and explore practical strategies to overcome these hurdles and reignite the flame of creativity.
The Perils of Unfinished Stories
As writers, we often find ourselves in the throes of unfinished tales, grappling with the intricate web of characters, plots, and themes. There are several reasons why the ink dries up and the story remains untold. Let's shine a light on the familiar adversaries that stand between us and the triumphant completion of our narratives:
1. Lack of Planning:
Some of us brazenly dive into our stories without a clear roadmap, resulting in uncertainty about the direction of the plot and the fate of our characters. The lack of a solid plan can lead us astray, leaving our stories wandering in the wilderness of aimlessness.
2. Self-Doubt and Perfectionism:
Ah, the relentless whispers of self-doubt and the siren call of perfectionism! These twin adversaries can cast a shadow over our creative vision, compelling us to endlessly revise and perfect the early chapters, trapping us in a whirlpool of perpetual edits.
3. Time Management:
Balancing the demands of daily life with the ardor of writing can be akin to walking a tightrope. The struggle to find consistent time for our craft often leaves our stories languishing in prolonged periods of inactivity, longing for the touch of our pen.
4. Writer's Block:
The mighty barrier that even the most intrepid writers encounter. Writer's block can be an insurmountable mountain, leaving us stranded in the valleys of creative drought, unable to breathe life into new ideas and narratives.
5. Lack of Motivation:
The flame that once burned brightly can flicker and wane over time, leaving us adrift in the murky waters of disillusionment. The initial excitement for our stories diminishes, making it arduous to stay committed to the crafting process.
6. Fear of Failure or Success:
The twin specters that haunt many writers' dreams. The apprehension of rejection and the unsettling prospect of life-altering success can tether us to the shores of hesitation, preventing us from reaching the shores of completion.
7. Criticism and Feedback Anxiety:
The looming dread of judgment casts a long shadow over our creative endeavors. The mere thought of receiving criticism or feedback, whether from peers or potential readers, can cast a cloud over our storytelling pursuits.
8. Plotting Challenges:
Crafting a cohesive and engaging plot is akin to navigating a labyrinth without a map. Faced with hurdles in connecting story elements, we may find ourselves lost in a maze of plot holes and unresolved threads.
9. Character Development Struggles:
Breathing life into multi-dimensional, relatable characters is a complex art. The intricate process of character development can become a quagmire, ensnaring us in the challenge of creating personas that drive the story forward. (Part one of Character Development Series)
10. Life Events and Distractions:
Unexpected events in our personal lives can cast ripples on our writing routines, interrupting the flow of our creativity and causing a loss of momentum.
Rallying Against the Odds: Strategies for Success
Now that we've confronted the adversaries that threaten to stall our storytelling odysseys, let's arm ourselves with strategies to conquer these barriers and reignite the flames of our creativity.
Embrace the Power of Planning:
A clear roadmap illuminates the path ahead. Arm yourself with outlines, character sketches, and plot maps to pave the way for your story's journey.
Vanquish Self-Doubt with Action:
Silence the voices of doubt with the power of progress. Embrace the imperfect beauty of your early drafts, knowing that every word brings you closer to the finish line.
Mastering the Art of Time:
Carve out sacred writing time in your schedule. Whether it’s ten minutes or two hours, every moment dedicated to your craft is a step forward.
Conquering Writer's Block:
Embrace the freedom of imperfection. Write, even if the words feel like scattered puzzle pieces. The act of writing can unravel the most stubborn knots of writer's block.
Reigniting the Flame of Motivation:
Seek inspiration in the wonders of the world. Reconnect with the heart of your story, rediscovering the passion that set your creative spirit ablaze.
Reshaping Fear into Fuel:
Embrace the uncertainty as an integral part of the creative journey. Embrace the lessons within rejection and prepare for the winds of change that success may bring.
Navigating the Realm of Criticism:
Embrace feedback as a catalyst for growth. Constructive criticism is a powerful ally, shaping your story into a work of art that resonates with readers.
Weaving the Threads of Plot:
Connect the dots with fresh eyes. Step back and survey the tapestry of your plot, seeking innovative solutions to bridge the gaps and untangle the knots.
Breathing Life into Characters:
Engage with your characters as if they were old friends. Dive into their depths, unraveling their quirks, fears, and dreams, and watch as they breathe life into your story.
Navigating Life's Tempests:
Embrace the ebb and flow of life. Every pause in your writing journey is a chance to gather new experiences and perspectives, enriching your storytelling tapestry.
The Ever-Resting Pen: Harnessing the Power Within
Fellow writers, the journey of completing a story is filled with peaks and valleys, each offering us the opportunity to sharpen our resolve and unleash our creative potential. As we stand at the crossroads, staring at the canvas of unfinished tales, let's rally against the odds, armed with the power of purpose, passion, and perseverance.
Let the ink flow once more, breathing life into tales left untold, and watch as your stories triumphantly reach their long-awaited conclusion. You possess the power to conquer the adversaries that stand in your way, and within you lies the essence of untold narratives waiting to unfurl onto the page.
Here's to the journey that lies ahead, the stories waiting to be written, and the unyielding spirit of creativity that thrives within each of us.
Warm regards and unwavering encouragement, Ren T.
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Luffy X Reader: Love bites
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Only joined the One piece fandom recently and i'm already obsessed with Luffy ❤️
Warnings: Smut, public sex (they're asleep but still), biting, hickeys, oral (f reciving), cum eating, unprotected sex, penetration(p in v), fingering, handjob, kissing, fluff, luffy being luffy.
Word Count: 3,2K
The crew had just come back from a rather successful adventure and decided to celebrate over some drinks. Some drinks turned into many drinks and now you found yourself surrounded by your drunken crew mates, the moonlight shining against you. Usopp was passed out on the floor mumbling in his sleep, Nami and Zoro were having a contest to see who could do the most acrobatics without getting nauseous and Sanji was off to the side flirting with a statue you'd retrieved in your mission. You observed your crew with a small smile. You hadn't drank as much as the others so you were just a little buzzed. Maybe a little more giggly than normal but nothing too bad. You closed your eyes, breathing in the salt air.
You loved this life. The pirate life. Sure, you were constantly on the run and it seemed everyone had something against your crew but it didn't matter. You felt at home with your bundle of misfits. Your odd little family. You'd owe Luffy for the rest of your life for dragging you along. Without him you'd still be stuck on your little island withering away in boredom and loneliness. Luffy had this effect on him, this hidden talent of finding people who needed him without them even knowing it. Luffy was…. 
Where the hell was he?
You opened your eyes abruptly, searching the ship for your raven haired Captain. Nothing. Luffy was nowhere to be seen. He was probably in the kitchen you thought. Just as you were about to close your eyes again you felt something grab you. Your instinct was to fight but when you saw his familiar smile the fear disappeared. Luffy had wrapped his arms around you and dragged you over to where he was sitting. He'd dragged you across the ship like you weighed nothing. Even after knowing him for a while his abilities still surprised you. 
"Hi Luffy.”
“Hi!”
His breath smelled of alcohol and his words came out slower than usual. You couldn't help but smile at the way he looked, all blissed out and beautiful. Falling for Luffy was easy. Inevitable even. He just had this energy to him, this magnetic pulse that seemed to drag you to him. 
The rest of the crew felt it too. It was why they decided to join him on his adventure with little hesitation. But what you felt was different. You’d catch yourself admiring your Captain constantly. It didn’t matter if you were in a fight, running for your lifes or just hanging out on the Merry your eyes always seemed to dart in his direction. You wondered if the crew noticed it. You thought you were very discreet with it, sneaky even. Sure there were times when your gaze would linger for too long but no one had ever mentioned anything so you thought you were safe. It’s funny how oblivious people can be when they choose to believe something. 
“You okay Luffy?”
“Better now.”
Luffy’s arms wrapped around your thorax like an odd meaty corset. You gasped slightly when you felt him lift your body up and place you on his lap, your legs settling on the sides of his thighs. Luffy was an affectionate person. He loved  physical touch but this was another level of contact. One you weren’t used to receiving. You placed your hands on Luffy’s shoulders forcing him to release you slightly so you could look at his face. 
“Are you sure you’re okay Captain?”
Luffy closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in as he did. When he opened his eyes once again there was an odd look to them. You were used to seeing his bright eyes opened wide with joy or wrinkling on the sides as he smiled, something he did a lot. But now his eyes had a certain look to them. They looked a lot like they did when he was serious about something but there was a slight twist. A sort of seductive energy to his gaze. His eyes bore into yours causing you to swallow dry. Luffy tilted his head to the side a little before moving to look at his arms wrapped around you. You watched as he licked his lips slowly. You opened your mouth to ask him once more if he was alright but before you could do so Luffy pulled your chest flush to his and sank his face into your neck. You felt his nose move against your collarbone, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling.
“You smell so good.”
You felt him take a deep breath in, the warm air tickling your skin. 
“Could eat you up.”
“Luffy, are you sure you’re-Ah!”
Luffy’s teeth sank into your neck without warning causing you to moan out. Before you could even process what was happening Luffy was already kissing the place where he’d bit you, his tongue lapping over the tender skin before sucking gently. Your head lulled to the side instinctively giving your Captain more access to your flesh. Your breath came out in short bursts as Luffy continued to lavish your neck in hickeys. You didn't expect this. Not from your Captain. Not from Luffy. Yet here you were. 
Your hands moved to the back of his neck grabbing the hair on the base and giving it a small tug when Luffy gave you a particularly rough suck. Luffy groaned at the feeling, his hips moving up to rut against yours. You felt the stiff outline of his dick against your clothed cunt. This is really happening. You weren't just imagining things. The thought seemed to snap you out of your lustfull daze. You grabbed Luffy's hair tugging him on your neck with force. Your Captain glanced at you questiongly calling out your name in a whisper.
“What's wrong?”
“You're drunk Luffy.”
“So are you.”
“Not as much as you are. I’ll remember this in the morning. I won’t regret it but you-”
“What makes you think I'd regret this?”
You opened and closed your mouth trying to come up with a good answer. The truth was you weren’t used to people desiring you. You’d grown up in a place where everyone made you feel like you weren’t enough. Not pretty enough, not smart enough, not good enough. After being told that your entire life it’s hard to believe it isn’t true. And Luffy was, well he was Luffy. Luffy your friend, Luffy your captain. Luffy the boy who had saved you. The boy you loved. Woah, first time you'd allowed yourself to admit that.
“Hey.”
Luffy seemed to sense your fears, his hands unlatching from your body so that he could hold your face.
“There are better people out there, Luffy.”
“I don't want better. I want you.”
Your eyes widened at Luffy's words, lips quivering slightly. You placed your head against his nuzzling your nose against his. Luffy grinned against your skin before placing a peck on your lips. You leaned back, glancing at Luffy's lustful eyes before latching your lips to his. The kiss was messy, the way Luffy liked it. He devoured your mouth, sucking at your bottom lip. You opened your mouth to him, tongues tangling with each other in a sort of desperate dance. Luffy's hands found their way to your ass grabbing onto the flesh roughly. You moaned against his open mouth, hips grinding down on his crotch. 
“Ah porra, isso gatinha.” (Oh fuck, thats it darling.)
You didn’t understand anything when Luffy spoke Portuguese but the sound of his voice when he talked in his mother tongue did something to you. You pressed your thighs against Luffy's legs trying to get some much needed friction. Your captain noticed your needs, his hands travelling down to your pants. His fingers toyed with the buttons before glancing up at you.
“Can i?”
“Yes please Luffy. Need you.”
The whine in your voice made Luffy growl, his hands working rapidly to gain access to your pussy. The moments his digits found their way to your folds you keened. Your body launched forward, head resting on Luffy's chest. He played with your folds, gathering up your juices in his fingers.
“So wet for me baby.”
“Only for my Captain.”
Luffy liked being called Captain in general but the way the title sounded slipping out from your lips did something unspeakable to him. He plunged a finger into your cunt grinning at the small moan that escaped your lips. He thrusted his finger into you for a moment before adding another one. You gripped onto Luffy's arm, your nails digging into his forearm. Your eyes fell on Luffy's arm as he fingered you, watching the muscles contract as his hand worked on bringing you to bliss. You didn’t expect it, the thought had never occurred to you but before you knew it you were sinking your teeth into Luffy's bicep. Luffy's hand stopped moving against your pussy, his whole body going rigid. Fuck. Did he not like it? Had you ruined the mood with your actions?
“Luffy i’m so-”
“Do that again.”
“Huh?”
“Do that again.”
Luffy's voice dropped an octave as he spoke, his eyes glossed over and his pupils blown wide. You looked at him hesitating for a moment before biting down on his arm again. The moan that ripped itself from Luffy's throat was feral. His hips bucked up into your forcing his fingers to go deeper into your pussy and causing you to let out a moan of his name. Your hand clasped around your mouth, eyes widening as you remembered where you were. You turned your body so that you could see where the others were. A sigh of relief left your lips when you realised that the rest of your crew were passed out. Completely unaware of what you and their Captain were getting up to. You turned your attention back to Luffy caressing his hair before placing another kiss to his lips. You bit his lip and tugged causing his skin to stretch a little as you did. You let out a giggle.
“Sorry!”
“It’s okay. I liked it”
“Oh yeah?”
You repeated your action this time grinding your hips down on his as you did. Luffy gritted out your name, teeth finding your neck once more as he bucked up into you. He removed his fingers from your cunt and shoved them in his mouth. 
“So sweet. Taste so good.”
Luffy's innocent eyes glance up at you.
“Let me taste you.” “You don’t have to Luffy.”
“I want to. Please let me eat it.”
“Oh-okay.”
Luffy manoeuvred you off his lap laying you down on the bench. You watched as he tugged down your pants exposing your cunt to him. Even in the dark you could see the smile that appeared on his face as he glanced at your pussy. He kneeled on the ground tugging you by legs. He placed either leg on his shoulders, his fingers playing with your folds. 
“Look at that. So pretty.”
“Luffy please…”
Luffy didn’t want you to beg. He had no desire to tease you. All he wanted was to make you feel good. And that was exactly what he did. Luffy ate you out like you were the last meal he’d ever have. You had to bite into your hand to keep yourself from moaning too loud and waking the others. The thought of one of them waking up and finding you like this scared you but in a strange way it also gave you a small thrill. You liked the thought of people seeing Luffy worshipping you like you were the only person in the blue sea. Luffy enjoyed the thought too but for a completely different reason. He liked the idea of the crew seeing that he was the one who made you feel like this. That you were his and his alone. You didn’t notice it because you didn’t value yourself but anyone in the crew would worship the ground you walked on if you’d let them. But you’d chosen Luffy and he wanted everyone to know it.
“Luffy baby-Uh ah-i’m close!”
Luffy wanted you to cum, he wanted to see the way your face scrunched and your eyes rolled back but he didn’t know if he could last much longer without being inside you.
“Can I put it in?”
“What?”
“Can i fuck you right?”
Your orgasm was clouding your mind and Luffy's fingers made it hard to think straight so it took you a moment to understand what he was asking. The second you understood you nodded your head enthusiastically.
“Please Luffy, need you baby. Need you inside.”
Luffy's arms wrapped around you once more lifting your limp body with ease before settling you down on his hips again. Your hands found their way into his pants grabbing a hold of his cock and making him hiss. You licked a strip down your hand tugging Luffy's pants down so that his dick could be free. You watched the pre cum leak from his shaft, your thumb moving to collect it before placing it in your mouth. You sucked on your thumb, eyes never leaving Luffys as you did. You gave his cock a couple of strokes, observing his Adam's apple move as you fastened your pace. Luffy's hand wrapped around yours stopping your motion. You raised your eyebrow in question. 
“If you keep doing that I'll cum.”
“Maybe that's what I want.”
“Well I plan on cumming inside that pretty pussy of yours.”
You paused, surprised at Luffy's words. You didn’t imagine something so naughty could come out of the sweet boy's mouth.
“If that's okay with you that is.”
“Oh sweet Luffy.”
You leaned down so that your mouth was near Luffy's ear before whispering. 
“I want you to stuff me full.”
That did it. Luffy's hands moved to wrap around your thighs, lifting you up so that he could line his dick up with your entrance. The both of you moaned as your bodies joined. Your walls fluttered around Luffy's dick making him bite down on your shoulder. You sank your hands into his hair, grinding your hips against him slowly.
“Luffy you have to move…please-ah uh- move.”
You started to set the pace, bouncing up and down on Luffy's cock with ease. After a while your legs began to hurt and your rhythm started to falter. Luffy could tell you were close to cumming, not being so behind himself, and decided to take over. He began pistolling into you using his arms as leverage. In a matter of seconds the two of you were seeing white. You screamed out Luffy's name as you came, feeling his seed paint your walls. The two of you stayed silent against each other trying to catch your breath. You heard someone stir behind you causing you to look back. You went to get off of Luffy but his hands held you in place.
“Luffy someone’s awake we have to-”
“Shhh wait a minute.”
Usopp appeared from the other side of the deck, his hands against his head as he stumbled over. He didn’t seem to notice where he was going but then his eyes fell on you. He called out your name and you ignored him, hiding your face in Luffy's neck.
“Luffy is she okay?”
