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lisired · 6 months

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can you keep it down?

pairing: neighbor!mark x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, dilf!mark, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, choking, thigh slapping, forced submission, implications of brat taming (in progress), praise, degradation but it’s more like banter, unprotected sex (dont b silly wrap ur willy)

summary: The apartment next door to yours has been vacant for months. No one had gone in or out, not until your new next door neighbor moved in two weeks ago. Mark, a slightly older guy who prides himself on his patience and willpower with a penchant for control. But when you make it clear you’re resolved to wither away the things he values most, Mark decides he’s down for the challenge, determined to put a leash on your unrestrained behavior - and most importantly, finally shut you the hell up.

word count: 10.4k

a/n: 4/4 of the Temptation series. feedback is appreciated!

The first time you met Mark, it was right outside your door.

It was late at night - debatably early in the morning - and you had been in the middle of bringing yourself to the third consecutive orgasm in a row when loud knocking interrupted you. Part of you was tempted to ignore whoever was determined to beat down your door, but it was ceaseless and frankly, you were growing annoyed.

Swiftly you slipped on the closest pair of shorts and marched to the front door in large strides, swinging it open once you finally arrived. Then, your eyes met Mark’s.

He was a mere stranger to you then. But what you saw made you want to know him. What you saw made you nearly forget that you were on the brink of orgasm only moments ago. A pair of beautiful brown eyes stared back at you.

“Hey,” he greeted, voice gruff. “Sorry to bother you, but can you keep it down? I live right next door and with all the noise I can’t sleep.”

For a moment you only blinked, processing his words slowly. You weren’t aware that you were being that loud. But then again, you were in no state to properly register your actions - you were delirious with pleasure and had blocked everything else past your senses.

When you finally processed his statement, your cheeks burned, slightly embarrassed. “Fuck. I’m so, so sorry, I had no idea. I’ll try to be quieter from now on.”

He gave you a courteous nod and replied, “No worries. Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

And that was it. When you shimmied back out of your shorts, you didn’t even feel energetic anymore, only overcome by exhaustion and the burdensome fact that you had work in the morning. You groaned and flopped against your bedsheets, letting sleep swallow you whole.

But the image of your new neighbor was reoccurring. There was something familiar about him, like you had seen him once before. And there were things you noticed right off the bat about him. For one, he was an older guy. Not old, but evidently beyond your years. And if the shorts he wore was any indicator, he was likely a father.

That made the chain of thoughts about him increase, and you didn’t even know his first name. There was instant intrigue and desire to get to know your new, next-door neighbor.

Though visions died quick, and dreams were killed even quicker. When you saw Mark swallowing some girl’s face only moments before she left his apartment on your way to work some days later, you rationalized yourself and decided to take it steady. It was certain that you were sure of what you wanted, but you respected his relationship. You were a great deal of things - delusional and a homewrecker weren’t on the list.

The second time, it was when you least expected it - at a local cafe.

Mark sat across from you, coffee cup in hand. Awareness of someone’s sudden presence made you shudder, and it slightly soothed you when you realized it was your hot neighbor. Your heart was still beating fast.

You played it cool. “Are you stalking me, neighbor?”

Amused, your neighbor let out a chuckle that was like music to your ears. “My name is Mark,” he introduced himself, smiling blithely. “And don’t flatter yourself, neighbor. I saw you here coincidentally and sat here because I had one good question for you.”

With an eyebrow arched, you casted Mark an identical smile. It amused you that he spoke to you as if you had been long friends, though you didn’t mind. You had been intrigued by Mark the moment you first laid eyes on him, and had been incapable of taking them off him since.

“Mark,” you said, tasting his name on your tongue. You played along and bobbed your head after a few moments, deciding you liked his name and gave him yours. “What do you have to ask me, Mark?”

Mark leaned over the table, voice an octave above a whisper as he asked, “Who’s fucking you so good that you can’t be quiet?”

He leaned back out and eyed you smugly when you blinked in surprise. His bluntness had caught you off-guard and he was proud of it, but you refused to not quickly recover.

Feigning indifference, you replied, “No one. Most of the time it’s just me and my toys. I have a hectic work schedule so it’s rare for me to find time to mess with people.”

Much to your misfortune, it was true. Working a busy office job meant that you had little time for even short-lived flings or one-night stands, much less the commitment of a serious relationship. It was difficult to recall the last time that you had gotten laid. With work taking such a humongous toll on you, your only way of relieving all of your pent-up frustrations was with sex toys.

That response was a clear shock to Mark, and in return you took pride in it. He was expecting you to be taken, but now that you had essentially implied that you weren’t dating anyone, he felt free to make a move on you. It was an indirect way of asking you if you were single. He also didn’t expect the same girl that flushed red when he confronted you about your noisiness to meet his boldness, but it was a welcome surprise. Mark could tell only fun things would come out of knowing you and becoming your neighbor.

Mark took a long sip from his cup, then asked, “What do you do for a living?”

“I work a variable job as an executive assistant that spends an ungodly amount of time behind a computer screen doing everyone else’s job for them,” you smiled tiredly.

He threw you a playful grimace and glanced at his watch for a split-second, but you had his undivided attention again in no time. “Damn, no wonder. You must like things rough.”

That took you by surprise, but you didn’t dare show it. “You have no idea,” you grumbled, playing it safe. “What about you?”

Mark grinned with pride. “I’m an editor for a publishing company.”

“Must be fun.”

“I can’t complain. It’s a stress sometimes, but it pays the bills.”

You chuckled. “Amen to that.”

It felt forbidden to be interested in your potentially taken neighbor that you only met a couple of days ago, yet here you were talking to him about your sex and work life. To make matters worse - and if that comment about you liking things rough was any indicator - you might have somehow also piqued his interests.

Maybe you were just reading too much into his words. After all, you were his noisy neighbor that kept him up at night. He was probably just curious as to why you seemingly made enemies with silence.

Mark glanced at his watch again then rose from his seat, and you figured he had places to be. “I’d better get going. I have to pick up my son.”

“Your son?” you questioned, furrowing your brows. The confusion was fake, of course. You had a hunch that he was a father, but you had never seen or heard the child to confirm your suspicions.

“Yes, my son,” Mark gave you a hard stare that you couldn’t make out. “It’s Friday and he stays with me this weekend so please, if not for my sake then for his, keep it down.”

You gave Mark a nod. He bid you farewell and made a break for the door, the chime of the bells letting you know that he was gone. He had wanted to stay for a bit, play for a little longer, but decided it was a good thing he didn’t get much of a chance to make a move. For now, Mark was intent on observing you. He wanted to figure you out a bit more before he went to first base.

But damn was he interested. There was something about you a couple of moments ago that he was attracted to, how you seemed equally bold as he was. A stark contrast from the first time he met you, but he figured that he had simply caught you at a bad time.

That was the thing, though - Mark didn’t know you. He needed more time before he could be sure you were worth it.

For at least the weekend, you obliged Mark’s wishes. As aforementioned, you were a great deal of things, but you weren’t petty for the wrong reasons. Or outright odd. It wasn’t like you were loud for the sake of it, you truly just never realized what you were capable of.

