#or typing and watching my hands form the words on its own

[plush-rabbit]

The One Where Adam Steals Lucifer's Babe

Word Count: 4.9K A/N: I had an idea about this, but I wanted to get it out. This was supposed to be headcanons, but it turned into a story!! woo(•_•)  This is also not done. Like I wanted it to be be headcanons so bad, but i need to establish a plot line because im like dumb. um, so yeah. if this does become anything more, i think max three chapter Its written as if Adam is a sinner so yeah!! -

Dating the King of Hell should be easy- nothing short of bliss and love. And it is easy being with the King of Hell, when he has to make appearances, and he has to put up a front. But being with Lucifer is much more difficult. You know he’s not over Lilith, and you aren’t even close to being a replacement for her. And yet, he keeps you around. You can trick yourself that he still wants you, that maybe he does enjoy being with you. But lying to yourself doesn't make anything easier. You walk out of the castle without a word to Lucifer, childishly hoping that he’d figure out that you weren’t there on his own. On your stroll to nowhere in particular, you check your phone constantly, hoping to see a missed message or call from him- some type of form that he still takes notice of you. You have to silence your phone when you feel tears prick your eyes at the empty screen.

You wind up in some sleazy bar, a bit too tipsy, and far too melancholic  to do anything more than swirl a glass of alcohol with melting ice. You watch the condensation drip down the side of the glass, creating a ring over the coaster. Beside you, the chair scrapes, and your spirits are lifted. It’s Lucifer! He’s chased you down and now he’s going to apologize and proclaim his- your shoulders fall when you realize that it’s not Lucifer. The realization leaves you cold and far lonelier than you initially were. Instead, it’s Adam- the First Man. You wonder for a brief moment if he even still calls himself that.

“Mind your fuckin’ business,” he sneers, sitting beside you. He lifts his hand, and the bartender pushes a glass and a bottle towards him, muttering something about a tab under his breath before turning his attention elsewhere. 

You heard he had become a Sinner- the very thing he sought to kill for entertainment not that long ago. However, you had yet to see him since he was stabbed by Niffty. You wonder if his new form has a hole in his back now.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he tells you, malice tinged at his words, but he makes no real motion to actively wave you off. You’re sure he would have if he was still divine.

A closer inspection reveals that he’s in far worse shape than you could have imagined. A beard that’s in the awkward phase of growing out, deep bags under his eyes, and gaunt cheeks. Hell has not been kind to him. But, what else could you have expected? He was an exorcist- the exorcist- and now, he’s stuck in Hell. Honestly, you should be surprised that his head isn’t mounted somewhere.

You turn back to your drink, and wipe a line of condensation off. “I’m surprised you’d even show your face around these parts,” you mumble, taking a swig of your drink. It burns going down, and you try to hide your displeased expression.

“Fuck you,” he hisses out, taking a long drink from the bottle.

“You know, as a former exorcist, I’d suggest being nice to demons around these parts.” You raise your hand at the bartender, and he walks over, and places the tab in front of you. “You never know who you’re gonna piss off next.” You leave a hefty amount, enough to cover your drinks and leave a pretty tip. 

“What? You’re gonna sick Lucifer on me?” You turn to him, embarrassment hot on your cheeks, and he wears a crooked smile. “Your face and his are plastered everywhere I look.”

With a sigh, you push the check away from you. “Must suck for you,” you mumble. His response is to take a drink from the bottle. “I hated having my picture taken before,” you tell him, unsure if he’s even listening or not. “I felt that they never really got my good side.”

“I’d get photographed all the time in Heaven,” he says in a low tone after a moment of silence. “Bitches could never get enough of me.” You scrunch your nose at the word, and fold the straw wrapper into squares. “Fucking loved it.”

“Wish I loved the camera.” You cross your ankles together, tucking them under the seat of the stool. “I hated being looked at.”

There's a pause in the conversation, long enough that you believe the small talk has ended. You could go back to the castle but if Lucifer hadn't taken notice of your absence, you'd surely have a breakdown. Maybe you could go to the hotel. Charlie would understand. “You still get your picture taken?” Adam asks, his voice startling you. 

You tilt your head to the side, underneath the seat, your legs twist around themselves. “Not as often as I used to. I think it was more like uh-” you wave your hand around and the folded wrapper unfurls itself- “shock value? I think. Like the King of Hell downgrading to some resident.” You smile bitterly. “Not even a Goetia or anything.”

“A Goetia?”

“These magical birds.” You look at him. “You’ve been in Hell for a bit, haven’t you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard or seen them.”

“I don’t get out a lot.”

“‘Cause you’re hated?” You ask, a wicked tone laced in your words. Adam responds by  mocking your voice with the same question. You scoff with a smile on your face. “I wonder why, if you’re such a peach.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

It’s silent. And you watch as the bartender grabs your drink, leaving the coaster behind. A memory of drinking with Lucifer pops into your head- his honeyed smile as he pours you a glass of wine that you would have never been able to afford, to even be aware of such a delicacy that existed in Hell. Never would he have taken you to some dingy bar where less than savory individuals reside. 

You’ve been taken care of. Pampered and adored for a considerable amount of time, before all the light had dimmed. You should have never allowed yourself to get used to such treasures. You glance over at Adam, and wonder if he can understand. “Do you come here often?” You ask him, crossing your arms over the bar. He chokes on his drink and slams the bottle down. He gives you a bewildered stare and you raise your shoulders defensively. “What? I’m just asking,” you say. “The bartender looks like he knows you.” You catch the bartender’s eyes and he quickly looks away. “Or at least enough to keep a tab open.”

“There’s not much to do around here,” he answers.

You fill your cheeks with air and let it slowly blow out through pursed lips. There's plenty to do- sort of. Minus the drugs and sex, most of Hell's greatest features are stuck in other rings. “There’s the Cannibal Sector,” you offer. “You gotta be careful but Rosie is nice and she sells pretty things. I have this hairpin in the shape of a human hand.” Adam gives you a look. “It might be a real hand, huh.”

“The fuck are you even doing out of your castle.”

You deflate. “Rough night,” you say with a sigh. “What about you?”

“Rough night,” he answers

You nod in solidarity. “I’m not usually a drinker,” you confess. “The taste is a bit too bitter for my liking. But being at the castle just wasn’t-” it’s not for you, the pampered life, acting as a placeholder, the King- “I didn’t want to be there.”

When Adam fails to say anything else, you feel embarrassed to even say something like that to the former angel beside you. He wouldn’t care. He shouldn’t care. Why would he ever worry himself over the likes of you, when your supposed partner couldn’t. He sniffs, and places the bottle down. It’s nearly empty. 

“Where do you want to be then?” His eyes are still golden, unblinking as he stares. 

Gold meets your own eyes, and you flicker to the horns over his head, curling overhead much like his former exorcist mask. You look back at his eyes, at the way he holds the bottle loosely. “I don’t know,” you confess. 

There’s a moment of silence, and he finishes the last bit of alcohol. You wonder how many he usually drinks before he goes back home. “You wanna come over?” He asks, and there’s a shade darker that brushes against his cheeks, and he tries to ask nonchalantly, but he toys with the words, and he swallows too harshly for him to not be worried about your answer. As if he’s asking some forbidden question. But, you’re lonely, and you don’t want to be alone in a bar longer than you already have been. 

You look at the exit, half-hoping that Lucifer would be there, ready to take you to his home, and a part of you is glad that he isn’t there. You look back at Adam, and nod your head. “Lead the way,” you tell him.

The sound of the bartender yelling behind you about a tab, has you smiling, feeling as if you’re dining and dashing despite you having paid for your portion. Adam doesn’t seem to care, walking without breaking a stride, just waving his hand without looking back. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re climbing up steps that need to be looked at, rust falling off with each bounce. You’re sure that you can hear something unsavory going on in a room, but a whistle from Adam has you scurrying along. There’s no reason that you should know anything more than you already do. 

You enter his apartment, and take a careful look around. It’s messy- clothes strewn across, dishes left out, and you feel pity for him. A single couch is close enough to the rather small television, a coffee table that has paint chipping and dents is one of the few pieces of furniture in the rooms. A sliding door is closed, a few broken blinds giving you just a glimpse into the outside. “You certainly,” you pause, trying to find something nice to say, “have a place,” you end defeatedly. You stand near the door, clicking the lock into place, as if that would protect you from any dangers out in the world. Perhaps you should be worried about Adam, about the angel who would bear his fangs and be drenched in blood, too excited about senseless murder. But you catch him kicking things under the couch, trying to spruce up the place even if just by a smidge.

“Fuck you,” he says without conviction. He grabs at a pile of clothes and tosses it on top of a chair, leaving the couch clear for you and him to sit. Smiling softly, you take a seat. He places himself close to the arm rest, and watches as you look around. “I uh, I clean- sometimes.” He sounds unsure of himself.

“I like cleaning,” you tell him, grabbing at a magazine on the worn out coffee table. It’s some tabloid, and you see a snippet of you and Lucifer in the corner. You turn to the page where you two are supposed to be. It’s titled as “Issues at Home?” You frown, and turn to another page. “I like organizing and stuff. Um, it helps uh, Lucifer. He does a lot of projects.”

“You don’t got any?”

“I have hobbies, but they come and go.” Your eyes skim the page, talking about Velvette’s new clothing line. You pull your lips into a thin line, a part of you wants to wear her outfits, but you aren’t sure you could pull them off. “It’s all just-” you flutter a hand in the air- “you know, stuff.” You place the magazine back on the table. “What about you?”

He smiles and leans back on the couch, the cushion creasing under his weight. “I like to play the guitar.” You perk at the mention, and watch as he rests his hands over his stomach. “I was in a band. Played the guitar, got all the chicks that I wanted.”

“Were you good at the guitar?”

He nods his head. “Oh, you should’ve fucking seen me. I was like a fucking god on stage.” He holds his hands out and mimics a guitar. You huff out a laugh, and watch as he lets his hands fall. “I got to fuck whoever I wanted. And I mean, who wouldn’t want to fuck me? Look at me.” he tosses you a lazy look, matched with a sly smile, and you can see how people would be attracted to him. “I was the first dick– of course, everyone wanted me.”

“What songs would you perform?”

“Rock mostly.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Crowd went wild.”

“You’d perform in heaven?”

He shrugs. “Most of the time. If I felt bold, sometimes the band and I would do a show on Earth. I’m telling you humans would just throw themselves at you, begging to be fucked in some grimy ass restroom.”

You scrunch your nose. “Sounds gross.”

“It was,” he says with a faltering smile. He cocks his head to the side, and there’s a softness to his words. “Gross as shit, but the girls were hot.” 

You cross your ankles together, and turn to face him. Your arm cushions itself between the couch and your head to watch him. “Do you not play anymore?” you ask hesitantly,

He sucks on his bottom lip, teething at the skin, before letting it go. “I haven’t tried to summon my harp- guitar- shit, thing, since I’ve been here.” He closes his hands into a loose fist and kicks his legs up on the beaten coffee table. “There’s this pawn shop a few streets down, and they have this guitar for sale.”

“Are you thinking about buying it?”

“I have other shit to worry about.” He gives you a look, a fleeting sense of  exhaustion and acceptance that washes over him, that makes him feel a bit more real, a bit more like you. “It isn’t even that good.” He sounds like a child, trying to justify something to themselves. “It’s beat up, and the strings are probably worn-” he shakes his head- “it's not worth it.” You open your mouth to reassure him that it probably is worth it. That despite the condition that it’s in and the price for it, if he wants it, it's worth it. Even if he could never play it, even if it’ll never be restored to its original beauty, it would be his. You only manage to suck in a gulp of air, when a knocking at the balcony door grabs your attention. “Some fucking bird that keeps bothering me.” He looks over at you, and glances back to the door, and back at you. “I have a balcony. Wanna sit outside?”

You nod quickly, closing your mouth. “Yeah.” 

He walks past the door, and leaves it open for you. Just like when you entered, you close the door behind you, half-heartedly hoping that it won’t lock behind you. His balcony holds two chairs- both different kinds and both equally as rough looking. A part of you wonders where exactly he got this furniture. There’s a dying plant shoved in the corner, the leaves brown and stem wilting under the weight of the dying leaves. 

“Quit judging,” he snips. 

You scoff, a smile teasing at the corner of your lips. The air of Hell is cool, wind breezing over your skin and you stare down into the streets, watching as Imps and Sinners live their lives, peacefully uninterrupted. Sitting down, your breath hitches when the chair dips under your weight. It’s quiet between the two of you, silence in each other’s company where you both just stare at the world in front of you. 

You can see the holy light from the embassy, and you can see Heaven’s light- the rings that are protected by wings. It lights up the night sky far better than the pentagram ever has, and sitting under the light of it, makes you wonder if anything is different in Heaven since Adam’s death- or rather, reincarnation. “Do you miss Heaven?” You ask, before you can register the weight of the words that it holds. You turn to him, almost scared of any answer that he would give.

“That’s a stupid question,” he spits out. You don’t respond, and you stay looking at him. He turns his head to avoid your gaze, his legs stretching out in front of him. After a beat of silence, he looks ahead of him. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “I do.”

“What do you miss about it?”

“Full of fucking questions, aren’t ya?” He stays silent, and after a moment, he lets out a soft sigh. “Everything.”

“There’s not many stories about Heaven down here. You know, minus the ones that we all know. The golden gates-”

“Pearly gates,” he corrects. You look at him, and he has his eyes casted down. “They’re pearly.”

“The pearly gates,” you correct, “the clouds, the happiness and peace. I just- Other than that, there’s nothing else to go off of. But I guess, why would I know. Heaven seems so far away, like some mythical place.”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t talk about it?” Adam asks with a sneer.

“No,” you answer without hesitation. “He doesn’t like talking about Heaven. Sometimes-” you lick your lips- “Sometimes it feels like he hates everything and everyone down here. Like he can’t stand the idea that he’s stuck here.” You scratch your neck, and pinch your legs together. “It’s like the memories of Heaven are too painful.”

“That magazine said y’all were breaking up.”

“Maybe,” you answer.

“You can talk about it if you want. Would make this night a helluva lot more interesting.” You look at him. “I’m all ears.”

“And horns,” you tease.

“Fuck you,” he says with an impish tone.

You smile, and kick out your legs. Your phone buzzes, and with hope, you believe that it’ll be Lucifer. Your heart sinks when it’s only a notification from Sinstagram. With a frown, you silence your phone. “In the beginning, it was easy to forget that he was married. I mean, I always knew. He has her portraits hanging, and he talks about Charlie constantly.” You smile bitterly and scratch at your phone case. “I don’t blame him for that, but-” you shrug- “it hurts knowing that he still clings to her.” When Adam stays silent, you continue. “He can be kind- real attentive and sweet. But sometimes, when he’s had a uh-” you struggle to find a word- “a bad day, he gets real low. And I hate to admit it, but he gets clingy and it’s nice to know that I can still serve him in some way.”  Your fingers pinch at the bridge of your nose, and you let your hand cover your mouth. “But then, there are moments, where it feels like he’s actually looking at me- where he’s just everything,” you say wistfully, your hand stretching out in front of you, clasping around the night air. You glance at Adam, who watches your hand as you pull it back to yourself. “Sorry, I uh, I didn’t mean to ramble.”

“So why’d you leave then?”

Perhaps you’d get a biased opinion- you’re aware of how Adam feels over Lucifer, and practically every other inhabitant of Hell. He thinks of himself above any other, his own pride being the very thing that made him unaware of Niffty running towards him. You chew on your lip, your hand scratching over your neck. You need to speak to someone. No one else at the hotel will ever give you a straight answer- or at least the answer that you want to hear.

With a sigh, you kick your legs out in front of you. “I like Lucifer.” You can feel his eyes on you. “But, sometimes,” you drag the word, and your body feels hot, “it’s like he’s not present in the relationship. He gives a lot, but he hardly ever asks for anything.”

There’s a pause. “What could you even give him?” he asks in sincerity. 

There’s a pang in your chest, wrapping tightly, threatening to crush your bones, and leaving you a battered and broken mess on Adam’s balcony. You can’t give him anything that he doesn’t want. He has his daughter, he had his wife, he has his title for better or for worse. All you can offer is a moment of content, and even then it seems that you can no longer do that.

You shrug your shoulders at an attempt of a weak answer. “I know that he’s still not over his wife. Or ex-wife. I'm not too sure of the title and I hate to ask. He gets all mopey and deflective.” You kick at the ground, and insecurity hugs you tightly, and drips into your words. “He stares at portraits of her, and well, it’s hard to compete with the literal Queen of Hell, when I’m just-” your jaw stiffens, and you look at the ground through blurring eyes- “me.” You stand in her shadow without even having met her. “Even when I dress up, I feel like a child playing pretend. I don’t- I’m not like her.” You’ve stared at her portraits that still hang in the palace, and they consume you. Her smile, her delicate hands, and the elegance that is so evident in portraits.  It feels childish to compare yourself to someone so regal and poised. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “My ex was pretty hot.” Your eyes widen, and you turn to him. “They both were.” He lets out a sigh, and keeps his eyes fixed in front of him.

“Adam,” you squeak out. “I’m sorry.” You shake your head, blood rushing to your face, making your body uncomfortably warm. “I hadn’t meant- I didn’t mean to talk about her with you. I’m so sorry.”

“The fuck are you apologizing for?” He asks, eyes narrowed and mouth twisting to an ugly sneer.

You cross your arms over your chest, bringing them to an ‘X’ where your hands curve over your biceps. “It’s just that I’m talking about Lucifer and your ex-wife.” You frown when he gives you an ugly look. “I just- I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He gives a shrug of his shoulders, his gaze still focused elsewhere. “Lucifer already talked shit about how he banged both of them. It's whatever.”

Your brows furrow, and you watch as Adam pats his pockets, fisting a hand into one of his pants pockets. He fishes out a pack of cigarettes, grabbing on and sticking the tan end of it into his mouth. He motions the carton at you, and you pull your mouth into a thin line. 

“If you're gonna bitch about smoking, you're one lame sinner.”

“Eve? He slept with Eve, too?”

“Oh shit.” The cigarette hangs between his teeth, until pulls it back into his mouth. “You didn't know.” He almost sounds apologetic. He grabs at a lighter and it takes a few clicks to light the white of the stick.

“He doesn't really talk about his sex life before me.” You slump further into yourself, your nails scratching over your skin. “It's in the past. I know I shouldn't be hurt over what he's chosen to share with me, but-” you toss your head back, and in the red sky, the stars are dim. “I don’t know. It just feels like another kick on a shitty night, ya know?”

“I’m shitty?” He almost sounds offended. 

“No, no” you shake your head. “If anything, you’re like the one good thing out of this night.”

“Yeah, well, you ain’t so bad yourself.” You turn to him, your head cocked to the side. “You got a nice body. If you weren’t stuck here, I would’ve bagged you already.” You stretch your lips thin, and Adam shrugs, blowing out a puff of smoke.  “You’re easy on the eyes.”

“Thanks Adam,” you say hesitantly. He holds out the cigarette towards you and you wave your hand. “I’m good.”

“So what now? You gonna go back to him?”

“I don’t even think he knows that I’m gone,” you say honestly. The confession makes you feel lighter than you thought it would. “It’s comfortable with him. It’s easy- I don’t have to worry about things, but, I also don’t have to worry about anything. And sometimes, I want to worry. I want him and I to argue about dumb shit, and I want to worry if he’s coming to bed or not, and not being resigned to the fact that I know he won’t.”

The silence is broken by the scraping of the chair, and you watch as he rises, stretching his arms above him, the cigarette pinched between his fingers. “Eve tolerated me,” he says quietly, letting out a breath of smoke. You look at him, biting at the inside of your cheeks. “She loved me for a while. She was devoted to me. But I uh- I’m pretty sure that was because she was made from me.” A hand cups over his side. “Blind loyalty or whatever. But when she bit that apple, whatever she felt for me was gone.” He speaks quietly, and slowly, as if the words and the thoughts of it were slowly piecing themselves together, a puzzle that he had long put away in order for it to never make sense. “She didn’t care what I did as long as I left her and the-'' someone below lets out a scream, and Adam turns to you, his face flashing a moment of vulnerability before he looks away and puts out the cigarette under his boot. “Well, Eve was Eve.” His brows soften, and he looks tired. “I didn’t tolerate her.”

“Meaning?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “I did love her. She had a part of me after all.” He looks over at you, and his hand tightens over his side, pulling at the fabric. “But that’s not important anymore.” He turns away, and walks back inside. You scurry after him, making sure to lock the balcony door behind you.

You stand awkwardly in the room, unsure of what to do next. Truth be told, you had planned to spend the night in some dingy motel if Adam hadn’t sat beside you. But now you’re here, in his dingy apartment, truths and insecurities laid out for the two of you to bear witness. A part of you wants to bid him goodnight, and maybe when you’d see him out in the streets, you’d give him a  cordial nod, and remember how he listened and talked about his ex-wife, and he’d remember you in positive light, despite you only being a mess of insecurities wrapped in sin. 

But now, you don’t want to leave. At least a part of you wants to continue this conversation, to keep the comfort wrapped tight around you. You tap your foot against the ground and Adam looks at you, his eyes staring at yours, unwavering from yours. You hadn’t realized just how powerful he stood beforehand. 

“You can stay if you want,” he says slowly, unsure of the words that he’s saying. “Take the couch or whatever,” he attempts to sound indifferent, but you can hear the sincerity in the words, uncomfortable, but sincere. “I got a spare blanket you can use.” His teeth are sharp, and they peek out to tease at his bottom lip.

“Really?” You ask, eyes wide and you take a step forward, and he looks away. “I can?”

His mouth thins into a grimace, and he gives a forced shrug. “Do whatever you want.”

You look at the couch. It wasn’t uncomfortable to sit on, but you’re sure you’ll wake up with a sore back. However, you don’t want to go back to Lucifer, and you don’t want to go to some dingy motel where you’re sure you’ll drink until you’re sick. Looking back at Adam, you nod, a smiling teasing at the corners of your lips, and he finally looks away from you.

“Yes!” You clear your throat. “Yes,” you say in a softer tone. “I’d like that. Thank you, Adam.”

“Whatever.” He walks into his bedroom, and you sit on the couch. He returns with a blanket, and he stands at the end of the couch, looking at you. “I’m not making you breakfast or anything. You gotta figure that shit out on your own.” You nod. The only real worry that you have is that your phone’s battery is at an uncomfortable percentage that you aren’t sure is going to last you.

“I hope Hell is nice for you.” He raises his brows at you. “It’s shitty and the smell of decay is always kinda there, but sometimes, it’s nice down here.”

“Hell is supposed to suck.”

“And it does,” you say with a shrug. “But not all the time, Ads.”

“Don’t call me that.” He tosses a blanket at you- it’s thin and threads have begun to unravel at the seams, but it’s soft. “I’m turning off the lights.”

“Goodnight,” you call out, holding the blanket close to you. You can only smile when the response is a closed door.  