“Yeah she’d just tired. I’m going to take her to bed.”
Luffy stood up his dick shifting against your sensitive walls. You moaned and Luffy hissed at the feeling. Luffy's arms were wrapped around your ass in a way that made it impossible to notice you weren’t wearing any pants. You could feel Luffy's seed running down your bare thigh. 
“Oh okay. I think I'll go to bed too. My head is killing me.”
“Goodnight!”
“Night Captain.”
Luffy watched Usopp pass by the two of you without doubting a thing. He even stopped for a moment and whispered goodnight to you, completely unaware of what was happening. As soon as your sharpshooter was out of view Luffy raced across the deck to his bedroom. When the two of you arrived he unwrapped his arms from you and placed you on his bed immediately tugging you to the edge and kneeling down. Luffy spent the rest of the night with his face buried in your cunt pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you.
You woke up the next morning wrapped around Luffy's sheets. A small smile found its way onto your face as you recalled last night's event. You turned to snuggle into Luffy but instead you were greeted with an empty bed. You got up, grabbing your clothes from the floor and putting them on. You smoothed your hair with your hand, yawning as you made your way out of Luffy's room. You walked over to the kitchen. Just as you had expected, you found Sanji and Zoro.
“Morning boys.”
You smiled at the cook who winked at you before glancing at Zoro. The swordsman had a smirk plastered on his face.
“What is it moss head?”
“Someone had a good night.”
You froze for a moment but then regained your composure. There was no way he knew. They had been fast asleep. Zoro was testing you and you weren’t going to fall for it.
“I have no idea what you're talking about Zoro.”
“Sure you don’t.”
“I mean it moss head. Nothing happened. I drank with you guys and then went to bed okay? Whatever you think happened must have been some drunk hallucination.”
“I’d believe you. If it weren’t for those.”
“For what-”
Oh shit. You glanced at your reflection in one of the pans eyes falling on the purple bruises littered all over your neck and chest. You looked at Sanji and then at Zoro.
“Shut up.”
“We didn’t say anything.”
“Hey it’s alright, everyone deserves a good time.”
“Yeah well at least I wasn't flirting with a chunk of rock last night.”
With that you left the kitchen ,the sound of Zoro's laughter being muffled as you made your way to the deck. You passed Nami and Ussop on the way, giving them a brisk good morning and not missing the way their eyes moved from your face to the hickeys on your body.
“Quiet.”
“Didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah yeah. Where's Luffy?”
Ussop pointed to the top of the Merry. You thanked him and made your way towards the straw hat pirate. Luffy was sitting crossed leg on top of the head of the lamb. You made your way over, calling out his name. He turned at the sound of your voice, greeting you with a smile. He got up and met you halfway.
“Goodm-uff.”
Luffy pulled you into a kiss which you returned. You pulled away after a while smiling wide as you looked at Luffy. 
“Sit with me?”
“Sure.”
You began to sit down but Luffy was quicker. He grabbed your body and dragged you onto his lap. You laughed as he nuzzled into your neck. He placed a kiss on the marks he’d made last night before moving to give your forehead a kiss. You grinned, caressing his hair lovingly. You could get used to this. Just the sea, Luffy and your crew. A good life. One you deserved.
4K notes · View notes
ki-yomii · 4 months
Text
down on you | jjk
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➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, hair pulling, standing missionary, rough sex, porn w/ plot, mafia!jk, detective!reader, established relationship, mild angst, mild violence ➥ summary | It’s true, he owns you: blood, bones, and all. ➥ notes | the mafia!jk au no one asked for aka an excuse to write smut w/ feeling lol.
💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚
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On his knees staring down the barrel of a loaded gun with a mouthful of blood, he knows this is the end of the line. He’s going to die like a rat in the gutter - no mercy to be found, loopholes to exploit or bribes to be made.
This is the real deal, and there’s no coming back.
Judgement Day comes in the form of a man with dark eyes and a dangerous smirk: Golden, the deadliest guard dog of the underground.
Credited with dozens of hits, you won’t know he’s there until it’s too late. Trying to keep him pinned is like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands, or a whisper on the wind.
And you won’t know he’s coming until you feel the breath on the back of your neck, hear the crack of a bullet ringing in your ears.
Belonging to one of the most powerful men in the world: Kim Namjoon, he’s more war machine than man.
“Go ahead, do it!” He spits at Golden’s feet, a mess of blood and drool staining the crisp leather of his combat boots. “Killing me won’t change a goddamn thing.”
A coy smile tugs at Golden’s mouth, his grin all sharp teeth and violence. He stays where he stands, his silhouette haloed by distant streetlights.
Water laps at the docks, the tang of salt heavy in the mid-summer Seoul air. There’s no rush; they both know he’ll be dead and dumped just like all the rest of the garbage in this rotting city.
“Come on, you prick! Pull the fucking trigger already.”
Golden cocks his head, and hums in the back of his throat. 
“Tch! I hope you’ve got a lot of bullets - we’re gonna knock the crown off Kim’s head one way or another.”
Golden thumbs at the safety of his gun, the barrel glinting through the shadows. “Ahh, is that what you think?” He shrugs, a lazy ripple of muscle. “Well, I have to say: I’d love to see you try.”
The night is shattered by the resounding crack of a gunshot and an echoing splash of something heavy dropping into the water below.
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You climb out of the nondescript government-issue car. The faintest tremble of your fingers nearly gives you away but you’re able to reign in the impulse to smooth your hands over your clothes at the last second.
Showing weakness is the last thing you need to be doing right now.
Especially here.
Right in front of where you’ve parked - shoved between two looming apartment complexes - sits a quaint, vintage building. The rough brick face is at odds with the sleek surroundings, but tinted windows keep prying eyes at bay while the classy signing hanging above the door reads The Red Bullet written in caps.
If you didn’t know better, it would be hard to believe this otherwise mundane storefront is a cover for one of the most dangerous international organizations based out of South Korea.
Not only do they hold the keys to the kingdom, but their success is largely in part because they spearhead operations from government espionage all the way to simple blackmail.
Even though it’s been several months since you darkened its doorstep, the familiar sight is enough to steal the breath from your lungs. Send your heart galloping into a tailspin as your stomach swoops.
While time away helped clear your head of stolen kisses and promises whispered in dark rooms, it also drove the longing bone deep.
In those quiet moments to yourself, when you have nothing else to distract from how lonely you are, you miss this place like one misses a limb.
You didn’t realize how attached you were to these four walls until it was too late: the hazy air filled with whorls of smoke, the overhead lights that bathe everything in red, the plush chairs you spent many nights sprawled across, the glossy black stages.
You don’t know how, you don’t know when but at some point it (he) started feeling like home. A luxury you can’t afford. Not again. After all, if you give in, any progress you made outside of his gravitational pull will be for naught.
Which puts you in a dangerous position as you find yourself back where it began; feelings at war with duty, mind vs heart. Because even if it leads you to a place you could go a million years without ever seeing again, you have to follow the trail of bodies.
A bouncer grants you access, the heavy door slamming shut behind you like a death knell as he herds you towards the back of the club.
It’s outside of official operating hours but it’s no less busy inside, men and women alike in scattered conversation as you pass through.
“It’s nice to see you again,” the bouncer murmurs, chancing a quick glance at your profile. “Been a while.”
You swallow, gaze darting down to your shoes. “Ah - yeah… Got busy with work. It’s - it’s nice to see you too.”
The small talk fizzles out, a snuffed candle as you arrive at a cordoned off room, “Here we are. Mr Kim is already expecting you.”
Any further pleasantries grow stale on your tongue as you enter the private booth, fighting against the lump in your throat to manage a hoarse ‘thank you’.
And then you find yourself left alone with the man himself, Kim Namjoon. He’s as intimidating as you remember, lounging back into the leather booth with his ankles crossed.
A lukewarm smile stretches across his lips, the slightest hint of a dimple peeking out from the valley of his cheek. Standing at attention on either side of his reposing form are two massive bodyguards. Their hands rest on the butts of their guns, daring any who enter to try and make a move.
“It’s good to see you again. But I gotta ask - what’s the occasion, Detective?” Namjoon hums. “I thought we were past all this.” He waves a nebulous hand between your bodies. “After all, you’re practically family.”
You ignore the hidden barb with a wince. “Mr Kim, you know why I’m here.”
“I used to know why a long time ago.” A well-groomed brow raises, his gaze glacial as it spears you in place. “But now I’m not so sure.”
“Please, Mr Kim. I don’t want to make this more difficult than it is. I just need to know about the man they fished out of the harbor, and then I’ll be on my way. So… who was he?”
Namjoon scoffs. “What makes you think I know more than the police?”
There’s a flash of a smirk, barely noticed, before his face returns to its neutral expression. As calm and cool as a placid river. “A john’s a john. What I do want to know is why you care so much?”
The underlying question is clear; why are you really here?
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss such matters with civillians.”
“Oh? So I’m a civilian now.” His expression is not unlike the cat that caught the canary: vicious and delighting in the discomfort his evasions are causing. “Gotta say that’s a new one for me.”
Sighing in defeat, you say, “Alright, enough. I get it. I’m wasting my time with you. Let me ask this instead: where is he?” 
“He doesn’t know any more about this than I do,” he says, waving a blase hand towards a door off to the left, “But if you insist, you can find him in the office. Oh, and Detective?”
“...Yes?”
“Take your time, I’ll be out on business all afternoon.”
With a curt nod, you flee the room amid low-throated chuckles and enter the office. Standing near the desk, his broad back turned towards the door, you find the man you simultaneously want to see the most and run from the fastest.
He turns around, the muscles of his back rippling with the movement. Your breath stutters in your chest, and you nearly swallow your tongue as your eyes trace over the cut of his body.
The moment your eyes meet, those many months spent cultivating time and distance turn to ash. You forgot how even the mere sight of him affects you, any resistance to his many charms virtually nonexistent as the world falls away.
Rich, coffee dark; his gaze sucks you in until it’s all you can do not to reach out, to brush your fingers over his edges and feel them soften beneath your palms.
Rocking back on your heels, you clear your throat and glance to the side as you remain standing in the entryway, more than a little off-kilter.
Coming back after so long apart, only to find him the same as the day you left… How do you reconcile everything that’s changed with everything that was?
“Well, hello there.” Jungkook croons, leaning his hip against the corner of the desk with a roll of his shoulders. His arms cross over the trunk of his chest, accentuating the bulk of his chest, the flex of inked bicep. “Long time no see.”
Shifting, you gulp. “Ah - yeah…”
The burn of his gaze - a palpable sensation prickling across your skin - tracks a path from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes as he gives you a thorough once-over.
“You’re looking good,” Jungkook hums in approval, “real good. I’ve missed those pretty eyes of yours.”
“You - you too.”
Your attention doesn’t know where to settle: drifting from the curve of his shoulders to the jut of his bloody knuckles, the tuck of his trim hips to the thick-soled combat boots.
Tiny hairs at the back of your neck stand on end, and your palms slick with sweat.
“I mean, you look… y’know, uh, good too.”
A flash of a crooked smirk, the raising of a pierced brow gets your blood pumping, your heart tattooing a rhythm against your ribs. Emboldens you to reach back with shaky fingers to turn the lock. The sound grates down your spine, bolts of anticipation slicing through you.
It was dumb to think coming here, seeing him again, would end any other way than his taste on your tongue and his cock in your cunt. Hope makes fools of us all.
Should’ve known better but you’d been hopeful those days were long behind you. Now you realize it was inevitable.
After all, Jungkook is magnetic.
The black hole at the center of your universe, consuming everything in its path until he’s what remains in your head, your heart. You’re helpless, ceaselessly drawn to him like a moth to flame.
And try as you might, you can’t say no to a face like that.
Never could, in fact.
Failure to extract yourself from his orbit during your not-relationship is nothing new. That doesn’t mean you can’t make it difficult.
After all, you still have some dignity intact.
So try, try, try again.
“Ahem.” You try to banish the heat from your cheeks, guiding the conversation into the correct territory. “I’m not here on a-a social call, Jeon. I need to know: were you the one that killed and dumped the john in the harbor?”
Stalking closer, a lazy jungle cat on the prowl, Jungkook crosses the distance between you. He only stops once your bodies brush with every labored inhale. Heat radiates from him, and you’re achingly aware of every point of contact.
The light scent of his cologne teases your nose, and his eyes - god, his eyes. They’re shaded and hungry, devouring your expression with single-minded possessiveness. 
“What makes you think I know anything about that?”
“Jeon -- Jungkook.”
He hums.
Your heart thrums, pulse rushing hard through your head until you feel faint, blood surging the longer you stay in close contact. The shameful clench of your cunt makes your cheeks burn all the brighter.
The last time you were looking up at him like this, his hand was on your jaw while his cock thrust balls deep.
“C’mon, you know that isn’t going to work. This is me you’re talking to, not some rookie.”
“Mm,” he purrs, “it is you I’m talking to, isn’t it?”
You manage to bite back the groan but can’t stop your eyes from rolling even if there’s the slightest hint of a stutter when you reply, “Please, I just need to know if you killed him.”
Jungkook looms tall and proud, crowding closer. “And if I did, baby?” he asks.
Instinctively you back up, only to be followed step by step. A game of cat and mouse that finds you pinned against the wall before long. With nowhere to run, you watch, heart in your throat, as Jungkook dips his dark head.
His nose runs along the length of your neck, breath puffing across your sensitive skin as he inhales the pleasant scent of your perfume.
“I - I…”
“Would you see me in handcuffs?” His lips caress the underside of your jaw, a soft groan escaping him. “… C’mon, answer me. Would you?”
“I would - if I had to.”
As much as you wish that was true, you know in your heart of heart's you would do everything in your power to make sure that never happens.
No matter how much you like to think you’d do the right thing when push comes to shove, you’d choose him a thousand times over.
His eyes dance playfully. “Careful, I might like it.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” you say with a snort.
Jungkook chuckles low and warm, using the arm around your waist to tug you into the safety of his body. The softness of your breasts presses into the hard planes of his chest, your nipples pebbling through the thin cotton shirt you wear.
With a deep-throated groan, his hands encircle the curves of your hips as a thickly muscled thigh slots between yours.
An answering quiet sigh gets his blood pumping and his cock twitching.
“Mm, something tells me you’d enjoy it just as much, Detective.”
The use of your title is a rude awakening.
“Jungkook,” You warn, moving to push him away. Only once you start touching him, you can’t stop. His muscles flex beneath your curious fingertips. “We really shouldn’t.”
You’re sure if he could, Jungkook would spend days worshipping between your thighs, velvet heat wrapped around his tongue and hands in his hair as he brings you to peak again and again until you’re a sobbing, sopping, boneless mess beneath him.
“Come on, I know you want me - that you’ve missed me. I can see it in your eyes.”
He kisses the corner of your mouth, tongue flickering out for a brief taste before a rough thumb skates across your bottom lip, tugging down to expose your teeth, the glitter of your tongue as it darts out to flick over the pad of his finger..
“I’ve certainly missed you, baby. Want me to show you?”
Even though you refuse to admit anything out loud, you can’t help but angle your throat back and grind into his hips pressed against yours.
Jungkook tsks, “That’s alright. I’ll get that pretty mouth open one way or another.”
Before you can retort, a mouth swoops down to fuse with yours in a fierce, all-consuming kiss. A low, broken moan punches from your chest.
Reaching up, your fingers sink into the mane of dark hair that brushes the cut of Jungkook’s jaw. Soft, thick, and wavy in your grip; you tug at the roots.
Jungkook hisses. 
Teeth nip at your lip, kittenish licks soothing away the string as blood bursts across your tongues. The thigh shoved between yours grinds up with every wet, sloppy pass of your lips.
Thick muscle spreads your pussy open through the thin slacks of your work uniform. Sparks of pleasure dance down your spine with every rock against your swollen clit.
“S-Shit!” Your shoulders curl in, a shudder jerking through you. “K-Kook, I… !”
“Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” Jungkook growls, rutting his cock against the jut of your hip. The wet patch you’re making on his jeans grows larger with every filthy grind. “You’ve been gone too fucking long. Never again, you hear me?”
You claw at his shoulders, stuttering out, “there’s noth-ing you can do t’stop me.”
“If you don’t come back to me,” his eyes are dark and stormy, voice whiskey rough, “I’ll find you.”
It’s not a threat - it’s a promise.
“Then make sure I never want to leave,” you challenge breathlessly, staring into his blown out pupils, “Make me want to stay.”
Above all else, you think.
The words are barely past your lips when Jungkook accepts your challenge with gusto (just like you knew he would). Without delay, he thumbs open the button on your pants.
Refusing to let you look away, Jungkook yanks them to your feet and swings you up into his arms one-handed. They hang from your ankle like a chain.
Your surprised squeak is quickly swallowed up by a moan when he settles you over the bulge in his pants, your cunt hovering over his erection.
The heat of his skin sinks through the thin cotton of your panties, so, so close to where you need him. Slick soaks into the fabric, and clings to your inner thighs.
Every shift is a smooth, sticky glide of folds that stirs, and stokes the ember of desire smoldering behind your navel.
“Kook,” you breathe. “Please.”