Over the course of those days, you continued to think about Mark. He had cut deep in your imagination and now there was a permanent scar that refused to heal. It was silly, being so hung over a guy you hardly knew and couldn’t have, but you couldn’t help it.

Mark was giving you a headache. You weren’t one to be indecisive over what you wanted, but that wasn’t the case here. From the moment he showed up at your doorstep, you knew that you had to have him. The problem was that you wanted to outline boundaries. There were places you were able to step and then there were places you weren’t. The last thing you wanted was to scare him away because of your urges.

The third time you saw Mark was the following weekend, bumping into him in the halls. You were going to apologize, but then his face fell into your vision. And thus, you noticed something completely new about it.

“You have a stubble,” you commented, nearly gawking.

Mark bobbed his head, grinning. He found it interesting how you gazed up at him as if you’d never seen a man with a stubble before. “Yeah. That’s what happens when you don’t shave. Shocking, I know.”

“I kind of like it.”

He snickered. “Only kinda?”

More than kind of - and while you weren’t afraid to admit it, you ignored his question. The stubble was the completion to Mark’s physical attractiveness that you hadn’t even known you would be into. He was already hot as hell, though now he was somehow even hotter.

He shot you a smug smile, unable to miss the way that you leered at him. You found him attractive. It was no secret and Mark wasn’t sure if you intended for it to be or not, though the way that you were unabashedly fucking him with your eyes gave him a huge hint. After last weekend’s encounter, you didn’t strike him as the type to shy away very easily. Confident.

So was he.

“You’re just standing here watching me like you want to eat me. Do you like it that much?”

There were a couple of routes you could take with that question. Either you could be honest and tell him how you felt, or you could beat around the bush. You chose the former.

“Sight for sore eyes,” you replied, finally meeting his eyes. He held eye contact with you as well as the expectation that you would break, but you proved him wrong. You kept looking him in his eyes as you said, “I love it. I think it suits the fuck out of you.”

Mark raised a brow, intrigued by your response. “Mm,” he hummed. He moved a step closer to you and asked, “What else do you like?”

Your breath began to speed up and so did your pulse when you picked up on how close your bodies were. You were hyper aware of the proximity and it was slowly killing you, setting off visceral reactions in your body. Another inch and his lips would be brushing yours. It felt like a test on your behalf - to see how you would react and if you would chicken out - and you utterly refused to back down from the challenge.

Deflecting, you tore your eyes from his lips and asked back, “Initiating a conversation with me in the middle of the hallway?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Do you wanna come in, then?”

“I don’t think your girlfriend would like that very much,” you faked a pout, the most subtle sullen undertone hiding in your sentence.

Mark resisted a grin. It was probable you were indirectly determining whether or not he was single. But the tiniest hint of sadness in your voice suggested that you might have genuinely been under the impression he was in a relationship.

“What girlfriend?” He threw you an utterly confused look. “I haven’t been in a relationship since the birth of Christ.”

You stared at him with genuine surprise. “I saw you sucking some girl’s face like last week.”

“And have you seen her around here again since?” Mark scoffed, amused.

What he was implying began to sink in gradually and you realized that you had made an awfully large assumption the other day. Though in your defense, people making out with their hookups like that was completely unheard of to you. It looked too passionate, especially for the morning after. When you had nothing to quip, Mark made a face at you that made you want to sink into the ground, and added, “She’s not my girlfriend - she was a fling. We had sex the previous night but I’m sure you weren’t able to tell because unlike someone, I know how to be quiet.”

Was. That meant not any more.

Affronted, and refusing to take that, you took a step back and shot, “Maybe your dick game is just weak if she’s that quiet.”

“You wanna find out?” Mark cocked his head to the side with an exasperating smile, taking a step forward for every step you took backwards until your back hit a wall. It was obvious that you were trying to get a rise out of him and he wouldn’t take the bait. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”

Mark’s hands were on either side of you and his gaze rooted you in place. Neither of you seemed to give a damn that you were in public and in the view of a security camera. You kept staring at one another, pupils dilated with obvious want. Now that you were aware that Mark was single you deemed it perfectly safe to cave in to your desires, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to - yet. It was funny how whenever you finally got what you wanted, it was never enough.

You smiled softly, matching the little smirk on his face - you didn’t want him to think that he had an advantage over you, and whether he did or didn’t wasn’t relevant. “Are you saying that you want me?”

“I do want you,” Mark confessed without a care. He had no true intention of sleeping with you just yet, wanting to get to know you some more, but it wouldn’t hurt to admit that he was attracted to you nonetheless. “Do you want me?”

Seductively, you leered at him, then purred, “So bad.”

“Then, stop deflecting.”

With one little breath, you said, “Fine,” then closed the tiny gap between the both of you and your lips. When he kissed you back, your hands sought for his neck and his hooked around your waist.

As you kissed Mark it only became more fierce, tongues and teeth clashing in attempts to maintain dominance over the other. Yet neither of you would cave. Both of you were fighting fire with fire and it was like nothing that either of you had ever experienced before. Mark displayed a clear need for power and control, and while you weren’t against letting him have it, you were never one to give it away that easily.

You tugged on Mark’s hair, wanting to feel him as close as possible. His calloused hands began to wander all over you, kneading your skin and making you moan softly into his mouth. You could feel him grinning against your lips. His touch was like fire and your body was already burning with lust, desire, and everything in between. It had been so long since someone last touched you like this, kissed you like this. Mark was filling in all the little gaps and empty spaces.

A rough pull at his locks made Mark groan into your mouth and he pinned your hands above your head, up against the wall. He got rougher, as if he was trying to fit you into the wall - or maybe force you through it. But the fervor was welcome, and although he had pinned your hands above your head, you still kissed him with as much eagerness as you were humanly capable.

You pulled away when you had your fill, knowing that if you kept him close to you any longer you would make a move for his clothes, and your exhibitionism kink only extended so far. The both of you stared at one another with sheer lust, but there was an almost telepathic understanding between you. We have to wait.

Out of breath, you casted Mark a flirtatious wink and smile before parting and said, “See you later, Mark.”

Then, you sashayed back to your apartment. When you felt his eyes boring holes into your back, you simpered to yourself. You had planted the seed; now all you had to do was let it grow.

Days of messing around with Mark turned into weeks, but both of you were yet to succumb to your temptations. It was like you were waiting for the other to give in first and neither of you wanted to grant the other that satisfaction.

But of course, after planting the seed you had to water it and give it sunshine. In other words, you continued to flirt with Mark, maintaining his interest. And in return, he maintained yours. From anyone else’s point of view it might have seemed silly to be resisting each other when it was clear as day that the lust was mutual, but you and Mark were too alike. Too much pride, and too much adoration for all things thrill and tension.

Even when he wasn’t in your company, Mark was on your mind. It had only gotten worse the moment you kissed him. In the beginning you only thought about him occasionally - mostly whenever you saw or heard him - but now he was creeping into your head during your downtime and that was a problem. Your thoughts consisted nearly completely of him. Mark, Mark, Mark. He was all you could think about.