[leonardcohenofficial]

there’s a great write up by someone on here that i will have to search for in which they discuss how the ultimate evil for david lynch is sexual violence against women (even more severe than murder, which is often auxiliary to that type of specific violence); twin peaks is incredibly soapy—on purpose! lynch and frost are playing with form and content on purpose to examine incredibly difficult subject matter through a (for lack of a better word) more palatable format—which most of the time i think works to its advantage and makes those moments of visible horror so much more effective (i use “visible” rather than “true” or other similar adjectives because the horror is always there, it’s embedded in the entire town, shows up in every generation we see in screen and we watch them grapple with it in different ways, but that’s a separate post)

however—and i’ve talked about this before—i find that once you’ve watched fire walk with me it is so much harder to watch the show because the ignorance of nearly every single member of the town (yes, including cooper) pervades the way the action unfolds. twin peaks viewers knew the premise of the show going in and we get to discover details and information alongside the characters. when albert rosenfield comes in as the only voice of reason and reality, it’s set up to be jarring to both the townspeople and to the viewer. why?

sheryl lee said in an interview, “fire walk with me was very difficult for me to watch… and, emotionally it’s a reminder: this is a movie, but this continues to happen every day and how can we stop it? when i watch fire walk with me now, as a mother, i watch it and i think look at all those signs that were being exhibited. this girl was in danger, and look at all these people that were in her life. what would have happened if someone, somewhere, somehow could have helped or stopped it? that’s hard to watch.”

much has been discussed critically about fire walk with me and whether or not it’s exploitative in the ways that it portrays sexual violence against women. while lynch does not shy away from making that violence visible, it is done so in an attempt to make the viewer examine their own relationship to that violence and how it shows up in their own lives. the audience is forced to think about the ways that they are complicit in how and why these violent acts occur and what they can do to stop it, which is why for many it is an uncomfortable watch. for others, it is a painful (and speaking from my own perspective) necessary watch because lynch didn’t make a horror movie, he made a documentary.

fire walk with me is necessary (in my humblest of opinions) to understand why the pieces that lynch and frost put into twin peaks work. there’s so much backstory to how they weren’t originally going to reveal who laura palmer’s killer was until ABC made them, lynch wasn’t around during much of the second season so things got a little off the rails storytelling-wise, etc. etc. but fire walk with me allows them to tie difficult, often horrifying threads (ben horne unknowingly attempting to have sex with his daughter, the townspeople’s distancing of albert, the hands of random townspeople trembling as BOB attempts to claw back into the material world, the list goes on and on) back to the central thesis of “sexual violence is the ultimate evil, it is completely avoidable, and you have a responsibility to recognize the signs and stop being complicit”

[azullumi]

“i wanna be yours” ; aventurine

premise — but this is what friends do, right? they slow dance together in the living room while saying sweet nothings ; inspired by this ask (though i never really followed the entire idea, my hands has minds of its own)

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff (with a little bit of angst at the end), friends but wanting more type of relationship, all written in reader’s pov, not proofread, 1.2k words ; one-shot

tagging — @toorurs (hi boo)

note — i keep on comparing aventurine to the sun i dont even know why i do it. 9 DAYS LEFT UNTIL HIS BANNER

“care to dance?” the languid, lazy silence draws itself away as the honey-haired man spoke, offering you his hand as he did. the light humming of the music in the background keeps the night awake and alive, the softness of the notes intertwined in the air that settles in your home.

you stare at his hand for a moment, admiring the glistening bracelet on his wrist before you answer, tone meek and hesitant: “i don’t know how to dance.” you expected him to laugh at you for not knowing a simple and common concept; dancing was a form of art known to many and yet, you are unfamiliar with it.

but aventurine simply smiles at you and takes your hand to hold on his own, gently pulling you up from your seat and making you stumble on your feet—however, he catches you and doesn’t let you fall to the ground. you are only met with the warmth of his body and the feeling of his unoccupied hand resting on the small of your back.

“you could have warned me before you did that.” you huffed, although you weren’t exactly reprimanding him.

“i still caught you, didn’t i?” the man answers in a gentle tone as he begins to sway you to the rhythm of the song (the melody wraps itself around your form like the cradle of a warm blanket), a familiar tune that plays in your living room and now you are listening to it as you—no, as he dances and guides your movements. you try to follow him albeit like a clumsy child and silence trailed behind your steps as none of you spoke, only wallowing in this moment between you and him.

(his hand is warm against yours, fingers lacing with each other like two puzzle pieces meant to fit together. you have never known how gentle he can be, have never known the warmth of his hands and the softness of his palms up until this moment. maybe it’s the feeling of his touch that’s making you drunk and aeons, you’ve never thought of yourself as a selfish person but something in the way he’s holding you makes you crave for more.)

“focus,” he whispers to your ear, catching you completely off-guard when his breath tickles your skin, “you’re supposed to look at me, not at the ground.”

you compose yourself, bringing your gaze to his face instead of the marble floors that seem to spin as you move, “i was watching my feet so i won’t accidentally step on you.”

“i don’t mind if you do, all i wish is for you to look at me and me only.” he speaks so gently, so delicately as if something akin to despair hangs on the tangled threads of his words. you study his face, looking at the lines on his features and trying to look for the gap of his expression—you could never tell what he was thinking, could never decipher the meaning he skillfully weaves to the words that he utters (you wish you had the ability to look into minds, perhaps you would have known him).

he notices your silence and smiles, “can’t a poor man have their own wishes?”

you take a moment once more to answer, “i didn’t say that.” well, in fact, you weren’t saying anything. the sound of laughter slips past his lips and perhaps, if you didn’t see the way his eyes formed into a crescent and his expression contorts one into amusement, you would have mistook the sound as part of the song.

“you should see the way you look right now.” 

you raised your eyebrow at him, confusion evident in your face, “what do you mean? is there dirt on my face?”

aventurine pulled you closer to him, movements coming to a stop as you two stood still. his face is leaning down to yours, lips merely inches away from each other, and your thoughts are in a jumble as if your mind was a library of cluttered and disorganized bookshelves.

“no, i’m saying you look lovely tonight.” he whispers—and you swear, you see his eyes look down to your lips for a moment—, his voice low as if you’re the only one who’s supposed to hear and not the moon that casts its curious glow on his skin, not the stars that watched your every move, but you and just you.

(you’re left with nothing but silence and warmth in your cheeks, not knowing where to focus or even think about—the strong scent of his perfume or his words that repeatedly echoed inside your head.)

the golden-haired man doesn’t speak any further, continuing his slow dance with you in the comfort of your living room as he hums along to the melody. the night is heavy against your shoulders as the silver moonlight laid on the ground like spilled milk.

“it is quite simple, isn’t it? look, you’re able to follow.”

“aven, you’re doing all of the work.”

he slowly spins you around—the world looks slow and messy for you for a moment—before he answers, “barely.” he comes face to face with you and you don’t fail to notice the affection in his eyes when he meets your gaze.

“don’t look at me like that.” you wished he wouldn’t look at you in that way; something tugs at your heart and suffocates you.

“like what?”

“i don’t know.” hesitation follows your tone, broken and unsure, seemingly lost in an empty field full of directions. “like…” like you wanted me like a lover, you keep the words at your throat knowing you’ll choke on it one day. you don’t know how to say it, you don’t even know if you can say it. it was as if the ability to speak has been taken away from you.

the song came to its end and so was the dance.

“you should go to sleep, don’t stay up too much.” aventurine says, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss on your forehead. he lets you go as soon as he parts his lips, stepping back to the distance the both of you once had before all of this happened, as if nothing occurred between you two, as if the words whispered against each other, the closeness, the intimacy were all just some silly imagination.

“are you leaving already?” you ask, your hand reaching out to tug at his sleeve as if you didn’t want him to go. you don’t even know what made you hold on to him, what made you want him to not want to leave.

the man who had the universe in his wake answers with warmth in his tone, “i can’t stay any longer.” he holds your hand and ushers you to remove your grasp on his sleeve. everything felt so different now, your thoughts were all so loud but you couldn’t dare to speak nor say something as you watched him turn away and leave—the sound of the door closing echoed throughout the corners of your home and you were left alone, in silence and in the cold.

but the comfort and warmth of his touch lingered on your skin—and you’ll remember it all; it will haunt you, follow your shadow everywhere you go, pulling on the hem of your shirt with the desperation of a dying man and you don’t know how to live knowing the way he held you on this night. how are you supposed to deal with the fact that his hands were as soft and warm as summer?

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ v ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: sorry it took a while compared to the other chapters. i finished up my lab reports in my surveying class. this is not edited nor is it beta read and i dont remember much on what happened during the 2018-2021 seasons so pardon me if there are inaccuracies. anyways, welcome to max's pov. u can say im stalling on the shitshow that will happen once max discovers that reader resigned. lemme know what you think.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1

masterlist.

2018

“Who’s that?”

Daniel looks up, cheeks stuffed with the sandwich he was eating for lunch, “Who?”

Max cringes internally. His mother always told him and Victoria to not talk when his mouth was full, she called it bad manners, and now, he is understanding where she was coming from with those lectures. Nevertheless, he doesn't reprimand Daniel. Instead, he gestures to the girl standing a few meters away from their table in the Red Bull hospitality staff cafeteria, who was happily chatting with two Red Bull senior engineers whom Max recognizes to be Elijah Stuart and Richard Fox.

It is the first time Max has seen her. A new employee perhaps? Perhaps not. She lacks the company standard uniform.

Daniel trails his line of sight to where Max has pointed, “Which one? Richard?”

“No,” Max groans. Daniel blinks.

“Elijah?”

This is quickly becoming annoying.

“The girl, Daniel,” Max says, his exasperation bleeding through his words. “She’s not wearing a Red Bull polo.”

Daniel’s brows rise to his hairline, head snapping back to Max, “[Name]?”

Then, a shit-eating grin erupts on his lips. “Are you interested in her?”

“She’s not my type,” Max’s denial comes quickly. Is it even considered denial if it’s the truth? In his twenty almost twenty-one years being alive, Max never really put a lot of time into thinking about what his ideal type would look like. But he is sure that the woman of his dreams will look very far from the woman who was successful in catching his attention because you are wearing a black shirt in a sea of Red Bull polo shirts.

You with your eyes that forms into tiny crescent moons once your face breaks into a grin, you with your smile that shows too much gums and too much teeth, you with your hands that moves too much when you talk, and you with that too loud and too obnoxious laugh that comes even with the lamest of jokes. You’re like Daniel in a way. All happy sunshine vibes.

Max is watching you close, observing how you were interacting with Richard and Elijah. They're old men and no one should look this happy while talking to boring, old, white men, who worked more than four decades in the engineering industry so they only know how to speak boomer language and everything engineering. Surprisingly, Elijah and Richard seem to be having fun talking to you. A miracle on its own because they never even look that happy talking to Daniel Ricciardo and everybody in Red Bull Racing adores sunshine honey badger, Daniel Ricciardo.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You're thinking about it.”

“How would you know what I’m thinking?”

“Because you’re currently on a quest to erase my singledom. I can put two and two together.”

Daniel snorts, crossing his arms over his chest, “Maybe I just want to let you meet new friends.”

“I have enough friends.”

“You don't have friends that are not racers.”

Max presses his lips in a thin line.

“She’s my manager, by the way.” says Daniel, leaning back into his seat.

“What happened to Nick?”

“He’s on leave,” Daniel says. “His wife’s giving birth soon. She’s my temporary manager for a few months. Or I don't know, maybe the whole season.”

Max brows rise in pleasant surprise but says nothing.

“Now that I think about it, she’s around your age. How old are you again? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty,” Max corrects. His birthday is still months away from pre-season. On the end of September.

“Ah, she's older than you. Oh wait, here she comes. Hey, [Name]! Here!”

Max flinches and his heart begins ramming against his ribs erratically that he thinks he’ll undergo cardiac arrest in a matter of seconds. He does a double take—why am I even panicking?—then forces himself to calm down and straightens up in his seat. His shoulders and neck are still considerably stiff and his palms are slowly becoming sweaty. He swallows an invisible stone in his throat.

“¡Hola mi amiga, [Name]!” Daniel greets and his Spanish accent sounds off that it makes [Name], who stopped right in front of their table, giggle and when Max looks up at her through his lashes, it almost feels like the world is turning too rapidly on its axis and it’s making Max dizzy. Daniel and her do a friendly handshake—when did they reach this level of friendship?

“Hola, Daniel,” she greets, smiling. Your accent reminds Max of Carlos, but unlike Carlos, who possesses a very distinct Spanish accent, yours sounded subtler than his and it's mixed with the charming rhythm of words that reminds Max of sunsets in the south. You pronounce Daniel’s name like it has two syllables instead of three. Dan-yel instead of Dan-i-el. Suddenly, Max is curious as to how his name will sound if it originates from her mouth, how the syllables will roll off her tongue. Max will still sound like Max. Nobody will mispronounce that name. But Emilian and Verstappen? How will you say it?

“Hi Max.”

The Max sounds plain even though you’re smiling when you greet him. She didn't say Max the same way she said Daniel, whose name was uttered with a certain fondness.

“Hello,” Max’s chin dips slightly into a nod.

“Eat with us,” Daniel invites and he is already dragging a chair from a nearby table to their table before Max can fully register what he’s doing.

“You sure?” you ask, brows raising slightly at Daniel’s abrupt invitation.

Daniel waves his hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah, Max wouldn't mind. Would you, Max?”

Suddenly, two pairs of eyes are on him and his throat feels dry. He cannot speak. No words leave his mouth. Empty brain, zero thoughts. In the end, he nods and you join the two for lunch.

Max frequently sees you following Daniel in the paddock. You remind him of a dog. No, even dogs do not follow their owners this much. Or do they? Max wouldn't know. He is a cat person anyway.

Max’s main point is this: not even the other racers’ managers follow them around this much. Not even Max’s manager follows him this much. (No one tell Max that this was due to the fact that he scares his own manager. Imagine a middle-aged man scared of a Dutch racer half his age with anger issues.) But you follow Daniel around like he is the sun and you are planet Earth and you need to be constantly revolving around him to achieve universal balance. And for some reason, your actions cause something odd to stir up in Max. He is annoyed. Of what? Maybe because you are so good to Daniel? Maybe he wants someone to be like that for him, too? His manager is not as proactive as you. Yeah, maybe that’s it.

And if you are not with Daniel, which is a rare occurrence, you’re hovering around the Red Bull mechanics. You even go as far as bringing them coffee in the mornings and that annoys Max even more. Daniel, he can understand if you brought him coffee, but the others? No. You don't even bring Christian Horner coffee. Why only them?

Whatever.

You are such a suck up. Max hates suck ups.

Baku 2018 was a bad race, a total nightmare for everyone in the team. The moment Max got out of that car, he was burning. Figuratively, at least. The engine of the RB14 is the one burning, in a literal sense. Horner is red in the face when he sees Max and Daniel, and he yells at them to cool down before they do the formal stuff of apologizing and dealing with the FIA and all the formalities that Max rather thinks are bullshit.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice raising, when he sees you approaching. “Aren't you supposed to be with Daniel?”

“Water?” you offer the water bottle to him and Max knows full well it’s supposed to be for Daniel. Max saw you offering it to Daniel earlier when the two of them stepped into the Red Bull garage after retiring from the race but the older man has declined your offer before stomping off somewhere else to cool down.

“No.”

He is not going to take the scraps of someone else, even though he is thirsty as hell.

You nod, shrugging your shoulders and saying, “Okay.”

You crouch on the floor and put the water bottle in front of him with a neatly folded face towel balancing on top of it. Then, you rise and walk away, leaving Max to glare at your back as you fade away from his view. Once you disappeared from his line of sight, he drags his gaze back to the water bottle and towel.

He drinks the water and then uses the towel to wipe his sweat. At that moment, Max decides that he will never allow himself to be beaten by Daniel ever again.

Max remembers the anger he feels when he discovers the news of Daniel leaving Red Bull.

“Was this because of Baku?!”

Daniel tries to explain his situation as calmly as he can but Max is all fire and flames and fury. He is only hearing Daniel’s words, not listening to them because all that he registers are the words “leaving” and “Renault” and “goodbye” and the rest are all just a bunch of ringing noise. Max knows where Daniel is coming from because he isn't dumb nor naive and he is aware that he is quickly becoming the team favorite, but did Daniel really need to leave?

Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving. He’ll have no friends left on the team.

Max’s fear of being left behind is often masqueraded as anger. The thing about Max is that his pain always turns to anger and his anger turns into violence.

He barely registers what he has done to Daniel until he sees his teammate—former teammate—on the floor, eyes wide and clutching his cheek. Max’s fist trembles. They are both horrified at what Max has done.

“Daniel, I—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?!” Daniel scrambles to a stand and lunges at Max. Max fears he’s going to get punched, too, and maybe he deserves it because he is the one who has thrown his fist first, but [Name] appears, quick as lightning, and rushes in between Daniel and Max.

“Daniel, calm down.”

Max is surprised you can hold Daniel down on your own. Daniel was a racer, had been since 2011, so he possessed the physical strength of a veteran racer and you, well, you're not. You’re shorter than them both, too.

Daniel is turning red in the face and fury paints his features. Max wants to fight, answer Daniel’s anger with his own. Fire to fire. Let them both burn until they achieve ruination.

“Nick!” you cry and at the call of his name, Nick appears quickly. “Hold Daniel!”

Your hands clutch Max’s nape and forearm and you quickly drag him away from the furious Daniel, leaving Nick to hold Daniel off and calm him down.

His ears are still ringing. Even after he's dragged away from the chaos. Even after he's brought into an empty room. Even after he sits down on a plush chair, face scarily blank while his mind runs for miles.

The ringing sound disappears when you tap his shoulder and asks, “You okay, big boy?”

His brain becomes a blank slate.

Max nods hesitantly, “Yeah.”

His knuckles are still tingling. He can still feel the remnants of the violence of his fist, can still feel the sting when his knuckles met Daniel’s cheek.

“Injuries?”

Why do you only speak words instead of full sentences?

You scan Max’s face for injuries and Max holds his breath when you lean your face closer to see clearly.

“No—No injuries.”

Your shoulders sag in relief, “Good. Thank fuck. Horner wouldn't be happy if golden boy got clocked.”

You pull yourself away and Max feels like he can breathe again. Then, you pivot on your heels.

“I’ll get you water.”

“No!”

You flinch and then turn to him slowly, your eyes growing wide and mouth falling slightly open. Max mirrors your surprise. You blink at him. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then, your forehead creases and you close your mouth.

“No need to yell at me,” you mumble but Max hears it loud and clear and now, his anger is spiking up again.

“Fine, go!”

You raise a brow at him, giving him a long look. A sigh escapes your lips. You leaned against the door, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why aren't you leaving?”

“You don't want me to,” you say in a know-it-all tone.

“I told you to go!”

“What you want and what you say are two different things. Don't worry, I’ll stay for as long as you need.”

Max doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he sits there in the silence with his thoughts and he can already feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He’s sure you noticed that he’s trying not to cry, not with you standing in front of him. Max always makes weird faces when he forces himself not to cry.

But then you turn your back on him, not to leave, but to give him the privacy he needs.

His tears fall silently.

The 2018 WDC was Lewis Hamilton, who garnered 408 points by the end of the year. Max finishes in fourth, only after the Ferrari drivers, Sebastian Vettel and Kimi Raikkonen. The world thinks it is not a bad result. Max is still young and he’s battling three WDCs for points. But Max thinks otherwise. Winning is number one. The rest is just losing. The only thing he knows is he's not good enough. Jos is thinking of the same thing, too. He knows it.

Everytime someone congratulates him, Max has to bite his tongue and fake a smile. He can only feel anger, for finishing up fourth. It's like people are constantly reminding him of what he failed to become—a champion.

Red Bull throws an after party at the hotel bar, like they do at every Grand Prix, but Max chose not to go so he can drown in his own bitterness in the privacy of his hotel room.

A series of knocks on the door disturbs his ongoing rampage. He is sure it is his manager who’s behind the door. Archie possesses a horrible habit of appearing when he is not needed and not appearing when he is.

“What?!”

“Open the door, sour loser.”

That's not Archie.

Max’s jaw tenses. He marches towards the door and aggressively throws it open. It is you who stands behind it, an unimpressed expression printed on your face. Why is Daniel’s manager here?

“Who are you calling a loser?”

You sigh, peering your head in to look at his hotel room. You wince.

“Horner is not gonna be happy with how you trashed everything,” you begin. Max may or may not have thrown things across the room, punched a table and the wall, and accidentally broke a hotel-owned wall decoration. “Did you punch the wall?”

He did. But he’s not going to tell you that. Max hopes you don’t notice the peeling skin on his knuckles—red and angry and bloody.

“Can you leave?” he asks through gritted teeth. He hears you sigh. You do that a lot when you’re around him. Why?

You rummage through your tote bag—cream-colored with peach prints, the same one you wear all year round—and pull out a cold can of beer and a face towel.

“Lemme see.”

You reach for Max’s hand, which causes him to jerk back, his hand going behind him. You pause.

“I told you to leave.”

“Okay,” you shrug. You grab his wrist before he could dodge and you thrust the cold canned beer and face towel into his hand.

“Put this on your knuckles,” your tone leaves no room for further arguments. “Danny’s worried ‘bout you.”

“If he’s so worried about me, he shouldn't be leaving me,” Max snaps.

“Have you tried listening to his reasons?”

“Of course, I did!” Max is offended that you even feel the need to ask him that.

You purse your lips, “Maybe you did listen, just never tried to understand. I’d do the same thing, too, if I was Danny. No need to stay in a place where we’re no longer wanted.”

Max opens his mouth to bark back. How dare you utter such nonsense? You only stayed here for a year! ? You will never understand the relationship between Daniel and Max. You will never know Daniel the same way Max knows him.

“He isn't going to win anywhere else. We are going to get a new engine and the car will be better than this year. We’ll be better than Ferrari or Mercedes. We’ll be champions.”

I’ll be a champion, but Max leaves it unsaid.

“I know, heard it from the mechanics,” you shrug. “Maybe Danny won't win in another machinery. Maybe he will. Who knows? But if the team wanted Danny then that’s better. A team that wants and prioritizes Danny will treat him better than any team could. And right now, that's what he needs, a good team that supports him well.”

“Red Bull prioritizes him, too.”

“You're lyin’ to yourself, you know it. You of all people should know how shitty it feels to be number two and Danny is number two right now.”

Silence.

Number two. Cursed number two.

“Are you gonna follow Daniel, too?”

Max will not be surprised if you do.

You shrug.

“Let's wait and see.”

Then, you turn around and walk away, the soft click of your beige flats echoing in the hotel hallway until it fades into silence, while Max stands there at the open door, a cold canned beer and a face towel in his hand.

He uses the face towel to wipe the blood on his knuckle and uses the cold canned beer to help soothe the pain of forming bruises. Max wishes you brought something to ease the pain in his heart, too.

2019

The 2019 pre-season begins with Christian Horner saying that Archie, Max’s incompetent manager last year, has submitted a resignation letter. That makes Max Verstappen officially manager-less this year.

“For this season, since Daniel is no longer with us—” The corner of Max’s lips curve downwards. “[Name] does not have anyone to manage anymore. I was thinking of moving her to the engineering team but she was too efficient at managing Daniel last year. Would you mind if she becomes your manager? I assume you're both friends?”

Friends is not the appropriate term to describe what they are. Sure, they talked because Daniel talked with Max frequently and wherever Daniel was, [Name] is closely behind. Daniel also has this habit of dragging everyone into the conversation so no one will be left out. They also engaged in banter a few times, when Daniel’s not around and Max and her do not bother tolerating each other for the sake of the Australian racer.

For the most part, when Daniel is present, [Name] become the nicest person to ever grace the room, even Mother Teresa is put to shame, but when Daniel’s gone, [Name]’s saintess act disappears and enters an asshole who'll argue with Max and annoy him to oblivion. She absolutely vexes him.

Also, she's a terrible suck up. Max hates suck ups.

“She’ll be good for you,” Horner adds.

“Do you believe so?”

“I know she can handle you.”

Max raises a single questioning brow, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nevertheless, Max has no choice. Horner believes she’ll be good for him and Max prefers having her as a manager than having none at all. God forbid he’ll be stuck manager-less. He can barely organize anything to save his life.

Even though they're not perfectly civil with each other, Max cannot deny the fact that [Name] is a good manager. It is like she possesses the uncanny ability of knowing everything Max needs without having him to voice it out and you do it without Max having to ask you. Which works greatly for Max. He really isn't the best at asking what he needs and people cannot mindread so he just sucks everything up until a simple thing gets blown out of proportion and he ends up blaming someone else for a problem that should have been solved had he voiced it out in the first place.