Your head rolls back, and you sag into his chest. Your hips twitch in pathetic little attempts, trying to get pressure where you need it. Having him hot and hard and all for you; any distance between you is suddenly unbearable.
He needs to spread you wide and stuff you full with every inch of his thick cock until he’s so deep you won’t be able to walk for days.
“Shh baby, I’ll give you what you want,” he says, gaze heavy and possessive. “I’m gonna ruin you so good, you’ll have no choice but to come back. You’re mine.”
“Says who?”
“Hmm. You don’t think you are?”
Nibbling on your ear, Jungkook slips a finger under the hem of your panties. He smirks when you keen, rubbing his knuckle up and down your sloppy folds with teasing pressure.
“How about I show you what your body already knows?”
Wasting no time, he lifts you off his cock, the scrap of cloth fluttering to the ground. His free hand dives between your bodies. Then comes the clink of a belt, the sound of a zipper pulling down.
Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, your body coiled with anticipation as your stomach swoops at the brush of his fingers along the underside of your thigh.
“Look so pretty like this, baby.” Jungkook twists his wrist, hips arching back. “And it’s all for me. Fuck, I can’t wait to get inside this pretty pussy.”
Any response dies on your tongue, brain short-circuiting as the slick, fat cockhead rubs along your slit. Pressing against your entrance the slightest bit before slipping up to nudge at your clit - coating himself up in your sticky juices.
The ultimate tease - something Jungkook’s always been overly fond of doing until you’re out of your mind with desperation.
“Please, please, please,” you chant, cheeks on fire and eyes half-lidded as you circle your hips. “Stop playing around. I want it - want you, Kook.”
“Oh, baby,” he smiles, ducking down to kiss your forehead. “You’ll take whatever I give you.”
You can’t stifle the broken sob, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Liquid fire surges through your veins, a thousand bolts of lightening crackling beneath the surface of your skin. Your pussy is tender, swollen. Walls fluttering in time with your heartbeat. 
“Ha, you’re so needy for me.”
Jungkook’s lips brush away the moisture around your eyes, his thumb drawing soothing circles into the base of your spine. All the while, his torturous grinding never ceases.
“Aren’t you?”
You croak, “I can’t – Kook, please. Anything, I’ll do anything you want just fuck me.”
The flash of his eyes is your only warning before he’s right there, your walls embracing the girth of his erection inch by inch. Every ridge, every jerk as he seats himself as deep inside your silken heat as he can is absolute heaven.
The stretch as you take him to the hilt sends you careening towards the edge, eyes rolling back and toes curling in your shoes.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” you whimper.
“Shit!” Jungkook grits his teeth, squeezing the base of his cock as you tighten  around him. With every deep inhale, his pelvis brushes your swollen, needy clit. “Forgot how good you feel wrapped around my dick, baby.”
“Me too,” You gasp, tightening your legs around Jungkook’s hips.”Me too, Kook.”
Dropping his forehead to yours, he says gruffly, “‘m not gonna last long.”
Making a noise of acknowledgement, you wiggle your hips. Sinking your teeth into the side of Jungkook’s jaw, you bite and suck at his skin, wanting to leave a mark to remember you by. His reaction is instantaneous, releasing the grip on his shaft to grab a fist full of hair.
He yanks back.
The long, elegant line of your throat is exposed to his butterfly kisses and scolding love bites.
“Now you’ve really asked for it,” Jungkook huffs out with a dirty chuckle.
“Then give it to me.” You lick your puffy lips, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. “Show me who I belong to.”  
The brewing hurricane in his eyes is unleashed. Wide palms and strong fingers grip your hips so tight you feel bones grind together. His stance widens, his unwavering gaze locking onto your face, brow pinched, and mouth slack.
His lip piercing glints in the light, his tongue sliding out to wet his bottom lip. Dark curls tussle about his head, a wild halo that sweeps down into the burning umber of his eyes.
Helpless, you succumb - enchanted by the darkness peering at you from behind those dangerous eyes. He’s ethereal; a siren song that threatens to drown you, swallow you whole.
You’d happily let him, you realize with a shiver.
It’s true, he owns you: blood, bones, and all.
“Hold on tight,” Jungkook says, hooking his hands under your bottom. 
And then, he’s jackhammering into your cunt so hard and fast all you can do is hold on for the ride. Punch drunk and moaning as he manhandles you how he likes, spreads you wide and stuffs you full until you’re panting for breath and clinging to sanity by your fingernails.
“Fuck yes, that’s it. Look how well your pretty pussy always takes my fat cock.”
His low voice whispering filthy praises in your ear makes you whimper, whine, and writhe as the band of pleasure coiling tight in your belly comes close to snapping. It’s the fastest he’s ever fucked an orgasm out of you, and it feels so good you don’t even care.
The pace is brutal, slamming into you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips come morning. But it’ll be so fucking worth it. You’re going to cum hard and long, you just know it.
About to melt as Jungkook fucks the slick out of you, groaning as you drip down the base of his cock, his balls - his very own pretty little mess.
“Yeah, you gonna cum, baby?” he laughs, pressing a sweaty kiss to the side of your face. “Can feel how - haaah shit - how tight you’re squeezing me.”
“Uh-huh,” you cry, holding onto the tops of his wide shoulders. Every thrust has his cockhead dragging over the spongy patch of your g-spot, sending fissions of pleasure rocketing through your nervous system. “So - so close, baby. Just a little more, I--”
Balancing yourself, you lift up only to slam back down, meeting Jungkook’s thrust with all the force of gravity. “Oh fuck, oh fuck!”
Crashing over you like a tsunami, your orgasm shoots through your limbs and zips down your spine. A warm rush of cum soaks Jungkook’s shaft, the wet and messy sound of your squirt splashing against the floor secondary to the cry that claws its way out of your throat.
“K-Kook!”
Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he helps you keep bouncing up and down on his erection. “Yeah, that’s it - keep going, baby. Wanna feel you keep cumming all over this cock.”
Aftershocks slice through you like lightning, tiny jolts of electricity. As you come down from your high, your gummy walls pulse, milking at Jungkook’s thick shaft.
He groans softly whenever your muscles tense, release; your body a worn-out rubber band as your breath stutters from you.
Then a hand pets down your flank, your skin shivering with hypersensitivity at the tender touch. “S’okay. Just breathe, baby.”
Peeling open your heavy eyes, you look up at his face. Take in the crinkle of his brow and the ravenous expression. Even floating on a sea of bliss, white noise fills your ears, you want more.
You slur, determined, “Kook, baby, please. Cum in me, want you s’bad.”
“Fuck! Can’t just say shit like that to me or I…” Jungkook bites down onto the tender crook of your neck, muffling his grunts in your flesh. “Shit - ’m so --”
You cry out, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders, “A-haah, K-Kook!”
Snapping his hips forward one last time, Jungkook grinds as deep as he can get and lets go. The fat head of his cock kisses your cervix, his length throbbing in time with his heartbeat as a rush of cum floods your insides.
“Yeah, just like that,” he grunts, rutting once - twice into the cradle of your body, “take it like a good girl.”
He croons when you whine at the press of his pelvis against your oversensitive clit. Thready sparks of pain shoot down your legs that hang limply over his forearms. Every breath stutters from your lungs, slow and deep.
“No more, can’t - can’t…” Shifting, you arch your spine and burrow your head into his chest, nearly catatonic in his arms. “S’too much.”
“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Fingers brush over your closed eyelids, smoothing over the arch of your brow. With every kiss dropped to the top of your head, he mumbles in dulcet tones, “I really have missed you, you know.”
You mewl in response as strong fingers knead the backs of your thighs.
“You’re not allowed to go anywhere.”
“Oh,” you can’t muster up enough energy to say anything more, body tender and trembling with little aftershocks, “s’that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.” He chuckles. “You’re staying here - right where I want you.”
In lieu of a response, you pick your head up off the pillow of his chest and seek out his gaze. Liquid soft; he’s looking at you like you hung the world on a string.
“I’ve missed you too, Kook,” you say with a gentle smile.
You’ll allow yourself this moment of weakness when there’s no space between your bodies or hearts. Titles don’t matter much when he’s cradling you to his chest like a piece of precious china.
Between the two of us, you’re the one who hung the moon and stars, you think while combing back his sweaty bangs.
And I think I love you, you whisper voiceless against his lips.
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luckykiwiii101 · 7 months
Text
HOW TO CHANGE YOUR SELF CONCEPT AND MANIFEST YOUR DREAM LIFE WITHIN A WEEK!!!
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💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗
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(For when you feel like you just can’t do it).
HEY YOU THERE!!!! Are you still in a continuing loop of not seeing ur desires? Of feeling lack? Feeling like there is so much weight on your shoulders and that your desires are out of reach?
Well believe it or not…we’ve all been in that position. We’ve all been in positions where we put our desires above us, too high to reach. That’s just called having a terrible self concept. And if you are familiar with the law of assumption, you know that self concept is REALLY IMPORTANT!!!
If you really believed that you can’t achieve what you want, then you wouldn’t be here in the first place. Reading this post. Surfing tumblr to read success stories and tips&advice. That tiny amount of faith you have says a lot. We’ve all been at that point, having little to no faith. I’ve been there, at one point i start doubting the law. But i knew i didn’t deserve to live a sad life, so i changed my inner self.
You know how the law works blah blah blah. One thing to familiarise yourself with is how “illogical” it is. This was a concept i didn’t grasp before. I thought it was ridiculous for people to wake up in their dream house, with their dream EVERYTHING. It felt so…unnatural and odd. I felt like things like that couldn’t happen. I thought maybe they tricked themselves into seeing that. But when i started to realise that we are just pure consciousness, everything changed.
First of all, people who manifested their dream life didn’t “teleport” to a different realm or anything. They just changed their awareness to their liking. You are aware of not living your dream life, so that is what you see. Everything in your life is based on your awareness. What you’re aware of. Are you aware of being a master manifestor? If so, then you are a master manifestor. Everything you accept to be real is REAL. YOU gave into the 3D and accepted it as real. That’s why every time something bad happens to you, you say “why is this happening to me!!! I’m so unlucky” etc. You accepting your undesired 3D circumstances as real is literally self sabotage. The only time where you can accept your 3D as real is when it is in your favour. The 4D (imagination) is the REAL and ONLY reality because the 3D cannot exist without it. Still don’t believe me? Remember the time when you really believed that something would happen and it did, for example believing that you would fail an exam. Anyway, i’m not going to try and convince you to believe in the law of assumption if you don’t already. Because no matter what, in a week or less your state will manifest. Belief or not. Wanna know why? You’ve manifested constantly your whole entire life before even knowing about the existence of the law. You did all that without believing in it. LMAO you literally manifested to find it difficult, without believing in it. The law is based on faith, not proof. Proof (which for most of you reading this is the 3D). Never see the 3D as “proof” of your manifestation. Why would you do that? Looking in the mirror after listening to a subliminal to check for results is accepting the 3D as proof. Being surprised when your manifestation “didn’t come” in the desired amount of time is accepting the 3D as proof. BUT HELLO?!?! The 4D IS THE REAL REALITY!!! THAT IS A FACT NO MATTER WHAT YOU BELIEVE!!! NOTHING CAN CHANGE THE FACT THAT THE 4D IS THE REAL REALITY!!!
The 4D is all you need when you desire something. Fulfill yourself in the 4D. The purpose of “feeling it real” is not to convince yourself that you have it. It’s to remind yourself that you do. Embody the state of having your desires. If you don’t know about states i really recommend reading a blog about them. It’s literally the foundation of the law!!! Your state manifests!!! Never come from a state of lack. Never affirm from a state of lack. Never visualise from a state of lack!!! When i knew about the law for some time, i thought i was trying to “convince” myself that i had my desires by “pretending” to have them and “acting as if” i had them. That is literally coming from a state of lack. That is literally accepting that you don’t have your desires. But the 4D is the real reality. So stop accepting your 3D circumstances as real, because they aren’t. They are so fake. Faker than my old friends. The 3D is literally just a product of your past assumptions. It is not real!!! It does not exist the moment you accept that it doesn’t. Why do you think people manifest instantly in the void? Waking up in their dream house/apartment with everything they’ve always wanted? Because the 3D isn’t real. It’s like an illusion. Focus your awareness on having your desires and that HAS TO reflect! Failure does not exist!! Failure does NOT exist!!! Got it? Lemme tell u something. One night i was reading a success story about the void state and waking up in a fricking CAR when they went to sleep in their bed. I was low key shocked to be honest but my mindset has improved since then and i’m not baffled anymore (this was about 2 days ago). I had an epiphany from there. I literally started to realise that the 3D is literally not real. You are just pure consciousness. Whatever you are conscious of, you will see. It’s not “teleporting”. It’s not “magical”. You’re not in a parallel universe far far farrrr away from your loved ones, being surrounded by clones (because that was what i thought before and i was TERRIFIED!!!) Look around right now. Look!!! Look at your surroundings. They aren’t real. That’s just the 3D. The real reality is the 4D. You aren’t “creating” anything. You are just focusing your awareness on the REAL reality (the 4D).
You do realise that you have manifested countless things during your life, unconsciously (without knowing). What makes you think that you can’t do it consciously? Why? Do you believe that you are unlucky? Have you brainwashed yourself that badly that you lost complete faith in the law? You literally manifested for things to be difficult for you…isn’t that disappointing? Luckily, you will use your power to your advantage this time, and not for self sabotaging.
I REALLY RECOMMEND READING @piercedblunt posts because she made me understand the law of assumption so well!!!!
You are going to follow this routine for a week!!! I promise it is literally IMPOSSIBLE to not materialise your dream life. Whether it’s:
- Revising people’s deaths, waking up in a mansion, waking up in a different country, waking up with your desired body and face, becoming an alien, being able to fly, growing wings, being able to talk to animals, being able to manifest in under 2 seconds.
STEP 1
- Embody the state of HAVING, not desiring. States are the easiest things ever. So ridiculously easy to embody.
HOW TO EMBODY A STATE:
ANGEL’S FULFILLMENT “CHALLENGE”
READ THIS!!!
PERSISTING = REMINDING
You should acknowledge that those limiting beliefs were just created by your fears CAUSED by the 3D.
LMAOOOO HOW IRONIC! The ONE thing holding you back was the 3D…and it turns out that IT ISN’T REAL!!! Isn’t that so relieving? Literally most and if not all problems people have had with the law of assumption was based on the 3D. Now that you’ve accepted that the 4D as the real reality, this will be so much easier!!! Ofcourse there are things like “intrusive thoughts” that scared you but you aren’t embodying the state of those instrusive thoughts are you? No, exactly, so they will not manifest. Thoughts do not manifest. States manifest.
Remember, when manifesting, the goal is not to “get”. Because you already have it.
IT IS LITERALLY TIME FOR YOU TO ACCEPT THAT YOU HAVE YOUR DREAM LIFE!!!! STOP PROCRASTINATING!!! I promise you, your desired life with materialise in a week or less. Never give up.
SOME SCOLDING RIGHT HERE!!!
839 notes · View notes
raysrays · 3 months
Text
I’ve Got you
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Kyojuro Rengoku X GN! Reader
CW: injury,blood, angst-ish to fluff
Scenario: Just because you are a Tsuguko doesn’t mean you get out of going on missions yourself. But what If you don’t return on time? What if you are injured?
Completing missions was never difficult for you, a perk of being a Tsuguko. Personal training by a Hashira has honed your skills. Your technique appears flawless, ensuring success on most tasks. As long as you didn’t run into any upper moons you’d be perfectly fine. Right?
That was your assumption until you reached your destination: a clearing tucked in the heart of a forest. Surrounded by miles of wilderness in every direction. You’d already spent too long traveling a different route due to the weather so you were technically a few days behind.
Upon your arrival, you immediately spotted the clearing, but to your surprise, a demon stood at its center—your target, it has to be.
You drew your sword slowly, cautious not to draw immediate attention to yourself as you approached. Upon getting a clearer view, you studied the demon's appearance intently.
It stood tall, with long white hair and a bluish tint to its skin.
But it must have noticed you staring, as it whipped its head around in seconds.
Its bright red eyes looked terrifying, and its long, claw like nails only added to its unsettling appearance.
You assumed your stance and charged at the demon, employing the breathing technique Kyojuro had tirelessly trained you to master.
However, as you closed the distance, an odd sensation crept over your body, causing everything to seem to move in slow motion.
Looking up, you noticed the demon sporting a creepy grin on its face. With a deliberate motion, it slowly raised its hand, dragging its disgusting claws down your left side.
The sudden surge of pain was intense.
Suddenly, time seemed to unfreeze as you plummeted to the ground in an instant. Looking around, you realized the demon had vanished without a trace.
Not a single hit landed, and it had slipped away.
Despite the searing pain, you attempted to stand, but the agony was overwhelming. Glancing down at your blood-soaked uniform and the wound beneath it, the fight wasn't over.
You couldn't stop now, not with the demon's still alive. That's what you tried to convince yourself.
You attempted to push yourself off the ground, but the pain held you back, causing your vision to blur and your eyelids to grow heavy.
"Am I bleeding out?" The thought flashed through your mind as your head connected with the ground.
It felt like mere seconds had passed when you were abruptly pulled out of unconsciousness by the sounds of yelling and talking.