One weekend, you surprisingly encountered Mark at a playground. He appeared shocked to see you, but only let it show for a brief moment.

“I’m beginning to think that you’re the one stalking me. What in God’s name are you of all people doing at a playground?”

“Please. You’re not that special. I don’t have the time or energy to stalk anyone, baby,” you drawled with a hint of amusement. You pointed at a little girl. “You see that little girl in the purple shirt on the slide? That’s my niece. I’m babysitting her for my brother and sister-in-law. Today’s their anniversary and they wanted peace.”

Mark bobbed his head, understanding. “Of course. You can’t have any of that around a child. How old is she?”

“Just turned six about a week ago.”

“Around my son’s age,” he remarked, then pointed towards the set of swings. A couple of children played over there, but only one young boy was in the group. And he looked almost just like someone you knew. “He’s right there on the swings. Six, but he’s nearing seven.”

He was absolutely adorable. You were already thinking about play dates between him and your niece. She was lovely and enjoyed meeting new people, bless her pure heart.

You smiled softly with awe. “Stole your whole face. There’s no way in hell you could deny that boy.”

Mark snickered, shoulders shaking. “Damn right. My little mini-me,” he sighed happily. He took his eyes off his son for a split-second to glance over at you. You looked beautiful, as always. And you were watching your niece with so much intent and care that he doubted you had even snook a glance of your own his way. “Fond of kids?”

“I babysitted throughout college,” you replied pensively. Reminiscent. “Believe it or not. I thought it was my calling because I was so responsible and the parents always praised me, plus it was a huge step towards individuality. Grew up with a lot of siblings and relatives, too, so I’ve always been around children.”

Mark grinned, satisfied. That was the answer he wanted to hear. He was only curious because he was interested in you, and before he jumped too far ahead he needed to know what you thought about children. It was a relief that you had so much tenderness for and resonated so well with them. That gave him all the more reasons to want you by his side. “What about you?” he asked, adding when your face scrunched about with confusion, “Do you want kids of your own?”

There was no reluctance in your answer, like you had already thought long and hard about the question before. “Someday. When I’m married and sure I’ve chosen the right person to settle down and have kids with. And when I have a less demanding job so that I’m able to take care of my family and spend time with them,” you said, smiling wistfully. “My parents were busy people. They weren’t around a whole lot so me and my siblings practically raised each other.”

Mark gave you a look. One you could make out as pity. You thought his response would be predictable, but it caught you by surprise. “You don’t want to be pitied, do you?”

You blinked, genuinely unsure of how to respond for a moment. Then you broke into a broad grin and said, “Nope.”

“I feel for you anyways,” Mark gave a playful nudge to your side with his elbow. “And I think you have beautiful visions for the future. I can tell you’re gonna be a great mother.”

You thanked him in a way that was positively bashful. For a while, you and Mark chatted about whatever the hell you wanted - topics in relation to the children, personal life, and everything in between. After the day you and Mark kissed, a more mutual effort to get to know each other blossomed. Mark told you everything there was to know about his job. Most of the time he worked from home without much need for overseer authorization, and set his own hours. As someone who loved being in control, it suited him.

It was alarming that you had gotten so personal so fast. You had only known each other for a month, more or less, and only really began talking a couple of weeks ago. Yet you felt comfortable enough to share a certain level of information that you normally would conceal.

You were becoming close in every sense of the word. The tension between you and Mark never fizzled out, it only seemed to grow more, and more, and more, until it would eventually explode in your faces. By then, you would have no choice but to confront it directly. You couldn’t wait.

Mark wrapped his arm around your waist, and peered down briefly to look at it. Contact drove you crazy. You loved having Mark’s hands on you, even in non-sexual ways.

He pulled you into him and asked, “How long are you keeping her?”

“Just until five. I’m taking her to her grandma’s after this,” you replied, shifting your gaze back to the playground. But a smug smile tugged your lips. “Why?”

There was a shine in Mark’s pretty brown eyes. It was almost five. Voice tickling your neck, he leaned in to say bluntly, “Because I wanna take you for a ride. Are you down?”

You casted him an observant glance over your shoulder. What Mark wanted was clear, or so you thought, but you were in the mood for playing hard to get. As per usual. “Dunno. What kind of ride?”

“The kind where we get in my car and go whatever the road and a full tank of gas leads us,” Mark shrugged. “It’s a yes-no question, doll. Are you down, or not?”

Doll. That was new. You had reached the pet name stage, calling each other ‘baby’ a couple of times, but ‘doll’ was new. It also had you wishing that you were both alone so that you could do something about how badly you craved Mark in that moment.

“I’m down. Meet me outside the complex at six?” You questioned, peering up at him yet again. You smiled when you met his eyes, unable to resist the urge. Mark made you feel good inside, all warm and gross. It was a delight to know you were still capable of feeling such a way. After all, it had been so long since the last time.

Mark nodded and smiled back. “I will. Child-less, so that we can have peace of our own.”

You giggled into his chest. You could smell his scent, and it was heavenly.

At six o’clock, Mark was waiting for you downstairs like he said that he would be. And he was child-less. You both were.

Ever the gentleman, he opened the passenger door of his car for you and shut it once you were completely inside. Of course, it took more than simple courtesy to impress you, but something about it was making you giggle. Something you couldn’t pinpoint.

Mark gave you a look once he settled in the driver’s seat. “What’s funny?”

“Chivalry,” you sighed, smiling. “Apparently, it’s not dead.”

Mark was amused, but held back a snort. You were occasionally ridiculous, but just the right amount. He could tolerate it.

As he gripped the steering wheel, the car jerked to live underneath his fingertips, and soon you were both rolling. You said nothing for a little while, Mark focusing on the road and you peering out the window. The silence wasn’t awkward, but he cut on the radio and began to hum the song that was currently playing.

You glanced at him witheringly, but he was unbothered. Then, you teased with a grin, “Oh, yeah. Show out, Beyoncé.”

“Stop being a hater,” Mark groaned, then went back to singing.

After some moments of teasing, you were finally content and gave it a rest, relaxing into the leather seat. You were happy. If anyone had told you a month ago that you’d be in your new neighbor’s car listening to him sing songs from the radio, you would have called them insane. But you weren’t stupid and you knew better than to vulnerate yourself to a stranger. You told a couple friends about him and realized why Mark had seemed familiar - because he was. One of them knew Mark and was able to vouch for him, assuring you he was a good guy. That was why you felt so goddamn free.

It was peaceful, being alone with Mark. Whenever you weren’t both determined to get into each other’s pants, that was. But there was none of that right now - only the scenery whirling by at the pace of the lightning, the radio prevailing over the silence, and Mark by your side. And you by his. It felt too damn nice.

“You never answered my question that day.”

“Hm?” you gazed at him, confused. By his sentence and sudden will to ignite conversation, although you didn’t mind. “What question?”

Mark’s hand left the steering wheel and dropped to your thigh, which undoubtedly didn’t go unnoticed by you. He didn’t move it, but you couldn’t ignore his fingers on your skin. “I asked you, what else do you like?”

“About you, or in general?”