“PR sent me this,” you walk into the room early in the morning and Max groans because he’s still dealing with the hangover from last night so he cannot deal with your annoyingness right now. Despite hearing his dilemma, you put the iPad on the table and Max sees a picture of him drunk as fuck in a bar somewhere in Barcelona. He winces, looking away and not bothering to read the caption.

“They want you to clear shit up.”

“What's there to be cleared about?”

“People think we're datin’, darlin’. That's what you need to clear up.”

Max’s eyes go comically wide. Him and [Name]....dating? A blush graces Max’s cheeks.

You swipe down and show Max a video. The clip shows you walking out of the bar, warding off people with a passed out Max on your shoulder.

There are two things that immediately entered Max’s head at that moment:

Wow. You're really strong.

What the fuck? When did this happen?

“I’ll get you an Advil and soup. In the meantime,” you open a word document on your iPad. “You read this. Prepared a script ‘cuz you can’t improvise shit. We’ll film a press release vid when I come back, aight?”

You are gone before Max can even nod his head.

[userlando]

the love we left — carlos sainz jr

carlos sainz jr x fem!reader [8.8k] summary: you weren’t aware that your family’s worry had extended so far that they’d brought in the heavy artillery, it being carlos sainz of all people. the very same person who’d turned you into someone you didn’t recognise in the mirror anymore. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, very angsty, mentions of alcohol abuse and drug use, heartbreak, childhood friends, brother's best friend, public sex a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts, unfinished for a whole month so I went back and thought that it deserved a second chance. and voilà, here you have it! my very first carlos fic!! i'd love to hear your thoughts on this, because I love how this turned out. happy reading my lovelies!! x

The music was pounding, borderline rupturing your eardrum with good music that had you bobbing your head gently to the intimate beat. Everywhere you looked were bodies, moving in unison and hands roaming sweaty skin.

The bartender poured drinks like his life depended on it, and you watched him pour you another shot of tequila without a verbal request from you, shooting you a friendly grin and side stepping to help the next customer. You downed your shot, pulling a small face at the rancid taste as you made your way to the dance floor.

You didn’t know when you’d become this type of person. The person who’d spend their weekends in clubs, dancing the nights away until they got blisters on their feet and most likely woke up with their head in a toilet bowl. It had started out as something you and your girlfriends did, sneaking into clubs when you’d just turned legal, but then you’d started going alone because you found out that sitting in your apartment alone with your thoughts was way too much for you to handle.

You weren’t strong enough to deal with your emotions, preferring to find people and alcohol to distract you. It had worked out quite well for you and the multiple shots you’d taken over the span of two hours were starting to settle in your bones, buzzing right beneath your skin and giving you enough courage to seek out the dance floor.

Your body moved like it was an entity of its own, face tilted up to the ceiling and eyes closed as you felt the music. It rattled your bones and settled in your hips, the bottom of your heels sticking to the floor with every step you took.

I’ve never seen someone look so at home on a dance floor, he’d once said. The words came sneaking into your mind, unbidden. You could still remember the party, how your brother had bought the whole gang shots and you’d taken to the floor with laughter and happiness in your bellies. The DJ hadn’t been very happy when your brother and the man of the hour stepped up to the booth and completely took over with their non-existent experience of manning a DJ booth, but he’d relented when your brother had drunkenly explained that this man right here? He’s gonna be racing cars professionally, cabrón.

You were so far gone in your head, not even flinching at the pair of hands sliding over your waist and pulling you into a body. The person smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne, and it made something roll in your stomach at the mix of it in your nostrils but you couldn’t pull away. He was yet another distraction from your messed up life, and you welcomed it in all forms.

If you let yourself take a step back and think of exactly why you allowed a complete stranger to touch you the way they were, you’d come to the conclusion that the reason was because the feeling of hands on your hips reminded you of him. That one damned night that changed you, that made you into this.

He’d cornered you against the wall, claimed your lips in a bruising kiss that left you panting and his hands. Fuck. His hands had gripped your hips so tight that you’d had bruises for a whole week after that encounter.

You’d thought that finally, finally the both of you would be together after years of pining; Spending your awkward teenage years wishing that your brother’s best friend would look at you as a girl he could imagine kissing, and not as his best friend’s sister and a family friend. But then he’d acted like nothing happened, leaving you in the dust with little to no explanation as he went to kickstart his career.

Bile rose in your throat as your brain entered dangerous territory, and you blinked your eyes open against the lights. It was blurry, and it took a few moments for you to realise that there were tears welling up in your eyes. You’d stopped crying long ago, but sometimes the tears managed to sneak up on you when you were vulnerable and drunk.

The hands on your body were suddenly too much, and just as you were about to run, someone grabbed you and yanked a little harder than you had been prepared for. You stumbled, a wordless shout leaving your lips when you were pulled to the side of the dance floor, legs struggling to keep up. It took a second for you to realise that someone had grabbed you and was in the process of dragging you off the dance floor, away from the sweaty and dancing bodies, away from the man who you’d danced with. Your eyes were scanning your surroundings, feeling too drunk to think of a good plan to escape so you settled for the only thing that would hopefully get someone’s attention.

Before you could open your mouth and scream, a hand settled right on your lips and muffled the sound, your eyes flickering up to the man in front of you in the hopes that you could shoot him the most pleading look through your eyes.

You found yourself looking into round and dark eyes, so eerily familiar that it made your stomach violently turn and you took a stumbling step back like shock itself had shoved you, turning around to promptly retch into a nearby trash can. You heaved and clutched at the edge of the bin with your hands, moaning miserably until it finally stopped.

“Come on, let’s get you outside.” His voice sounded somewhere behind you, somehow overpowering the pulsing music.

His hands grabbed at you, helping you steady yourself and you didn’t bother to spare him another glance as you weakly shoved his hands away. He didn’t fight you, nor say anything when you walked straight out of the club, legs feeling incredibly weak and hands shaking; like you were two seconds away from breaking down.

And you were. What the fuck was he doing here? Why would he come back?

The chilly air was welcomed when you pushed the back door open, stumbling out into the alley and breathing in, in an effort to sober up. You ignored your trembling hands as you dug around in your purse for gum, anything to get rid of the sour taste in your mouth but you doubted it would do much to settle the nausea roiling in your stomach.

You heard a scuffle behind you, causing you to freeze because you’d been hoping that it was all just your drunken mind playing tricks on you; Because it happened sometimes. It had happened in your dreams, and once when you’d smoked a dodgy rolled up joint and hallucinated him being there. But no, he was standing there when you turned around, eyebrows pulled together in that annoying frown he always wore whenever he disapproved of something. His face was passive though, eyes not giving away anything and it was so infuriating.

He’d always played the older brother, acting like he had some kind of right to decide over you just because he was your brother’s friend. But his feelings had been anything but fraternal, he’d made that very clear when he decided to fuck you and leave.

You swallowed, feeling nauseous as you stood staring at him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, cursing yourself quietly when your voice shook. But you sounded stern, even in your drunken state and something about your tone made the man grit his teeth.

“I was worried—“

No. You didn’t need to hear the same old spiel again. He didn’t get to be worried about you, not anymore.

“What are you doing here, Carlos?” You cut him off, making him cringe at the way you said his name, sharply and angry - so differently from how you used to say it.

“Your family is worried about you.” He replied slowly.

The way he talked reminded you of someone who spoke carefully as to not scare away a skittish animal. It was very bizarre, the feeling so unreal that you had a hard time believing that your fucked up mind hadn’t decided to conjure him up on a random Sunday night. A few moments passed as you stared, and stared. He was truly there in the flesh.

You were aware that your mother had been worried, calling you every day to check up on you and you gave her the same old answer because what else was there to say?

You just weren’t aware that your family’s worry had extended so far that they’d brought in the heavy artillery, it being Carlos fucking Sainz of all people. The very same person who’d turned you into someone you didn’t recognise in the mirror anymore.

“I wanted to check up on you, see how you are doing.” He broke the drawn out silence, stuffing both of his hands into the pockets of his jacket like he didn’t know what else to do with them.

You remembered the odd habit he used to have, where he’d wring his hands whenever he felt out of place. It was such a minuscule detail that barely anyone took notice of, but you did. You always did.

Your eyes dropped to follow the movement, noting the casual jeans and the red hoodie under his black jacket. You quickly looked away, refusing to think about how good he looked.

“Well, now you have. So you can go.” You shot him a smile with no real joy behind it, turning around and walking down the alleyway in the direction of your apartment.

You knew that he wouldn’t leave you alone, and a big part of you wanted him to. But you couldn’t deny that one percent that wanted, needed him to stay.

The sounds of his footsteps let you know that he wasn’t far behind and you jumped like he’d burned you when you felt his fingertips touch your arm. Just a quick touch that lit your body on fire. Your eyes found his and you took a big step back, feeling your chest go tight at the slight downwards tilt of his lips, like he hadn’t expected you to react negatively.

“Nena, please. Let me walk you home, at least.” He said and your throat tightened up at the familiar pet name he’d called you since you were children and so incredibly naive.

“Don’t call me that.” You sniffled, bringing a hand up to rub at your nose. “You don’t get to show up here after two years and play the hero. I don’t need one, and I certainly don’t need you.”

“Lo sé.” He said, but he really didn’t know, did he?

You didn’t say a word, taking two steps before glaring down at your shoes. They had been a pain the whole night and now that the alcohol wasn’t doing its job of numbing the pain, your feet were starting to hurt from being pinched for the past few hours. You balanced yourself with a hand on the wall, slipping your heels off with a quiet grumble and shoving the offending footwear into the man’s chest. Carlos grunted at the unexpected force, hands coming up to catch the heels before they dropped and raising both eyebrows at you.

You weren’t looking at his face, but you could tell that he was baffled by your actions and it made you feel just a tad bit smug. If he was going to show up and insist on pestering you, he might as well make himself useful.

The concrete was uncomfortable to walk barefoot on, but it felt freeing and you took comfort in that feeling. Anything to not think about exactly who was walking a few steps behind you, feeling his eyes on you like hot coal on your skin.

“Do you live far from here?” He asked, tone cautious like he didn’t want to say the wrong things or set you off.

“No, why?” You turned your head to look over your shoulder and found him walking way closer to you than you thought. “Is the neighbourhood not up to your standards?”

You knew you were being petty now, playing unfair and it clearly annoyed Carlos as he looked away to avoid your cold gaze. It wasn’t his fault that he’d gone and got himself an even more lavish lifestyle where he raced cars for a living and got millions out of it. You’d always been proud of him, one of his biggest supporters before everything transpired and although you didn’t want to admit it out loud, you’d always keep tabs on him.

There weren’t enough fingers on your hands to count the amount of times you’d struggled to not pick up your phone and text him after he’d won a race, or if he did badly. The urge to comfort him and to be happy for him was still there, even years later.

“I live down the road.” You said, desperate to break the tension. “You can go.”

Carlos fell into step beside you, not sparing you a glance as he nodded.

“I know.” He said, but made no effort to leave you alone.

The two of you walked in relative silence, interjecting with small talk every now and then to fill the unbearable quiet that had blanketed over you. It took a few minutes for Carlos to relax, shoulders dropping like the tension was slowly seeping out of his body when he realised that you were beyond your anger now, speaking softly rather than the tone you’d carried a few minutes earlier. He didn’t like how you sounded though, mellow and short, like you’d given up on caring. It made something ugly swirl in his stomach to the point where he started to feel nauseous.

He was starting to spiral in his thoughts, trapped inside his head and just as he opened his mouth to speak, you beat him to it.

“How’s Ferrari treating you?” You asked and his head snapped to you. You weren’t looking at him, staring straight ahead with your mouth in a thin line. “You’ve been doing well lately.”

Carlos didn’t know if you were trying to act nonchalant and if you were, you were doing a piss poor job because he could see how you struggled to maintain a neutral expression on your face. He didn’t want to point it out though because his mind had finally caught up to your question, teetering along the edge of she’s keeping tabs on me.

“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse and he hurriedly cleared his throat. “It’s been good, felt like a dream when I signed the contract.”

You could still remember when he started karting, how he’d plead with his parents to buy him merchandise with the Ferrari logo poorly pressed onto the material. It had always been a dream of his, and something about him achieving it made you smile.

“I bet it was.” You said softly, glancing at Carlos to find him staring at you; eyes wide and searching, like he was taking in your smile. You hurried to look away, suddenly uncomfortable with the rush of old emotions storming back and taking residence in your entire being.

“How have you been?” He asked, genuine and curious.

You considered ignoring his question, not knowing how to answer him without making yourself out to be the most pathetic person to grace the earth. How could you tell him how you’d been in a downwards spiral for the past years? Could you even admit to the things you’d done, how you’d drank yourself to oblivion in hopes to numb yourself and worked dead end jobs to keep yourself afloat?

“I’ve been fine.” Your tone was flat, letting him know that you weren’t in the mood to delve deeper and thankfully he respected your wishes, keeping silent. “Well, here we are.”

You nodded up at the apartment complex you’d stopped in front of, suddenly feeling awkward as you found yourselves staring at each other with no idea how to proceed.

Carlos fidgeted as you stared at him, looking as anxious as you felt and it made you a little sad because you’d been better than this, once upon a time. You’d never known awkward silences or odd looks, but you’d somehow managed to go from close to whatever the fuck this was. Strangers. Ex-lovers. But could you even dub him as an ex-lover when you’d only slept with him once?

You took in the sharpness of his jaw, the stubble growing on it fitting him as well as you remembered but there was a certain edge to him that hadn’t existed last time you saw him. He looked fully grown up, like an adult who didn’t have time for children’s games and torrid love affairs.

Homesickness bloomed in your chest the further your mind delved into the past, suddenly wishing that things were different. Wishing that you’d swallowed your pride and picked up your phone.

Would he have answered? Did he change his number?

You swallowed excessive saliva in your mouth, trying not to grimace when it felt like swallowing gravel as your eyes traveled down his arm that he’d successfully managed to free from his pocket, hanging by his side. Your eyes latched onto the space between his thumb and pointer finger, where the tan skin was white and raised in a small bump. A healed scar that brought such a rush of memories that the words tumbled out of your mouth before you overthought them.

“Do you wanna come in?” You asked and Carlos couldn’t manage to hold his surprise in, eyebrows shooting up and jaw going a little slack. “Just… for a while.”

It probably sounded wrong, like you were inviting him with ulterior motives and you weren’t. Really. Just the thought of him touching you made bile rise in your throat and you realised that you weren’t ready. For any of this. But then again, would you ever be ready?

Whatever inner monologue you were running through in your head was halted when Carlos exhaled, glancing at the apartment building before nodding twice.

“Me encantaría.” He said, voice gentle.

You hurried to get your keys out of your purse, hands shaking a little and you didn’t know whether it was from your nerves being shot or the unhealthy amount of alcohol you’d consumed not even an hour ago. The door gave way when you turned the key and pushed it forcefully with your shoulder, stepping inside and flicking the light on.

It wasn’t much. A one bedroom apartment in a safe enough neighbourhood. Your brother had scowled and made his displeasure known when he’d helped you move in, even offering to find you a better place to rent out but you refused. Mostly because this was further away from your family and because it was yours. It had its defects and flaws, but you loved it from the moment you stepped foot inside.

Your brother and Carlos were like one person in two bodies, so you almost expected him to get his two cents in when he stepped in behind you and closed the door; Eyes roaming around and taking in the place. His face gave nothing away, as always, but then his brown eyes landed on you and his lips twitched.

“I like it.” He said, like you’d asked.

You gave a nod, secretly pleased but then you scolded yourself because why the fuck did you even care what he thought? Mierda.

“Glad to know you approve.” You muttered, annoyance pricking your heart and you didn’t know why. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll just be a minute.”

You left him to his own devices, standing in the middle of the living area looking a little lost while you sought out the comfort of your bedroom. The door closed with a click and you hurriedly changed your clothes to something more comfortable, snatching your makeup wipes where they’d fallen on the floor to wipe at your face. Your makeup was smudged, embarrassingly so but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when your heart was racing a mile a minute, thinking of the man on the other side of the door.

There was a moment of panic where you felt that shit, you shouldn’t have invited him in because this apartment was the only place he hadn’t touched, soiled with his fake promises and lies.

The memories of you in his bed came back with full force, thinking of how you’d woken up in the middle of the night with a smile on your face that got wiped as soon as you touched the cold side of his bed. He’d been nowhere to be found, and you’d contemplated staying and hoping that he’d come back in the morning but then you’d found his contract on the kitchen counter and the packed suitcases you’d somehow skimmed over when you were wrapped up in him.

It had felt like a gut punch and it still did as you stared at yourself in the mirror, swallowing against the nausea swirling up from your stomach to your throat. Your eyes welled with tears, and you gave yourself a moment to silently cry before you wiped angrily at your eyes, reaching for your toothbrush.

You thought back on your younger self, how she’d been so happy to have finally caught the eyes of her brother’s best friend. After years of pining and hoping that he’d see her as something more than his sister. How he’d once wiped a thumb under her eye when she’d first started experiencing with makeup in her teenage years, and he’d softly said that you don’t need so much of it. You’re beautiful, nena.

You deserved better, but you didn’t know what better was. Was it in the arms of a man or the bottom of a shot glass? It was a terrifying revelation, to realise how fucked up your life had become and it was all your fault.

Closure. That was what you needed, wasn’t it? But you didn’t want to move on from him, because despite it all, you still loved him.

Carlos had his back to you when you came out of your room, staring hard at the frames on the wall and you briefly wondered if he noticed how you’d deliberately left out the pictures with him.

“I remember this day.” He said quietly without looking at you. His finger pointed at a framed picture of you and your best friend, at an animal sanctuary with your hands stretched out, feeding a giraffe. “You were so happy to finally see giraffes, no one could pull you away from them.”

You wanted to smile at the memory, but it was hard when emotion was still clogging up your throat. You embraced yourself and sat down on your sofa, making a small hum of acknowledgement instead. Carlos turned around at that, sweeping his eyes across the small area before settling on you.

“Things change.” You said, because they really did.

“Sí.” He sighed, taking a seat in the ottoman. The seat furthest away from you, you noted. “I have that picture in my driver’s room. Not that one, but a similar one where you’re by yourself.”

You knew what picture he was referring to and it made you frown. Why would he confess to that?

“Why?” You asked, because that was the question, wasn’t it? Why, why, why?

Carlos inhaled through his nose, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Reminds me of how simple life used to be.” He said, like it answered the million questions in your head.

You didn’t ask him to elaborate, because you didn’t want to hear it. It must’ve been difficult to lead such a fast paced life, hopping from one country to the other and spending hours on driving cars. You’d imagine that it got a little too much at some point, rendering you homesick and yearning for a simpler life. But it didn’t work like that. Life rarely went the way you wanted it to.

“Why are you really here, Carlos?” You asked, the question so sudden that it cut through the false sense of security the both of you had managed to build.

He stared at you, eyes unmoving and it was so unnerving that you looked down in your lap, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

“I miss you.” He said, and you barely managed to hold in the scoff. Barely. “I miss us.”

“There was no us.” You interjected, spitting the word out like it was venom.

It might as well have been because Carlos hands curled into fists where they stayed in his lap, something he always did to reel his frustration in. Somehow, that angered you. You weren’t the one who walked out. You weren’t the one who left him behind.

“I kno—“

“No, you don’t!” You hissed, fury finally unfurling in your chest. “El problema es usted no sabe mi dolor o mi vacío. You just walk back into my life like I’m supposed to welcome you with open arms.”

Your breathing was picking up, chest heaving with the lack of air you were heaving in and it did nothing to stop the pricks of tears in your eyes as you raised your head to glare at him. Carlos looked taken aback, hands slack from the previous fists and his eyes looked… Sad. Regretful. It was so pitiful that you couldn’t help but laugh wetly and humourlessly, bringing a sleeved hand to wipe at your nose.

“I don’t know what to say.” He admitted after a painful silence.

You looked away, sniffling as tears started falling traitorously, tracking your cheeks and you hated yourself for it. The last thing you wanted to do in front of Carlos was cry, but it seemed like your heart disagreed.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” You said, quietly. “You’ve already had me and it wasn’t enough.”

“It was enough.” His voice was more forceful than you expected, making your stomach drop. “It is enough. The fault was never with you, it was me.”

“Cállate.” You shook your head. “Don’t do the it’s not you, it’s me bullshit.”

Carlos sucked his teeth in exasperation.

“You know I’ve always loved you, nena.” He said and it made you look up.

Love? For a moment, your heart stopped beating in your chest as hope flared in every crevice of your body. But you reeled it in just as quick, because if he called fucking and dumping love, then you were better off. You might’ve been damaged but you still recognised that you deserved better.

“I don’t know.” You set your jaw. “You have a funny way of showing it, if you do.”

He sat up in the ottoman, ignoring the groan of protest it gave under his weight. The both of you stared at each other for a second and it felt like the longest hour of your life.

“That night…” He began, trailing off like he wasn’t sure how to put his thoughts into words. “Nena, I didn’t do anything that I regretted, and I still don’t. The only thing I regret is leaving you the way I did because you deserve so much better.”

Something wet touched your throat and you hurried to wipe at it, realising that tears were still rolling down your face. It irked you.

Carlos sighed heavily, like the conversation was too much to bear and you agreed with that sentiment, for once.

“Then why did you? Leave?” Your voice was quiet, broken and you hated the sound of it.

Carlos pulled a small face like it pained him to hear you so broken down, and it sent a small zip of satisfaction through you. You wanted him to hurt like you’d hurt.

“Because I was scared.” He confessed. “I was scared about everything. Your brother, this new life that I got pushed into. It was too much and I was panicking that night. I just wanted to feel normal again.”

“So… you slept with me and left?” You laughed bitterly.

Carlos cut you a stern look that still, to this day, shut you right up. He’d always had the face for it, the round and wide dark eyes and the bushy eyebrows. He could look intimidating when he wanted to, not that he ever scared you but you knew when to shut up.

“No. I sought you out because you were the only person who feels safe, who feels like home.”

He said feels. Not felt. So did that mean you still felt like home to him? You weren’t sure what to think or believe, feeling nauseous and lost all of a sudden.

“I realise that I went about it completely wrong.” He continued when you still hadn’t spoken. “I have a lot of regrets in my life, nena. But leaving you in my bed is the biggest of them all.”

The confession felt heavy, riddled with underlying emotions and confessions that you weren’t really ready to confront nor unpack. It was exhausting, all this new information invading your every sense and Carlos must’ve sensed how overwhelmed you’d suddenly become, because he palmed the tops of his thighs and sucked his teeth.

“Do you wanna get out for a bit?” He asked and you raised your eyebrows in slight bewilderment.

“It’s two in the morning.” You replied slowly and that prompted a smile from Carlos.

The sight of it was so unexpected and beautiful that it felt like a sucker punch, making you look away before you started staring.

“That never stopped you before.”

Before. Before when you’d sneak out of the house with your girlfriends to meet up with other friends and go to the most obscure parties. And Carlos would always be the one to catch you in the act, whenever he stayed over the house. He’d never berate or rat you out, just smirk and tell you to stay safe. To call if you ever needed him.

“Fine.” You relented, standing up and making your way over to the hallway. “Do you have a car?”

“Yeah, I parked it not too far from here.” He regarded you silently when you reached for your shoes, slipping them on. “Are you going to go out like that?”

It didn’t sound judgemental, only curious and that’s why you shot him an amused stare instead of picking up a fight out of annoyance.

“Yes.” You said, short and sweet.

He gave you a long stare before nodding, and that was that.

Fifteen minutes later and you were sitting in the passenger seat of a Ferrari, speeding down the deserted highway. There was no clear destination in either of your minds, but you cracked open the window and let the wind whip your hair, closing your eyes for a moment.