"Y/N? Y/N?" The voice sounded oddly familiar.
"If you bleed out like this, you'll die in literally the most un-flashy way possible," the voice continued.
Ah, Tengen.
Through the small slit of your eyes, you saw him crouched down in front of you.
"There you are. Glad you're finally awake. I was worried you'd be dead for sure," he chuckled.
As you fully opened your eyes, I noticed that your side had been somewhat bandaged up, though it wasn't exactly top-tier first aid.
He frowned. "Look, I'm aware I'm not Shinobu, but it'll do until we get back."
You nod slowly and manage to push yourself back to your feet.
"How... how long was I out for?" You ask him nervously.
"Well, considering Rengoku paced around HQ to the point where the master sent him off on some pointless mission, I'd say quite a while," he rolled his eyes.
"I'm serious. How long has it been?" You ask again.
He stops and thinks for a second. "You've probably only been out for a day and a half, but technically, you should have been back two days ago."
Your heart begins to race. You've been out far too long, undoubtedly causing Kyo worry. What if he's angry? Did the master really have to send him off on a mission to calm down?
Your mind races a mile a minute before you finally acknowledge Tengen again.
"Let's head back now. When will Kyojuro return?" Your voice sounds desperate. You want to see him. You need to see him.
He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Rengoku is probably almost back by now. Like I said, it was just a lame mission to get him to mellow out for a second."
Suddenly, his hard, sarcastic gaze softens with a hint of concern. "Hey, come on, I'll help you back. I know you're probably in a lot of pain right now."
As he extended his hand to you, you finally accepted it. You liked Tengen; he was a good friend to Kyojuro, and really, that's all you cared about. He could be a complete asshole or a genuinely kind person, but you just got lucky today.
It took a while, but he was fast. Together, you both made it back to headquarters in half the time it would have taken alone.
When you finally arrived, he guided you straight to the Butterfly Mansion to get your injury taken care of.
Shinobu took you in and started to properly disinfect and re-bandage your wound.
You stare at her silently as she patches you up. Shinobu always wears that lifeless smile, yet she still looks remarkably beautiful. You know her story and admire her persistence and her invaluable contributions to the demon slayer corps.
"Y/N, you need to rest. I'll have Tengen inform the master about the demon that got away," her voice maintains its usual tone, neither angry nor particularly happy.
"I wasn't able to kill it. I'm sorry," you confess, feeling the weight of failure on your shoulders. That demon may not have been an upper moon, but it was undeniably strong. You almost feel embarrassed. Did you underestimate the demon, or were you too overconfident in your abilities?
Your thoughts are interrupted when Shinobu tilts your chin to look at her. "I assume you aren't used to failure, are you?" Her expression changes; instead of her usual painted smile, this time it seems genuinely sympathetic.
You feel embarrassment wash over you; she read you like a book.
"Y/N, not every mission will end in victory. It's enough that you didn't bleed out on the ground. I think that alone will make Rengoku very happy," Shinobu reassures you.
Shinobu could be extremely harsh, maybe even downright mean sometimes, but right now, she's comforting you. It feels good.
"Thank you, I really needed to hear that—"
You are interrupted by the sound of a crow flying around the mansion.
"Master Rengoku has returned from his mission!" it caws loudly.
Suddenly, the stress floods back over you. You've never been injured like this before. How will he react?
Shinobu notices your reaction and steps back from you.
"I'll be going now. Try to rest up while your injuries heal. I'll check back on you in a few hours."
You watch her leave, wondering if she's going to tell Kyojuro you're here. Does she already know how he'll react to the situation? Is it really even that big of a deal?
Maybe you're just overthinking this. As a Tsuguko, it's understandable that you'd sustain injuries every now and then. As a partner though…it's different.
What was only minutes felt like hours, but eventually, you heard the sounds of the doors to the mansion open.
You recognized those footsteps; you had heard them every day of your life.
Once the doors finally opened, you saw Kyojuro. His eyes scanned you up and down, taking you in before he officially entered the room.
He looked so relieved but also worried as he walked over next to you, sitting in a chair beside the bed.
Before you could say anything, he took both your hands in his and rested his head on top of them.
"Thank goodness you're safe. I was so worried," his voice was quiet and gentle.
You didn't know what reaction to expect, but it wasn't this one.
A couple of moments of silence passed, and he finally lifted his head to look at you again. This time, his face seemed more serious.
"What happened out there? What demon did this to you?" His serious tone wasn't one you ever got used to.
"I'm not sure," you admit.
"If I'm being completely honest with you, I didn't get the chance to learn much about it at all. All I know is that it has the ability to slow down its surroundings, allowing it to attack at a normal rate, and that's how I got here." It felt embarrassing to admit your failure, but his face showed understanding.
Kyojuro knew how hard you had worked and trained, and every solo mission you went on had been a complete success up until this point. So honestly, he seemed just as shocked as you were.
Once he noticed your bandaged wound his serious face changed into a worried and sympathetic one.
"I'm so sorry, sunflower. I should've looked into the mission more before agreeing to let you go. I would never want you to be put in such a position," he said, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear and staring into your eyes.
The embarrassment you tried to shut out just came rushing back in that moment.
"Please don't pity me. I failed my mission. It's all my fault. I understand if you are disappointed, but once I heal, I will make sure to find that demon and take it down."
He looked surprised for a moment, then a small smile appeared on his face.
"Little flame, there is no doubt in my mind that you are a skilled swordsman. I'm grateful not only to have you as my Tsuguko but also as my partner," he said, reaching up and planting a small kiss on your forehead.
"Don't be so hard on yourself, my love. You did your best! As long as you return home to me at the end of the day, I will never be disappointed in you."
Your heart melted at his words. Kyo would never be angry with you. He loved you. All he ever wanted was for you to be safe and happy.
His bright, happy smile made everything in the world seem good again. You wanted to just wrap your arms around him and hold on tight.
Then he stood up, wrapping his arms around your shoulders gently.
You finally felt the weight of the situation being lifted off your shoulders. The demon, the fear of bleeding out on the ground, the idea of disappointing Kyojuro, all of it gone.
Tears escaped the corners of your eyes. You hadn't let yourself cry this entire time, but his arms felt safe. As long as Kyojuro was there to support you, you finally felt vulnerable.
Kyojuro's arms felt so protective around you as you cried into him. He knew the stress you had been put through was probably overwhelming.
And even though he'd never show it, his anger made him vow to find this demon and ensure it would never hurt you again.
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reverieblondie · 2 months
Text
Neighbors
Chapter 4: Via the Window
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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: Eludes to voyeurism kink but nothing explicit.
Summary: It's time you thank Spider-Man properly...
A/N: I hope you enjoy the update! Hoping to get these out more frequently!
Word Count: 2,392
‘If I shut my blinds you won’t know where to come get your thank you.’
‘Thank me how’?
‘Come by Monday night and find out?’
‘I will swing by then’ 
Your Sunday has been spent in two ways. One you had taken the time to get ready for your first week of school. Write out your schedule and figure out what buildings your classes would be in. Best to prepare for your first day to eliminate any surprises that could occur. Two, and far more nerve-wracking; you kept talking with Spider-Man through notes via your window. At the time leaving notes and checking every few hours for a new message from your pen pal was an exciting experience. It was a thrill to get a new message when you weren't even able to catch a glimpse of him! How could he even be that sneaky? 
Well now it’s Monday and you're having to reflect on your messages…
You said you wanted to thank him, but now that it's Monday you find yourself playing with the last note he left you. You're still trying to wrack your brain for ideas, but you can’t sit and stir forever. You have a big day ahead! As you're getting ready to leave for school you're double, triple checking that you have your things and that you look decent. Going from the living room to your bedroom, back to the living room to the bathroom like a madman. Once you scramble into the kitchen to make a bottle of water, it clicks. Turning towards your admittedly out-of-date oven the brilliant idea hits, cookies! 
Who doesn’t like cookies? Maybe it's a bit old-fashioned or maybe he doesn’t like sweets, but it's the thought that counts right? Just a nice thankful gesture right? Well, there are other thankful gestures you could do for him…But you quickly shake away the thought, you don’t even really know him best not to cross any boundaries; not yet at least. 
Getting your mind off of…activities you check your phone and see that you need to leave, don’t want to risk being late on your first day. Doing one last run you check yourself and your things. Before you exit your apartment you find yourself going to your window on pure impose, checking it one last time before you leave. A part of you wishes you would see him swinging by like he's checking on you but you know you won’t catch him. 
Walking out of your apartment you look over to Peter's apartment. You haven’t seen him since your moment together in the laundry room. Admittedly you take your time locking your door for the off chance Peter would be leaving his apartment at the same time as you. Though you quickly come to find that your day is not going to start with seeing a brave hero or your annoyingly cute neighbor, that's not going to be a damper on your day. Walking to school making sure to stay out of the bike lane you open your phone and start looking up cookie recipes. 
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As expected the first day of classes was nothing more than a lot of info dumping about the class and all the materials needed to be successful in the class. Yes, it is easy to just sit and listen but that doesn’t mean it's any less tiring to have to go through. Taking a stretch you feel your muscles stretch and hear your bones softly popping. Just have to go to the store then you can get your little thank you gift for spidy going. The thought of seeing him leaves a giddy feeling to swell in your stomach. But that is soon interrupted when you see a familiar face walking past. 
Well, well if it isn't your odd neighbor, of course he didn’t mention you two go to the same university, typical…
“Peter!”, you call out
In an instant, he's stopping and turning to meet your eyes with a somewhat surprised look on his face, though there is a slight hint of a smile on the corners of his lips. You quickly approach him making your way past the swarm of other exhausted college students. 
“You know this is starting to get a bit frequent, first the elevator, then the laundry room, now here. Are you following me?” He teases with an annoyingly adorable smile. 
“Yeah, if I’m going to stalk anyone it would be a celebrity, not my random neighbor.” 
“You would stalk someone? Bad girl…” 
The teasing nickname sends a rush over your spine but you must resist, he's insufferable…and adorable…dammit. 
Ignoring the comment you kept the conversation moving, “You know most people mention if they go to the same school as someone else they know.”
He shrugs, “True, but that kills the fun of you having to figure it out.”
“Oh, so fun Pete” 
“You're welcome. Are you done for the day?” 
“Yeah, I was heading home, well going to go to the store then home.” 
Peter smiles as he adjusts his backpack, “I was also heading home, you want some company for the trip?” - Well isn't this a friendly change? 
“Sure.”
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Now you have eggs and sugar, but chocolate chips, flour, brown sugar, and vanilla extract you need to buy. Just to find them is the issue, this store Peter took you to is different from the one you have started to get accustomed to. Peters runs off to grab something, leaving you to wander down the aisles by yourself, so much for his company... 
As you browse down the aisle something catches your eye and it's staring in your direction. Two men seem to be whispering and glancing in your direction. You turn to see if they are looking behind you but nothing seems to be odd enough to catch any attention. Facing them again you see they have slid closer and you're starting to feel nervous that it may be you that is catching their attention, but why? 
Is there something on your face? Are they staring at your basket? Are you doing something wrong? You're starting to become uneasy as you do your best to just ignore them. They are whispering amongst themselves and you just keep your eyes forward, just ignore them, and let them walk past you. 
As the men start to walk in your direction a sudden warmth then wraps around you for a second you're frightened but as you look to see who has their arm wrapped around you you see Peter's striking profile. 
“There you are, did you find all the ingredients?” 
You look at him confused and he just winks before holding you tighter, sliding his hands to hold you in a hug as his chin rests on your shoulder. The feeling sends a rush down your spine. It's all so quick and confusing, why is he holding you? Did he see you were nervous? Turning you see Peter staring at the two men who had been approaching you up. But now seeing that Peter is with you they quickly scurry away. 
Once they are gone Peter's warmth leaves you and there is a zipping of your bag and things start to click.  
With a smirk, Peter ruffles your hair and you glare at him. 
“You need to pay attention before you get pickpocketed.”
Swatting away his hands he smiles before grabbing your basket and heading towards the register. You bite back a smile and take a second to fix your hair before following him. 
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“You know I could have carried my bags” 
“No, no, it's fine. If my aunt May found out I walked home with someone without helping with the groceries I might just get disowned.” 
“Oh? Is that where you learned to be so chivalrous?” you say mockingly as you unlock your door. 
After a little effort with the old lock, you get the door open and gesture for Peter to step in. As he steps inside and you see him looking around you realize he's the first guest you have had in your apartment. Taking the groceries from him you start putting away things you don’t need and taking out the things you do. 
“You keep staring around at the place, are you not impressed by my decorating skills?” 
“Actually smarty pants, I am impressed, might need you to come over and help me with my place. You even managed to get the mildew smell out.” 
You smile then turn on your oven with a turn to the old dial, “I charge by the hour and am very bossy. I will warn you” 
Peter's eyes flash with mischief, “I wouldn't mind that…” 
Folding your arms over your chest you look at him confused, is he flirting? Peter's confidence starts to falter as he rubs the back of his neck trying to ignore the budding tension in the small kitchen. Looking at your counter he sees all the ingredients out. 
“Making something?” -smooth change the subject
“I am, just some cookies for a…Friend?” that is technically what you are doing…but can you call Spider-man a friend? You two are friendly but friends? Before you can get wrapped up in thought Peter is speaking up. 
“Friend? Judging from how you say it, I assume you two are very close.”
Start to take out your measuring cups and recipe. You roll your eyes at him, “He's a new friend, well acquaintance…”
Peter eyes your hands as you start to place everything down. His eyes on you are starting to make you slightly nervous…but in a good way…where it feels like a rush, “I'm an acquaintance and neighbor.”
“Well, he helped me with something.”
“Um, I carried your groceries and took care of a spider for you.”
“I thought you were carrying my groceries so you wouldn't be disowned, and if I recall you called me dramatic about the spider.” 
Peter thinks for a moment before snapping his fingers, “Playful banter between friends.” 
Wow, he wants cookies. Letting out a sigh you look at his smirking face trying not to smile. “Do you like chocolate chip?” 
“That's my favorite.” -of course it is…
Peter then gives you one more smile before grabbing his bag to leave. “Well, I will leave you to it. Thank you.” 
“Oh get cookies then leave?” 
“I have a deadline, unfortunately, those spider-man pictures won’t edit themselves” 
The mention of the hero's name causes you to perk up, as Peter is heading towards the door you muster up the courage to ask him about it. “Do you think maybe I could see some of your pictures sometime?” 
Peter adjusted his bag on his shoulder opening the door, “Bring the cookies and you can look through all my photos. Later.” 
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Carefully you tie a neat blue bow on the bag to make sure it stays closed. Finally, you got the cookies done and to your credit, they are probably the best cookies you have ever made. Thank you internet for all the baking tips! 
Looking out the window you see it is very late and it's time to get ready for bed after all your hard work. Stepping into your room you go to shut the curtains so you can get changed, but as you go to shut the curtains you have a stray thought…what if he's watching out there…swallowing your dry throat you keep the curtain open and turn your back to your window. He said he would be by later… it's later… 
With trembling hands, you lift your shirt over your head dropping it to the floor as you shake your hair out. 
Is he out there…
Sliding your hands down your body you start undoing your pants slowly, your body feels hot and you can feel your face flushing to a bright red as you strip down to your underwear, closing your eyes you go to slide down your panties. 
The thought of his gloved hands roaming across your skin, the feeling of his weight and warmth pushed against you, stomach tying into knots and with a deep breath you open your eyes looking over your shoulder, and you see…
Nothing…
Whipping your hand down your face you quickly grab your pajamas and put them on. What were you doing stripping like he would be watching…Ugh, that is so embarrassing! You don’t know him and here you are getting horny like a fangirl, get a grip on yourself! You need to start meeting more people so you stop fantasizing about superheroes… maybe Peter has friends…or maybe Peter…
No! Not crossing that line, he's the only person you know in this city you can’t go mucking that up! No way! Off limits! 
Walking to the kitchen you look at the two bags of cookies, Peters you will drop off tomorrow. A smile stretches to your lips, you two have become something akin to friends. It's a relief to have him not hate your guts still snarky though…but funny. Maybe you will run into him at school again…
Turning to the other back you feel your heart race increase, Spidys cookies… You hope that he enjoys these. There is the chance he might find this as a lame gift, you can only imagine what kinds of gifts he receives after saving people. Have others made him treats? Giving him money? Presents? Something else…would he want that…You swallow your dry throat and quickly write a note attaching it to the bag to keep your mind busy. 
Do spiders enjoy sweets? - you include a doodle of a spider seemingly eating a cookie. 
Hopefully, he likes them and isn’t disappointed by the thank you. 
Walking over and opening the window there is a slight breeze that sends a chill through you. You wish you could leave the window open tonight to enjoy the breeze but you know better. Placing the bag of treats on the window seal you adjust the note and the bow so they look perfectly placed. Once set you look out into the glimmering lights of the city taking in the breeze, the sights, the noises, but that's when you hear a clearing of a throat. Looking up you see that iconic mask, body clinging to the wall as he looks down at you. 