He shrugged. “Whatever gets you talking.”

You gazed through the windshield, pretending to be pondering deeply. “Well, in general, I like a bunch of things. I’ve got a penchant for poetry and music. This tends to shock people, but parties aren’t my scene. I’m a more reserved person. I love the color blue.”

“Why blue?”

“Because it looks amazing on me,” you winked.

“Mm,” Mark glanced at you fleetingly through the rear-view mirror. That was when his fingers started moving, kneading your thigh. “What else?”

“Hm, well,” you began, pretending to be unbothered by his touch. In reality, you were melting with every move. “About you, there’s a lot for me to like, too. You’re confident, smart, funny, sexy,” then you licked your lips and added, “And an excellent kisser.”

Mark grinned, hand still massaging your bare skin. “What a sweet-talker you are. Keep going,” he whispered, then gave your thigh a little squeeze.

But you were honest. There were too many things you admired about Mark that led you to becoming drawn to him in such a little period of time. Just as easily as he had been able to make you tell him things, you had persuaded him into opening up. There was still so much to learn about each other on deeper levels, but time was your best friend. For now, you decided that you would tell him what you already knew.

“I like the way you put so much care and effort into what you love. I’ve heard you talk about your son, your friends, your job. You never neglect anything,” you confessed, smiling fondly as you recalled the conversations you’d had. “I like how we’re similar, too. I think that’s part of the reason why we feel comfortable moving so fast. We’re cut from the same cloth. We both know what we want and when and how we want it, and we’re not afraid to go get it. It’s like playing a damn game of tug of war whenever I’m with you.”

“Or a very calculated game of chess,” Mark added, shaking his head with amusement.

You giggled. “But there’s something about you that’s so… alluring. I’m attracted to it. You’re a hardworking borderline control freak that’s unafraid of sincerity. I love it.”

“Romantic. I’m swooning,” he deadpanned, throwing you a playful glare.

“And you’re the right amount of sarcastic.”

“And that’s what gets you going?”

“Baby, please. If I could kiss you right fucking now, I would,” you admitted.

Mark said nothing, but his fingers kept fondling with your flesh, and your breath kept getting out of control. He gave your thigh another reassuring squeeze, letting you know he heard you.

Forest views took over. You pressed your fingertips to the window glass and watched as the rapid blur of scenes that once consisted of neon city lights turned green. Moss-coated branches replaced them, last rays of sunlight filtering through them as you neared the woods and the gravel roads turned to dirt.

“Woods, very spooky. Are you gonna kill me and hide my body out here?” you asked him humorously, watching as he drove you through the wild.

Mark didn’t take his eyes off the road as he replied, “And dump it in the lake.”

“Lake?”

He smiled. “You’ll see.”

You did see a lake. Mark parked his car near some trees and once he helped you outside, led you down a trail until you reached a bridge. It was long and stretched above a medium body of water. Blossoming flowers lived in the grass and the scent was earthy. You stretched ever so slightly over the railing and saw yours and Mark’s reflection staring back at you.

There were little fountains in the lake. Creatures made the water ripple and you watched with Mark’s arm wrapped around your waist as the smell and sound of nature filled your senses. Ducks pecked around the land edges of the lake in hunt of food.

“It’s beautiful,” you exhaled in awe. The clouds and setting sun peered down on the water and you wished that you had your camera on your person. It was a sight too gorgeous to let become nothing more than a memory fading at the back of your head.

Mark bobbed his head in agreement. The corners of his lips tugged upwards as he said, “It is. I come here from time to time whenever I need to clear my head. It’s a nice place that I’ve always wanted to share with someone.”

“You trust me enough to share it with me?” you teased, palms on his chest as you gazed up at his face. “I mean, like what if I get arrested for tax fraud and every time you come here all you can think about is your old neighbor that got sent to prison for evading her taxes.”

“Then, you better do your taxes, or else I’ll be right after you when you get out. For attempted murder.”

You made a face of faux fear. “Shiver me timbers!”

Somehow, Mark pulled you closer and gave you a kiss on the cheek. Any closer and you were sure he would be able to feel how fast your heart was beating. It was safe to say that you had a little crush on your neighbor. You wanted him to an extent that words couldn’t capture.

There was something different with Mark. Linger was the perfect word to describe how his every action affected you. When he kissed you, you could still feel his lips on you moments afterwards. His every touch lingered on you, even the barest ones. You could taste him on you, his scent lingered on your body - it was too much. But Mark was too persistent. Even if you wanted to, and you didn’t, you couldn’t get away.

Mark looked at you as if he wanted to kiss you, but to your misfortune, he didn’t. Instead his lips parted to say, “Watch the sunset with me.”

Obediently, you turned to face the railing, which pleased him. He moved behind you and tightened his grip on your waist.

The sunset was beautiful, even more so with Mark’s company. The two of you made conversation, all the while watching how the sky that was once a pleasant array of colors dulled a deep indigo. The sun descended below the horizon and its reflection in the water was replaced by the moon.

And you - the moonlight illuminated every inch of your face. Mark had always thought that you were gorgeous, but the moonlight made your beauty criminal. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

“I can’t control myself anymore,” Mark growled. At first, you were confused, but when he whirled you around and pressed his lips against yours, you quickly understood.

Mark backed you against the railing, cornering you. Kissing him was too much fun. It was the same battle, the same fervent effort to compel one of you to submit to the other’s touch, yet both of you always held out, keeping your white flags lowered. Mark had never met anyone that challenged him this much, and you had never met anyone so desperate to prove a point.

When one of you pulled away, you not only were breathing heavily, but dangerously turned on. Your despires were no longer pure wants - they were needs.

“Mark,” you exhaled through shallow breaths, “Please.”

Mark cocked a brow, incredulous, yet amused. “You’re begging?”

You nodded, casting him a needy glance that nearly made him want to give you everything you wanted then and there. It wounded your pride to beg him to do anything, but you weren’t necessarily above it anymore. Lust made you do anything - and it was flowing rapidly through your bloodstream. “Please, I want it.”

That much was entertaining to him, although Mark still didn’t want to give himself to you yet. It wasn’t that he wasn’t willing to have sex with you, but he wanted to bide his time. He wanted things a specific way and hooking up with you in his car simply wasn’t ideal.

Mark shook his head. “I’m not fucking you in my car.”

You pursed your lips and fought back the best way you knew how, huffing, “Why not? Don’t wanna fuck up your expensive seats? Car sex virgin?”

“My first time was in the back of a car,” Mark told you matter-of-factly, being sure to smile in the most menacing way possible. It was only deserved for the way you left him that day that you kissed him. You wanted to kiss that stupid grin off his face, but you thought he didn’t deserve it. “And everything I wanna do to you can’t happen in a car. You’ve been patient all this time, baby, you can wait a little more.”

“Ever the elaborate controlling perfectionist are you,” you drawled, faux aggravation to your tone.

Mark entwined his fingers with yours. “But you love that about me.”

“I never said that.”

“Oh? Must I remind you of your little love confession in my car earlier?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes. “No, thank you. But I will be expecting a four-page love letter detailing everything you like about me in the mail signed ‘Markie Pooh’ soon. I like to be courted.”