The radio was playing quietly in the background, almost drowned out by the roar of the engine, but it was comforting all the same.

Carlos hadn’t said a word since he started the car, only hitting you with a do you want seat warmers on? to which you’d shook your head. But he was good company, silent and comforting, just like he used to be.

“I love this song.” You said softly when the voices on the radio drifted off, the familiar tunes of Lovers Rock filling the relative silence.

Carlos didn’t say anything, just reached a hand out to turn the sound up a few bars, shooting you a glance that you felt in your core. It was amazing how he still made you feel like that, like someone had reached down your throat and fisted your heart violently. It was a sickening feeling, one that was so addicting and dangerous but you still yearned for it.

You were still mad at him, but you could also see a clearer picture now that he’d given you his side of the story and apologised. It wasn’t that you forgave him - that would take time - but you weren’t holding a grudge as strong like before.

It was hard though, to not acknowledge how he still made you feel like the wide eyed teenage girl who’d once saw the stars and moon in his dark eyes, who’d feel sick with love and admiration for him.

Because love can burn like a cigarette,

and leave you alone with nothing.

There was an irony to the lyrics, one that seemed to fit your current life like a glove. Carlos cleared his throat.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, breaking the silence.

Your stomach still felt unsettled from the drinks you’d had and from him showing up and upending your life, so you shook your head in the negative and turned your head to look at him.

“No, thank you.” You whispered.

Carlos didn’t take his eyes off the road and you took the chance to look at him, taking in the sharpness of his jaw and his strong nose. His hair was longer than last time you saw him, floppy and soft without any product in it and it should’ve annoyed you how beautiful he looked. Like something straight out of a romance movie.

There were a slight shadow under his eyes though, looking a lot like a person who carried the weight of the world on their shoulders and you fisted your hands in your lap to avoid reaching out to swipe a thumb over the bags of his eyes. You’d been so swept up in your anger that you’d failed to realise that Carlos was probably hurting just as much, he just couldn’t show it or self-destruct.

“Estás mirando, nena.” His voice, paired with the pull of his mouth made you look away.

Warmth spread all over your body when you realised that you’d been caught staring, for far too long to play it off.

“Where are we going?” You asked, in desperate need to change the subject and Carlos noticed it, because his nose flared as he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth; Like he was trying to hold his smile off.

“La playa.” He said.

The air had chilled considerably when you stepped out of the car, the wind whipping your bare legs and you pulled your sweater over your hands to find some comforting warmth as you gazed out over the beach.

It was dark, completely deserted even by the boardwalk and it was perfect for you, not in the mood to run into anyone who might know the man who was currently walking a few steps behind you.

The sand found its way into your shoes but you paid it little to no mind as you hurried your steps to the shoreline, far enough that the water wouldn't reach you, but close enough to hear the ominuous sounds of crashing waves.

"It's cold." Carlos said and you turned around, taking in the scrunch of his nose as he glanced around.

"Es perfecto." You said, waiting until Carlos looked over at you to give him a tentative smile. There was something in his face that changed at the sight of your open and vulnerable expression, but you didn't stop to think too hard on it.

Instead, you reached for your oversized sweater and pulled it clean off your head, ignoring Carlos' sounds of mortified and confused protest. His voice climbed in octaves when you kicked your shorts off, toeing your shoes away before you began walking backwards toward the ocean.

"Ay, what are you doing?" He asked, taking a step forward like he wanted to stop you. "You're gonna get sick!"

You ignored him, only breaking eye contact when the current carried up the shore, frothy water licking your calves and it was so cold that you felt it in your entire being. A sharp gasp left your lips, but you were determined to get a dip in just to clear your head.

It had been a long night, and getting sick was the last thing on your mind as water enveloped you.

Carlos watched silently, though his heart was pounding against his ribcage whenever he lost sight of you for a mere second. You'd always emerge from the water, smiling like you were in your own world and that's probably what stopped him from stalking right over and yank you out of the bed of water.

You looked so free, the complete opposite of how you'd looked the entire night and he selfishly didn't want that look on your face to diminish. Granted, you weren't smiling out of joy nor were you directing it at him, but the burden on your shoulders looked a little lighter when you finally started walking out of the water.

He tried hard not to stare at your body, the skimpy lingerie doing absolutely nothing to hide the most private parts of you. Carlos didn't know if he was just imagining things, but you'd truly grown into yourself since he last saw you.

You were shivering when you reached him, arms embracing your upper body like they were going to provide the warmth you needed to not send yourself into shock. He shrugged his jacket off without thinking when you hurriedly redressed in your sweater, water still dripping down your hair and body.

Carlos was ever the worrier, sitting you down on the sand and draping his jacket around your shoulder. You didn't protest, happily accepting it with a stuttered thank you that had his chest squeezing.

"You've always been good at surprising me." Carlos said when a few minutes had passed. He smiled when you gazed at him, trying not to react when you shifted and accidentally bumped your thigh against his.

You pulled away slightly, looking out into the darkness.

"How long are you staying?" You asked, quietly and slowly like you weren't sure if you wanted to hear the answer.

You knew realistically that he couldn't stay, he wouldn't. Carlos had a whole other life to live and a job to tend to, but you'd foolishly believed that maybe he'd stick around.

Carlos had a crease between his eyebrows that told you otherwise though, and you knew what was coming out of his mouth before he even said the words.

"Two days." He replied quietly, the sound almost getting swallowed up by the rushing waves in the distance. "I'm supposed to be in Italy by now but I wanted to see you."

You smiled despite yourself, a small graze of the lips that had Carlos inhale through his nose.

"I'm glad you came." You confessed out loud, the very same words you'd been scared to utter for the past hour.

Now they were out in the open, and Carlos was staring at the side of your head like he'd maybe heard wrong.

"Me too." He said softly, watching you shift as a breeze blew by.

Your thigh grazed his and this time, you didn't move away, letting the warmth of your flesh seep through his jeans.

"I'm sorry for everything." Carlos pulled a leg up to rest his cheek on the knee, head turned towards you. "I wish I could take it all back."

"I know." You said quietly.

You looked at each other in silence and you took in the slope of his nose and the tanned skin. The apples of his cheeks were a little sunburnt, lips dry but oh so full and inviting. You stared at them, thinking back to how they'd tasted that one fateful night.

Carlos cheeks went a little pink at your scrutiny and you quickly looked away, feeling yourself flush warmth all over at being caught staring so obviously.

"Come with me." He said and you blinked, confusion marring your face when you turned back to look at him. "To Italy. Just to get away for a bit. You can meet my friends and watch me race."

You hesitated, feeling lost all of a sudden because you weren't sure if you were ready for it yet. But a small part of you wanted to go with him, to let go of this life of destruction you'd managed to envelop yourself in.

Carlos hesitantly touched your hand that you had in your lap, fingertips against the palm of your hand and that one small touch was so electrifying that you filled your belly with air, holding your breath until it hurt your chest before exhaling.

"Charles has a girlfriend who I think you'd get along with well. She’s very much like you." He continued, sounding an awful lot like a salesman and it made you smile. “You’d love her, I think.”

You didn't know who Charles was, but the name rang a bell and you took a shot in the dark that it was his teammate.

"I probably would." You replied slowly and Carlos pinched eyebrows relaxed a tad bit when you finally broke your silence, like your silence had built some anxiety. "Can I think on it? I just —"

"Yes." He interrupted you, like he completely understood. "You don't have to explain yourself. I'll be around for two more days so you can take your time."

You thought about your brother, wondering if he knew what had spiralled that night before Carlos left to start his career. Did he have a hunch or did Carlos tell him? All you really knew was that your brother had flown out plenty of times to attend races, so you knew that they were still in contact, and by the looks of it, good friends. He’d invited you along the first few times, only stopping when your polite no’s had turned into snapping.

“What are you thinking about?” Carlos voice brought you out of your thoughts and you realised he’d been looking at your face the entire time, trying to read your thoughts when your eyebrows furrowed.

“Does he know?” You asked and Carlos looked confused for exactly two seconds before his eyebrows smoothed out, a humourless smile twitching his lip as he gazed out at the ocean in front of you.

He pulled up both legs, resting his forearms on his knees and clutching his hands together.

“Yes.” He said and your stomach dropped a little. “He came to a race in Miami a year ago and I felt… guilty. He was talking about how you should come to a race sometime and how concerned he was for you.”

Your eyebrows jumped. Your brother knew. How much did he know? He hadn’t even brought it up with you, not once.

“I told him.” He let out a laugh with no real joy behind it. “He punched me, called me a motherfucker and left.”

Your mouth gaped open as you took in the new information, eyebrows raised so high that you were scared they’d get stuck in your hairline but you couldn’t bring yourself to relax.

You had never really been that close to your brother, close enough to spend some time in the same circle of friends whenever it was called for but you weren’t sit down and talk about your feelings close. It shouldn’t have surprised you that he hadn’t reached out to you and spoke to you about how you’d fucked his best friend, but he hadn’t treated you any different the past year. He still called and texted to check on you, expressing his worry whenever you gave him the old I’m fine reply. Now you knew why he’d been so gentle with you.

“I deserved it.” Carlos said after a stretch of silence, looking at you.

It made you sad for him then, and a little ashamed of yourself that you’d never stopped to consider how Carlos had felt in all of this. You’d always thought that he ran because he couldn’t deal with turning you down gently, but looking at him now? He was clearly struggling as well.

“You didn’t.” You said and Carlos pulled a face like he didn’t believe you. “I’m just a little horrified that my brother knows I slept with his best friend.”

The both of you smiled at each other.

“It’s not his business, anyway.” Carlos said, leaning his weight to one side so he could bump his shoulder against yours. “Just you and me, ¿verdad?”

“Sí.” You smiled like the words he was saying didn’t turn your stomach inside out.

Carlos looked straight ahead, and you scooted closer to him with a shiver, still cold and wet. He didn’t even hesitate to put his arm around you when your sides pressed together, leaning your head against his shoulder and basking in his warmth when a breeze blew by.

Your stomach was doing somersaults, twisting with nerves and a sense of giddiness and you really hoped that he couldn’t hear the harsh pound of your heart against your rib cage when he turned his head to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Te amo, nena.” He whispered, faint and intimate but it still felt like he’d reached into your bones and rattled them with a violent shake.

Hearing the quiet love confession come from his mouth stunned you, hope blooming in your chest as you picked your head up to take a look at his face. He was close, so close, and the inviting pout of his lips made it all the more difficult to resist pressing your lips against them.

Carlos inhaled sharply through his nose when you grazed your lips against his, a whisper of a touch that electrified you to the core. The arm around you tightened, pressing you closer as your noses brushed.

“Kiss me.” You whispered and Carlos did exactly that.

The press of his lips made you warm all over, hands coming up to clutch his hoodie when he pried your lips open; the touch of tongues making you push harder. It felt a lot like coming home, like universe had aligned itself, and you basked in the feeling of it all.

“Nena.” Carlos murmured when the kiss reached its end, lips touching yours as he spoke. He pushed his forehead to yours, eyelashes laying so pretty on the tops of his cheeks as he closed his eyelids. “I want you, I’ve wanted you for years. But maybe we should take things slow.”

You nodded, though you couldn’t resist stealing another kiss that he was all too eager to respond to. A groan rumbled in his chest when you placed both hands on his wide shoulders, letting him guide you to lay down on the sand.

It wasn’t as dark as it had been when you first arrived, but the faint light cast an almost beautiful shadow to his face as he hovered above you. His eyes were dark pools, staring into yours while his hand brushed wet strands of hair from your face. He crooked them behind your ear, cupping your cheek to bring you up for another kiss that had you whimpering for more.

Take things slow. Wasn’t two years enough? How much longer were you supposed to wait?

Carlos must’ve shared that sentiment, trailing his lips down your jaw to your throat in sucking kisses. He licked your skin, tongue warm against your flesh as he tasted the saltwater and you squirmed at the touch.

“Need you, Carlos.” You murmured when he pulled away.

He laughed breathlessly like he couldn’t believe the words you were saying, a hand travelling down your body with his eyes fastened on yours. You didn’t even dare to blink, staring at him until his hand found its way into your shorts and underwear, brushing his finger against your clit. Your eyelids fluttered shut, mouth going slack when he swiped his fingers through the mess of wet, bringing them back to circle your clit.

You grabbed him with terse hands, gasping and moaning while he brought you to a quick climax. It was sudden and fast, absolutely earth shattering when you climbed up to the edge and toppled right over. Carlos silenced your moans with his mouth, not kissing, just slotted over yours as he stole your breath and sounds.

“You sound beautiful, nena.” He murmured, fingertip nudging your sensitive clit just to see the way your mouth dropped open in a shivered gasp. “Missed that look on your face.”

“Carlos.” Your voice sounded pleading, hand sliding to the back of his head to bury your fingers in his hair. “Want you right now. Please.”

He let out a shuddered breath, pulling his hand out of your shorts to unbutton his jeans and zip them down far enough to fish himself out. You struggled to not stare down between the two of you as you kicked your shorts and panties off, marvelling in the sounds he made as he spit in his hand and jacked himself off; slicking himself up generously.

There was a moment where you looked at each other, unblinking and silent. His cock slid against you, slicking himself up further before his head caught where you were clenching in anticipation. It was stupid and reckless, to not use protection and to even do it so publicly but you needed him.

You couldn’t wait for another hour, and neither could he, judging by the way he slid inside with a gasped breath. Your eyes clenched shut as the intrusion locked your body up, finding comfort in his hands as he brushed your face and pressed kisses to it. You relaxed, feeling the girth of him stretching you out the further he pushed inside.

It had been a while since someone had stretched you to your limits like he currently was, but you were eager to feel every inch of him and you made it clear by wrapping your arms around him, spreading your legs further like an invitation.

Carlos let out a breathless laugh, pushing his lips against yours in a loving kiss and you lost yourself in it as he began thrusting. He hit you deep, kissed your spot with the head of his cock and the coarse hair of his groin rubbed deliciously against your clit.

It wasn’t romantic, not something you’d see in movies, but it was intimate and perfect for you. He conveyed so much in the movement of his hips, eyes stuck on you like he didn’t dare to look away in fear of missing every twitch and movement of your face.

You got a hand between the two of you, moaning and gasping when your second orgasm crept up on you. It made your head spin, how fast you’d been brought to the edge yet again and you clenched around him, screaming out your climax. Carlos wasn’t far behind, all kinds of curses streaming from his lips as he pulled out and came on your lower abdomen.

The stark contrast of his warmth against your cool skin made you shiver, still struggling to come down from your high. Carlos let out a drawn out groan that screamed of sudden exhaustion, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the come off your skin before he dropped down; Half on top of you and half on the sand.

“Where are you staying?” You asked, voice a little raspy from how dry your throat was.

“My parents house.” He replied, eyes taking in the slope of your nose and the pout of your bitten raw lips.

You turned your head to smile at him, eyes fluttering as he pushed forward to kiss your mouth.

“You can stay with me.” Your voice was timid, a little shy and it made Carlos smile.

“Bueno.”

Carlos’ hand found your collarbone, stroking the pads of his fingers against the raised bone. His eyes caught on the glimmering necklace around your throat, heart stopping for a split second when the pendant caught the light and he realised what he was looking at.

The number 55 was staring up at him, so small but so glaringly obvious that he wondered how he’d failed to notice it.

You must’ve sensed his body language shift, eyes flicking over his face where it remained unmoving.

“I wanted to keep you close to my heart.” You whispered and it was like gospel to Carlos’ ears. “I never stopped loving you.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, face softening even more.

“Neither did I.”

He thought of the years he’d lived through without you, thinking of the missed time and opportunity he could’ve had with you if he had just picked up the phone. But it didn’t matter now.

Carlos gazed at your face, at the stars reflected in your eyes, and made a vow to himself to never let you slip away again.

[garfunklefield]

Boyfriends Brother (200 follower special)

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!reader/Suguru Geto Warnings: infidelity, shower sex, p in v sex, creampie, exhibitionism, masturbation, semi public masturbation [someones in the room and they're unaware], finger sucking, standing up sex, Geto is hung its canon, tattooed!Suguru Geto, perverted!Suguru Geto Word count: 3129 DESC: You like the thrill of almost getting caught with your boyfriends brother

This is what won the poll and I took some very creative liberties when writing :3

You were always attracted to Suguru. In some weird way, you found him more attractive than his brother, the brother you were dating. You met your boyfriend a few months prior in a bar, nothing special. The two of you hit it off and began to date. But he never made you feel anything like this. Sure, he was conventionally attractive, but you never lusted after him. You never felt a surge pulsate between your thighs when he was near, and you sure as hell never got wet off of his voice alone. Not to mention, your boyfriend was kind of a dick. He drank a lot, looked at other women a lot, and objectified you a lot. Yeah sure, you hit it off, but you felt trapped after the five-month mark. You didn’t have any desire to stay with him and he couldn’t care less, you were his personal maid and fuck toy. Suguru was different than him. 

You first met him at a party your boyfriend forced you to go to. He smacked your ass and crudely announced, “This is the hot piece of ass I was telling you about, Guru!” Your boyfriend's brother stared at him blankly for a moment, before turning his eyes to you. They were naturally sultry and narrowed to take in your form. He took in your uncomfortable smile and tensed shoulders, and he sighed. A hand ran up to mess with his hair, undoing it from its bun. You watched as his neck tattoo and ear gauges got covered by his thick black hair, cascading onto his shoulders in a choppy fashion. 

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Suguru extended his hand and took yours without hesitation. You saw instantly how much bigger he was than you. His height towered over your frame and your hand was engulfed by his own. Even though he was practically huge, he shook your hand delicately. As if you’d break with one rough touch. 

Something took over your body and you turned to your boyfriend, to look at him with innocent eyes, “Baby, can you get me a soda?” You’d never been the devious type or even the type to consider cheating. But something new crossed your mind. You didn’t think about sleeping with him like that, although you did note how utterly ethereal he was. He was perfect, down to every mole or the crook in his nose. 

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes in a way you knew wasn’t teasing and walked off, to find the bar top to get you two a drink. Once he was gone you felt yourself relax, your shoulders drooping and a breath escaping your lips. You went to apologize for his behavior, but at the same time you spoke so did Suguru, stating the same thing. He paused mid-way and blinked once, “...Why are you sorry? He’s my brother, I should be apologizing for his upbringing… lack thereof.” The raven-haired male crossed his arms in an annoyed way that made you let out a faint giggle. He was right, your boyfriend had horrible manners. At first, it too made you laugh, but then it became an embarrassing pain. Your heart thumped loudly against your chest and made your ribs tighten, not to mention you felt that familiar pang in your legs. Over a joke? Really?? Well, he was hot, and he acknowledged your boyfriend's abhorrent behavior. That was truly hard to find for you. Someone who was on your side. Someone who saw you. God, it was hot. You were never the cheating type, always becoming toxically loyal to your partners. But there was something about him. You found yourself attracted to him. That’s when your small crush began on Suguru. 

Obviously, you started to see him more and more. It was like your boyfriend had been hiding his more attractive brother from you for the first few weeks, but now you couldn’t get rid of him. Over the next few weeks, he frequented your boyfriend's apartment, and then your shared apartment when you moved in. He’d always make small talk with you, and more importantly, make you feel seen. It wasn’t just one thing to feel attracted to him, you actually liked being around him. He was funny and sensitive; All of it was making your crush ten times worse. The crush was originally mainly and only surface level, but soon you imagined what it would be like to wake up with him next to you instead of your boyfriend. You imagined running your hands through his hair and wishing him a good morning. Kissing his eyelids until he groggily looked at you, before smiling. Your fantasies would always start wholesome, then turn dirty within seconds. You wanted him to worship your body and fuck you senseless, making you stand as you took his big, filthy, cock. He had to be large, there was no way he wasn’t. Just from the sheer size of his body, you knew he was packing. You wanted him to C-hook your mouth with his index finger, slamming down your throat and making you choke on it as you came. 

You blinked a few times and took yourself out of the vivid fantasy, making your underwear stick to your folds. Suguru was at your apartment, playing video games with his brother. They sat at the foot of the bed while you watched from your desk, while you were supposed to be doing homework. You couldn’t focus, looking at Suguru’s chiseled back and his mop of hair. They were in front of you, so they didn’t see your hand snake down the front of your shorts, which were just your boyfriend's grey boxers. Your fingers brushed against your clothed clit, against your sopping panties. You inhaled quietly and bit back a moan at the sensitive sensation. You had never been this bad before, to fuck yourself to Suguru with him in the same room as you. Normally, it would be late at night or in the shower. But now … you felt so desperate to get off. You held the back of your hand to your mouth and bit down, to stop small noises from escaping as you rubbed your pussy. 

“Goal!” Your boyfriend shouted, grinning at his brother, “Bet you can’t beat that, Guru!” Suguru went to speak, turning his head, but his eyes locked with yours. Just as you came, seeing your eyes flutter to the back of your head. He stared for a moment before shoving his brother's head and replying with a standard response you didn’t hear. You were too busy, filling with dread. He just saw you fuck yourself and he just saw you orgasm. What’s worse, is he saw you weren’t staring at your boyfriend either. You were staring at your boyfriend's brother. It was over, you were going to be outed as the perverted soul you truly were. No one had ever made you debate stealing their clothes and touching yourself to the smell of them. Not even your boyfriend.

Suguru got up and cleared his throat, “Is it okay if I shower? I’m feeling a bit greasy,” he looked over at you and then winked. He … winked. You felt your heart squeeze and your hand pulled itself out from your underwear, two fingers glistening from your wetness in the low light. Your boyfriend nodded and his brother walked back to the door, passing by you. He leaned over your frame and grabbed your hand by the wrist, letting his fingers engulf it. He smelled purely of nice cologne; Mixing with the air, it made you feel hazy. Maybe he wasn’t exactly as straight-laced as you had anticipated. And maybe when he saw your display he realized he had a chance. That’s what you hoped for. 

Your legs slowly clenched together, squeezing as he brought your hand up to his mouth. “Spread them, pretty girl,” he mumbled, eyeing your slicked fingers with a lustrous stare. You bit back a whimper and spread your fingers apart. Suguru brought your wet middle finger into his mouth and inserted it, closing his lips around your knuckle. He started sucking, closing his eyes, and groaning softly at the taste. You could see he was already hard and you could see him have to restrain himself from taking you then right there. It turned you on, for the fact your boyfriend was right in front of you two none the wiser. All he knew was you were doing homework and his brother was showering. But you weren’t doing your homework and Suguru wasn’t showering. He was busy licking up and down your middle finger, drinking up your holy liquids like it was a prayer. He finally pulled back, leaving a trail of saliva from the bottom of his lip to your fingertip. He let go of your wrist and used that hand to signal you to follow him silently, making sure your boyfriend didn’t notice. 

You stood up instantly, following him quietly. At that moment, you cut any romantic ties you had with your boyfriend. You felt nothing but contempt for him, keeping you trapped in a relationship based on the promises he always took back. At that moment, you were completely and utterly done. You didn’t need your boyfriend anymore when you had a real man who could ravish and please you, romantically and sexually. The two of you made the quick walk to the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, letting the door faintly close behind the both of you. In seconds his hands were on your hips, tracing them lightly with his fingers. Even his dirty touches were polite as if he didn’t want to break you.

“Fuck… I’ve wanted this so bad,” Suguru practically moaned, “He doesn’t deserve you. He can’t please you like I can,” his hands slowly trailed down until they grazed your ass. His large palms smoothed your skin and then squeezed, just to hear you gasp and feel you shudder.

“Suguru…” You whined against his touch, pouting your bottom lip when he kept squeezing your ass cheeks, “This is so.. Wr-” You couldn’t continue your sentence, as his lips found yours and pulled you into a heated kiss. The air felt so heavy and thick between the two of you, with your bodies pressed together in pure harmony. His mouth sucked and cradled yours, making you try your hardest to keep up. Suguru was such a skilled kisser, he was making it a bit hard. You whimpered into the kiss and pressed your hands onto his back, digging your nails into his shirt.