“You have a thank you for me?” his voice coos
You forget all about your cookies…
Tags:
@huesdreamhouse @keiva1000 @spdrwdw @betizda @lunablackcosplay @juliluvhz @avareadsthings @xxrougefangxx @briviny @llpovi @beautyb1ade @lulawantmula @kikieatshomophobes
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imagines--galore · 1 year
Note
Can you please write a zuko x reader hurt/comfort fic please? I’m not sure what prompts you have for it. But take as much time as you need and feel much better soon.
Pairing: Zuko x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. Hurt/Comfort. A/N: Ok but this broke my heart a little but it turned out so sweet in the end!
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It never got any easier.
Every time you went to see your father it would end in disaster. He refused to speak with you, or even acknowledge your existence. That you were standing there and speaking to him.
Nothing.
No reaction.
And it broke your heart a hundred times over.
It happened every single week. And you knew there would come a time when you would simply stop coming to him. There was so much going on in your life that you couldn't possibly keep coming to see him.
Your father. The war prisoner. One of the top generals when it came to cruelty against everyone who was not Fire Nation.
The man who had been condemned to jail for the rest of his life.
By the Avatar no less. And yet you could not bring yourself to feel anything other then acceptance of the fate that had befallen your father. He was cruel, through and through. His crimes against humanity were too long to list, and there was no power in the world that could free him from his prison.
And you were glad of it.
Which made you feel guilty.
                                           ————————–
Sighing deeply you entered the Fire Nation Palace from a hidden door and leaned against it, heaving a small sigh as you did.
Yet another unsuccessful visit. You had visited him, spoken to him. Though when you had mentioned the new Fire Lord, your father had made a response.
And that was to spit on the floor.
Your heart clenched in your chest and you slid down the wooden door, burying your face in your hands. It was hopeless. Aang had said so from the beginning. Had told you that your father's soul was too corrupted by his own cruelty and evil that there was no coming back from it.
Probably the reason that compelled him to remove your father's firebending abilities.
Still you had tried. Tried to talk to him, make him see the evil he and the rest of the Fire Nation had been doing. But all your words fell on deaf ears, and you were beginning to give up. Perhaps you should give up. Perhaps you should refocus your attention towards more meaningful projects.
Such as helping the new Fire Lord rebuild the Fire Nation. A daunting task for one so young such as yourself and the Fire Lord. And yet, one you were willing to tackles and would see to succession.
Surely it was much easier to achieve world peace then to connect with your father once more.
All of a sudden you felt someone rest a hand on your shoulder. Startled you looked up, only to catch sight of a familiar figure standing there.
"Hello Zuko." You spoke lowly in greeting, tilting your head back so you could look at him properly. It was still strange to see Zuko back in the Fire Nation Palace. After having been gone for so long.
You had barely seen him over the years, since his father had banished him. There was the odd run-in when he would dock where your father would be stationed, and you would take the time to speak with your friend.
Of course that was all a ruse to hide your true purpose.
A source of information to General Iroh, esteemed member of the White Lotus. Your mother had been a member, one of the few females to hold the title. And while you had never been closer to your father, your mother was a different story.
When she had died of a sudden illness, you had vowed to keep carrying out her mission and provide information to the White Lotus. You hoped your news had helped save lives.
It was the least you could do considering how the other people of your nation treated everyone so cruelly.
Once the war had ended, General Iroh had advised Zuko to appoint you as a member of his Council. You had agreed to his offer, saying you wanted to help him rebuild the world. And during those first few months, your long-lost friendship with Zuko had ignited once more.
In front of the rest of the Council, the Elders, and anyone of prominence, you were Fire Lord Zuko and Chief Advisor Y/n. But once duties were done for the day, you were simply Y/n, and he was Zuko. You had worried that things would be different between the both of you now that Zuko was Fire Lord, however, it seemed he was still the same old Zuko, the one you had played with in the palace gardens as a child.
"Did you go to see your father again?" He asked, sitting down next to you. You sighed and gave a nod. Reaching up you ran a hand through your unruly hair. You had unpinned it before going to see your father. Less chance of people recognizing you when you had your hair down.
"And still no progress." You responded to which he nodded in understanding. "I'm having the same trouble as you are. Father won't give up Mom's location." The despair in his voice caused you to forget about your own pain momentarily. It would still be there to be wallowed in after you figured out a solution to Zuko's problem.
"Need me to go in there and extract the information from him?" You held out your palm to allow a small fire to erupt between your fingers and allowing it to flicker there. "Fire is an excellent form of torture."
He knew you were only joking, which was why he only shook his head at you before reaching out to engulf his hand with yours, putting the flame out. "I think he will tell me eventually. But for now, let him stay where he is."
You hummed in agreement. "Let them both stay where they are. I mean we're both amazing children to even want to speak to them after what they did to us." While Zuko had suffered physically at the hands of his father, you had been subjected to mental and emotional torture while living with your father. The man had never once said a kind word to you. And you would've been happy never visiting him again, but Iroh had been the one to urge you to speak with your father.
To try and make amends.
"Do you think our father's were born bad or that it was because of circumstances that they turned out the way they did?" You asked, allowing your body to relax against his as you leaned your head on Zuko's shoulder.
Thank goodness the both of your had removed the uncomfortable armor for the day.
"I believe they were both given a choice, and they picked the wrong one." He shrugged. "Or perhaps they thought they picked the right choice because it would benefit them. But then again, it does make them selfish doesn't it?"
You heaved a deep sigh and nodded. "Well I suppose it is a good thing the both of us have each other to get through this." Perhaps trying to look on the opposite spectrum would give you the little pick me up that you needed. His hand, which was still holding yours, squeezed your fingers a little, as he hummed in agreement.
After a few moments of sitting in silence, Zuko finally spoke. "I'm glad I have you by my side Y/n. Its made things easier for me here." Being back here still felt strange. He had spent so many years traveling that being inside the palace was a little unnerving to him. But somehow, your presence seemed to make things easier for him. And not just the Council. You were always listening and observing even if Zuko wasn't, and you would always fill him in if he missed something.
And as for you? You were just happy you had your best friend back.
Though Iroh had suggested that the both of you take a step further when it came to your friendship.
Crazy old man.
"You know I sent my own sources out. To try and fine your mother." You admitted to which he gave you a surprised look. You smiled at him. "What? Did you think I wouldn't look for Lady Ursa once I heard she was alive? I recall being her favorite at times when you did something she did not approve of."
It had been a soft of playful rivalry between the two of you, to see who would be pronounced as the favorite of the day. Lady Ursa had become something of a surrogate mother to you during the years of your mother's sickness. Sometimes you missed her just as much as you missed your own mother.
Zuko's answering smile was soft and adoring as he leaned his forehead against yours. "Thank you Y/n." You smiled, leaning into his embrace, enjoying the way his hand fit into yours, and how the very scent of him had you calming down.
"Thats what friends are for." He pulled back only to raise an eyebrow at your words and the teasing glint in your eyes.
"You do remember our status has changed since the marriage was arranged?" He asked, prompting you to shrug.
"So? Doesn't mean our friendship has to be effected. You're still that annoying boy I met when I first came here." You reached up to playfully muss his already disheveled hair. He playfully batted your hand away, grabbing your wrists to stop you, he pinned you with a look.
"But it does mean I can do this." A quick peck on the lips, followed by one of each cheeks, which had you feeling a little flustered. "An added bonus to our already established relationship." You declared, grinning at him, all your previous worries forgotten.
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crucifiedramblings · 3 months
Text
liability — unsub!spencer x bau!reader (part one)
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minors dni, adult content ahead. minors/ageless blogs will be blocked.
summary: after a year of being engaged, spencer reid left you behind and resigned from quantico. you haven’t heard from him since, and your life has finally returned to a somewhat normal state. you moved into your own place, got promoted to hotchner’s prior position, and started to heal. it’s been two years since that fateful day when you get an unexpected visitor at the office— and you’re all alone. 
warnings: heavy smut, implied dubcon, manipulation/gaslighting, sadistic themes, pet names, oral (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation if you squint, choking, spit, bruising/marking
word count: 2.4k
next part: n/a
notes: so, spencer being an unsub isn't really discussed (there isn't much talking at all, if we are being real), but he is one of their open cases when him and the reader, uh . . . reconnect. he is more dark-natured and resilient than he used to be. this is gonna be at least two parts, apologies for any leading on i may have done here!
you rubbed your eyes intensely, powering through the last few pages of reports that you had to proofread before faxing over to hotch. when you agreed to take over his job, celebrating his success in moving up the chain of command, you never expected it to be so draining. you rarely got to go home on time, spending most evenings in your office when everyone had long since hit the road. your fellow agents often offered to keep you company, but you refused. there was no good reason that multiple of you had to have a spoiled evening. it was very odd being the boss, but also endearing. you had to make frequent tough calls, some nearly impossible, but it was part of the charm. or, at least, that is what you told yourself to justify it. 
you sipped your coffee, staring at the brazen plate on your door with your name engraved into it. you went as far as to move into hotchner’s old office space, filling the cream-colored walls with frames of pressed flowers and pinned moths. you were a collector of your favorite people and experiences; you kept a dart board for jareau, a mockingjay print for gideon, a colorful puzzle collage for penelope, and— unfortunately— a chess board for spencer. you had other things too, but those were the main items on full display in your office. although, you kept a group photo of you, morgan and hotch on your desk. 
you used the armrests of your chair to push yourself to your feet, stretching and starting the walk to the kitchen area. you made a small snack and a fresh pot of coffee, running to the restroom before pouring a new cup. the steam curled up into the air, the aroma of the grounds filling your nose. as you tried to enjoy the earthy smell, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were being observed or studied, like an animal in its enclosure — analyzed. you turned slowly, greeted with an empty room and a door that was slightly ajar, although you could’ve sworn it was closed when you came in. it was getting late, nearing almost two in the morning by now. your memory has never proved to be the most reliable when deprived of much-needed rest. 
you slowly tugged your way back up the stairs to your office, the elevators being locked down after a certain time. rounding the corner, you narrowed your eyes, confused to find your office flooded in darkness. the lamp had shut off when you were gone. you didn’t like how this felt — you weren’t losing it, were you? this floor had frequent surges in random rooms, so it wasn’t entirely nerve-wracking. you sighed, blindly making your way to the lamp in the far corner and tugging the cord to turn it on. you allowed your eyes to adjust, making a disgruntled groan when you remembered the reports waiting for you. 
as you turned to sit back at your computer, you were met with a very familiar face — doctor spencer reid. he sat, nonchalantly occupying your chair with a hairpin curve of a smirk on his lips. he looked smug. you weren’t sure if it was because he had been able to sneak past security without detection, or because he was able to sneak past you. your face fell flat, dropping the mug of coffee you had been carrying. it shattered on the floor, hot coffee spilling all over your leather shoes. you didn’t even care, so stunned that you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. spencer picked up on that, standing from the chair in one swift motion and approaching your smaller frame. 
“you look wonderful,” his voice was melodious to your ears, even if it shouldn’t have been, “even better than the day i left.” spencer let a low chuckle bubble up from his chest, gently grasping your hands in his own. you ripped away from his touch furiously, stepping back as your eyes stung with prickling tears that collected in the corners. 
“you don’t—” you sniffled, swiping your hair out of your face, “you don’t get to fucking do that! you don’t get to drop everything, abandon the people you love, just to come back whenever you feel like it!” you raised your voice, determined to make him feel what you had, “get the fuck out.” you gestured to the door and shoved past him, sitting in your chair and starting up the report you had due. spencer lingered by the introductory door plate, reading it with a chuckle. 
“you really made something of yourself, huh, angel?” spencer’s voice adorned a soft and flirty lilt, “i’m so proud of you—” he approached your desk once more, leaning across and steadying his weight on his palms. “i don’t think you really want me to leave, do you, pup?” he circled your desk like he was a starving piranha, placing his hands on either side of your chair and forcing you to have nowhere else to go. he leaned in close, face dipping down to your neck as he left a trail of haphazard kisses along your jaw and throat. he occasionally pulled the tender skin between his teeth, sucking down hard and fast to see what kind of noise he could force from your perfect mouth. “i think you still need me, even if you don’t want to.” spencer hummed, tongue running a stripe of saliva along your collar. 
“stop,” you weakly whispered, only because your pride wouldn’t allow you to tell him what you truly wanted; him. spencer had been gone so long, you almost forgot how effortlessly good he made you feel. the wet patch on your panties tripled in size the longer he toyed with you, but everything aside, he hurt you. he abandoned you. yet, in this moment, no hurt he was responsible for mattered. you knew that if hotch were here, he would have talked some sense into you. unfortunately, spencer knew how to melt your brain right out of your cunt in the most devious ways. 
“am i making you nervous?” spencer danced his fingertips along your collarbones and released a content sigh, “i’m willing to bet that i am— the way your breath hitches when i touch you, clenching your teeth and trying to hide any sign of how turned on you’ve gotten from the lightest brush of my fingers—” he took a brief pause, gently sliding your blazer from your shoulders as you absent-mindedly parted your back from the chair to assist him. “the human body is so strange; you could be the best profiler in the bau, keeping your emotions under wraps with no error, and your silent cues would still give away everything i need to know.” spencer’s voice dipped into a low, sultry tone as he felt the newly exposed skin of your upper torso. 
“and—” you cleared your throat, straightening your posture as you locked eyes with the other in an attempt to assert yourself. “what do my silent cues tell you, doctor reid?” you narrowed your eyes, trying to persuade your inner, more sex-driven monologue to stop thinking about his hands on your—
“you’re torn,” spencer started, “part of you wants to kill me for leaving you— but you have to understand, sweetheart— you would have just gotten in the way. you weren’t ready for that kind of lifestyle.” you were confused, to say the least, and his patronizing tone only made you more pissed until he grasped your jaw and forced you to keep eye contact. “i’ve been very bad,” he grinned, “and i didn’t want to bring you down that road with me.” his expressions, his dialogue— all of it was reminiscent of the likable villain in a suspense film; although, in your line of work, there was rarely such a thing. 
“what about the other part?” you spoke up once his grip on your face has loosened, hands shoving into the pockets of his slacks. it was your turn to do the profiling, you thought, observing his pacing from the door to the window as he was almost lost in thought. spencer seemed uncomfortable in his clothes, as though he had avoided wearing business attire since the last time he worked in quantico. to you, it appeared as though he dressed up for this interaction, as though he wanted it to be memorable. he wore white socks, wanting to bring more attention to his shoes— brown leather oxfords, the same exact pair you bought him for his thirtieth birthday. 
his voice interrupted your long-winded hypothesis on his wardrobe choices, and you noticed that he was significantly closer than when you had gotten distracted. spencer was now behind your chair, hands gently caressing your shoulders and chuckling to himself. “the other part of you,” he dipped down to whisper in your ear, “wants me to bend you right over your own desk and show you how sorry i am for leaving you behind.” you silently froze, any words in response getting caught in your throat. you couldn’t bring yourself to make a sound, as if any noise would make him disappear. 
“why did you wait so long to come back?” you quietly asked, and he immediately spun your chair around to face him. spencer leaned in, pressing his lips to yours gently and moving fluidly with you at your chosen pace. he hummed, pulling away as he lapped up a bit of your spit from his lower lip. 
“derailing your life wasn’t my choice to make, my sweet girl.” spencer’s dark eyes grew soft, although you could tell it wasn’t as genuine as he wanted to sound. “i always stayed close, though.” his tone made you nervous, as though he were alluding to something. your eyes darted to the computer screen, reading a message from hotch that had just been sent through, until spencer ripped the cord from the wall and pushed the entire system onto the floor. 
before you could properly react, spencer was back onto you, lips attacking yours with a newfound desire and aggression. you melted into him, hands roaming anywhere and everywhere you could reach. his left hand snaked down to your thighs, pushing your skirt up and applying pressure against the front of your underwear. you shivered, a small gasp flooding from your throat as his middle finger effortlessly made a glide down your damp slit. he peeled your panties away from your body, making a comment about how your wetness had pooled slightly in the lower half of your chair. your face flushed with embarrassment as you quickly kicked off your heels and allowed your undergarments to fall to the floor. 
spencer took his time with your skirt, knowing it was one of your favorites. he assisted you to your feet, sliding the garment over the curves of your hips and drinking in the sight of your bare lower half. his erection had been slowly and steadily pitching a tent in his pants as the two of you took your time, savoring each other as long as possible. 
spencer pulled you flush against his torso and kissed you with unresolved pain and passion, letting his free hand dip between your thighs once more to rub circles into your clit. you let out a conflicted moan, burying your face into his chest and slightly rolling your hips into his touch. he chuckled, removing his fingers from your sweet spot and weaving them into your hair. he grabbed a fistful, tugging your head back in a swift, hard motion. you let out a subtle grunt, eyes staring at him in a way you could only describe as lovesick. 