Mark gave your forehead a chaste peck, grinning as he joked, “I’ll enclose it with a kiss.”

You giggled.

Soon, Mark drove you back home and you were kissing him goodbye. It was a dramatic farewell, considering you lived right next door to him, but tonight had been magical and you were wondering where the time had gone. All you wanted to do was freeze time and kiss Mark on that bridge forever.

But you were also sick to your stomach that he still wasn’t in your guts. And tonight, you had a plan that would undoubtedly make him snap and give you what you wanted.

Last night, you gave yourself the release that your body was begging for, since Mark refused to fulfill your desires himself. And you made sure to be loud so that your intentions were obvious - ever since the last time he asked you to keep it down, you began doing an impressive job at suppressing your noises, muffling them into your pillow or biting your lip. But not last night. You called it being petty for the right reasons. That was what you were, and rather proudly.

For a little extra flare, you moaned Mark’s name. As much as it was you being petty for the sake of setting him off, it was also a self-indulging experience. Fantasizing about your neighbor was what brought you to the edge quicker than anything, and you came harder than ever with the thought of him on your mind.

Mark didn’t text you the following day. Usually, you would find time through your hectic work hours to chat, and you would spend the better half of your lunch break typing away at your phone, but it was radio silence.

It was weird. Maybe you and Mark were alike in more ways than you thought, and he was also extremely petty. But for the wrong reasons, in your opinion.

When you came home from work, Mark was standing outside his door, waiting. He leaned against it and stared you down.

“Had fun last night?”

Pretending to be oblivious as to what he was referencing, you played dumb and answered, “You mean, at the bridge? Of course. When are we going again?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Mark chastised, glaring. “I heard you last night. You seemed like you were having a good time, you know, moaning my name and all like a slut.”

Never had it ever crossed your mind that you would enjoy Mark calling you a slut, yet here you were, becoming more and more aroused the longer you pushed his buttons. With his commitment to patience, you typically never got much fun out of it, but right now he was approaching his limit and you were anticipating every second of it.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you replied, searching for your keys and acting as if you were paying him no mind.

Mark wasn’t having any of it. For weeks you had all been all over each other, the mutual lust long-established, though now you were suddenly disregarding him and it was with one clear intention in mind. He wasn’t going to give in to your tricks, but he would play along with your little game. And he was going to win.

The little remaining bits of restraint he had suddenly exhausted and Mark gripped your wrists, ignoring the sound of surprise you uttered as he dragged you into his apartment. The door slammed shut in your trail and he pushed you up against it, pinning your arms above your head as he began to kiss you with urgency.

Kissing Mark was exhilarating. Whenever his lips were flush against yours, it was as if time stopped. Everything seemed to slow down but the dangerously rapid thud of your heart against your chest and the spreading wildfire in your body. You made an attempt to free your wrists from his seemingly tightening touch, writhing against him with desire to touch him, yet whatever strength you had Mark had more and you were unable to overpower his might.

“Mark,” you exhaled, pulling away to catch your breath. “I want to touch you.”

He hummed, an idea slithering into his brain. “If you want to so bad, then beg.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, slightly incredulous, yet the feeling dissipated when you remembered who exactly you were talking to. Scowling, you said, “I begged you once and now you’re getting too used to it.”

“If you want to get your way when it comes to me, then you better start getting used to it. Now, do you wanna get your pretty little hands on me, or not?”

You sighed. “I do.”

Mark gave you an expecting look. “Then, beg.”

“You want me to get on my knees, too?” you deadpanned, shooting him a sharp glare that he seemed utterly unbothered by - and it exasperated you.

The grin on his lips then was infuriating. “Don’t worry, you’ll do that later.”

Ignoring the very obvious implication of those words, you made a face, but the look in Mark’s eyes when you met his gaze was so goddamn commanding. The dominance to his aura that you had been so intent on destroying was finally getting to you.

“Please,” you whimpered, trying to ignore how pathetic you sounded. “Let me touch you, Mark, please.”

Satisfied, Mark let go of your wrists and his lips immediately fell back on yours, the need to kiss you resurfacing. It was like resuming, pressing play and pause. There was something about hearing and seeing you beg - especially against your will - that he found so arousing. You were so resistant to his dominance and it was all too entertaining to see you finally succumb.

Your hands raced to his shirt and with his own assistance, you hiked it above his head, hands flying to his chest afterwards. For a moment, your eyes opened to ogle at him, wallowing in the sight of his bare skin. Mark began to tug at your blouse and you both began to undress one another, leaving a trail of clothes behind you as you both headed to his bedroom.

By the time you got to his bed, you were stripped down to nothing but your undergarments. Lying flat on your back, you watched as Mark took his sweet time to crawl over you. His hand moved at an agonizingly slow pace from your thighs, to your stomach, to your clothed breasts. You felt as if your breath was stuck in your throat as you anticipated what he would do next, and he finally leaned in your ear, whispering, “You do look good in blue.”

He kissed you there for a little longer, heated and passionate, then pulled you up and said, “Get on your knees.”

Submissively, you sank to the floor without a fight, which both pleased and surprised Mark. Though the little sly grin playing on your lips was a good enough indicator that you were planning something. And you were. Any other time you would have refused to listen to him without first making an attack on his pride, but you were skilled with your tongue and had a line of people you’d been with to show for it.

You were resolved to make him unravel - and you would.

The bulge of his dick was prominent through his underwear, of which you tugged down in desperate haste. You had wanted a taste of him for only God knows how long.

His dick sprung against his stomach and by then your mouth was watering. You took him into your palm, smiling up at Mark as you began to leisurely pump him. Your efforts to tease him only became worse, intentionally letting your lips graze the head of his dick every now and then, giving him false hope that you’d finally get to the best part.

“Don’t tease me, doll. You won’t like what’ll happen if you keep up,” Mark warned.

“Punish me, Mark,” you said, smiling broadening.

He wasn’t given the chance to respond before you took his cock into your mouth, a little grunt leaving his mouth instead. You were taking him into your mouth bit by bit, efforts to tease him still lingering. Mark grabbed a fistful of your hair and held it behind your neck.

Mark, a man of patience, was beginning to lose the thing he clung to most. He used your hair to force you down on him some more. “Stop fooling around and take it, baby. Put your mouth to good use for once.”

In pursuit of spiting him, you fooled around for a moment longer, though finally gave up contentedly after you figured that you’d frustrated him enough. Soon you were steadily bobbing your head up and down his length, cheeks hollowed, his fingers gripping your hair to control your movements to an extent.

The wet sound of your mouth sucking his dick and his little noises of pleasure echoed throughout the bedroom. You smiled to yourself slyly at a thought you were having. Mark was a groaner.

He sounded heavenly. You were quick to discover his weaknesses, catching on to how he became noisier. Mark wasn’t the loudest guy that you’d been with, fairly moderate, but he was still unable to hide the signs that said loud and clear you were making him feel good. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and saw how pleasure was written all over his face, lips parted and his eyes closing from time to time.