“Fuck right or wrong,” he breathed against your open mouth, as you attempted to find his own again, “No one deserves you. Not him,” his lips brushed against your temples, “Not even me…” With that, he was kissing you again, hungrier. He needed you so badly it was causing him physical pain. His hands were now trailing inside your shirt, undoing your bra. He needed you out of these useless clothes and he needed that now. Suguru was straining against his tight pants to just be inside of you, for any kind of release. Fuck… your mouth would’ve felt so good if he just let your plush lips wrap around his cock. 

“Hey, Guru??” You both heard your boyfriend shout. As quickly as Suguru was kissing and holding you, he was pushing you into the shower and closing the curtain. You fell against the tile wall and hissed at the sensation, pushing yourself up. You heard the door open and your boyfriend asked, “Yo, where’s the gf? I wanted a sandwich.”

“I think she said one of her friends invited her out. She’ll be back later,” Suguru lied, straight-faced and through his teeth. How could he do that to his brother and not look the littlest bit guilty? I mean, he was a piece of shit so he didn’t feel too bad. But this was still wrong. Oh so wrong.

“Oh,” you heard him reply a bit deflated, “Do you mind if I shave then? I was growing out the beard but I don’t think it’s a look.” You heard Suguru reply with a hearty laugh and then the door closed. You looked down at your clothes and began to strip, pushing them to the side of the shower. You could always pick them up later and put them in the washing machine, he’d never know. First, came your shirt and bra, then your shorts and panties. You heard a bit of shuffling behind the curtain and the raven-haired male stepped into the shower, avoiding opening the curtain too much. He gave you a sly grin and began to take off his own clothes. It was hot, seeing him remove his shirt and looking at the ink lining his skin. Dragons, snakes, spiders, webs, anything you could think of he probably had on his chest and arms. You couldn’t resist and one of your hands touched the snake in the shape of a heart along his bicep. His skin was so silky and smooth, you could’ve cum then and there. He looked over at you with a different expression, almost a deer in headlights. A small blush spread from his temples down to the apples of his cheeks, and a genuine smile appeared on his mouth. The one where his eyes crinkled and closed. 

“You know, I think she’s gonna leave you if you only call her the gf instead of her name,” Suguru called out, tossing his clothes over the curtain. Without giving his brother a chance to respond, he turned on the water to one of the hottest settings. You let out a faint gasp and felt as he pushed you up against the wall, pressing his mouth to yours. You didn’t even get a chance to look at his dick! You bit back a loud moan and kissed him back, as water pelted both of your fronts. Two burly hands pressed your wrists on either side of your head, forcing you to endure the passion from his mouth. It turned you on in a way that felt like a fire was brewing inside of your core, burning and building, waiting for more stimulation. His hands would feel better than your own and you both knew it. Just like how your mouth could satiate his own burning craving for a release.

“Yeah, right,” you could almost hear your boyfriend roll his eyes. But his voice was fading in and out of your hearing, half from the shower water and half from his brother sucking against your bottom lip. “She couldn’t leave me if she tried. My dicks too good.” Speak of the devil, you felt Suguru’s cock rub against your thigh. You didn’t take the time to even check if it was okay, pulling away and putting your hand against his cock, positioning it at your entrance. He watched you with half-lidded eyes, before biting his bottom lip. You felt so warm and wet, basically being asked to be defiled. 

“Yeah, you fuck her soooo good,” Suguru replied as he thrust into your pussy, biting back a groan and shuddering at the sensation of you clenching around him. He was big and he didn’t give you time to adjust as he began to fuck you, deep and slow, making sure to press his balls against your cunt, pulling out, then slamming back in. You gasped and pushed your head back against the tile, rocking your hips to the sensation. “I wonder if she’d like me more,” he spoke as if he wasn’t balls deep in your wetness. Suguru grabbed one of your legs and slowly began to lift it up to his hip, wrapping it around him. It was all to get the better angle to fuck you even deeper. You deserved the best he could ever give.

“Wh… why do you say that?” You heard your boyfriend sound a bit … jealous as he continued, “She’s with me for a reason, dude.” You went to open your mouth to whisper something to the man fucking you dumb, but his tip touched your heavenly spot. He was hitting every curve and ridge correctly, fucking you like a princess. To him, you deserved the best fucking he could give, even if he was forced to be quiet. He didn’t want you to be quiet at all, he wanted you to cry as you came every time. But these circumstances were a bit strange, even though the thrill turned you on. You could be caught at any second and completely outed as a perverted cheating creep, but you hadn’t been caught yet. That’s what made your stomach tingle every time he fucked his leaking cock into you.

“Just a hunch,” Suguru mumbled, letting a groan slip out. You arched your back as you felt his penis rub against you in a way you fucking loved, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge. He used his free hand to stick his fingers in your mouth, making you choke on how long and large they were. You grinned and sucked on them as if your climax depended on it, which it felt as though it did. You were so close and this was so hot, and he wasn’t stopping his thrusts for anything. He was just so hot. Nothing had ever turned you on this much in your life. Typically the only thing that felt good was the orgasm with your boyfriend, but everything felt good with Geto. Your mouth hung open and your tongue writhed around his fingers, whimpering as you finally came. You were too loud at that point, but you both didn’t care. He fucked your wetness right back into your battered cunt, making you feel all the more sensitive as you road your high and clenched your walls around his cock. You heard some rustling behind you and then felt his thrusts reach their peak, pumping ropes of cum into your abused pussy. Suguru let out a moan as he did so, again being way too loud. He didn’t stop, thrusting again and cumming even more. 

You were so sensitive you were about to orgasm again, but you paused. Maybe he was too loud, or the smell of your sex was overpowering, but you saw the shower curtain shift. One of your hands went to tap Suguru but another orgasm took hold of you and instead of words coming out, a loud moan did. Shit. Suguru froze and heard the curtain fully open behind him and you both felt the shower stop. It was silent as you stared face to face with your now ex-boyfriend. 

“I can ex-” You began but he cut you off.

“...Get out.”

[undercoverpena]

keep you close.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader summary: he's pretty sure he's in love with you. not that he'll admit it, acknowledge it. an: angst with fluff, mentions of injury, war-stuff, cheeky stabbings, just cod things. no smut. just feelings. cause I wanted flangst. word count: 3.6k

masterlist for ghost.

Ghost doesn’t think when his eyes land on you. 

He should. 

He knows he should. 

But he fires his gun all the same, not content with the sound each body makes when they fall to the floor. He wants them to fall harder, almost land and shatter. 

He wants them to hurt.

It’s all he thinks as he slides the metal edge along the throat of the last one. The one who is hissing at him in a language he doesn’t even care to translate. 

Ghost cares about one thing, and one thing only: getting that radio message out of his head. 

It’s an ambush. Do not proceed. Get out—

It has been on a loop since he heard it.

Your radio message. 

The one which made Soap shout, calling for you as the static and crackle came back. The sound which made his blood run cold. The one which made him charge across the base grab the person who confirmed the intel by the shoulder, and made them piss themselves. Accidentally, of course.

It had been Soap who suggested sweeping the place, but it hadn’t been far from his mind.

They found your radio stood on, crushed—likely by your own boot. You’d always been thorough—you also usually wiggled your way out of these situations, 

It’s how you’d earned the moniker Mouse to begin with. 

His eyes caught the dried blood, hoping it didn’t belong to you as his flashlight followed its path until his jaw locked, his muscles tensing. 

Your scrunchie. 

That ridiculous one you bought months ago. The one which you’d found hilarious, and he had found anything but. Black, with tiny ghosts on it, for Halloween. No other reason, you’d said with a smirk. Unless you want to borrow it, sir? 

It’s in his pocket now. 

Has been since he found it. 

As he lets the last man fall, he brushes the pocket with his hand before wiping the blood on his thigh, sheathing his knife.

Turning, nodding in the direction of the other men as they checked them as he moved across the room to you, sliding his gun behind his back, and dropping to his knees. 

We bring Mouse back. By any means necessary. 

He’s thankful you’re alive and breathing. Watching as your head tilts —trying to work out who it is. Cautiously, both for the fact he’s considering it and for the knowledge he could hurt you, his gloved hand slides up your cheek, watching you tense before he pulls down the blindfold with his fingers. 

One eye is swollen, horrid, and puffy. Something which makes him want to put extra holes in each of the men for it. But, he can’t take his eyes from the one of yours, which blinks, and stares at him, taking him in. 

“I’m undoin’ this cuff.” 

You swallow, nodding, trying to keep the eye fixed on him. The handcuff releases from your wrists as your arms drop weakly. 

It’s then he can see the bruises. 

The ones which have formed and the ones about too. 

How the colours vary in spots along your exposed arms, neck and cheeks. Dreading to think of how deep they go, how far they spread under your clothes. 

“Sir…” you whisper, his head moving closer. “You’re a piss poor listener.”

“Almost as bad as you, soldier.”

Cautiously, he moves closer, his knees hitting against your legs as his hand slowly brushes over your arm. 

He’s aware the others have their eyes trained on him, Soap giving orders, busying them. It doesn’t stop him from moving his arm around your shoulders, bringing you close until his chest is close to your side.

“Do you want me to close my eye, make it easier for you?” you cough—sounding like a deflated lung. “You seem the type to hate touching people.”

“Enough.” 

It comes out gruff, but he knows that you don’t take it that way. The side of your busted lip twitching as he pulls you over his lap. 

He’s pretty sure it’s the gentlest he’s ever been, even more so with someone. He doesn’t mean to press his forehead against the side of yours. But, he thought he’d lost you. 

The annoying girl who talked too much, who smiled and had no issues with personal space. Unless you were on the battlefield. Then, you were different—quiet, tactile, mouselike. You scurry, you don’t miss, with a gun, a knife or a computer. 

Ghost knew he was fucked before today. 

But, this confirms it. 

The sharp pang in his chest is a horrid, bitter reminder of how fucked he is—especially with how his heart skips a beat when your hand shakes as it brushes against his mask.

He should look away as he lifts you, breaking the stare he has with you, but you move closer, whispering for him—and him alone. “I knew-w you’d find me.” 

He tightens his jaw, feeling a lump in his throat as he gives a curt nod. “Always.” 

“Always,” you repeat softly, eyelashes fluttering, desperate to close.

“Hey, eyes on me,” he says, and you do your best. You hope he knows that. “Good girl.” 

You hear someone shout for a medic, but it’s not him. 

He’s saying very little, just letting his breath dance across your neck and cheek as he holds you to him.

The next time he sees you, he's visiting you when you’re in recovery.

He’s heard from others you’re improving. Soap nudging him, ensuring he’s heard him—thinking he knows more than he does.

He does go, though. 

You’re smaller than him, but you look so much smaller in the bed. Your face finally regaining some colour, an expression not twisted up in pain. The bruises faded, eyes unswollen. 

It’s a welcomed sight after the last time he saw you.

He crosses the recovery room floor, the room slowly emptying around him. He was glad that the rest of the med bay was without patients. 

His chair squeaks with protest when he sits beside you, eyes glancing over your face, over your arms, checking and checking that everything is where it was supposed to be. 

You say nothing. 

He says nothing. 

He just sits, staring at you, letting his eyes roll over your face. You seem to let him, likely basking in the fact that you’re currently not being boiled alive by him. 

It’s nice. Quiet. 

It’s helping to drown out the whimpers and groans you’d been making all the way back here from your injury. 

Until the tension reaches such a height even if you can’t stomach it. 

“What you doing here, Lt?” 

“Ensuring you don’t act recklessly.” 

“I think I can behave for one night.”  

“Doubtful.” 

You play with the sheets on the bed, rolling them between your fingers as he watches you, knowing what’s coming before you’ve even opened your pretty little mouth. 

“I’d behave for you, if you asked.” 

Sometimes, your brashness even surprises him. 

“I have asked,” he says, stretching his leg out as he watches you smile. “You still disobey me.” 

You nuzzle down into your pillow, not taking your eyes off him. 

“Sleep, Mouse.” 

“With you watching me?” 

He clicks his tongue. “Sleep.” 

You smile softer, eyelashes looking heavy. “Okay.” 

Nodding, he interlocks his gloved fingers over his lap. 

You’d been silent. 

Too silent. 

He knew how you got your Codename. He’d read your file, after all. You sneaked through impossible holes figuratively and literally. Price had informed him how good you were with computers, he hadn’t known how good until he read it himself. 

You were good, capable, and able. 

He knew you could handle yourself, which is why it wasn’t that which concerned him. It’s the silence. 

You’ve been quieter overall since you came back—since he brought you back. Since he helped carry you back to the truck till he watched you get patched up. 

Something inside of you, that annoyingly cheerful part of you, had withered. He knew it, Soap knew it. 

“You following me?” 

“Could say the same to you.”

“Can someone even stalk a ghost?” 

You’d tried to hide it, more so from him than the others. Your body trying to twist from him, but his arm had stopped you.

“Something you need, Lt?” 

“No.”

You’d given him a curt smile. “Goodnight then, sir.” 

He didn’t miss the way you added the sir.

Not that he expects he’s supposed to. Shifting his jaw from side to side, having watched you walk down the corridor, not even bothering to turn to look back at him. 

That had been two days ago. 

Today, you had dark circles around your eyes. A tenseness in your shoulders as you were all briefed. 

He waited, seeing if you approached him, and asked him to stay behind—not entirely sure what his answer would be if you requested it. 

But you didn’t. 

It should have been a warning, your demeanour shifting, darkness descending down over you the closer they got to the location. 

“Mouse, you copy?” 

Silence. 

Even to Soap. 

Often, Ghost knew he warranted your anger. 

He was colder with you, more stern. Especially since he’d allowed himself a moment—when he’d been able to hold you, carry you. When he’d felt your heartbeat and watched your eyes fix on him—warming him. 

He had wanted distance and walls. Many of them, more so. 

Now, he wishes he hadn’t. 

Because with Soap, you were light, never ignorant. And maybe he’d have recognised how your anger and hurt had consumed you. That what happened between you being taken and being found had festered and eaten everything good inside of you.

He could relate. 

More than most. 

“Mouse,” Ghost radios, gruff voice and all. “Fuck.” 

He taps Soap, heading in your direction, almost charging. He knew it before he saw it before his foot kicked open the door and witnessed it with his own eyes. 

He even freezes for the briefest second. 

Half impressed with the number of bodies on the floor. 

But then he reacts, hooking an arm under your hips as he both lifts and moves you against the wall. The knife falling from your fingers, clattering against the stone, the only other sound is your panicked breaths and Soap exclaiming, “Steaming bloody Jesus…” as he enters the room. 

His forearm presses into the wall beside your head, caging you in as his other palm presses into the wall next to your hip. 

Because it was the mission to kill him—once they’d got the information. 

The information he couldn’t currently prove you had—but he’d hoped you did. Because otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to contain his anger, his fury. Right now, it simmered, being kept back by that vacant look in your eyes he doesn’t recognise. Not in you, at least. 

You’re not looking at him. Not meeting his eyes. 

Too busy staring at the body on the floor, the one which has scarlet seeping from each hole you’d inflicted with a knife. His knife. 

“Mouse.” 

You don’t move, staring as if transfixed in the knowledge he’s dead. 

So he whispers your name. 

Your real name. 

Your eyelashes flutter into a blink, head-turning, finally pulling from the man who kidnapped you on the floor. 

“Got the drive,” you say in a tone void of emotion. 

Ghost didn’t want to shout, he didn’t want to scream at you, but he did all the same. 

Both in anger that you disobeyed an order and in a panic because he couldn’t stop the way his mind unravelled when you didn’t respond. 

That it took him back to that moment all over again. Where you were taken from him. Where he lost you. Where he should have protected you. 

“You wanna explain what the fuck happened back there?” 

You don’t look at him, folding your arms over your chest, suddenly finding the floor interesting. Pressing the sole of your foot against the wall as you leant, seemingly unbothered.

“That’s an order, Soldier—“

“I collected the information, and I stabbed him. Mission complete. Sir.” 

Sir. 

Fucking sir. 

He hated how it made him hard. Little bitch. 

“You disobeyed a direct order—“

“—The mission—“

“—You were supposed to wait for backup.” 

“I couldn’t risk it.” 

He rounds on you, forehead pressing against yours. “You couldn’t risk it?” 

Your eyes don’t soften. They hold his gaze, full of fire, ash and destruction. “Well. We’ve both seen the evidence of bad intel, haven’t we?” 

He stills. 

Blinking, staring into your eyes, seeing the darkness still swirling. The anger has lessened but still remains. 

“You need to let it go.” 

“I need to… what?” You look hurt, more than he thought you could, and then it vanishes, swept away by anger. “…fuck you, Ghost.” 

Moving from him, turning your back on him 

“Fuck me? If you continue down this path—“

Then you turn, your eyes burying into him. “It’ll what? Keep me up at night? Consume me? Well, guess what, Simon, it already has.” Your chest rises and falls rapidly, a tremor to your outstretched arm before you snap it back to your side. “For days, they asked me who we were. They had ideas. They did… inklings. But, they… they knew my fucking name, Simon. They…told me what they’d do, and I had nothing, not a single thing to drown it out as they described all the ways they’d kill Johnny, how they’d break Gaz, how they’d hurt…” 

You. 

The unspoken word hanging in the room. 

“I got it before, I did,” you say, words shaky at your almost declaration, “but I understand why you wear that mask—why you keep people out…” 

Your eyes fill with tears, one’s he wishes he could wipe away before they even meet your cheeks. 

“People you know can hurt you the most… right? That's what you said.” 

His head reeling back an inch, but it feels like he’s been hit. And then you leave, storming out of the room, and he doesn’t stop you. 

Because he knows he shouldn’t. 

Because you’d called him Simon. 

Not Ghost. 

He hates that you’re not here. 

You’ve been avoiding him. Outside of briefings and necessity, you’re nowhere else to be found. 

The rest of them are around a table, beers in their hands. His mask lifted just enough to enjoy his—if it didn’t taste like nothingness. 

Because there were no kind eyes on him. No jesting coming from a soft, sweet voice. 

Especially right now, when it’s needed as they discuss who they’re currently fucking their fist over. He hears someone ask him, something he ignores. 

And then Soap speaks for him. “I think Ghost here has his eyes on—“

“That’ll do.”

The others snigger, mumbling about getting some air as he cracks his neck. Hoping if he ignores Soap enough, he’ll vanish too. 

“Talk to her.” 

Ghost rolls his head on his shoulders, meeting his sergeant's expecting face.

Soap slaps his hand on his back. “Trust me, Lt, talk to her.” He tries to think of something, anything, to respond with. He hasn’t got anything until he continues, “Didn’t think you had a heart.” 

“A cold one. I have a cold one.” 

Soap smirks. “I doubt it’ll remain that way.” 

It doesn’t take him long to find you, seeing you huddled over papers and a computer. 

He considers watching you, but he steps in before he’s caught, offering you a mug, one you stare at suspiciously before taking it. 

You prefer a milky tea, one sugar. 

A person after his own heart. 

Right now, he imagines you need something different, so he chose coffee.

“What’s this?” 

“A boost. You need it.”

“Thanks?” 

He doesn’t know what to say. 

Letting himself see how dark the bags under your eyes have gotten. 

“You’re not sleepin’.” 

“Can’t.” 

He taps the desk with two fingers, your eyes lifting up to face him. Slowly, he retracts his hand, holding your stare as he takes his glove from his hand. He knows his sleeve has risen, the ends of his tattoo showing as he offers you his hand.

“You made me a drink, and now you want me to what, leave it?” 

Slowly, he nods. 

Your huff sounds before you stand, slapping your hand into his. It isn’t until your fingers are in his does he watch your eyes flicker, realising that you're touching him—really touching him. 

“Ghost…” 

“C’mon. Now.” 

He doesn’t let go or lessen his hold, not even when you slide your fingers between his. Not when everything inside of him tells him to run, to tell you to run. 

His mouth doesn’t open, it remains shut as he brings you to his room, opening the door, letting it swing open before he lets his eyes meet yours. 

Letting your eyes take it in before he nudged you forward. 

“Ghost…” 

“Simon,” he says gruffly. “My name is Simon.”

He shuts the door slowly behind the two of you, releasing your hand, moving it to his neck. 

Your eyes follow him, the air thickening—he can feel it. The hairs on the back of his neck standing, the ones on his arms standing. He’s even sure time is ticking slowly. 

Especially when he begins to slide his mask up, slowly showing you his chin, his cheeks, and his nose. 

Your lips parting, mouth falling open as he pulls it off that last bit. Nothing hidden, not from you. 

Swallowing, you make a noise, a squeak as if you’re about to say something, before clamping your mouth shut. 

“Hi.” 

Your lips twitch. “Hi.” 

His fingers brush yours ever so slightly, forcing your eyes to dip before landing back on his with so much adoration—he’s not sure how he deserves it. Any of it.

“What does this mean?” 

“It means you go to sleep. Here.” 

You raise a brow, and he almost smirks. Almost.

“Not like that.” 

Shrugging, you smile. “Coulda fooled me.”

Sighing, he lets go of your fingers. “You can’t sleep because you’re alone. But, if I’m here—“

“You’ll keep the ghosts away?” 

He runs his tongue over the front of his teeth. 

“Anything else this… declaration means? 

“Means you can trust me.”

He watches your head tilt, a scrunch to your brows and your forehead as you look at him. “I trusted you anyway.”

“Then get in bed.” 

He wonders if your cheeks are warm if they’re full or blush. More so when your eyes land on the floor, and he turns his back, moving to his things, finding you a t-shirt. 

On you, it’ll bury you. 

Which makes it perfect, just as perfect as the sound of you undoing your belt is to him and the faint sound of your trousers hitting the floor. 

“Here,” he says, holding the T-shirt behind his back, not wanting to look. 

Not even when he feels your fingers slide down his forearm, over his ink. When he feels your index and middle slide along his pulse, over his wrist and palm before taking it. 

It’s not until he feels your hands on his sides does he turn, your eyes looking up at him—somewhat close to the eyes he knew, the ones which first had his heart pulsing furiously as it is now. 

“Do you snore?” 

“Don’t think so.” 

“Sleep naked?” 

“Not all the time.” 

“Good,” you comment, loosening your grip as he turns to face you. “Hate for you to have gone to all this effort to not let me get a wink of sleep.” 

The double meaning of your words isn’t lost on him. 

Especially when he sees the twinkle in your eye, the grin desperate to blossom over your lips. 

“Unless…”

“Another time,” he says, even if he hates himself for it just a bit. “Now, get in bed.” 

You nod, smiling, “Yes, Sir.” 

Fucking hell. “Less of that.” 

“Any reason?” 

He snorts, turning to watch you climb into his bed, slowly pulling his T-shirt over his head, hearing you inhale as if your mouth was next to his ear. 

“I’m tryin’ to be a gentleman.”

He flicks the light off, wondering if your heart is hammering as much as his. Each step towards you feels like a mile, but he’d do it again and again. Feeling for your hand and the sheets you’re offering him, sliding in beside you.

For a moment, he’s tense. 

Just as you are. 

Especially as his bare legs find yours, your back to his chest, hair tickling his nose. He waits, letting you make the first move for comfort, feeling you breathe heavily before shuffling against him. Fingers trying to keep your hair out of his way, pulling it, twisting it.

And he remembers sliding his hand under his pillow, pulling it out slowly, the fabric rolling between his thumb and finger before he finds your hand over the sheets. He feels you tense, likely recognising it instantly, slowly taking it from him as you move, turning to face him.

Even in the darkness, he makes out your features. 