“can i be rough with you?” spencer asked, voice low and hesitant. you were confused; he never wanted to be rough before, although you always hoped he would be. you nodded eagerly, practically begging. you wanted tonight to leave you bruised and exhausted, knowing you may not see him again. his eyes were dark, and he tossed you to the floor with a grin. you took a breath as you hit the ground, lying limp for him as you wondered what he had been waiting to do to you for so long. 
you watched with curious eyes as spencer swept his arm languidly across your desk and knocked everything onto the floor. he effortlessly hoisted you up and bent you over the polished wooden surface, smoothing his palms across your ass before striking your bare left cheek with no warning. you yelped, clutching the sides of the desk with white knuckles. he hit the other cheek a bit softer, humming before trying again when the previous hit’s reaction wasn’t to his liking. you let out a slightly strangled moan as he continued to land another blow, making your backside a rosy shade of pink. 
spencer wedged his shoe between your feet, forcefully spreading your legs. he ghosted his fingertips across your clit and you quietly begged. he tugged your hair, lifting you up to his level, “keep your fucking mouth shut and i’ll reward you.” spencer dropped you back onto the desk, making sure to keep his hand on your belly to lessen the impact on your ribs. you quietly gasped as he shoved his fingers into your wet cunt, curling them into you painfully slowly as you pushed back into him. his other hand firmly held your hips in place, warning you to keep still unless you wanted him to stop. 
. . .
hotch groaned, dialing your phone once again. he was anxiously pacing his livingroom, trying not to wake jack as he started to feel the panic set in. he found his eyes tracing the whiteboard again, the old one he had decided to lug out of his garage because he was always better at connecting the missing parts if he could visualize them. hotch had several photos taped up, lines connecting them between scenes and witness statements. there were only two things he knew for sure about this unsub; one— the suspect at large had experience in the field of law enforcement, and two— the suspect had an abnormally high iq. coupling those together with the timeline of events, hotch had made a break; the unsub they had been searching for was spencer reid. 
all of his victims had looked a bit too much like you for it to be coincidental, and were all stalked and referred to as pet names for weeks before their confirmed deaths. hotch had been trying to reach you for the last hour, a strong suspicion arising that spencer was going to visit you at the bureau, and— if he didn’t hurry— would make you his final victim. 
in a worried haze, hotch clipped on his belt, securing his gun in his holster before taking off full speed towards the only place he knew you would be— his old office.
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peskygirl13 · 1 year
Text
Proposing to Him with His Disney Movie: Riddle, Leona, Vil
It’s been a few years since you graduated NRC. Crowley never did end up finding you a way back home, but you were content spending your life with your love. Although recently you’ve been wanting more.
You loved your partner with all of your heart and you knew that you wanted to be tied with him forever. After years of being together, marriage seemed like the most obvious step. But how to propose?
Then it struck you.
You remembered a man who had commissioned someone to draw himself and his then girlfriend (now wife) into her favorite Disney movie for his proposal.
(If you’ve seen this video, you know what I’m talking about.)
When you arrived in Twisted Wonderland, you still had your phone. And while it didn’t work with calling and texting, you did have a few classic Disney movies downloaded onto it, including your partner’s movie.
You got to work right away. You had picked up a few hobbies in Twisted Wonderland to preoccupy yourself, drawing and animation being one of them, and you wanted this proposal to be as personal as possible.
Besides, you didn’t think it was a good idea to show anyone in Twisted Wonderland a movie where the Great Seven were painted as villains.
It took a long time to start and finish the animation for your proposal and to find the perfect ring for your love, but after several long months of prepping and paranoia it was finally time.
You asked your partner if you two could have a movie night on his next day off, and he agreed.
Everything was set. Blankets for cuddling were washed and dried (still warm) along with your movie jammies, the snacks had prepped and sat out, the “specially selected” movie was in the DVD player, and you had bribed Grim (who stayed with you all these years) with tuna to leave you two alone for the night.
It was time to make him yours.
Riddle Rosehearts
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Riddle’s life was constantly busy.
After graduating NRC he became a rather successful lawyer. He cut ties with his mother, which was messier than his overblot and ended with a restraining order, but he was much happier afterwards.
Due to his busy schedule, he always adored every peaceful minute he could spend with you. Especially recently, when those moments what become few and far between.
You had been acting odd these last few months, and Riddle was worried. You had assured him you were just busy with something, but wouldn’t tell him what, which concerned him since you told each other everything.
This is one of the reasons he was so excited when you brought up the movie night.
He worked extra hard that day to get home early to you. Once he arrived you nearly had a heart attack because you hid his ring in the blankets. Thankfully he didn’t notice anything and even brought home a tart from Trey’s bakery.
You quickly stowed the ring away while Riddle changed his clothes, thankful that you pajama pants had pockets, and finished getting everything ready.
Once Riddle came back, you were under the blankets, ring box hidden in you lap, and surrounded by snacks. Riddle quickly joined you and you started the movie.
It was rather peaceful watching Alice in Wonderland with your dear Riddle. At least, it would be if the ring box wasn’t burning a hole in your lap as your heart beat erratically.
It had been a while since Riddle watched Alice in Wonderland with you and he enjoyed pointing out things in the movie familiar to him and would give you a brief lesson about them.
You know he was just excited and loved trying to impress you with his knowledge, and normally you loved that, but he kept pausing the movie to do this and it wasn’t good for your poor anxious heart.
Finally, after turning an hour long movie to a two hour long movie, it was time for Alice to meet the Queen of Hearts. Which also meant it was almost time for you to propose.
You shifted your position as The Queen of Hearts appeared on the screen. It was difficult for you to sit still as the seconds towards your proposal kept getting shorter and shorter.
After the Queen sent off the card solders, she looked at Alice who was on the ground.
When the movie transitioned from Alice back to the Queen, Riddle let out a “Huh?”
Instead of the Queen of Hearts, Riddle appeared wearing his old Dorm Uniform.
Movie Riddle blinked before smiling down at ‘Alice.’ The scene switched back to show that Alice had been replaced by movie you, wearing her outfit/a similar outfit.
Movie You got off the ground and curtsied to Movie Riddle before reaching into your apron pocket and pulling out a red velvet box with a tag that read “Open Me” on it.
Movie You threw it up in the air and real you pretended to catch it before turning to face Riddle, who was watching you with wide eyes.
You knelt in front of him and held out the box, an exact replica of what was on the screen, and handed it to him.
He carefully picked it up, as though it was the most precious thing in the world, and held his breath as he opened it, gasping at the sight of the ring you picked for him.
“Arriving at Twisted Wonderland was like a dream. For me it was a land of pure wonders with the most wonderful of all being you. Being around you alone makes me blush as red as the roses you love. I love how clever you are, how passionate you are, and I especially love the faces you make when you eat sweets.”
Riddle let out a little laugh at this, but didn’t dare interrupt you.
“There hasn’t been a thing about you that I haven’t loved and will stop loving. We may have graduated, but you’re still the queen of my heart and it will always be yours if you’d have it. Riddle Rosehearts, become my queen forever. Marry me?”
Riddle blinked away happy tears before using a hand to tilt your chin up to his face, gently kissing your lips.
“Yes, my love. My rose. My heart. Yes.”
Leona Kingscholar
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Even though Leona finally managed to get himself to class long enough to finally graduate, he didn’t want to return home yet. And he sure as heck didn’t want to abruptly introduce you to royal life without any prior preparation.
Fortunately he was scouted by a professional Spelldrive team, who was more than eager to recruit him, and the two of you started traveling.
You were pretty much Leona’s manager in all but name and without the pay (As he put it, his income was your income). You did do some odd jobs from time to time, not wanting to solely depend on him, but you did have a lot of free time. Which did come in handy when you decided that you wanted to propose.
You and Leona had been on the road with his Spelldrive team for a few years now, and Leona was beginning to think it was time to return to Sunset Savana.
You decided you’d propose on his final game. You spent the entire Spelldrive season working on this proposal, recruiting his coach and teammates to keep him busy, and finally, the night before his finally game, everything was ready.
You told his coach, who ended practice early so that Leona wouldn’t be too tired during the movie and fall asleep.
Leona was suspicious of his coach’s decision. Why would he let the team off early before their big game? But ultimately ignored it and texted you that he’d be coming back to the hotel room early.
You tried not to make it obvious that you had been staring at your phone, waiting for this text, and responded telling him that you wanted to have a movie night with him to celebrate his hard work before he retired.
Leona was always looking for an excuse to lounge in bed with you, so he obviously agreed.
You, on the other hand, were wondering if you’d stay awake long enough so that you wouldn’t miss your que.
You had been working on this and stressing about it for months and Leona was your personal weighted/heated blanket. You knew that he wouldn’t mind if you fell asleep, always down to cuddle, but you would.
You got everything ready, from the snacks, to the pjs, to the cuddle blankets, so that by the time Leona made it back to the hotel room, all he’d have to do is shower and change.
Leona was admittedly a bid suspicious of how eager you were (as much as you tried to hide it), and that, mixed with the coach letting everyone off earlier, made it obvious to him that you were planning something.
He just didn’t know what.
Deciding to ignore it for now, he took his shower and changed while you double checked everything and started up the dvd.
When Leona walked out, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see the starting screen of ‘The Lion King’ on it. He gave you a dirty look, which you returned with a sheepish one, before clasping your hands together and begging him.
“Please, please, please! You can pick the next one.” You promised.
Leona just sighed and crawled onto the bed and started cuddling you, his tail wrapping around your thigh.
You smiled and started up the movie.
As unamused as Leona was with your movie choice, he at least stayed awake during it. He only smiled during ‘Be Prepared.’
You were enjoying the movie about as much as he was, but that was because of the proposal.
Leona could tell by the smell of your pheromones that you were nervous about something.
“Oi,” He squeezed you a bit tighter, a small frown of his face but concern evident regardless. “You’re nervous about something.”
You shook your head with a small smile.
“I’m fine.” You reassured, calming down a bit. It was weird, but his concern gave you a boost of confidence.
Leona wasn’t convinced but didn’t press anymore. Only giving you an occasional glance to see if you were still ok.
It wasn’t until the scene where Nala and Simba were reunited that your pheromones spiked again, much stronger this time.
Leona could actually see the sweat forming on your brow.
Grabbing the remote before you could realize, he paused the movie and turned to face you.
“What’s wrong?” He demanded, holding the remote out of arms reach when you tried to grab it. “Why are you so nervous?”
You bit your lip nervously. You really didn’t want to propose to him like this, but you also knew he wouldn’t give you back the remote until you told him the truth.
“Leona, it can’t tell you but if you please play the movie you'll know why.” You promised.
Leona glared at you. He hated when you kept secrets from him. He hated it even more when you were hurting and you wouldn’t tell him why.
“Please, please, Leona.” You begged.
Leona narrowed his eyes even more, but ultimately pressed his thumb on the play button and continued the movie.
At this point, you two weren’t cuddling anymore and Leona was watching you more that the movie, waiting for a reaction.
‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’ started playing and you shifted your body to a more alert position, mutely telling Leona that something important was about to happen.
You looked over at him and pointed at the screen. “Please watch.”
Leona listened, but still glanced at you every few seconds.
You both watched as Nala and Simba tumbled down the hill, but Leona perked up when the scene changed to when they were at the bottom.
Instead of the two lions, images of Leona in his old dorm leader uniform pinning you, wearing your own version of the Savanaclaw uniform, flashed across the screen.
Movie You kissed Movie Leona’s cheek and the scene changed to a close shot of Movie You smiling up at Movie Leona before switched to a close shot of Movie Leona smiling down at movie you.
Your movie counterparts sat up, and Movie You reached into their pocket and pulled out a black ring box, opening it and holding it out to Movie Leona.
You grabbed the pillow you had been leaning against and pulled the ring box out its hiding place. You couldn’t really kneel on the bed, so you turned your whole body to face him.
Leona’s eyes were wide in disbelief as you opened the box to show the ring you had bought for him (with the money you had earned from your odd jobs, not what he earned from Spelldrive).
“I’m sorry for worrying you.” You firstly apologized, “This wasn’t how I wanted this to go. I wanted to surprise you. Have us cuddle while enjoying a movie before surprising you with this,” You waved towards the screen, “and proposing. It’s funny how I planned everything but didn’t even remember that you’d be able to smell my nerves.”
You laughed humorlessly to yourself as Leona gave you a soft look, feeling a twinge of guilt.
He gently brushed you cheek and you leaned into his palm.
“I’m sorry from ruining this, (Y/n).” He apologized. You shook your head in denial.
“It’s not ruined.” You argued, taking your hand off the box and placing it on top Leona’s. “Not yet.”
“Leona,” You started, working up your confidence, “You are the best thing that's happened to me. I don’t, and will never, want anyone but you. Will you marry me?”
“Yes.” Leona breathily agreed, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you into a kiss that you happily returned. “Yes.”
Next day’s Spelldrive game was one for the history books. The fans couldn’t remember a time they had seen the King of Spelldrive this eager and energetic. 
And it wasn’t hard to figure out why when they saw the ring he refused to take off for the game flashing on his finger.
Vil Schoenheit
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You were never more thankful that Vil was a movie star than when you were working on his proposal.  
Vil was near impossible to surprise, so you were wondering how you were going to keep your proposal a secret.
However luck, and Vil’s manager, seemed to be on your side.
Vil got an offer to star in a huge movie that would take him away from home for a few months.
Normally you weren’t a huge fan of these offers, but this one worked in your favor.
Vil found your eagerness for him to take this offer suspicious, but ended up listening to you. You did call each other everyday and you visited him every so often during shooting, but he was away from home long enough to remain oblivious about your secret proposal.
Now to figure out what scene to propose during.
You knew Vil never cared for the movie ‘Snow White’ since the main character reminded him of too much of Neige LeBlanche and the queen died at the end, so you had to get creative.
Your original idea was to have Vil as Snow White at the end of the movie and yourself as the Prince, kissing her awake, but you weren’t sure if Vil would be in a good mood by that time if he had to sit through the movie’s entirety.
So you came up with a better idea.
After several long months without your Vil, he finally returned home. He had called you before his flight home and that's when you asked for a movie night when he got back.
Honestly, Vil was a little tired of movies after working on one for so long, but he agreed as long as he got to spend time with you.
You watched several of Vil’s old movies once he got home to put him in a good mood, knowing how grumpy he’d be when you brought up Snow White.
As you predicted, his face fell when you showed him the DVD you’d made and said it was Snow White, but didn’t do more than roll his eyes.
You started the DVD before telling him you were going to drab something from the kitchen and not to pause the movie. Unbeknownst to him, you were grabbing the ring box.
You quickly grabbed the ring from its hiding place and all but ran back to the movie room were Vil was. You didn’t have much time before your que.
You made it to the door and cracked it open just enough to see the narrator finished the introduction of the movie and the camera was zooming in on where the Queen would make her entrance.
Only, it wasn’t the Queen.
You held your breath was you watched Vil tilt his head in confusion at the sight of himself wearing his old dorm leader uniform walking up some stairs to a giant mirror.
You watched him sit up, more alert when his voice came from the audio. You had spliced together his voice in the movie using audio from his other movies.
“Lady in the Magic Mirror,” Movie Vil spoke on the screen, “Come from the farthest space. Through wind and darkness I summon thee. Speak! Let me see thy face.”
You quietly walked towards Vil, taking care that he didn’t see you. Thankfully, he was transfixed on the screen.
Instead of the normal/iconic masquerade mask in the mirror, an image of you appeared within the mirror, wearing your own version of the Pomefiore uniform
“What wouldst thou know, my Queen?“ Movie You asked Movie Vil.
“Magic Mirror on the wall, who does thy heart belong to?” Movie Vil asked.
This was it, you though to yourself, stopping behind Vil who had still yet to see you.
“My heart is yours, tis true my Queen. Tis why I bring you a wedding ring.”
Movie You and Movie Vil turned to face the audience, making your Vil’s eyes widen as he turned around in his seat to see you kneeling with a beautiful ring in your hands, held out to him.
Taking a deep breath to work up your nerve, you looked your queen in the eyes and started your proposal.
“I’m not eloquent.” You started, swallowing hard. “I’m not good with fancy words, like Rook. And I wouldn’t have known what write out for that movie if I didn’t have a reference. And I’m not perfect. Not nearly like you I see you. But I can tell you that I love you, and that I will do anything to make you happy. I’ve been doing my best so far, but I’ll do better than my best in the future. And I only want that future with you. Vil Schoenheit, will you marry me?”
You don’t think you’ve ever seen Vil look more soft in his life.
Pink danced across his cheeks like the prettiest blush, his eyes were the slightest bit misty, and a bright, loving grin covered his face.
“Yes. Yes, my Sweet Potato. I’d love to marry you.”
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b1rds3ye · 8 months
Text
My Heart Burns For You
Rodolfo is still by your side and ready to fight for Las Almas, but after a near-death encounter he realises he can't stay silent about how he feels for you.
Pairing: Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra x GN!Reader
Genre: Fluff, Canon-Compliant (Straight after Borderline), Confessions, Friends to Lovers,  Italicised sentences are characters talking in Spanish
Word Count: 2.3k
For Fall4Rudy by @glitterypirateduck
Prompts: “I can't get you out of my head” (6), “Say it again” (16)
Warning: Graphic descriptions of injuries, talks of death
A/N: In the campaign Rudy almost dies in a fire, bleeding after a gun to the face then the next day he’s just vibing. I get that the military is fast paced but DAMN- (Also YES I GOT TO CONTRIBUTE TO FALL4RUDY I WAS SO SCARED WITH ASSIGNMENTS I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO SKDJFALKSDS)
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It was the early hours of the new day. The Vaqueros are vigilant all day, all night, even on their own base, meaning you were pacing back and forth on watch duty. You volunteered this time, with your fellow Vaqueros not arguing with a knowing smile. It seems everyone but the sergeant major himself has become aware of how close you had become, or aware of how you swoon whenever he spoke to you, or offered that little extra bit of care. Combined with what was one of the highest stakes missions to date, you couldn’t help the need to see Rodolfo the instant he and Alejandro got back from the Mexican border…
… if they get back.