That drove Mark borderline insane, you peering up at him like that - and you had already known that it would. At the end of the day, Mark was simply a man, after all. And you had men all figured out.

“Good girl. Just like that,” he praised, pushing your head down a little more.

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and you stroked him all the while sucking him off, tasting pre-cum on your tongue. You could feel him twitching in your mouth and it was a pleasure. There was no denying he was close.

When Mark noticed you slowing down in efforts to tease him, he was displeased and decided that he had enough of your schemes. The loosened, relaxed grip on your hair suddenly tightened and he began to thrust into your mouth, taking control. You were good with your mouth and able to take it deep, but the sudden movement caught you off-guard and you began to gag.

“Just when I praise you, you decide you wanna be a little fucking brat,” Mark spat, pulling your hair again. “You just can’t listen, can you?”

You glared up at him, tears pricking your eyes, and the sight made him let out a laugh. He knew as well as the next person that you liked acting tough, but with tears in the corners of your eyes and a cock in your mouth, you looked nothing short of pathetic.

He shot you a withering look, adding, “You always act like you have the whole world in the palm of your hands. You try to get under my skin because you want to see me succumb to the same tricks you play on everyone else, but you know I won’t give an inch and you don’t know how to handle it. Wish you could see how pathetic you look when you shut the hell up and take my cock.”

Right now you wished that he would shut the hell up, but oddly enough, his words were turning you on. You silently prayed that he wouldn’t catch on to how wet you were getting with every passing moment.

Mark was close. His sentences became raspy, deep groans and his pace was relentless, merciless. Like he was trying to bruise the very back of your throat. It took everything in you not to choke out, but you refused to give him the satisfaction in seeing you in such a vulnerable state. He was already enjoying this too much.

Mark groaned, “Fuck. You gonna swallow it, babe?”

As a way of saying ‘yes’, you hummed around his shaft and the vibration was making him lose his mind. You swiftly moved one of your palms to wipe at a streak of tears on your cheeks before he noticed.

You doubted that he did. Mark was in another world, eyes closed as he was overcome by pleasure. The warmth and wetness of your mouth was everything and he was out of control, movements unrestrained. He came in your mouth with a grunt, giving your hair one last violent tug as his climax struck his body. You milked him dry, taking every bit of his cum in your mouth that you could possibly manage.

There was a noise when you rolled him out of your mouth, looking him in his eyes immediately afterwards. Mark was breathless, and so were you, but he could only smile.

You gave him a look, voice slightly hoarse from the throat-fucking as you asked, “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied, smile unfaltering, but it was obviously something. “I’m simply enjoying the way you look with spit and my cum on your lips and chin.”

You rolled your eyes and wiped yourself clean with the back of your hand. “And I was enjoying the way you looked like you were on the verge of losing your shit.”

“Funny how you’re only quiet when you have a dick in your mouth.”

Wittily, you retorted, “Maybe I would shut up if you fucked me.”

Instead of giving you an immediate response, Mark pulled you back onto the mattress, hovering above you as you lay flat on your back. “Mm-hm. That’s why you were moaning my name so loud last night, right? Because you wanted my dick?”

One of his palms slipped underneath the band of your underwear and you let out a little cry of surprise when you felt his fingers brushing against your arousal. You were holding in your breath. It had been so long since anyone had you like this and you were touch-starved, feeling completely deprived of sex and nearly the memory of what it was like.

His free hand gave a loud, resounding smack to your thigh, and you yelped. “That was a question, doll.”

“Yes,” you choked out. “Please. I want it so bad, Mark.”

“So wet, all for me,” he sighed with bliss. His fingers were now plunging inside your pussy, sliding in and out with ease. You hadn’t been this wet in ages. “How long has it been since you were last with someone?”

“I don’t know, like three months,” you guessed, not really wanting to think about it when his touch was all you could focus on. “A really long fucking time, basically.”

Mark made a face, surprised. “No wonder you’re so damn needy.”

His teasing did nothing to help and you were quickly growing impatient. There was no need to explain why it had been so long, you were certain he already knew. With your work schedule there was rarely time to meet new people and you had no one to come home to. But Mark made it too goddamn easy, and considering how hard you worked, you could use a good fuck.

“It’ll be a year by the time you fuck me,” you grumbled, impatient. What more did he want you to do? You sucked him off, begged, and yet he was still torturing you by resisting. It was like he was deliberately trying to get you to lose your goddamn mind, and knowing Mark, you wouldn’t put it past him. It was working.

Mark said nothing, looking at you blithely. And hungrily. There was still a layer of clothes obstructing the view of your bare skin, and greedily his hands flew to the band of your underwear. You bit back a whimper at the feeling of being suddenly empty, but Mark tore your panties past your ankles, and your bra immediately followed as he tugged on the straps.

The sight of your naked body had Mark’s dick throbbing and he swore then that you were Aphrodite. You were driving him past the brink of insanity. He had envisaged your body in his dreams and fantasies, though nothing could have prepared him for how beautiful you looked sprawled out on his sheets and he could only think one thing. Goddamn.

That was it for him. He was still resolved to tease you to sheer hell, but he could keep playing your games while inside of you.

You made a tiny gasp when you felt the head of Mark’s cock prod your folds. The sight of your pussy was his kryptonite - you were dripping with arousal. You wanted him so badly and he wanted you just as much. He pushed the tip in with a raspy groan and made a couple slow, shallow thrusts.

Then a couple turned into too many for you to count and you were becoming impatient. More than you already were. “Mark, hurry the hell up,” you grumbled.

“Mm, no. I think I’ll keep going like this,” Mark teased. After the way you treated him only moments ago, he wasn’t the least bit sympathetic. “I told you, you weren’t going to like what happened if you kept teasing me. Now look.”

Just like he said you wouldn’t, you weren’t liking this. He was agonizingly slow, not deep enough, and it was all deliberate. Karma was a fucking bitch.

“Fuck you,” you spat, insincere.

Mark was totally unbothered, seemingly paying you no mind as he replied, “That’s no way to talk to the man who you’re so wet for. Ask me nicely and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Holding back a groan in fear of his changing his mind about reconsidering, you tidied up the sentence you were preparing to say to him and fixed your tone. “Mark, can you please move faster?”

“Don’t you sound so sweet when you ask like a good girl,” Mark sang. Before you could muster a response, he finally thrusted completely into you and you moaned. The way your pussy gripped him was his vice, and you stretched to accommodate his size.

In no time he also discarded his formerly slow pace and adopted a new, speedier one. The way he was pounding you was so deep and perfect and you grabbed his shoulders, desperately needing something to cling to.

This type of experience used to only exist in your head. More often than not, you winded up touching yourself to the thought of the man before you as a way to cope with your stress and lechery. You would close your eyes and picture his dark hair matted by sweat, his face scrunched up with pleasure. You would imagine the noises that he’d make when he finally felt the grip of your pussy around his dick, the way your body responded to his every touch. It got you off too quick, tempting you to march over to his apartment and demand he finished the job.

But you never did. You wanted to see him lose his patience - and you did.

“Pussy’s so damn tight,” Mark groaned, which made you grin smugly. You knew that already.