His hand reaches up, touching his chin before fingers spread up your cheeks. His thumb rolls over your bottom lip, wanting to kiss you desperately. 

“You found it?” 

He says nothing.

“You kept it?” 

He breathes out. “I did.” 

You must feel his heart hammering. You have to. 

Your body slowly comes down, arms sliding around his chest before hands find themselves on the back of his neck. 

His head turns as you let hug him, as your body says everything without so much as speaking. And all he can think is he’s an inch away from your lips. 

He’s within reach. 

He could. He should. 

“Simon…” you whisper. 

His throat goes dry, and then you kiss him. 

Silencing his mind, silencing everything that doesn’t matter—doubt, worry and the sound of that radio message—as he runs his hands over his T-shirt that covers your body. 

Pulling you close. 

Keeping you close.

I’m with you : read part two

[writingoddess1125]

Mihawk with his S/O

Mihawk x FemReader

Fluff Fluffy + Some Body Dis

Also so Implied Spicy Spice

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• Mihawk seems like the type to get some Sympathy weight if you're pregnant- While at the moment t he doesn't notice after his child is born he will definitely go back to training harder then ever-

• Because Genetics he drops the extra weight like nothing- making his bigger then ever. So here you are feeling like a beached whale nursing your newborn he looks like a Greek God.

• You first felt embarrassed but in truth you were more sexually frustrated than anything- He looked just so good and you felt like you looked- Horrible

• It was a endless cycle of Mihawk saying words of admiration for you and clearly trying to initiate some Intimacy however you'd turn him down.

• You were getting dressed one evening, having fed the baby and put her to bed. You'd taking a nice hot bath and felt truly wonderful- The lavender and witch hazel products Mihawk had given you worked wonders.

• Mihawk stood in the doorway, in his evening trousers and nothing more arms folded under his pecs as he stood there. You saw how his yellow eyes traveled your form, the despire in his gaze as he stared at you like a starving predator finally seeing its meal.

• You quickly pull the baggy dress down over your form suddently causing Mihawks gaze to be forced away from your figure to your eyes. Seeing the mild panic in your gaze-

• "Why is my wife hiding herself from me? It's not like I haven't seen you before" He said a bit sharply, clearly irritated that you had covered yourself- however you could hear the twinge of worry in his voice

• You scrambled to think of an excuse and worry filled your soul- unsure were to even start. You watched him fully walk into the room and close the door behind him as he waited for your answer- "I..." Sighing you looked away "I look ugly now- and I don't want you to see me this way..."

• You admit and sit down on the coner of the bed. He looked at you utterly confused at this point walking to you fully.

• "That is foolish- You look sexy to me. Your body has only matured due to you having a child, it makes you look more attractive if anything" He says truthfully before sitting next to you and pulling you onto his lap.

• You blush at his brass words or for sitting in his lap, trying to lift yourself in fear of your weight but he firmly keeps you grounded on his lap.

• "I am.. heavier now" You say nervously, Looking to the side "And my body looks so different"

• "Your weight is not an issue, and your body is pleasing to me- I dislike you hide yourself" He stated calmly, clearly still not liking you had covered yourself so much.

• "But I have stretch marks-" You say as he slips his hand under your dress calmly

• "All great warriors carry scars from important battles" He states calmly as his other hand snacks its way to the front of your dress, his calluses hands running up the side of your form.

• "As your Partner I have failed you if you feel so undesirable" He states and kisses your neck, You leaning into his touch and blush deeply at his words. Feeling a gently tug of your dress as you realize he had pulled it all the way up over your breast- Him leaning back to admire you.

• "Allow me to make sure you never feel undesirable again~" He says with a smile as he captures your lips in a deep kiss, Pulling your naked hips flushed against his own.

• 3 Weeks later you were pregnant again-

[asterias-record-shop]

—𓆩[something worse]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Tobias Eaton (Four) x Fem! Dauntless Born! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - smut, fluff

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 2K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You and Four had been together since he chose Dauntless, especially because you were one of the Dauntless born pulled into training. You both had never put a label on your relationship because it never seemed right, but everyone knew that you both were a couple, except the newest tributes you both were training, no matter how obvious you both made it. It seems you both have to make it a little more obvious.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - so sorry I was writing this during a final and it might suck I’m sorry 😭 || cursing || unprotected sex || creampie || oral || fingering

You were used to wandering eyes, you really were, your partner was literally the hottest man in Dauntless. It didn’t really matter about wandering eyes though when they knew you both were together, label or not, but it seemed to be difficult to get through the mind of one of the new initiates.

You weren’t born Abnegation like either of them, you were a bitch and you made sure everyone knew it. You were a lovable bitch though, that’s why you were being fucked every night by the hottest man in all of the factions.

It passed through your mind to just show her, get Four to tell her something is going on in a certain area just to pull him there to fuck you. You passed it through Tori just to make sure, and she said no though, so you decided not to go through with it.

Maybe that’s why you were watching Four fix Tris’ position because she wouldn’t stick with it when Eric did it. It made your skin crawl, staring at the two of them. Maybe it did feel right that he was with someone from his home faction, didn’t he like selfless people? You were selfless in your own way, right? He knew that.

“Hey, you okay?” Uriah asks you, a smile quickly making its way to your face.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, thank you. I’m going to go see how some of the kids are doing, you mind telling Four?” You start collecting your stuff, inhaling deeply as Uriah follows you.

“He’s coming over here.”

You shoot up as Four stands in front of you, his brow raised. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go do my time at the school,” you say, smiling slightly. “I just… haven’t seen King in a while.”

Four sighs. “Well… I can go with you in a minute, okay? King likes me, right?”

You laugh, slowly lifting your arms to wrap your arms around his neck before pausing. Public displays of affection were never really your thing, but you really wanted to.

Four saw you pause, leaning down to wrap his arms around your waist as you smiled and wrapped yours around his neck. “Everyone likes you, Four,” you teased, giggling. “But I love you.”

He smiles back, leaning down for a soft kiss as you tugged on his hair. “I love you too.”

You pulled his hands closer to your form, pulling his face into your neck as you looked over his shoulder just enough to wink at Tris before pulling away. “Let’s go see King.”

He nods, letting you lead him out of the training area and to the school. Dauntless didn’t teach like Erudite did, but they made sure that the children of the faction learned things needed to survive in the faction. King was a child of two Dauntless soldiers who had died exploring beyond the wall, and as a result, you both took him in sort of like your own.

Seeing you with a child really made Four want to give you a child, especially with how good you were with kids, but it never really seemed to be the right time.

That was until he saw you twirling another boy in your eyes, King cleaning one of Four’s guns while the older man oiled up one of the other ones. The younger boy was named Chris, someone whose parents got caught up in a mission and you both took him home just for a while.

“She looks good with a baby, right?” King asks, smiling. “Y/N was always good with kids. She was good with me,” he mumbles now, smiling. “I’m doing well in my training. She said that.”

“You are,” Four said with a smile. “You’re doing really well. Ranked third, kid, you’re doing good,” he leaned forward and ruffled his hair with a laugh. “Want you to get that first spot, though.”

King grins. “I will.”

Someone knocks making you fix Chris on your hip, quickly walking toward the door as Four stands. “Stay there,” he orders to King as you open the door, raising a brow when you see Tris. “Who is it?”

“Uhm… can I help you?”

She inhaled. “I just… I’m here to see Four.”

“Four, honey!” You yell out, the tall man coming behind you and settling a hand on your hip. “One of the trainees wants to speak with you.”

Four raised a brow. “Everything alright?”

Oh, the Abnegation was coming out.

“Y-Yeah, everything’s fine-”

“Perfect,” Four smiles, taking Chris from your arms and setting him on the ground. “King, come here!”

The older boy quickly walks over, standing just like Four. “Yeah?”

“Why don’t you take Chris down to eat? Tris will join you both,” Four says making King’s nose scrunch. “What?”

“Don’t forget I sleep here too.” King takes Chris’ hand, looking back just a bit. “Don’t forget I have a bed! That’s my bed!”

“Bye, King!” You laughed as Four grinned, closing the door as his other hand held your waist.

You couldn’t stop smiling, giggling as you stared up at him. “You did that, didn’t you?”

His smile grows, just a bit. “Yeah, I did. Uriah kind of… hinted it to me.”

You hummed. “Good, because I would've done something worse,” you said, slowly stepping back and pushing your hands into his tight black shirt. “I was this close.”

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?” He asked, smiling as the back of your knees bumps against the bed. His rough hands slip under your shirt, rubbing against your back as though he could feel the black ink you had gotten tattooed.

“Was gonna make her catch us fucking in the corridor,” you giggled as Four slipped off your shirt, humming as he leaned down. “Who said we always have to fuck on the bed? You like that idea?”

He nodded into your shoulder, lips pressing soft kisses to your skin as you started to lean back, his hands securely catching you before you could fall back fully. Carefully, he sets you down, his mouth pressing hot kisses to your neck down your chest. “I fucking love that idea,” he mumbled, his hand slowly rubbing circles against your thigh. “You want to go do that now?”

It was a tempting offer, but you shake your head. “No,” you say, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “You already got me here. Why move?”

He smiled even wider, leaning down as his hands moved to your hips to slowly tug at the tactile pants you wore. “I was thinking,” he whispers as you pull him down to press kisses to his neck. You could see the black peeking out from his shirt, pulling it off of him easily as he pulled away just to slip it off before pulling off your own. “You looked good with Chris on your hip.”

You paused, looking up at him. “You think so?”

He nodded, his hands tugging at your sports bra as your hands dragged down his back. He kneels over your body, pressing kisses down your neck to your chest. “I know so. You’re a natural with kids, angel, you’re fucking perfect.”

The slight husk in his voice made a shiver run up your back, your stomach twisting and heat flooding into your underwear as he lets his hot mouth suck at your lower stomach. “D-Does that mean something?”

He smiled, looking up at you. “Did I just get a Dauntless-born to stutter?”

You blushed madly, looking away. “Don’t let it get to your head, Four.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your pelvic bone before he slowly starts to pull your underwear off, his fingers dancing along your thighs as you squirmed, gasping as he pressed a firm kiss to your clit. It makes you squirm, his fingers replacing his lips as he kisses lower and lower.

“F-Fuck,” you whimper as the tip of his fingers slowly prod against your cunt, his mouth sucking and licking around his fingers as your hands push into his hair. “F-Four, you’re being too nice.”

He laughs, pulling away just for a minute as he slowly pushes a thick finger into you, watching as your hips buck into the air and your back arches. “Maybe it’s the Abnegation?”

You shook your head, reaching a hand down to push his fingers deeper into your pussy. It makes you whine, a gasp coming from your lips as he pulls them out just for a second to add another finger. “Abnegation is selfless, my darling, maybe it’s the Amity? J-Just, don’t stop.”

He laughs, popping a kiss to your cunt before pushing his fingers deeper into you, watching as you squirmed. Moans fall from your lips as he pressed firm circles against your clit, the sensitive bud making you whine loudly, hips bucking.

His fingers curl inside of you, pushing his tongue into you with his fingers as you tug on his hair and your other hand finds his cheek.

You felt your stomach twisting, hips bucking uncontrollably as you attempted to ride his fingers. You gasped as his fingers curled inside of you, attempting to find that one soft spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back. It didn’t take him long to find, especially because he’s memorized your body over the years and he groaned as you clenched around him.

“Come on honey, cum for me. Want to watch you cum.”

Your eyes rolled back, whimpering as he pushed his fingers knuckle deep into you to watch your pussy flutter. Your stomach twists, loud groaning falling from your lips as your stomach twists. Your hips buck, eyes rolling back as he sucked on your cunt, swallowing loudly as he pulled out his fingers.

He pulled away, sitting up as he pulled down his pants just enough to pull out his cock, hissing as you raised your legs to wrap around his waist. He grunts as he slowly pushes into you, eyes rolling back as he leaned down to hold himself up with his elbows, pulling you in for a kiss. “Fucking hell, I want to see you with my kids so bad,” he groaned, gasping as you pulled him down for a kiss. “Want to see you pregnant over and over again.”

You whined, his hips moving quickly as the bed pounded into the wall, your nails dragging down his back. His cock rammed into your pussy, strong thrusts making your eyes roll back as he pressed his lips to your neck. “You want that honey? Want to be fucked, round and full with my kids?”

You nodded, whining loudly. “Yes! Yes, I do!”

He grunts loudly, slamming into you just to feel your pussy clench along his entire shaft, a broken moan leaving his lips as you cum again around him. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, fuck! Four!” You yelled out as he reaches down to rub firm circles into your clit, rutting his hips just a few more times as he came inside you for the first time without protection.

It was an odd feeling, but filling as he groaned loudly, your cunt continued to clench around him to milk him of everything he had. It was warm, and if you could feel sticky-ness inside of you, it would be this. You whimper as he starts to pull out, trying to reach forward to pull him back in before he grabs your legs, pushing them back so your knees were on your shoulders.

“You don’t think we’re done yet, do you? Gotta make sure this sticks.”

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𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪

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© asterias-record-shop

[eoieopda]

sudden + (a)cute | jyh

jeong yunho’s got a serious case of downbaditis — oh, and also a cold.

pairing: jeong yunho x reader au: hurt/comfort, sick fic, friends to something type: drabble (f) word count: 2k rating: pg13 — still, minors do not have my consent to interact. cw: gn!reader; illness (obviously); ft. clueless roommate!mingi a/n: my inaugural ateez fic! inspired by my own sick day today + my own personal love sickness re: jeong yunho, lmao. a/n 2: reposting for the fourth time because it's not in the fucking tags, lmao. 📍permanent taglist(s). @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @bahng-chrizz

You realize too late that days off and the “do not disturb” feature should go hand-in-hand.

Because you didn’t think to silence your notifications, some form of unsolicited contact slips through the cracks. Just like that, your Netflix binge is unceremoniously halted; hopes are dashed; and your phone vibrates so many fucking times in quick succession that it starts scooting its way across your coffee table, hellbent.

With a grunt of abject displeasure, you tear your half-glazed eyes off the television screen ahead. They flick down to the source of the sound to identify the caller before you commit to sitting upright off the couch. It’s a lost cause, not unlike your eagerly-awaited plans to do nothing. The nuisance lays face-down against the tabletop, buzzing relentlessly as it runs out of real estate.

Tragically, you don’t have a choice.

Before your phone can drive itself over the edge Thelma-and-Louise style, your hand darts out to catch it. You glower as your fingers curl around it, sharp tongue ready to lash out at the co-worker you told no fewer than 809 times that you were giving yourself a long weekend.

“For fuck’s sake, Yeosang,” you mutter to yourself.

Pulling the phone up to your face for closer inspection, you realize with a scoff that it’s not an incoming call at all. 

It’s — one, two, three, four, five six, seven — eight rapid-fire texts and counting, all of which were sent within seconds of one another; and none of which came from the lovable doofus in the office next to yours.

You Know? [10:03 AM]: Tell… You Know? [10:03 AM]: My…. You Know? [10:03 AM]: Story….. ! You Know? [10:03 AM]: 🤧 You Know? [10:04 AM]: 😷 You Know? [10:04 AM]: 🏨 You Know? [10:04 AM]: ☠️ You Know? [10:04 AM]: 🪦

Oh.

Immediately, your tight-lipped scowl cracks wide open.

Different doofus.

In the time it takes for you to convince your phone’s facial identification that you are, in fact, a human being, the bombardment continues.

You Know? [10:05 AM]: 👼🏻

This one pulls an unexpected chuckle out of you that’s still ringing out when you tap on his contact card and start dialing.

With your hands full and your wrists weighed down with plastic pharmacy bags, it takes three tries to barge into your best friend’s apartment like you own the place. Having underestimated your own clumsy strength, you watch in mild-to-moderate horror as the door flies open, cringing as you await the sound of the knob smashing into the hallway wall.

You get a yelp instead, followed shortly by a huffy, “Aish!”

The newest addition to the apartment steps into view with a pink mark in the center of his forehead. His eyes are as wide as they can get, both blinking slowly. As he rubs gingerly at the blooming bump, you wonder if the look on his face is any more dazed than usual. It must be, you conclude. He wasn’t expecting you any more than you were expecting him.

“Sorry!” You squeak, shuffling the tupperware in your grip from one hand to another. Your warmed palm reaches out to pat his forearm apologetically. “Are you okay?”

Mingi shrugs, already over the heart attack you’ve given him. Now, it’s intrigue that lights up his face. His eyes scan over the goods you’re toting. Soon enough, they stick on the samgyetang that’s scorching through its plastic confines to your fingertips.

As it turns out, Yunho’s new roommate is just as blatant as the previous one.

Where the hell does he find these people?

“You brought me soup?” He beams, teeth and tone both as bright as the fucking sun.

Your mouth opens to respond, but all that comes out is some useless sound that vaguely resembles a groan. You bite your lips together, searching for some way to let him down gently. In the end, you come up with exactly nothing.

“I —”

Withdrawing your hand from his arm, you gesture over your shoulder in the direction of Yunho’s bedroom. “It’s for, um… He’s —”

Mingi looks to where you’re pointing. His eyebrows raise, signaling his arrival at confused. “Yunho’s home?”

Jesus Christ.

“You didn’t… notice?” Your tone matches his. So does the altitude of your eyebrows, you assume.

For far too many seconds, the pair of you eye each other in stupefied silence. The person who would normally interject to save you from this hell doesn’t arrive to do so, leaving you without an escape route.

This is what happens when you find all your roommates on the internet.

“So, I should — Um.” You wave once again towards your friend’s door. “Yeah.”

You bow — you’re not sure why — and shuffle a step backwards, turning slowly on your heel the second you’ve created enough distance. 

Propelled by your own awkwardness, you rocket away from your friend’s roommate and fling open your second door in as many minutes. You shut it behind you with your eyes closed tight. For good measure, you keep your back pressed to the wood, as if your own embarrassment is something you could ever lock out.

“Took you long enough,” comes the rattle of Pestilence itself.

Without unclenching any part of your body, you mutter, “I had my second run-in with your Craigslist roommate, and it went exactly as well as the first. You need a better screening process — seriously.”

A loud laugh is quickly replaced by a cough that you feel in your own chest. Frowning, you open your eyes to take in the lump in front of you; and within seconds, you have to fight off your own laughter.

Sprawled out over an unmade bed, Yunho sports an outfit you couldn’t defend if your life depended on it. Dark brown waves peek out from underneath a beanie, leaving only his eyes to crinkle up at you above a black surgical mask. Even without his mouth visible, there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he’s grinning at you.

Well, damn.

You could stand there all day, basking in the way he looks at you, but you don’t let yourself revel in it. Cheeks already burning, you can’t risk getting caught swooning. 

You’ve embarrassed yourself enough, haven’t you?

To avoid detection, you shake your head to clear it and beg yourself to focus on the absurdity before you. In doing so, you note immediately that Yunho didn’t bother with a shirt; however, he did opt for gym shorts. They clash wildly with the pair of fuzzy, striped socks on his feet. That discovery flusters you to no end because they’re yours.

“You’re dressed for, like, three conflicting seasons,” you muse, gesturing from head to toe with your free hand. The plastic bags you’ve been wearing like bracelets rustle with the movement. “Couldn’t decide on a climate?”

“Hey!” His whine is muffled by his mask, though his congestion certainly doesn’t help. “One-third of me is freezing.”

Before you can nudge his right leg out of the way, Yunho moves it for you, freeing up the corner of his mattress for you to sit down. In fact, he takes all his limbs with him; summons all his strength to sit upright in front of you. You quickly avert your eyes from his flushed chest and focus on your stupid little soup, as if it’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

When Yunho clocks what you’re holding, he damn near gasps. His eagerness barrels through his hoarseness, making your heart flutter. “Is that your mom’s samgyetang?”

“It’s her recipe,” you correct him. “She’s visiting friends in Sydney, remember?”

For someone with a skull full of snot, Yunho’s quicker on the uptake than you would’ve thought to give him credit for. His eyes crinkle even further into a smile as they flit between your hands and your face — and shit, do they sparkle. 

Before he can confirm that you not only brought him soup but hand-made it, you wrestle your arm free from the non-recyclable trap cutting off your circulation. 

“I — uh, didn’t know which of the five thousand types of decongestants to bring you.” 

You shove no less than four of them towards him, smiling sheepishly.

“Choose your fighter.”

It’s something you thought for sure he’d laugh at, that stupid little joke, but Yunho is uncharacteristically quiet. He just stares down at the over-the-counter medications in his hands, wearing a look you’ve never seen before. One that suggests you’ve given him your beating heart instead of Guadenesin, wrapped it in a bow instead of a kilometer-long pharmacy receipt.

It’s not a look you know what to do with, so you shut up and do your best to ride out your galloping pulse.

Without looking up from your offering, Yunho eventually says, “I didn’t even tell Craigslist Roommate that I was sick. He would’ve grabbed Albothyl or something equally useless and called it a day.”

“That tracks.” You nod. A small smile works its way over your lips. “For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have trusted him with your sinuses, either.”

Another pause settles in the space between you. It’s not uncomfortable, sitting quietly with your person, but you can’t help wondering after that wrinkle between his brows.

“I didn’t even think to ask him,” he admits, like he’s forgotten that he’s your first call, too.

Some sort of realization must hit him like a lightning strike because Yunho suddenly looks up from his hands. That’s all it takes to stir up the butterflies in your stomach. Unfortunately, it takes far more effort from you to ignore them.

“You made me soup,” he sighs, sounding disappointed. 

Or frustrated. 

Both — or maybe neither?

Whatever it is, it makes your palms sweat more than you ever plan to admit, so you simply nod again.

“I made you soup,” comes your unhelpful echo.

Silence.

Staring.

You offer a reminder that neither of you needs, “You’re sick.”

More silence and staring.

Then, a conclusion that nobody asked for: “You’re sick, and you should therefore have soup.”

Yunho drops his face into his hands, groaning loudly. The various layers of interference make him twice as difficult to understand, but you don’t miss a single, spilling word. 

“I’m sick, and you made me soup; and I can’t kiss you about it because then you’ll be sick; and I don’t even know how to make you soup.”

Stunned to silence, you just sit there — blinking dumbly, all the while— like it’s the only thing you know how to do.

That’s not true.

You know what you want to do, and now you know you’re not alone in that. Most importantly, you know that acting on any of it will cost you several days of sneezing your brains out.

The groan you let out is twice as loud as Yunho’s was and three times’ as frustrated. It erupts out of you, and when you’ve expelled it fully, you crumple into a heap at the foot of his bed, thoroughly defeated. You curse him through the hands that now cover your face, “You rat bastard.”

Yunho snorts. “Excuse me?”

“What even is this timing?” You tear one hand away from your face and land a light smack on his knee. “You really waited to tell me any of this until you were contagious? Be fucking for real.”

His laugh shakes his shoulders, leaves him in the form of squeaks.

“The nerve of you, Jeong Yunho.”

The mattress dips when he drops himself into the space in front of you. Propped up on his elbow, he looks at you with one eyebrow raised.

“You bought out a pharmacy and made me soup,” he counters. “You brought this on yourself.”

You roll your eyes, although it does nothing to distract from the way you’re giggling.

“Did you not wanna get kissed?” Yunho challenges, “Because that’s how you get kissed.” 

With a grin, his knuckles nudge yours, returning your earlier knock far more affectionately than you sent it. “Babo.”

“You’re the babo,” you sniff. 

Despite your childish rebuttal, you take the opportunity to slip your hand fully into his. It’s not the first time, by any means, but the difference is clear; and when you squeeze gently, you feel it come right back.

With your laughter faded out, you sigh, “Yunho?”

He hums in acknowledgement, likely too exhausted by your ill-timed antics to power up a proper response.

“Can you please eat your stupid soup and get better already?”