You tutted at yourself before turning your head back to the horizon, grip tightening on your rifle. They will be back and you will be the first to see them, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Like cowboys you will see them on the horizon, riding in front of the burning glory of the sun. With a successful mission they will bring the new day and reignite the passion and hope that the Vaqueros so desperately need.
There’s a distant but familiar growl of a cargo truck, and you immediately take cover, gun at the ready as you look down its sights as you try and get a visual of the vehicle. Right on cue, you hear the familiar cackle of Alejandro’s voice through your comms.
“Guns down, friendlies returning to base.”
You smile as you loosen your posture, standing back up again. But simmering under your joy is the thought that they’ve returned home a little too early.
“I’m taking it’s a successful mission, Colonel?”
“Sergeant.”
The line is silent for a few moments.
“That’s a negative.”
It is meant to be morning and yet the sky is looking ever darker. The stars do little to illuminate your darkening expression. Your swallow is thicker than the tar that shapes the tattered roads beneath you, scorched after years of neglect under Las Almas’ heat.
“Where’s Rodolfo?”
You try to ask as nonchalantly as possible. To hide the fact you’re demanding an answer like a kid to your direct superior.
“I’m here.”
The tension in your shoulders was relieved at that voice. You would rather see him, rather have him tell you as he stood beside you. Ideally his voice wouldn’t sound strained, fatigue bleeding through the speakers into your own weary mind, painfully reminding you that you’ve essentially pulled an all nighter to catch a glimpse of him before you hit the hay.
“I had to come back to you.”
You chew your lips as the static cuts off. Before you can think any further at Rodolfo’s odd choice of words the truck pulls up to you as you stand by the entrance of the base. You squint even as the full-beam headlights turn off, the glare stubbornly clouding your vision. The slam of a car door has you tilting your head to Alejandro as he exits the truck. His smile is genuine but strained.
He was in the driver’s seat. And if Rudy was around, Alejandro never drove.
The colonel seemed to be reading your mind.
“Rudy is being rather honest right now, I needed to give him some adrenaline.”
On the other side of the truck, Rodolfo’s silhouette eventually comes back into view. His head had lulled forward, footsteps pounding against the sandy grounds of Las Almas. They were determined but not nearly as clean as his usual gait, pebbles audibly grinding against his boots. Only when he emerged from the shadows of the truck did you realise why Alejandro needed to give him a boost.
“Rudy…”
Rodolfo is silent, only marching ever closer to you. His visage is nothing short of horrific, blood both fresh and dry painting a terrifying collage on the upper half of his face. He must have tried to wipe the blood off, finger-sized smears across his countenance that haphazardly spread onto the wrists of his hoodie did little to relieve you.
“Rodolfo? Friend, you must get patched up-” Alejandro muttered after the sergeant major. Upon realising Rodolfo was beelining straight to you, Alejandro only gave you a firm nod with a knowing look. “Sergeant, patch him up.”
But Rodolfo had already reached you, hand held ever so lightly around your bicep like the gentlest but encouraging breeze to follow him into base. You can’t bring yourself to resist, not even trying to slow down his brisk walk and instead look over your shoulder to address Alejandro.
“Roger that, Colonel!”
Alejandro only waves you off dismissively with an amused expression between a smile and a grimace as Rodolfo paced double time into the building with you in tow.
“Rodolfo?”
“I need to tell you something.”
He leaves it at that and the damning baritone that ends his sentence leaves you unable to even dare to say anything else. Instead you can only take him in apprehensively as he leads you down the familiar hallways towards your quarters. When you expected the familiar indoor smell of your second home to wash over, instead it was dominated by the pungent odour of something charred. Bitterly mixed with smoke and gasoline, you dreaded the image conjuring up in your mind as you notice a hole in Rodolfo’s jacket, loose threads singed off in a cruel finish.
When you reach your room, you take the lead, pulling Rodolfo down to sit on your bed. It’s only then does his hand tighten, fingers attempting to clamp around your bicep but it only closes around air. You head straight to your first aid kit, and then to retrieve a towel that you dampen with water. He watches you all the while.
Rodolfo parts his knees, letting you stand between his thighs. With one hand you take his chin, the other giving light dabs across his face. You can’t help but grimace as you notice the towel dirty with red, but Rodolfo doesn’t seem all too bothered with his own injuries, the weight of his head on your hand getting heavier as he gets comfortable.
“What on earth happened so suddenly that you need to tell me now?” You chastise lightly. “I’m sure it can wait tomorrow, you need to rest-”
“No, we failed,” Rodolfo grumbles. His syllables were a little slurred, no doubt to the adrenaline running off but his eyebrows were adorably furrowed as he tried to maintain concentration. “We will head out in the morning to find Hassan, I need-”
“To rest,” you argue. Your ministrations cleaned up the main mask of his face, and now you could get a good look at him without being concerned that he was going to kick the bucket in a few minutes. You give him a frown before you continue to dab at his temples and the blood that got stuck in the roots of his hair, Rodolfo offering the odd hum of contentment all the while. “We can handle it tomorrow, if we’ll be fighting like you said, we’ll need to concentrate-”
“I love you.”
Your hand stilled. You instinctively wanted to argue that he must’ve had too much adrenaline but he is looking as serious and sober as ever.
“You tell me I’ll need to concentrate but I can’t get you out of my head.”
He reached up to take your hand that’s at his temple, despite the thickness of his fingers he nimbly moves them to thread in between yours. You do not doubt that the man standing before you is Rodolfo, but something was different. He was changed. The fire in his eyes held a different light, more sombre, a tinge of desperation. He was distracted, or instead, he was too focused on a singular goal that he disregarded everything else like a moth to a flame. He still wore his dirtied gear upon sheets that you’ll likely have to wash later.
“What happened tonight?” You whisper tentatively. In truth, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer.
“I almost died.”
In any other situation you would have laughed. Of course he almost died, you two almost die every day. It comes with the territory of being a Vaqueros.
But the both of you know that.
“In the cartel safehouse, alone,” Rodolfo murmurs. “I saw Hassan, he talked to me. They set the house aflame but I was concussed, I couldn’t move no matter how much I wanted to.”
He looks away briefly and you offer his hand a gentle squeeze of encouragement. He leans forward, getting closer to you until his tactical vest clacks against yours.
“Alejandro saved me,” he admits. “But before he did… I thought I was done.”
For a second, Rodolfo is back in the safehouse, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows a cough.
“I swear I was burning in the flames of hell already, it was suffocating. In those moments when I had no choice but to lie and wait, I could only think of one thing. They say that your life flashes before your eyes but that did not happen to me.”
And then it was Rodolfo’s turn to tighten the grip on your hand, expecting you to slip away through his fingers like smoke.
“I could only think about you.”
Rodolfo drags your hands down to his cheek. Pulling his hand away briefly to then manipulate yours to cup his face. He leans into it and you indulge, gently stroking the plushness of his cheek with your thumb. With his face close up to yours, you now notice the faintest stray smears of soot against his skin and you try to wipe them away even as it gets your own hands dirty in the process. His face is flushed, skin warm to the touch like the final embers of a campfire.
“The only regret on my mind - that you never knew how I felt about you. I know the lives we’ve chosen are dangerous, but you were always my respite. I accept it is fair that I will die out on the field as a Vaquero but when I was burning in that safehouse I could only think how it was unfair to you.”
His eyes had slowly closed as he nuzzled deeper into your palm.
“It was unfair to you if I never got to show you my gratitude or repay you. It was unfair if I didn’t get the chance to at least try to give you the comfort you have given me.”
You could barely hear him over your pounding heart. Rodolfo resigns himself, slowly lifting his head from your hand. He doesn’t look particularly sad, only accepting, looking as resolute as ever.
“You don’t have to feel the same, but you deserve to know. Coronel may fight for Las Almas, but I realise now I am fighting for you. Regardless of how you feel, I always will be.”
With no words able to capture how you feel, you can only push forward, pressing your lips against his. Rodolfo was more than happy to accept, his hand already slipping to the back of your head, pushing you impossibly closer to him. Any closer and there will be teeth clacking and even then it would not feel close enough. Your military gear only feels like a hinderance, as it creates an uncomfortable pressure against your chest that you push through just to get a taste of him. His groan is swallowed up by you and reverberates through your entire being. Pressing up against him, the bitter fumes of toxic flames that surrounded him were distant, managing to instead get the whiff of his cologne; the smell of comfort after quiet nights spent huddled together in base. His other arm cradles the curve of your back, the firmness of his bicep nudging you forward until your abdomen is against his.
And with a single kiss you pour all of the emotion you can. For all the days spent pining helplessly at his natural kindness. For all the times he refuses to let you do a mission alone, to the hushed, panic whispers of reassurance when you’re bleeding out on the field. To let him know he’s already paid in kind if not more. That every time you reload your rifle and step onto cartel territory, ready to sign your life away, that you had been fighting for him all the same.
When you pull away, Rodolfo does not let you move any further than you have to to regain your breath. He rests his forehead against yours, heaving breaths intermingling. His hands have crept up to your neck, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin. No doubt his fingers have accidentally dirtied your face with the soot and dirt from the mission, but you will gladly adorn the markings as a sign that you are his.
“I love you too,” you say breathlessly and he instinctively lets out a content sigh.
“Dios mío, please, say it again.”
“I love you, Rodolfo Parra,” you reply and he offers a smile worthy to be put in a museum.
It takes a few testing tugs until Rodolfo allows you to finally part from him, not after you distract him with a quick peck on the lips. You gingerly pick up the towel that had been forgotten on the floor, setting it aside and now opening up the first aid kit beside you.
“Now that I’m your lover I can order you around, hm?” You tease and you giggle with how his smile turns shy upon referring to yourself as his partner. “I’m going to patch you up, we’ll wash up, and then you’re going to rest.”
“How cruel,” he replies fondly. “But I guess whatever mi vida says must go, yes?”
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Call of Duty Masterlist Check Out the Rest of Fall4Rudy Here!!
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rosemaze-reveries · 3 months
Text
cassia crushing on you hcs
⚠ typical cassia-isms, ie. stalking, obsessive behavior, murder attempts (?) ⚠ reader ≠ chief
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You’re an anomaly in Cassia’s quest to hunt down the "fairest one of all" — like Chief, it’s not necessarily your beauty that’s captivated her, but your scent is irresistible just the same. She can’t place the reason. Not that that’s important. All Cassia knows is that it's addicting and she wants more of it.
Typically, Cassia would say that the potency of her perfumes is directly proportional to how beautiful she considers their inspirations. Her fixation on you runs a little deeper than visual attraction, and yet the richness in your scent rivals all her previous creations; she's eager to add this novelty to her lineup.
She collects pieces of you when you're careless enough to leave them behind. A lock of hair from your brush. Your favorite pen. Your fork after dessert. A shirt, especially if it's still warm—your scent is strongest then. Some are to use in perfumes, others are for personal safekeeping.
For a long time, she mistakes her obsession to begin and end with your scent. People rarely serve her any other purpose. She has tried to put you to sleep through various means to obtain more of it: a poisoned comb, a sedative perfume, helping you into a corset strung too tight. Chief always steps in before she gets too far. Now, you're familiar enough with her habits to evade them.
If Cassia is ever frustrated with you slipping away, she never shows it. She continues to seek you out, even for casual conversation, as if her attempts to 'collect' you never happened.
Occasionally she expresses concern for your wellbeing — your scent reveals a lot to her — and she'll offer you rejuvenating perfumes when you're feeling under the weather. You might have trouble making sense of her intentions knowing she has a track record of spritzing people unconscious.
Does she genuinely hold an interest in you as a person? Or are you just imagining things? It's odd for Cassia to be so taken by someone. Even odder for her to drag it out this long. Once she sets her eyes on something, rarely would anyone be successful in prying it from her fingers. You convince yourself it's because you have Chief's protection.
Cassia's mindset is simple: she makes fragrances to bring herself salvation. She doesn't murder in cold blood -- her "inspirations" fall into an eternal slumber, wholly unaware of what's happening to them, and their sacrifice will go on to save someone else. It's never done out of malice.
She reasons that keeping you around might give her the same salvation she's been longing for -- you are her "immortal fragrance," even if not in the form she expected. She still makes perfumes using your hair, if you let her, but also finds deep gratification in your physical presence. She likes burrowing her face into your neck, taking deep inhales for the slow pleasure of it.
Cassia isn't an experienced lover, as she's kept an icy distance from most in her life. She doesn't have much self-restraint when she wants something, though, so she becomes intimate very quickly.
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neonacity · 8 months
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DEAR MR. SANDMAN | Jaemin x Reader
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Summary: You're afraid you're slipping into madness. You're wrong.
You're already mad.
Warnings: depictions of mental illness, disassociation, and negative way of thinking. Hypnosis and psychiatric themes. No detailed smut but there are HEAVY hints of it. Reader is highly unstable. Please, please, PLEASE do not read if you find this theme triggering. Minors are not welcome.
"Tell me, how does it start again?" 
Your lips parted slightly as you took in a half breath. In front of you, the warm lighting of the room resembled like dying flames—a sharp contrast to its supposed purpose of making the space look comfortable and welcoming. Your eyes, heavy from lack of sleep, lifted just enough to gaze at the set of hands in front of you. Blankly, you noted the pen resting patiently on the clipboard, and the long graceful fingers holding it. 
"Tortoise shell. That's a new one."
"I'm sorry?" 
You only realized you've said your thoughts out loud when you heard him speak. Your doctor's voice is calm as usual, unbothered despite the strangeness of your reaction. It's one of the reasons why you have decided to stick to him after going through so many shrinks who weren't able to fix you. 
"Your pen. You are using a new one." 
A pause. You watched quietly as his fingers started to move after to scribble some quick notes for himself. His hands have always fascinated you in a strange way; gentle, but with an odd edge you can't quite explain. You didn't dare look at his face out of fear of missing the way his fingers danced over the paper.
If only your dreams handled you the same way. 
You couldn't remember anymore when it exactly started. One day, you were just a regular boring individual, slaving through your nine to five to pay for your student loans with your scrap of a salary. You go to work. Eat. Sleep. And work again. Your life is so painfully average that living it every day felt like hell. Sometimes, you're lucky enough to catch someone's eye and get a fucking. More often than not though, you're pretty much a wallflower, uninteresting and forgotten, like a piece of furniture in someone's home that hasn't been trashed yet simply because everyone has grown so familiar with it.
You've resigned yourself to a life of waste, until one day, the dreams started coming. They started subtle at first, shadows moving slowly against nothingness, too far to reach you. You didn't pay them any mind initially despite the fact that before this, you never really dreamed at all. Painfully, you noted how they were the only things that stood out from your boring existence, the only signs that told you that you were, in fact, still living.
You accepted the discomfort, just like how you have settled to take your miserable existence without a fight. But then your nightly visitors started forming shape, a peek of a curve of a shoulder here, and an elegant stripe of a throat washed by moonlight there. Then came the voices. Words whispered to the shell of your ear, or breathed against your skin. The fact that you could never remember the exact words the moment you wake up infuriates you, but your flesh… your flesh seems to remember them. As if they are seared to your very core.
"It's a gift from a friend. This pen."
Your focus snapped back to reality like a rubber band. Your eyes automatically met the dark ones of the man in front of you who obviously broke your disassociation before it went full on spiral. You were pretty sure you looked lost, but he only returned your gaze with a patient one as he sat back against his chair. Every action of his seemed pointed, silent signals telling you that you are safe and unjudged, at least in his presence.
"Let me know if you are comfortable enough to answer my question. Do you remember it?"
You gave a stiff nod.
"Do you want us to move on to other topics first?"
"N-No… I… I remember some of my dreams from last night."
If that gave him any hope for a successful session today, he didn't show it. Other than a slight dip of his head, his gaze on you stayed professional. That was another quirk about him that has also gained your trust. He seemed so calm despite your struggles. 
Your madness. 
You cleared your throat and unconsciously tried to rub your damp palms over your skirt. You were already wavering, so you decided to stare at your pale hands to anchor yourself. 
"I slept at the same time yesterday. Around… 10pm. I made sure to take the new pill you gave me. The dreams… they didn't really come until around 3am… Just like usual…"
The sound of pen gently gliding over the paper filled the stale air of the room. You swallowed dryly to keep yourself from being distracted. 
"Did you wake up as usual?" 
You nodded. 
"How?"
You paused. It was one word, but it was enough to drag you back into the shadowy corners of your dreams. You remember the hands tracing your body, the way their fingers curved to make sure they touched the deepest parts of you. Then there was the pain that almost seemed to split you into two, followed by the unmistakable pleasure that sets over after the white blinding scream of your flesh. It always starts like that. Sometimes you could feel teeth against your throat and nails digging painfully on your scalp. But you always wake up from your slumber one way or another. By having your breath slowly cut off by the tightening noose of fingers around your neck...