Mark leaned low and began to press soft kisses into your skin, his thumb brushing over your stiff nipples. He found you utterly beautiful, no flaw in his eyes. The breathy sounds you were making in response felt like hearing an angel.

Although you were enjoying yourself, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing and said, “Don’t be gentle with me, baby.”

Mark smiled softly. “I don’t plan to be, doll.”

When Mark was finished with your breasts, his mouth replaced them, beginning to latch roughly onto your neck. Which made you sigh out in bliss. The feeling of his teeth digging sharply into your flesh made you certain that he was going to leave Mark’s, and you were too fond of it. You wanted Mark to make you his.

Everything was too much in the best way possible. You were intoxicated by the feeling of Mark’s bare cock between your walls, striking the sweetest parts of you. Your mouth parted in too-loud moans of his name.

He gripped your throat, looking you dead in the eyes as he commanded, “Be fucking quiet.”

That made you clench around his length. At first, your eyes widened, but you recovered swiftly and your lips curled into a broad smile as you met Mark’s gaze. The look on your face right then made his cock twitch.

“You like that, huh?” he asked, tightening the grip around your neck. You couldn’t get a single coherent word out, choking, but the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head was more than the perfect answer.

Mark let go of your throat after a moment and began to watch the way your cunt swallowed him whole. It was satisfying to have you at his disposal like this. He was hell bent on taming you, no matter how many fucks it took; the more the merrier. He couldn’t get enough of the way you felt - warm, wet walls clamping tightly around his size - and he knew deep down that there was no way in hell this would be the last time.

There was no going back. He was set on you; you on him. You were different from anyone he had ever been with before, you were a challenge. Brats were something he never thought he would be fond of, wallowing in the fact that most women bent to his will. But you caught onto his behavior fast and opposed it, resolved to break down his walls, and he was game. Mark never went down without a fight, though neither did you, and he liked it too damn much.

Taming you was fun. It was something he never knew that he needed until you suddenly came into his life, providing him a little thrill and excitement on a silver platter. You were so much like him that it was all too easy to read you, to find out what made you tick. And making you feel defeated was what he got out of trying to put a leash on your wildness.

Not too long after, you were moaning in a chant, “Mark,” his words forewarning you to be quiet going in one ear and out of the other. You couldn’t help it. It felt perfect. He was so deep and so thick, making you feel full.

“Brat,” Mark hissed, shaking his head. But with how utterly disobedient you were he didn’t bother to scold you again, taking matters into his own hands by picking your panties and shoving them into your mouth. “That’ll shut you up.”

There was an instant sound of protest and likely you cursing at him, considering how you narrowed your eyes at him, but there was no way for him to tell. Mark smiled tauntingly. “Can’t hear you, babe,” he said.

You raised your middle finger in a silent retaliation, but Mark retaliated back even quicker and lifted your hands above your head, pinning them down to the mattress. You felt so fucking powerless, yet Mark had so much power over you and your body. It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t long before you could finally sense your orgasm building up, a dam on the very verge of breaking loose. Everything felt otherworldly and you swore that you were no longer breathing. Like you were gone, but your body was still physically alive and well. Pleasure ripped through every last vein in your bare body and consumed it in its entirety, swallowing you in its mass.

Mark’s pace was merciless, and when he moved one of his hands to wrap around your throat, so was the tight squeeze on both sides. It was damn near bruising and your eyes were fluttering, but you didn’t want him to stop. You were internally begging that he wouldn’t.

Your panties fell from your mouth and you took the opportunity to ask with a struggle, “Can I please cum, Mark?”

“Let go for me, babe,” Mark grunted, resisting the urge to comment on how pathetic you sounded asking for permission in your hoarse little voice. It came to him as a pleasant surprise, and a satisfying sound that left his dick throbbing.

There was no need to tell you twice. You came with one last cry of his name, back arching as you began to come undone. It was explosive, your entire body reacting to the intensity of it. Your toes clenched and your pussy gripped relentlessly around his shaft. You swore that you were beginning to see stars.

Mark pulled out and came on your stomach with a deep sexy groan, the sight and sound of you at your very climax triggering his own orgasm consecutively. His hands loosened their grip and set you free, and soon you were both lying flat on his bed, panting heavily.

“So,” he began through shallow breaths, and you braced yourself for whatever he could have possibly said next. “How’s that for a weak dick game?”

You glanced at him confused, then suddenly broke into a fit of laughter after you recalled what he was referencing. You had insulted his game. “I take it back,” you replied. “It’s alright.”

Mark raised a brow. “Just alright? Like I didn’t have to put your panties in your mouth because you wouldn’t stop screaming my name?”

“I was not screaming.”

“You were screaming. And…,”

Before he could add anything else - and you knew he would, refusing to let you live anything that happened today down - you smashed your lips against his and carded your fingers through his hair, effectively shutting him up. Mark kissed back with joy, smiling against your lips. All of the other kisses that you two shared had consisted of rough, unrestrained attempts at dominating one another, but this was slow and sweet. It was gentle, and dare you say loving.

“One more round?” you asked when you pulled away.

Mark snickered. “Don’t tempt me, baby. If we start with one it might become two.”

You licked your lips and grinned. That was useful information. “Nope, I’m tempting you. Now give in.”

Mark gave your lips another kiss, but immediately became distracted once he caught another glimpse of the swell of your breasts. “Damn, baby,” he sighed contentedly, running his hands over the shape. “I just fucking might.”

Temptations. Oh, how dangerous they were. But caving into them might have been the best decision you’d ever made - and Mark was living proof.

He was your temptation.

#mark smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #mark lee x reader #nct imagines #mark lee imagines #mark lee smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

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m0onlustre · 5 days

Text

You always belonged with me. - Sylus x reader

ᯓPairing: Sylus x female reader (afab)

ᯓGenre: pure filth, slight yan!sylus if you squint really hard, oc plot mentions, angst

ᯓ tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, ooc Sylus (how his myth could be in my head), toxic relationship, b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, non-sexual choking, spanking, creampies, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie, angel), dirty talking, sylus refers to reader's pussy as "she"

ᯓExtra Warning: This story contains altered religious themes and biblical references that may lead me to hell. If you are religious or uncomfortable with the prospect of such writing, please, for your own sake, do not proceed with this story. Consider yourself warned.

ᯓWord Count: 4,6k

Centuries ago, you were banned from stepping foot in the place you once called home. You would do anything to return, and tonight was your chance to try your last resort: the man who had damned you to this position in the first place.

It wasn’t the first time you felt the unsettling sensation of being followed while navigating the N109 Zone. This place was notorious for its shadows—every corner seemed to harbor someone lurking, ready to pry into the lives of others.

You had grown accustomed to this unease; after all, this had been your home for years, both before and after the catastrophe that left the area hollow and desolate. In the aftermath, people became harsher, their kindness stripped away by the events that reshaped the lives of everyone in the zone.