[babbymochiiii]

🔞BIRTHDAY SURPRISE: JOHNNY SUH

↪︎pairing: idol! Johnny x afab! reader

↪︎genre: smut, fluff, romance

↪︎warnings: established relationship, johnny getting blind folded, oral (m), unprotected sex (y’all wrap it up pls), dick riding, dom johnny, sub reader, daddy count (1), dirty talk, Johnny coming inside of reader, pet names; hers: angel, baby; his: baby

↪︎synopsis: you give Johnny a birthday surprise 🎁

↪︎word count: 1.7k

note ✨: Happy birthday to Johnny!!! 🥳 decided to write this fic that’s been brewing in my mind for a bit just because 🤷🏼 and besides it’s straight to the point 😂🫶🏼

requests are open! 🤎

divider credit @chaefilm 🖤

“You’re blind folding me?” Johnny lets out with a chuckle as he goes along with whatever you have planned.  

“It’s part of your birthday surprise.” You giggled as you finished off tying the red silk ribbon around his head as you straddled his lap.  

“And what could that birthday surprise be?” Johnny hummed sensually as he placed his hands on your hips.  

“You just gotta wait and find out.” you whispered in his ear as you gave him a small kiss at the shell of his ear.  

Goosebumps formed around the base of Johnny’s neck down to his arm as his grip on your hips tightened. “You’re teasing...” he realized.  

“Of course, I am... I gotta build the tension while I have you blinded folded.” you said as you slowly climbed off his lap and towards his hardened length that happily sits high against the air leaking beads of pre cum, waiting for attention of its own.  

You came face to face with Johnny’s tip. A strangled moan leaves his lips as he felt your warm breathing hit his shaft causing for a shiver to run through his body. Before he could protest to you, you started to kitten lick his tip, causing him to throw his head back in ecstasy at the feeling.  

You continued to kitten lick, enjoying the look of pleasure and torment that started to wrap around Johnny’s facial expression. Johnny bucked his hips up trying to gain some sort of other type of stimulation as he knew that he didn’t like you teasing him with such small licks.  

“Tsk, you’re getting needy.” you retorted as you started to fist his shaft.  

With a groan, Johnny bucked up at the sensation. “Watch your tone angel. I may be blind folded but that doesn’t mean you have the reigns completely.” he said between teeth as he felt you take as much of his length into your mouth.  

“Mmm, you’re always more talk than action anyways baby.” you mumbled as you gasped up for air before going back down and bobbing your head just the way Johnny likes it.  

Johnny sat up as much as he could without hurting both you and him and wrapped his fingers in your hair pulling you off of him. “Don’t tempt me angel, you know I’ll make you regret it.”  

“Regret it? More like make me love it.” you said as you gave him a somewhat fucked out smile.  

“Tsk, you’re a brat, you knew that?” johnny sneered as he blindly guided you back to what you were doing.  

Happily going back to business, you started to deep throat Johnny, causing you to gag around his length as you tried to control your breathing.  

Johnny felt the way you swallowed around him causing him to groan and tighten his grip on your hair. Making your eyes tear up even more as you continued to push down on him before pulling away, causing strings of saliva to connect from the tip to your mouth.  

“I didn’t say you could stop.” Johnny said as he pushed your head back down on his shaft and started to face fuck you, not showing you any sort of mercy.  

“Fuck angel your throat is so tight.” Johnny moaned out as he held you down to where the tip of your nose touched the base of his shaft.  

You tapped Johnny’s thigh, signaling to him to need to breath, to which he lets you up and lets you catch your breath. As you tried to go back down on him, Johnny pulled your head back.  

“I’m not cumming like this. Ride me.” he ordered, not leaving any room for discussion.  

You bit your lip as you tried to suppress the smile on your face. “Yes, daddy.” you said as you straddled his lap once again.  

Once situated, you take hold of his shaft and align him to your entrance. You slowly sink down, making the two of you moan out at the sensation of your joining.  

“Soaking wet as always.” Johnny comments as he felt your slick trinkle down from between your folds to his base.  

A moan leaves your lips as his words as you slowly started to fuck yourself.  

You held onto his shoulders to level yourself as you started to pick up speed just as the pleasure started to become deliciously intense. Not being able to hold back anymore, Johnny takes hold of your hips as slams you down. This causes you to arch your back and moan out in pleasure at the sensation.  

He held you in place as he started to fuck up into you, completely getting lost in the pleasure. You couldn’t complain as this was exactly what you wanted from him. “F-fuck angel you feel so fucking good.” He moans as he bit his bottom lip.  

With how intense he was fucking you, the blind fold started to fall down from its original position. Not like either of you cared that it came off, just the intense eye contact that was happening could cause goose bumps to form on your skin.  

When the blind fold came off, Johnny could see the pleasure written all over your face as you looked at him. He saw the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head before you threw your head back as strings of moans leave your lips.  

Johnny took hold of your waist and flipped both of you over to where he was on top of you, not once coming out of you. He continued his brutal pace inside of you making you see stars.  

“So beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous my angel.” Johnny moaned out as he started to see how fucked out you were becoming. 

“Mmhm, y-yes…” you trailed off as you moaned.  

“Dumb on my cock already angel?” Johnny teased as he started to tweet with your harden nipples.  

“Y-yes — “a moan coming from you cut you off as Johnny’s hand trails down to your clit, squeezing it between his fingers.  

“Hmmm, just how I like to see you.” Johnny mumbled to himself as he watched the way you react to his touch.  

Johnny’s eyes trail down from your face to where you both join together. Seeing the way, you sucked him inside of you had him going feral inside. He pulled out of you, causing you to whimper at the lost feeling of being full.  

“Just for a moment baby, I need you to turn for me, okay?” Johnny said as he helped you turn onto your stomach.  

Automatically, you arched your ass up off of the bed giving Johnny a full show of your pussy, slick coming out of it for how good he was fucking you.  

“Fuck angel, look at the way you’re dripping.” Johnny says as he takes hold of your ass cheeks and spreads them apart so he could get a better view of your wet entrance.  

“J-Johnny please…” you whine as you pushed yourself against him.  

A slap landed right on your ass, causing you to jolt forward with a moan. “Patience.”  

You whimpered as you looked over your shoulder to see Johnny completely mesmerized by the sight before him.  

Johnny delivered a couple more slaps before kneading the tender flesh in his hands. He leaned down and placed kisses along your ass cheeks before he bit into one, making you moan loudly.  

Aligning himself with your entrance, Johnny thrusted himself into you in one go delivering the fullness you’ve been trying to regain back.  

Johnny continued the brutal pace from before, chasing the high within both of you that he knew was around the corner.  

“I-I’m…” you trailed off as you stuffed your head between the pillows below you as the pleasure was too much to bear with.  

“Fuck yourself on my cock angel.” A hiss escapes through his lips as you start to move yourself along his shaft, chasing the height that’s building up tightly.  

With a twitch from your walls and one last thrust on Johnny’s cock, you found your legs shaking in pleasure causing them to give out.  

Johnny followed your movement. He pressed himself deeper inside of you due to the position of you laying down completely on the bed. He continued thrusting into you hastily helping you through your orgasm, causing some overstimulation, as he chased after his own high.  

You felt like you were on cloud nine as Johnny brought you into overstimulation. Small, whiny moans leave your lips as he continued.  

You felt Johnny’s cock twitch inside of you, signaling that he’s about to release his load.  

“Angel, fuck I’m so close.” Johnny groaned out as he continued.  

“Inside.” You mumbled into the pillows.  

Johnny took hold of your hair and pulled your head back. “What was that angel?” He whispered into your ear.  

Chills run down your back as goosebumps rise onto your skin. “I-inside of me baby please.” You cried as you felt you were close to a second orgasm.  

“Fuck baby…you drive me crazy.” Johnny said as he brought his lips onto yours, shoving his tongue inside of your mouth to dominate the kiss.  

Lost in the kiss, you felt the sensation in your stomach tighten once again causing you to clench around Johnny. 

“Mmgh, fuck!” Johnny moaned out of the kiss as he started to release his load.  

As you felt the hot strands of his cum inside of you, you came around his cock for the second time tonight.  

Johnny put his weight on his arms so he wouldn’t fully collapse on you. Slowly, Johnny moved to the side, careful not to hurt you as he was still inside of you. He brought the two of you to your sides where he pushed the hair that clung onto your sweat damp forehead away from your face.  

Johnny softly caressed your arm; this causes you to stir slightly at the gentle sensation. Groggily, you opened your eyes and looked over your shoulder to see Johnny smiling down at you with a gentle smile. 

“Happy birthday baby.” you said softly as you took hold of his hand.  

“Thank you for the birthday surprise angel.” Johnny said as he placed a tender kiss on your shoulder.  

With one last shared kiss, the two of you drifted off into sleep content with another successful birthday surprise.  

ummm thANK YOU TO MY 100+ FOLLOWERS!? ☹️🖤 honestly to see that so many of you like what I write is enough but to see that many of you following me makes me cry in joy 😭🫶🏼 thank you thank you thank youuuuu you guys encourage me 🖤

But I hope you guys enjoyed this fic! Had to give Johnny something for his birthday (ofc he ain’t seeing this cause— well 💀)

So much love from me to you MWAH MWAH 😚🖤

— mochi 🕷️

[stardragongalaxy]

Hearts Aligned

☆Summary: Its early in the relationship, but a calling from Hongjoong to his home office has some surprises in store.

☆Characters/pairing: Hongjoong x gn reader

☆Genre: Fluff, smut

☆Au/Trope info: Established relationship

☆Word Count: 750

☆Warnings: dom Hongjoong, let your imagination run wild, mentions of punishment and biting, praise kink, I think that's it, but let me know if I missed anything.

☆Rating: 18+ MDNI

☆A/N: Hello!! This took way longer than I thought because of life, but its here in the secret admirer event to @yourfatherlucifer I hope I did well for you even if it's a bit shorter than expected 🙈

Story under cut!

It had been a quite a while since you last saw your closest friend turned lover as he was always in the studio. You had teased him for being a bear in a cave for how much he stayed there, but you understood why because of his work and school schedule. If he wasn't in the studio he was always in practice in college sports to keep his physique in shape. Between all that he made time for you, his shorter significant other that he adored. 

He wanted to make sure you were loved especially wanting you to spend the night on his weekend off. You brought your duffle bag for the long four day weekend to his apartment, taking your shoes off at the door then to his living room. His voice in a distant room called your name. You followed his voice after setting your bag beside the couch on the ground to a type of work space. 

“Babe, come in here. I have something to let you hear” Hongjoong called when you turned the corner to enter the room making you in awe since it's the first time to his place. It was early in the relationship though. 

“On my way to you” You said with a tease to your voice taking a seat beside him. You caught him with a tanktop tonight, but kept yourself in check. He handed you the headphones and you put them in when he made sure you were ready, he began the music. You listened intently feeling the beats. He watched with relief seeing you enjoy it, the music sounded so right to you. You gave him a bit of critique in one point and let him listen that made it pitch better. 

He smiled letting you listen as these were to be graded for his exams soon. 

“Would you like to come to the concert?” Hongjoong asked putting down the headphones having his full attention on you. 

“When will it be?” 

“Next Saturday” he said. You checked the work schedule and your eyes lit up seeing that day was one you had off, nodding and accepting his invitation. You saw his genuine smile and he leaned in kissing your lips tenderly. He cupped your cheek and leaned you back against the black couch taking his time with you, mapping out your body with his hands. The nip to the lower lip was just the start of a night you wouldn't forget. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He held your body against his chest as he already had you marked as his through his love bites on your entire body. You did act like a brat at one point that caused his marks as a form of punishment. He growled nipping your ear playfully as he thrusted into you faster and harder then his previous two times that he made you come undone. He made sure you felt everything from him while his body glistened with sweat as well as your own. 

“You are doing so well being my pretty thing” he whispered in love “Falling to my temptation” he whispered again with a dark chuckle picking up his pace to be rougher, being much closer to his ecstacy with you, gripping your hips as he moaned deeply. His eyes rolled back as he came inside your, with a strangled moan thrusting to the hilt inside you releasing feeling you around him. It made him press his fingers into your tender flesh biting into your neck unexpectedly. 

Hongjoong pulled a moan from your throat, being a love bite instead of being rough as he held you against him pushing you both through your highs to eventually calm down, praising you with love rubbing your sides making sure your happiness was over everything having his new music playing as you both made love. He let you take a break from the first two rounds, smirking at how beautiful you looked marked up then leaned down, pecking your lips. 

“You still taste as sweet as the first time and I'll not get tired of it” He whispered against your lips, looking over you when he rose, pushing the hair out of your face.

 “I'm not done yet though, love” he said with a gruffer voice and darkened eyes. He had plans to go all night knowing neither of you had work and all the time. He wanted to make sure you were going to get love in more than one way tonight, and somehow, that's all you wanted. 

[drefear]

Sympathy

Based on this ask, have some angst and smut.

Miguel goes on a mission and hears some of his biggest fears become reality for this villain, then coming home to you.

TW: Sad story, angst, fear, smut, crying.

Bright red webs shot out of Miguel’s wrists as he yanked himself higher, bloodied and wounded from the mission he was currently on. He didn’t have backup often, but today he needed it, and Hobie was late. He held off the anomaly for as long as he could before Hobie got there, then calling in one more spider as the two could barely hold their own. Lyla sent Ben to help and the three were currently having issues with the beast, a Sandman that was rampaging and aiming straight for a hospital. 

“He’ll break the canon!” Miguel’s voice was hoarse as Hobie webbed the Sandman, him and Ben grabbing the enemy as Miguel threw a trap at its feet. 

“Let me out!” He bellowed as lazers surrounded him and kept him trapped in the nanotechnology. Miguel’s shoulders heaved as the sandman pounded on the buzzing tech and finally fell to his knees. 

“Please let me out… I just… I lost my family.” He froze at the villain's words, eyes glancing back at the cowering man. “You lost them?”

“My wife was going to divorce me and take my daughter, and I lost it… ended up killing them both and now I’m here.” Miguel’s eyes widened at the admission and he felt his heart ache. He knew what that was like, to make an accident and lose everything. 

“You’ll be back home soon.” He answered, trying to keep a straight face and now frown too much. He didn’t want the other two spiders to see any type of vulnerable reaction. 

His mind ran back to Gabriella, to how she smiled and the day she disappeared in his arms from his own doing. 

And then he thought of you. 

You with your soft hair and magnetic smile, melodic voice that made him feel easy when he needed to calm down. 

As Hobie went to take the villain away, Miguel stopped him. 

“Why was she going to divorce you?” He looked down at the man curiously. 

“She said I worked too much, I neglected her and our daughter…” He rambled and Miguel stayed quiet, then letting Ben and Hobie take him back to HQ. 

His mind was racing from the villain's words. 

Had he been neglecting you?

He did work a lot, and recently, you’d both been very busy. The spot anomaly was taking up most of his days and nights, usually leaving you alone for long periods unless it was just cuddling your sleeping form and waking up to you gone, cooking him lunch and wrapping it up in a bag for him to take to HQ. 

See, you both were busy, it wasn’t just him. 

But the nagging in the back of his mind didn’t stop. 

He finished the paper work he needed to in a frantic rush, scribbling and typing as fast as he could. He needed to see you, talk to you, hear you say that you still loved him. 

He’d almost failed to ‘thread the needle’ like he taught all recruits, on his way home, almost in a manic state as he climbed up the side of your shared apartment building with his claws. Hopping onto your balcony, he quietly slid open the glass door and heard you humming quietly, the shower running. You hummed when you were thinking, which worried him. What were You thinking about? 

“Mi reina?” He called out, testing if you seemed upset with him or not. 

“Miguelito?” You answered, popping your head out of the bathroom and smiling. “You’re home early, did something happen at HQ?” You inquired, going back into the bathroom to get back in the shower. He pulled his clothing off as he followed you like a puppy, hands itching to touch your celestial skin. A trail of his clothes could be found from the living room to the bathroom door, as he saw your frame behind the glass shower door, scrubbing your scalp. His hands found the bathroom door as he tapped gently, watching you turn and give him a gentle smile. “Hard day?” 

He slides open the door and wraps his arms around you as he steps inside, tucking his head into your shoulder as the warm water heats up the air around you both. You can feel the tension in his shoulders as he leans his head on your shoulder and slumps forward to lean a bit on you. You let out a little surprised laugh as you card your fingers through his hair and hear him give a soft sigh of comfort. 

“Just need you.” He mumbles and closes his eyes, gripping your hips tightly. You understood the unspoken confession; he needed comfort. 

Turning to face him, your hands tangled into his brown curls as the water bounced off of his broad back and you planted soft, gentle kisses to his shoulder while his forehead creased deeper. He couldn’t turn off his mind, the curse of being brilliant, but you knew how to at least quiet the thoughts. Pulling his face to yours, you finally collided your lips with his and kissed him in languide, relaxed strokes of your tongue against his. 

“Bebe…” He whispered against your mouth and sank deeper into your embrace, needing the comfort and love you gave him. 

“I know.” You moved to turn off the water and pull him out of the shower towards your bedroom, but he couldn’t wait any longer. Lifting you up, he sat you on the counter and tucked his head into the crook of your neck, kissing his way down toward your naval and between your thighs. His tongue licked flat against your folds and your spine shot up straight with electricity, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure. His eyes caught the sight of you blushing from his mouth and continued to slowly dine on you, a never ending dinner of sounds he could eat up and not once get full. His fingers held the plush of your legs and moved one calf over his shoulder, pushing his nose against your bundle of nerves and making you whine louder, flicking his tongue into your hole with practiced movements he knew you loved. His pretty little wife was his biggest weakness, and he was yours as well, always addicted to being on him, around him, full of him. Miguel sucked on you and made your head feel light, snapping your hips a bit into his face and turning even more red from not being able to control your own body because of him. Your orgasm hit like a wall and you shivered, clenching on his tongue as he slowed to let you roll through it with ease. 

Standing up once more, he slotted himself between your legs and you held his face in your smaller hands, eyes connected and refusing to look away from each other. 

“Miguelito… Did something happen?” You whispered and he just nodded, his thumb finding your clit and forcing a pitiful sound from your throat. He didn’t want to talk about it, that was now clear, and you would do anything to help him feel better. “So beautiful…” He mumbled as he pushed the head of his cock against you, sliding against your wet juices now soaking him and finally pushing into you. The stretch burned for a split second before his cock nudged a spot that made your vision blur around the edges and your mouth drop open. The grunt he released was one of need, of relief, and it made you even more hungry for him, to sooth him. His hands fell to your waist as he began a steady, even pace and rocked against you as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Leaning your forehead to his chest, you could barely breathe as you felt so imbued with him and only him. Every pent up emotion seemed to pour out of him when you two had sex, and right now, his upset dripped from his skin like honey. The tension was thick with underlying love and urgency. 

The pace never got much quicker, he continued to move in tandem with you as you cried out and felt him hitting every spot he knew you loved, the soaked cavern of your body becoming a home for him now. 

His eyes watched as your face contorted and flinched at every pull of his cock inside of you, gasping a bit every thrust back in. You felt the hot sensation building in your lower body once more, the flex of your leg muscles as your body shook, heels pushing into his back and egging him to keep going. “I’m so close…” You whispered, pitching becoming higher and higher as you felt tears prick your eyes from stimulation of his head bumping your sensitive spots continuously. 

“Let go, mi vida.” He instructed you and just his words had a masterful effect on you, shaking and sobbing through the slow orgasm that held your mind in a chokehold and your body captive. He followed behind you, feeling your whole being convulse and shudder because of him. White painted your insides as he stilled and forced the combined essence of you both as far in you as it could be. He huffed and panted with you, the sound of your heaving breaths all that could be heard. Your eyes scanned him over to check on him, and that’s when you noticed his eyes becoming glassy and wet. 

“Oh, darling…” You spoke and cupped his face again, leaning your head to his and hearing him sniffle. “Please don’t leave… I love you, I’m sorry…” A cold sweat broke over you at his begging and you stared at him, confused. 

“What did you do?” You asked, fear lacing your veins. 

“I’ve been neglecting you, I haven’t been good enough for you-” 

“Oh, no no, Miguel.” You interrupted him and pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him. “You haven’t neglected me, you’re busy. I’m here, I promise, stop worrying about us. I love you.” You assured and pet his cheek a bit, trying to give him some peace of mind.

“I’m right here.”

[guardian5tiger3]

Tarot pick a group ....

Anything that comes up.

1. 2. 3.

One

You guys are what people call lovers of life. A lot of you are really into some form or forms of art. A lot of you are really wise, open minded , really psychedelic type of individuals know it or not. You have a fresh way of looking at things a lot of the time and other people may feel that way about you all. You're definitely something a lot of people and really what the world needs . It's like you would be something missing and things would be incomplete without your uniqueness. :)

Oddly I got something about fried food maybe some of you work in a restaurant but really I'm getting the energy that you should treat yourself like you love yourself and fuel yourself with love when it comes to anything you take in and just generally the energy you put yourself in and feel. I'm picking up a really light nice energy. So I'm getting a quote from Alan Watts . Oddly I can't find the quote I'm thinking of .. but I saw one that said " waking up to who you are requires letting go of who you imagine yourself to be. "

I seriously can't find the quote some of you should look into Alan Watts and what he talks about. Generally, though, I'm getting you're searching for something maybe consciously or unconsciously and the universe wants to motivate you to continue to do that and I'm feeling a lot of refreshing energy, so if you open yourself up and allow any energy the universe is trying to gift you that. I heard "a peace of mind" and felt in my third eye really calm. And I see a bird with its wings open now. So there's some information or knowledge or wisdom or something and you will find it just stay on the path that you're on and focus on any good vibes around and within you. Spring time also is looking good for you guys a few of you might be moving also seeing about someone adopting a dog if you thought about that this is saying you should or maybe you already know you're gonna idk. For most of you though look forward to spring I see seeds you planted growing metaphorically which is totally with the season, and good surprises and just really good happy fun light energy. Especially!!! If the winter was kind of rough. Even if you just didn't have fun with the weather if you live where it snows. Or any personal struggles with that being a metaphor for that, I saw a heavy snowstorm, so , yeah. :)

Two

I've been getting a lot of weather symbolism so far and I saw like a rain storm for you all. I also got two cards about conflict, in general. So if you can relate to any tense , irritating energy, anything negative going on this is for you . Even just negative vibes especially with other people or for some living situations even for someone something to do with a kid in your life so it really depends and of course is gonna be specific for everyone what it might be. Seems like you've been trying to stay stable and "hold your own" best you can while also trying to go with the flow in terms of regulating your emotions according to the situation at hand. I just got three nines in a row, 999. That can tell you this is all coming to an end around this time or soon ok. Really picking up queen energy too ..? This is kind of strange but I'm picking up on the energy of treasure like you'll have a surprise or gift or something good from the universe like a present cause of this stuff and just y'all being good people thru this stuff and everything as best you can and being very stable for the circumstances or in general, but I initially got it worded and presented like, treasure. Like pirates or something which is funny cuz I just got a pirate sword tattoo haha. I'm also channeling old cartoons for some reason, like Tom and Jerry specifically, the old ones, like when you were a kid chilling Sunday morning watching the cartoons with your bowl of cereal or whatever. That's a vibe a lot of people share having to be able to experience. I rocked with wacky races and Scooby Doo lol. Among others ..Maybe something you're manifesting now goes all the way back to your childhood, somehow that's a hint. I'm also getting candy and heard sweettooth y'all better be careful with all that or find alternatives so to not damage your teeth ok. And if any of you are eating cuz you're bored ok straight up I heavily got play video games lol. I can relate to that. Also going for walks. Some of you need to drink cold water and make sure you're focusing on hygiene in any way. And for anyone feeling like life is bleak or boring or whatever or unexcited I would say stick to a routine and keep yourself busy for now, things always change no matter what that's a rule of life, and something might come to you one day that's a good idea for something to do, a new adventure, hobby, maybe you volunteer somewhere cool or anything really, it seems like you'll just have an idea eventually.