And the pleasure buzzing from your core.
Pure, unadulterated pleasure that you have never ever felt before from any man or woman. At first, you have chalked off the changing tune of your dreams as another mad but regular twist to your nightmares, but you started feeling more convinced there is something more to what's happening when you started noticing the soreness… the fullness after. As time went on, the nail marks left on your skin started looking wider, same as the welts of red on your neck that you can no longer match to the size of your hands. Every single night you find them on yourself, you wake up even more detached from reality.
"I think I'm being haunted, Sir."
The words left you before you could even realize your thoughts. The scratching of writing stopped and you felt your doctor's eyes rest on you. 
"What makes you think of that?" 
You burrowed your brows into a frown and pursed your lips as if you were in pain. The expression didn't come unnoticed and you saw him finally put down his pen and fold his hands in front of him. 
"You know that this is a safe place for you, right?" 
You didn't answer, hesitation still masking your features. You couldn't bring yourself to put into words what happened last night. If you do, then it would make the madness even more real.
"I'm scared," you mumbled as you finally lifted your eyes towards the man sitting across from you. His features, handsome and gentle, looked even more pronounced by the light and shadow that suddenly crept into the room. You didn't know if it was all in your head still, but you can definitely feel the beginnings of your consciousness slipping from reality again. 
"Will the hypnosis help?"
Your heart skipped at his question. Like an addict offered a hit to stave off your edge, you gave a nod, eyes bordering on begging. You would be lying if you say that isn't the reason why you came running here. With both your waking and sleeping moments turning into your personal hell, you can only find reprieve now in moments when you relinquish your mind to him.
As if in slow motion, you watched as he lifted his hand to remove his glasses, gaze unreadable. 
"Close your eyes."
You did ever so willingly, your lips parting to give a relieved sigh as your vision blurred at the edges. 
And then the darkness came. 
*******
Jaemin gave a low sound of approval as he stretched himself on his seat at last. Head tipping back, his lips finally curved into a slow smirk as he let the waves of pleasure flow through him in waves. He knew he could have you anytime he wants, but oh, doesn't your vulnerability taste so much better when you come here, begging for release. 
What an innocent young soul, asking for help from him. Her doctor.
"They've always tasted so good like this. Maybe it's the trust," he murmured to himself as he reached to loosen his tie. He moved his fingers then to comb through his hair which fell back in dark waves over his eyes. 
He was right as usual in choosing you as a host—your insecurity and loneliness is perfect fodder for him. He has to admit though, he didn't expect you to break so easily under his wiles. If only you could hear yourself beg for him every night, the way you whine for him to fill the gaps of you that only his darkness can satiate. Poor soul. He had you addicted without even knowing. 
You have been perfect, but he only gives it one more month, maybe two tops, before he finally breaks you for real. Jaemin has no doubts how sweet you will taste at your ruin, but for now, he has your nightmares to stave off his hunger. 
Dark eyes followed the curve of your body now lying pliantly in front of him. His gaze stopped at the beautiful strip of your neck and the necklace of red that stood starkly against your skin like jewelry. 
He smiled. 
If only you have looked close enough earlier, then maybe you have noticed the perfect way his fingers matched your marks.
His gift. A sign of promise for making Nightmare fall in love himself.
*******
A/N: Hi. Guess who is randomly back with a semi-proper fic after disappearing for month. I don't know where this came from but the craving to make a story for Jaemin gripped me so bad yesterday. Excuse the long-winding thoughts; I've gotten a little rusty. Anyway, enjoy and advance Happy Halloween, loves!
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iliektehhaxs · 10 months
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NSFW Alphabet - Cid Telamon Edition
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Pairing: Cidolfus Telamon/Reader Rating: Explicit, 18+, minors DNI Author's Note: There isn't enough about this chain-smoking DILF, and that's just a shame, ain't it? Be the change you want to see in the world fellas.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Cidolfus is affectionate both in and out of the bedroom, but especially so after a session of lovemaking. He becomes very vulnerable, so don’t be surprised if he keeps you all to himself after the fact.
He peppers you with kisses, from your neck, to your chest, and back to your lips. It’s almost reverent how he worships you, how he makes you feel alive, seen. 
“Cid, come now, we’ve got to get cleaned up—“ You whine, pushing him away with little success.
He barely acknowledges you, grinning ear to ear as he kisses you slowly, fingertips dancing at your sides. “Let me enjoy myself a bit, it’s not everyday an angel falls into my bed.”
You’re tempted to say something, but his verdant gaze locks you in place, memorizing every inch of your body. 
At this rate you won’t leave the bed until sundown, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Everything, he loves everything about you, but he especially loves your hips, how the plush skin curves perfectly in his hands, how they serve as the perfect grip when he wants to bend you over the desk of his solar, and even more so when they fit perfectly against his pelvis when he presses you into the mattress. A close second would be your neck, for the sole reason that you fall to pieces when he places his lips against it, the prettiest noises threatening to spill from your lips.
For himself, he’ll say his voice. He never thought about it much, but after seeing how his words have an effect on you he uses it fully to his advantage.
He walks behind you, one hand on your hip and the other pressed right below your stomach, just shy of what would be appropriate. He slots himself against your backside, enjoying how deliciously you brush against his cock, the thin fabric of your dress just tempting him to lift it.
“How long have you been at those records my dear?” He groans against your neck, voice like gravel. “I’ve hardly seen you all day.”
His presence is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. You bite your lip, silencing yourself when he nibbles at the skin of your throat, smirking. “Cid, please, you know I can’t…”
Your pleas fall on deaf ears, and when he starts to suck a bruise you can barely hold the moan that threatens to spill. “Don’t worry about Otto, I’ll talk to him. For now, let’s take a break in my chambers.”
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
If you let him finish in your mouth, show him how well behaved you are by opening it and swallowing his spend, it’ll drive him crazy. If you bring your fingers to your mouth to lick off any excess while staring at him, be prepared to not walk straight for the next few days. You look up at him, exhausted but pleased. After catching his breath for a moment Cid’s fingers press against your cheeks, a signal you’re very familiar with. “Open.” Wordlessly, you part your lips to reveal his seed, sat heavy against your tongue. A moment passes, and then he nods, watching transfixed as you swallow, gladly sticking out your tongue as proof. He wipes away a stray drop and you bring the digit to your lips without question, never letting your eyes leave his. A visible shudder runs through his body before he drags you upwards, lips meeting in a searing kiss. “You’ll be the fucking death of me woman.” He groans, before pulling you back in for more.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
In his days of travel he’s been experience to plenty of unique locations and even more unique characters, but some of his more odd encounters have been in pubs, surrounded by men of varying morality simply sharing stories around a cup of ale. He recalls one man sharing the tales of his favorite pleasure girl and the various things they do in the bedroom, and he gave mention of how she tied him up once and let her have his way with him. He never thought about the conversation, but when he met you suddenly his curiosity peaked. 
He’d never say it outwardly, but if you were to bring some rope the next time you had sex, he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He’s experienced, without a doubt. There was a time when his face was known by several women of Waloed who were looking for a good time, even if it wasn’t for a long time. Those days are long behind him, but he’s grateful if only for the fact that he can now use those skills on you. “Didn’t know you were such a charmer Cid.” You taunt playfully, pressed against his side. “Mhm, those days are long past me now. I’d much rather spend my time with a certain someone.” He hums, content to enjoy your company. You smile, asking even though you already know the answer. “Pray tell, who would that someone be?” A kiss is pressed to your forehead, followed by another hum. “Someone very special to me.” 
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Missionary, Cowgirl, anything where he can see your face. Watching your reaction is half the fun, and he’s a tease, so expect him to embarass you in the best way.
“I love seeing you like this, all pretty on my cock—“ He raises his hips to meet yours, your mind going blank. On instinct you look down, hiding your face until his rough hands hold you by the neck, unyielding even for a second.
“No no no, don’t you dare look away,” He coos softly, almost as if he isn’t keeping you bouncing on his lap. “Keep those pretty eyes on me or I’ll stop, understand?”
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
More on the serious side, but occasionally he’ll crack a joke or two. Don’t expect any humor from him past the foreplay stage though, he’s here for one thing only and he takes your pleasure very seriously.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He tries, but he really couldn’t care about his pube situation. If you mentioned it he’d probably take more care, but he’s lucky enough that it doesn’t grow out into an absolute jungle.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
He has his moments, there’s always a hint of love in his actions even if he’s whispering absolute filth into your ear. He really becomes a romantic after the deed is done, as mentioned in the aftercare. He’s also more of a romantic when you two are alone behind closed doors, where no one can see you.
You lie beneath him, rendered breathless as he thrusts into you viciously, every grind of your cock inside you making it that much harder to function. He tears you apart at the seams, exposes you to your very core, and with a gentle press of his palm in your own, puts you back together once more. “You’re so fucking beautiful—” He grunts, the throaty sound of his voice bringing you back to reality, just barely. “So majestic, so perfect. All fucking mine—” And even when tears brim your eyes, when you struggle to keep your sanity under his skillful touch, he grounds you. A hand at your thigh, or a kiss to your lips, he brings you right back, then pushes you over the edge once again with another sharp thrust. 
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
High sex drive, but usually doesn’t jerk off. He’s often busy with the hideaway, so he tries to focus on something else and deal with it later. Besides, he’d rather wait for you to take care of his needs, it’s more fun that way. On the occasions that it’s just too much to bear he’ll relax in his bed and think of you, ignorant to anything that isn’t him and his dick in his hand. 
You walk to his bedchambers, searching for his opinion on the latest food shipment when you hear a groan in the hallway. When you get closer to his door it gets louder, and the faintest smirk pulls at your features when you recognize where you’ve heard that noise before. Without warning you walk inside, met with an enticing image of your lover sat against the headboard, thrusting into his hand languidly.
Eyes closed and mouth open, he whispers to himself, hints of your name dancing on his tongue with each grunt, just slightly hunched over with need. At the sound of your voice calling for him he turns, unashamed of his display.
His hand doesn’t stop moving as he speaks, licking his lips at the sight of you. “There you are, I was looking for you. Think you could help?”
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Dominance - Either giving or receiving. He tends to dominate you but as mentioned before, he has no qualms about letting you take the lead.
Orgasm Denial - He’s a tease, it’s almost downright evil. He could sit there for hours just holding you right on the edge just for fun, he likes how high your voice gets when you’re frustrated.
Praise - Cid would sing your praises to the entire hideaway if he could (and he’s tried, only for Lady Charon to “kindly” tell him to shut his trap.)
Facesitting - Please, sit on his face. He’ll damn near cry at the feeling of your thighs on his ears, please do yourself a favor and sit on his face and you won’t regret it. Sloppy eater.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
His bedroom, or on the desk of the solar. He likes to hear you scream, so anywhere he can be sure you’ll make as much noise as possible is fine with him.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Those pretty dresses you wear around the hideaway when you’re not adventuring. You look good in anything but something about a nice dress is so domestic to him, makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It’s also a bonus that it offers easy access. 
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Anything pain-related, or anything that can draw blood. He doesn’t want to hurt you, so any and all weapons are off the table.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He enjoys a nice blowjob as much as the next guy, but he goes feral at the thought of eating you out. If he had his way he’d suffocate himself between your legs and die a happy man. He’ll wring orgasm after orgasm out of you and still not be satisfied, locking his hands together and forcing you still until he's had his fill of you. Tears streak across your face, the pleasure bordering on painful. How many times has he made you come at this point? You’ve lost count after three. Every movement feels strained, your legs have developed a permanent shake, and yet his mouth still moves against your vigorously, no hint of stopping. You beg for him to stop, to let you have a break, but he’s far too engrossed in the taste of you to pay attention. “Please, I need—I can’t—” Words fail you at this point and it hurts to talk, hurts to do much of anything except lie back and let Cid worship your cunt.
“Just one more darling, let me make you feel good.” He gasps against you, barely able to finish a sentence before descending on you again. “One more and I'll stop.” But you know better, because that’s what he said last time. 
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Sensual, with a hint of roughness. He wants to treat you like the princess you are, but he just can’t seem to help himself when you look so damn good underneath him.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Yes, more often than not he has to leave for one reason or another, and there just isn't enough time for a full session. He’s sure to make it up to you when he gets back.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Doesn’t mind a bit of experimentation, he’ll try anything once as long as you respect his boundaries.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Have you seen this man fight? He can go on as long as you need to, and oftentimes you have to beg him to stop. Whether he listens or not, however…
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
No, and he doesn’t need to. He can do plenty by himself.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Incredibly unfair, downright evil. The only thing he loves more than his cigars is the sound of his name on your lips.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Deep groans and hushed whispers, tends to talk you through whatever you’re feeling. Gets real loud when he’s about to come, and likes to bury himself further into you when he does.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Likes when you call him Sir. It started as a joke between you two, calling him the Lord Commander as a joke, which eventually turned into you calling him Sir. He found that he liked it more than he cared to admit, and during a make-out session you actually felt him twitch at the name and made it a point to tease him about it from then on.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
6.5 inches, average girth, well-endowed and knows it. Has a vein running along the underside that makes him see stars, but be careful with that information, because Cid likes to return the favor tenfold.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
High, but he knows the importance of time and place. He isn’t thinking about it 24/7 but it's fairly obvious when he’s eyeing you from across the Hideaway that he isn't exactly thinking the most tame things about you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Not quick at all, he enjoys the quiet time between you two after having sex, tracing every line and curve of your body slowly, taking his time with you. Need water, clean up, conversation? He’s down for it all. He does find it easier to fall asleep with you in his arms.
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whereserpentswalk · 4 months
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You live on a planet where humans have been forced to have only one biological sex. You're at the edge of human space, and early in colonization you planet was under attack from an outside source, for survival you had to switch to artificial breeding, which is more effective in mammal species if there's only females, as male reproductive cells are easily synthesized.
You're the only humans in the region. Most alien species you interact with just think of humans as a single sexed species that has artifical reproduction. Though you understand that humans used to have two sexes you barely actually interact with that concept. You don't really think of yourself as having a gender identity or anything, you're kind of just a person. The last male human on your planet has been dead for generations.
You first saw a photo of human male in a history class when you were a teenager. He looked so odd to you. He was deep in the uncanny valley, something that felt very familiar to you, something you evolved to interact with, but something so unfamiliar. Illustrations of males, especially outside of academic sources, always play up unfamiliar features to make them into something almost like a fantasy race, but you find something almost charming about the one in the photo.
That photo sticks with you in a weird way. It's kind of scary. Especially the idea of living at a time with actual male female dynamics. The idea of a man being inside you, however that must work, seems so viscerally horrifying to you. You've known people who've had sex before, it's controversial in your society for people to have sex with eachother, but it's legal, but it seems so diffrent then whatever you'd be expected to do with a male human.
Time passes. You end up living your own life. You major in music once you get to college, and end up with a semi successful career as a guitarist in the capital of one of your planet's countries. Things go well for you. You live your life thinking slightly more about men then most people do, but it's never that important to you.
One day there's word that ambassadors from another human planet are visiting. They're from several systems away, and very culturally diffrent. And it's most likely that they'll have men with them. It's strange to think you might actually be able to see one. You think of them as this strange race of monsters, so clearly linked to you but unlike you. Everything people say about men, that they're violent and warlike, that they're superior yet evil, that they're weaker yet more honest and good natured, rushes through your head.
You sign up to be a musician in the welcoming band to the ambassadors. It's scary but you enter. You win, partly because you're local and talented, partly because most other musicians were too afraid.
When the ambassadors from another human planet show up its on one of your city's largest streets, with cheering crowds and flashing lights. You play a song you realize your entire planet is going to hear. Then for the first time in your life, after about two and a half decades of being alive, you see a male human.
The males in the ambassadorial mission are mixed together with normal people. But you can easily spot the males. They're strange looking to you, the way they walk, and speak and move. Though you realize their foreign way of dressing is honestly more alien then anything biological. Despite your expectations, the males look oddly human, they are human, they're just more like you then you'd expect, they look a bit diffrent, but they're honestly just normal people. It's almost anticlimactic.
When everyone is talking to eachother later you're meant to interact with the musicians of their world, most of whom seem to be male. It's so strange to think you're actually talking to someone whose male. You were kind of worried some sort of mating instincts would set in, but after a lifetime of being raised to never expect to have any sexual experiences that involve more then one person, your mind doesn't really go in that direction, even if you did have those instincts.
You end up talking for awhile in your only shared language (a long dead one) to another guitarist. He's male but it's weirdly not a big deal, he's less obviously male then some of the others, and he seems like a nice freindly person. You realize his voice is deep, but it's not distorted in monstrous like you expected it to be. You realize you shouldn't talk about his sex, so you talk about music. You end up really interested in his culture's musical traditions, and kind of ignore his sex. You almost forget he's a man. Since he'll probably have to stay on the planet for at least a few months he tells you he'd like to meet again mabye. He shakes your hand, his skin doesn't feel diffrent then anyone else's, you don't know why you'd expect it not to.
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