Three

39, 41,14,13 ,15 all might be significant. Maybe something about math and how math works.....? Wtf... Ok....y'all might talk about the matrix or get references to that. Also a lot about nature especially.... During the day. Also about camping. And ....parks? Depends on who you are. Andddd 16. Right I don't know if this all adds up to something or what I've never been super great at math so... Or maybe something is straight up building up to something ...? Lol. Lot of riddle like energy in this. I got humpty Dumpty . Y'all WTF is this . ? This is so specific and doesn't make a lot of sense to me but what I just channeled was like a group of people or at least two chilling like campfire vibes and sharing something to smoke and just hanging out kinda..... Idk if you want a time like that you can manifest it or some of you already have vibed like that idk. Cuz I saw multiple instances around a campfire and not but mainly at night or in the afternoon ,also sitting on steps outside. I guess you guys in your lives right now it's a lot about synchronicities and ... Going with the flow...? I keep picking up on Dora. The explorer. Anyway y'all seem like ok if your lives are all stories at the end of the day and you're in the middle of your journey but it's like a dope journey ,like embrace whatever adventures you're on and all the obstacles you face cause you have a destiny at the end of it. And by end I don't mean the end end I mean once you meet the ending of this your life will go on, after the happy ending (didn't mean to say happy ending but I added happy. :) . ).... Are you guys just confused in life cause I couldn't tell you what any of this means but hey if it resonates than I guess this is your confirmation youre on the right path.

I'm really picking up that the amount of fun you have at this point in your life at any given moment is mostly up to you. I think there's some points in time in the past and future that are destined to be certain vibes. Like looking at the stars or you have a altercation with someone or whatever you know but , I heard "in the meantime" like, for most of the time you can kind of decide to have fun, make things fun, you're free to do whatever you want. Some of you need to hear and absorb that. You are free. So make the most of that. Whatever you feel in any given moment.

Also , in the meantime is a song by spacehog, me being me I'd say listen to the whole album it has a few of my favorite songs on there personally, but yeah that's a great song so I do personally recommend it , too. Also I heard space song, space, traveler. Maybe I'm picking up on song names and don't know. I know space song is obviously a song but idk about traveler or space so idk. If you know a song like with those words it's significant. For some reason I wanna say, have a good day, lol. I hope this makes sense if it was meant for you. :) . Y'all definitely get a happy ending. So worry less and enjoy the moment it couldn't be more clear to me if you resonate with any of this, you definitely get a happy ending and it'll all be more than ok. Just roll with it. ;) 💗

[mykneeshurt]

Divinity

Archbishop John Price x F!Reader

Warnings - explicit smut, religious themes, so much blasphemy, breath play, minors DNI, 18+

Archbishop John Price.

You’d had run ins with him before. All perfectly innocent of course. He was in town and he wanted to see you.

It was late, much later than normal for any type of meeting, especially in a Cathedral. Your city had an impressive gothic cathedral located in the centre of the cobbled streets and winding alleyways. The building its self was surrounded by beautiful grounds, a crumbling graveyard and various statues and tributes to those deemed holy enough.

Spires reached for the sky, gargoyles adorned the balconies meant to ward off evil spirits. But they couldn’t keep you out. A large circular stained glass window glistened in the moonlight as stone arches surrounded it.

You felt somewhat nervous. You weren’t too sure why.

Pushing the great wooden door it creaked open, it was a deep walnut colour with black iron details. On entering the Cathedral you took in is glory, high stone ceilings, various candles littering the walls and floors in their cast iron holders. Stained glass windows of Saints lined the walls, worn wooden pews lined up filled the hall. A red carpet led straight to the altar, this was only used when his Holiness was in town. And the red carpet led straight to him.

Straight to the Archbishop John Price.

He was sat in the Cathedra, like a king on his throne. Legs spread as his hips splayed towards the ceiling, his hand resting on the arm of the chair as he surveyed the kingdom before him. His eyes fixed onto your form immediately, watching as you slowly made your way towards him. Your dress swayed in time with your hips, capturing his eyes with the hypnotising motions.

Hands clasped behind your back you smirked as you approached the altar. He was dressed in all black, a singular gold ring on his left ring finger. Symbolising his commitment to God. You could see his chest moving slowly as he breathed, chest clearly tight with anticipation. Much like your own.

The moon illuminated his form in the dark surroundings of the Cathedral, his eyes overshadowed by his brow but with the slight blue hue still shining through. As you stood in front of him he raked his eyes up and down your form, over your curves, your breasts, legs and finally locking onto your eyes.

Biting your lip you slowly sank to your knees in front of him, hands now clasped in front of you signalling a silent prayer. Leaning forward he cupped your jaw, legs still spread as he pulled your bottom lip with his thumb. ‘I hear you’ve been quite busy little one’ he whispered as you rubbed your cheek into his palm. ‘I needed to get your attention’ you purred softly.

‘And you thought you’d do that by committing the sin of lust? By seducing my disciples of God like the succubus you are?’

You loved it when he talked to you like this, describing how you corrupted his priests, how you made them succumb to your spell, making them give in to their most carnal desires. You stared up at him through your lashes, trying to give him your best doe eyes. ‘I’ve seduced you before John. You know I get what I want.’ He chuckled under his breath, this time you raised your hand to his face. Pulling him closer. Your lips hovered over his, breath tickling the sensitive skin.

‘So give me what I want.’

Slowly he sat back, flashing a look to his lap, beckoning you to take a seat. Standing up you straddled his lap, your knees barely fitting between his muscular thighs and the wooden cathedra. Holding your hips he pulled you further into his lap, his firm cock grazed your aching core as you let out a soft whine. ‘Take it little one. Show me what you want’ he whispered into your neck, placing tender kisses between each word.

Nipping at his lip you dropped your hand to his cock, rubbing it through the fabric of his trousers. A hushed grunt exuded from his throat at the contact, subtly pushing his hips up. Desperately trying to get more friction. Giggling to yourself you kissed his neck, your breath gliding along his soft skin. ‘Tell me you want me John’ you whispered into his neck, desperation seeping through your voice.

He wrapped his hand in your hair, pulling you away from his neck. Forcing you to look at him, his clear blue eyes pooled in the rays that shone through the stained glass windows. His beard peppered with dark and white hairs, his bottom lip plump from where you had nipped it. ‘As God as my witness, I want you.’

Rolling your hips you smiled, eyes lighting up like the fiery pits of hell. ‘Then fuck me like you mean it.’

In one fluid movement he had you bent over the cathedra, dress gathered at your waist. Dropping his hand he caressed the back of your calf and onto your thigh. Fingertips gently grazing your soft skin, kissing the back of your other thigh he groaned, the vibrations tickling your now wet cunt.

Letting out a breathy moan into the wooden chair his name danced on your lips. ‘Don’t tease me John. Fuck. Me.’ Your words were harsh and commanding, but you always were when you weren’t getting what you wanted. Nipping the crease of your ass he chuckled against your skin, his beard tickling the sensitive skin. ‘Don’t rush me little one. I’m taking my time with you. I want to worship you.’

A slow whine made its way from your chest, ricochetting off the sandstone walls at his words. Tentatively he moved your panties to the side as he traced your lips with his fingers, whimpering at the sight of your glistening cunt. Kissing his ring he plunged two fingers into you, the cold metal grazed your folds as be began moving. Pumping his fingers as you came undone beneath him. ‘Fuck. I’ve missed that sound’ he whispered, ‘miss the way you hum my name. This cunt. Like God made it just for me.’

You were losing yourself at his words, ready to honour this man before his God.

‘John please’ you begged, voice hoarse with need and pure lust. Pulling his fingers out he gripped you by the waist forcing you to be flush with his cock. It took all of your energy to stand, but you managed to rest your head on his shoulder as he brought his fingers to your mouth. A silent demand to taste yourself. Opening your mouth he slowly ran his fingers along your tongue, your warm, slippery tongue. Moaning at your taste he kissed your neck as he rolled his fingers in your mouth.

Wanting to feel him inside you, you spun around in his grasp pulling him with you as you stepped back to the chair. Sitting you spread your legs gesturing for him to kneel before you. Keeping his eyes on yours he dropped to his knees, a glint present in his eyes. As he went to bury his head in your folds you placed the ball of your foot on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. Leaning forward you grasped the rosary that was hidden beneath his shirt.

Using the rosary like a collar you pulled him towards you. He crawled over you, placing his lips on yours. Coaxing you into a kiss his tongue invaded your mouth, still tasting of you. As the kiss deepened you wrapped your legs around his waist. Rolling your hips you whined into him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Without any warning you grasped his hair and pulled him away from you. He hissed as you held him forcefully in your grasp. ‘Don’t make me ask again’ you ordered. Holding his head there he smirked down at you, dropping his eyes to your lips and back to your eyes.

Playfully rolling his eyes he bit his lip as he pulled at his belt. Still hovering above you he worked his cock in his hands before slowly pushing into you. The stretch would have made the devil himself blush. He was thicker than average and it stung in the most beautiful way. Your eyes rolled back as he bottomed out, mouth agape with sweat beginning to gather on your neck.

‘God John’ you whined whilst gripping his shirt. ‘God ain’t here love, but let’s give the angels something to talk about.’

With that he began thrusting into you, your head pushed against the back of the cathedra while you gripped onto him to stay steady. He buried his head into your neck as he whispered words of affirmation with each thrust. ‘You feel so good around my cock’ he breathed, voice laced with desire and ecstasy. You were so cock drunk you were unable to find words, only various moans and whispers.

Dropping your hand to your clit you applied pressure, pushing yourself further to your climax. Eyes closed you let your mind wander, Archbishop Price fucking your pussy, Father Garrick taking your ass, all while Father Riley had his cock in your mouth while Father McTavish watched.

He gripped your hips as he upped his pace, his pubic bone adding even more pressure to your clit. ‘Don’t stop, please’ you whined, your climax edging ever closer. ‘That’s it little one ’ he cooed, cupping your jaw once more. ‘Tell me when you’re close’ you whispered, a wicked grin spreading across your lips. ‘Already am.’

With that you pulled at the rosary that was dangling between you, gripping it close to his neck, cutting off his blood supply. Humming to yourself you watched as his pupils blew wide. ‘Mmm good boy, now cum for me. I’m not letting go till you fill me’ you whispered. A choked breath escaped him as he became sloppy, desperate.

Removing your hand from your clit you ran your fingers against his lips, allowing him the honour of tasting you. He hummed in appreciation trying to savour your taste as he fought for air. With three more thrusts he came and came hard. Filling you entirely. Just as he did you released the pressure from his throat allowing a rush of air to fire through him. Dropping his head to yours he rested on your forehead, breathing heavy and fast.

‘Stick your tongue out’ he ordered. Doing as you were told you stuck it out and peered up at him with innocence in your eyes. Fake of course. In a smooth motion he pulled out making you feel empty and gathered his cum on his fingertip. Slowly he dragged it across your tongue ‘this is my body, I give it to you.’ Greedily you licked your lips and swallowed.

Just as he went to sink himself in again you stopped him, he looked confused, ‘if I cum now, I won’t get to do this again. Maybe you come to mine later and teach me more about God.’

————

Sorry this has taken so long. Life has gotten in the way. I don’t even know if I like it lmao

Taglist - @deadbranch @villainsoftheweek @glitterypirateduck @luminousbeings-crudematter

[blue-slxt]

The Game

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: So this was inspired by crazy, horny ramblings from discord. I just love my man and threesomes are pretty fun (even if they are a monster to actually write lol). All characters are aged up.

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Na'vi!Reader x Fem!Na'vi!OC

Warnings: Smut, P in V, Threesome, Oral (M and F receiving), Face Riding, Sapphic Kissing/Touching, Creampie

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Neteyam gets caught up in you and your friend's "game".

Everything about this whole situation was just so unusual. Neteyam couldn't believe he found himself in this scenario. It was so unlike him to get caught up. But he had been distracted. It was supposed to be another regular trip through the forest. But something was different tonight. He got careless; he got distracted. He smelled a scent he wasn't familiar with. As many times as he's walked through this forest, he knew it inside and out and he knew that whatever this scent was, it didn't belong here.

He hushed his own breath and lightened his footsteps as he moved closer to the unfamiliar smell. It was floral, but with a hint of some type of fruit that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Peeking through the bushes, he noticed your crouched form next to the river. Your back was turned towards him and it seemed you hadn't noticed him approaching you.

He almost called out to you, but when he saw your face, his voice was lost to him. To say he thought you were beautiful was an understatement. Your features were soft and round, but there was a hardened edge to your expression. Clearly a gentle and nurturing soul, but a heart made of steel and no fear.

That's where he fucked up. He got so lost in his musings about you that he let his guard down and didn't notice the second presence coming up behind him until a strong hand grabbed ahold of his kuru and a cool blade was pressed against his throat.

"Move slowly..." the second voice speaks lowly to him.

She stands to her feet and brings Neteyam with her and moves both of them through the bushes into the clearing. "Who did you find this time, Ìze?" you say brushing your braids out of your face.

With a sly grin, she walks him closer to you, "We got a big catch this time. None other than the prince of the Omatikaya himself."

"What is this?" Neteyam asks, trying to piece together the unfolding situation.

"Why don't you tell us? You were the one watching me, weren't you?" you say walking up to him and trailing your fingers over his broad chest.

His ears pin themselves to his head feeling embarrassed at being caught and called out. "Fine. So what do you want?"

Ìze chuckles behind him, "Same thing that you want, pretty boy." Her hand on his kuru eases its grip and starts to lightly stroke the base making Neteyam's breath grow heavy.

"It's okay, Nete~..." you say his name with a sweet tease. "We just want to play with you a little bit..."

"How do you know my name?" he asks, trying to not let the quiver in his voice show.

"Oh, you are famous even among other clans, Mr. future olo'eyktan." Ìze answers finally lowering her knife from his throat. And yet, Neteyam still makes no attempt to escape.

"I've been dying to find out if the Omatikaya prince tastes as good as he looks", you continue letting your fingers dance along the waist of his tewng.

Ìze slowly circles around to his front letting his kuru slide sensually through her hand before letting it fall. Now that Neteyam could clearly see her face, he could see that she was beautiful too, but in an entirely different way. Where your beauty radiated nurturing warmth and hidden power, Ìze was beautiful in an intimidating way. She was clearly the hunter type and everything from her posture to her voice commanded respect.

"So take your pick, Nete~" Ìze teases the nickname.

Neteyam tries desperately to quickly rework his malfunctioning brain to come up with some kind of a response. But any words that come to mind, die in his throat before they ever make it to his lips. His eyes just flicker back and forth between the two of you trying to make sense of at least some part of this.

"What's the matter?" you ask, stepping closer and running your hand along his perfectly chiseled jaw. "Yerik got your tongue?"

Neteyam's not sure why he did what he did next. Maybe it was how sweet you smelled or the shiver he felt all the way down to his tail when you touched him. Regardless of why, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you in close against him.

Your eyes go wide with excitement and a devilish grin plasters itself on your face. Ìze's expression mimics your own at the unfolding situation in front of you both. You're not quite done having your fun yet, though. You lift up on your toes and press light kisses to his cheeks, his nose, the corners of his mouth, his chin, everywhere except where he really wants you. When his patience runs thin, Neteyam uses two fingers to hold your chin and keep you in place so that he can properly place a firm kiss on your lips. 

His lips are in perfect sync moving against yours, but before you can fully comprehend anything, his tongue is swiping at your lower lip begging to be let in. You eagerly grant him entrance just as you feel another set of hands wrap around you and cup your breasts. Neteyam’s tongue dances with yours where he clearly sets the tone and takes the lead and you’re more than happy to submit to him. You sigh into the kiss feeling Ìze give your earlobe a playful nip. You finally pull back from the kiss leaving a thin string of saliva connecting your lips together. 

“My turn” Ìze says still groping at your body that was thoroughly trapped between the two of them. 

She leans in over your shoulder pressing her lips to Neteyam’s and the kiss is a fierce battle of wills between the two of them. Their tongues fight for dominance as you let your hands trail lower down his toned body and you feel the outline of his dick through his tewng. Feeling how big and stiff he is right now has your breath growing heavy with anticipation. Your eagerness clearly overtakes you when your fingers get busy untying his loincloth. 

When they finally break their kiss, both of their chests are heaving for air. Neteyam locks eyes with you and his blown pupils and half lidded eyes match your own. He lets you continue on your mission to rid him of the offensive cloth until it falls while he licks and nips at your neck. He breathes in deep, heady breaths of your intoxicating scent and you make no attempt to stop him from scenting you. Ìze says in your ear, “looks like the prince has taken a liking to you” with a giggle in her voice. 

“It would seem so. I’ll take the first round and then we’ll switch?” you suggest with a slight moan escaping when his tongue glides just below your ear. 

“Sounds good to me.”

Neteyam is so lost in leaving little marks on your otherwise perfect skin that he doesn’t even hear the two of you scheming. It’s not until you push him away by his chest that he finally breaks out of his trance. Neteyam focuses on the two pairs of eyes trained on him. More specifically, on his thick cock standing tall and proud in front of him. 

“Lay down” Ìze instructs. 

His ears twitch back and forth signaling that he heard her, but his tail sways in hesitation. 

“Relax, your highness. Let us take care of everything.” you say tail practically thrashing behind you with excitement.

Neteyam feels like he’s having an out of body experience, watching himself follow your instructions as he lays down on the soft, glowy moss.

He watches on in curiosity and amazement when you and Ìze strip off your own tewngs in front of him leaving the three of you bare together. You approach him from the bottom while Ìze walks around to the top of Neteyam’s head. Getting down on your hands and knees, you crawl over to him and settle yourself between his thighs that twitch and jump under the gentle caress of your fingertips. It feels like you could start drooling when you finally hold him in your hand. He’s so thick and heavy in your grasp, your fingers can just barely fit all the way around. 

Dragging the flat of your tongue up his length, you can see Neteyam’s abs tremble with the shuddering breath he releases. Your tongue travels up his whole length and then you take his tip into your mouth. Beads of tangy precum coat your tongue and you hum around him in satisfaction at the flavor. 

The beads in his braids clink together as Neteyam’s head falls back to the ground. When he looks up, Ìze is crouched over him grinning like a devil at him. 

“Ah ah ah, eyes forward, pretty boy.” She says, grabbing his face and pointing his eyes back at you. You hold searing eye contact with him while you slide him all the way into your mouth, making small gagging sounds when he brushes the back of your tongue. 

“She’s doing such a good job for you, isn’t she? Doesn’t she just look so gorgeous swallowing your cock?” 

If your lips weren’t currently occupied, they would be tugging into a smirk watching the prince’s composure crumble. Ìze always loved taking the lead in these situations. Meanwhile, you were more of a pleaser. Nothing compared to the rush you felt when you would watch a strong warrior or proficient hunter melt under you. 

Neteyam finally can’t hold your gaze any more when you shoot a wink his way. It’s more than he can handle. His eyes squeeze close while you continue to bob your head up and down on his length. Ìze takes the opportunity to turn his face back to her and capture his lips in another heated kiss. 

Neteyam moans into her mouth when you hollow out your cheeks and he swallows the small chuckles she lets out. 

When you and Ìze lock eyes, a silent understanding is shared between you. You pull off of Neteyam with an audible ‘pop’ and Ìze pulls back from their kiss and Neteyam is left with his head still spinning figuring out what’s happening. 

“Time to see if the prince lives up to his reputation. What do you think?” Ìze teases.

“Oh, I’m sure that he won’t disappoint us” you muse, stalking closer to him and stealing a quick kiss. His lips try to chase after you when you pull away. He watches you intensely when you straddle his hips and hover right above when he really wants you to be. His hips buck beneath you trying to chase your heat. Every time he comes close, you lift your hips a little higher, keeping him from fully getting what he wants out of you just yet. He lets out a low growl of frustration, but it only amuses the two of you. 

“Now, now, don’t be such a tease. I think we’ve made him wait long enough, don’t you?”, Ìze purrs walking behind you and placing her hands on your hips.You let her help guide you to finally sit down on Neteyam’s stiff cock. The stretch is even better than you imagined. 

“Mmf!”

Every curve and ridge seems to fit perfectly inside of you. Neteyam can’t help but watch you sit down on it and watching the way his jaw falls to his chest is the exact sight that you love to see every time. 

You move your hips up and down at a steady pace, coaxing small groans of pleasure from the man under you. Ìze takes her hands off you and makes her way to Neteyam’s face.

“Don’t forget about me just yet, prince.”

She uses two fingers on Neteyam’s forehead to gently push his head down for her to straddle his face. Neteyam wastes no time having his fill of her. 

“Ahh…”

Both of you roll your hips in perfect time with each other on top of him. Your walls clench and hug around his thick cock while Ìze covers his face in her slick that he’s steadily lapping at. 

“Ahn~! Nete!” you cry out when his hips snap up to meet yours. One of his hands holds on to your hip for more leverage to rut up into you. His other hand holds Ìze in place for his tongue to reach all the right spots. 

“Haah…ah, right there!” she croons. 

“Ìze…” you breathe out, reaching your hand towards her. A smirk crosses her lips already knowing what you wanted. She leans forward towards you and uses her fingers under your chin to tilt your face up to hers and press her lips to yours. Her tongue invades your mouth, muffling the sweet moans you make from every buck of Neteyam’s hips. 

The night air is filled with the various sounds of wet skin slapping against skin and muffled sounds of pleasure from all three of you. 

Your head is swirling with all the stimulation that almost borders on being too much. The smell of arousal thick in your noose, Neteyam’s tip knocking against your cervix, and Ìze playfully licking into your mouth has you quickly approaching your peak. 

You finally break the kiss to catch your breath and notice Ìze’s glazed over eyes. It’s a look you’re all too familiar with from having done this so many times. It’s the look she gets when she’s close. She pants against your lips; the two of you practically sharing the breath. Below her, Neteyam attaches his lips around her clit and sucks on it lightly sending shock waves through her body. Her normally hardened, confident expression has melted away into something needy and wanting. Thankfully, you knew exactly what she needed. 

Your hand reaches around the back of her head and grabs ahold of her kuru. Gently stroking the base of it, you lightly purr to her “let go for us, Ìze”. 

As if you had directly spoken to oher core, her hips twitch and her thighs shake with her release that coats Neteyam’s face and runs down the sides of his mouth. Her pussy desperately clenches around nothing as she continues to ride out her high until she can come down.

Watching her like this always riled you up more. Made you go harder, faster, deeper. It was beautiful to watch every time. She was beautiful. 

Her body relaxes and she drops her full weight down. Neteyam lightly taps her thigh to signal to her that he finally needs to come up for a breath and she climbs off of his face. 

“Have fun~” she says with a slightly tired lilt to her voice, leaving the two of you to finish. 

In one fluid motion, Neteyam sits up and lays you on your back on the ground. He throws your legs over his shoulders and ruts into you with more force than before. Lightning flashes through your body. Without even realizing it, your tail coils around his bicep in a subconscious attempt to help keep your mind grounded. 

“Ah! Mm! Haah…Nete!” 

“Cum for me, tanhì” he quietly commands you, knowing that he’s probably just as close as you are. 

Your toes curl and your nails dig into his skin when your release rips through you.Your walls vice grip around him and Neteyam can’t hold back anymore. His hips stutter and lose their previously steady pace as thick ropes of white spill into you making warmth spread in your lower belly. 

His lips crash into yours, still fresh with the taste of Ìze on them. It’s disorienting and addicting in the way it seems to drag out your high and make you see stars. When he breaks the kiss, you’re both trying to catch your breath. 

“So?” Ìze inquires from somewhere behind you.

A smile spreads on your lips and you simply respond, “I told you he wouldn’t disappoint us”.

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