Your feet carried you into one of the bars at the far end of town. You couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle at the absurdity of a security guard standing at the door. Everyone knew this wasn’t a typical nightclub—not that anything here could be considered “normal.” This establishment had a reputation as a bloodbath. The guards weren’t there to ensure anyone's safety of course, except for one man: The leader of Onychinus.

Onychinus was a mysterious faction entrenched in the N109 Zone. Unlike other shady groups, they were omnipresent, weaving a vast web of corruption that controlled every illegal activity within the area.

Sylus was not just the head of this dangerous organization; he was regarded as the ruler of the entire underworld. Whispers of his cruelty and insatiable thirst for power circulated like a broken record, echoing through the streets.

People were terrified of him, yet he intrigued many. Tales circulated about his almost supernatural presence—more than just a human leader, he was said to command the night with his sinfully crafted horns and shadowy wings that cast an ominous veil over the town, keeping it cloaked in darkness twenty-four hours a day.

Imagination was a double-edged sword; it could inspire or deceive. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes every time you overheard whispers about Sylus—tales that veered more towards horror folklore than reality.

The guard fixed his gaze on you, waiting for your entry pass to the club—or, more accurately, the colosseum that lay hidden beneath it. You brushed aside the blonde locks of your wig, letting the brooch of the zone glimmer against your dress, perched just above your chest.

His scrutinizing look was intense, and you could almost sense the gears turning in his mind. “How come I haven’t seen you here before?”

You maintained an expressionless facade, keeping your tone steady under his interrogation. You hoped that the extensive alterations to your appearance—from the wig and colored contacts to your evol that allowed you to adopt features from those you encountered—would obscure any resemblance to the posters plastered throughout the N109 Zone. The bounty on your head had sent ripples of tension through the underworld, but you felt surprisingly calm.

“I usually don’t have to watch business unfold, but tonight is special. You know what I mean.”

His eyes widened in surprise at the implication of your words, and without another word, he stepped aside to grant you entry. As you passed him, a sigh of relief escaped your lips. You silently thanked whatever entity governed fate that your deception had gone unnoticed. It was all too easy to make someone believe in your power when you wore the brooch of Onychinus and spoke the right lingo about their underground dealings.

Technically, you didn’t own the brooch; it was stolen. Yet, perched on your chest, it pretty much seemed yours now. You needed access to the inner workings of the N109 Zone, and now you had it—thanks to a clever ruse involving a brief fainting spell in Luke’s arms, where you knew he kept his brooch tucked beneath the leather of his uniform.

As you navigated through the thrumming crowd, the same unsettling sensation crept over you—the feeling of being watched. The intensity of the gaze made you squirm, though you weren’t afraid. Still, you weren’t naive enough to believe that things couldn’t escalate quickly in this dangerous territory, especially while carrying a stolen item belonging to one of the leader’s henchmen.

Scanning your surroundings, you located the secret passage that led downstairs, directly to the imposing double doors of the hidden colosseum. This was a place where fights occurred every night—not just any fights, but brutal spectacles centered around bets on altered and modified wanderers.

Once, this arena served as a testing ground for a wanderer’s limits, but it had devolved into chaos when the underworld began modifying protocores. They injected these enhancements into creatures, unleashing them to tear each other apart in front of a bloodthirsty audience.

The spectators were all too aware that most wanderers were not contained within the arena. For many, death was an inevitable risk they accepted when they chose to witness these horrific displays. People entered with a significant chance of never leaving.

Those who did survive not only walked away richer, based on the wanderers they had bet on, but so did the modifiers. Yet, the one truly profiting from these nights was Sylus. He monopolized the protocores, wielding an unparalleled influence over the creatures, ensuring they possessed the strength necessary to dominate any other fighters.

He was never present during the fights, always lurking in the shadows. You needed to draw him out, for he possessed something you desperately wanted—something you needed.

So, here you sat at the front, betting everything you had on a wanderer from a mysterious modifier who remained anonymous. The bet managers had eyed you curiously when you placed such a substantial amount of gold on a creature that wasn’t one of Sylus’s creations, especially from someone unknown.

You forced yourself to relax your shoulders and crossed your legs as the announcement echoed through the arena, signaling that the fight was about to commence. The massive bars on the left side creaked open first, revealing a wanderer from Onychinus. It emerged like a beast from the depths of hell, its massive form glowing a menacing red beneath its bark-like exterior.

Then, the bars on your side opened, and the arena fell into a tense silence, punctuated only by a few gasps. From the darkness stepped a lone human. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the imminent clash as you waited for the wanderer to attack your chosen fighter.

Snickers rippled through the crowd when the human not only failed to evade the incoming assault but instead stumbled back, his head slamming against the ground with a dull thud.

The impact caused the injected formula to rupture, and in that moment, the modified essence surged through him, transforming his body into a near-giant, nearly matching the size of the opposing wanderer. Veins on his bare skin glowed a fierce red, and his pupils elongated into slits reminiscent of a cat's, radiating an intensity that resembled molten lava.

Showtime.

It didn’t take long for Onychinus’s creation to be shredded to pieces, your chosen fighter standing triumphantly atop the remnants of what had once been a formidable wanderer.

A tense silence enveloped the crowd, and no one dared to breathe as you rose from your seat and made your way toward the exit. Just before stepping out, you turned to lock eyes with the victor in the arena, whispering softly yet confidently, knowing he could hear you clearly.

"Such a good job.”

The night air was brisk against your bare back, your dress clinging to your figure and leaving little to the imagination as you walked down the narrow alleys of the town. You could almost feel the moment the atmosphere shifted, a new energy surrounding you.

A smirk crept onto your lips as you heard the steady, heavy footsteps approaching from behind.

You turned your head slightly, speaking over your shoulder to give him only a glimpse of your profile and your back.

“At last, we meet again.”

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, his broad shoulders shaking with amusement as his gaze roamed over your form. You could alter your appearance as much as you wished, but he would never forget the sound of your voice. Yet, he seemed to struggle with the reality of facing you after all this time.

“Let me see you, sweetie,” he said, his voice deeper than you remembered, yet still carrying that velvety, sultry tone.

You turned to face him fully, crossing your arms over your chest. With a slight tilt of your head, you took in his figure. He had changed significantly over the centuries. He stood taller, with broader shoulders, and his muscles strained against the dress shirt he wore. His white hair, once reaching his waist, was now cut close to his scalp, with only the front strands long enough to fall messily over his forehead.

Sylus clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. “The real you.”

“I’ve changed,” you replied, your tone clipped and resolute.

He took measured steps toward you, closing the distance until you found yourself craning your neck to meet his gaze. His eyes lingered on your face, absorbing every detail. “I haven’t seen you in forever…” he whispered, his voice calm yet filled with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

Before you could react, his hand shot out, grasping your wig and yanking it away, allowing your natural hair to cascade down your back. “Don’t mistake our time apart as a reason for me to forget every single detail about you, kitten.”

You tried to steady your breathing, striving to appear unaffected by his words. Not once did you break eye contact with him as you allowed the energy of your evol to envelop you, restoring your true features and washing away the alterations that felt like long-forgotten memories.

Sylus’s eyes darkened slightly as he took you in, his hand rising to brush his knuckles against your jaw with a featherlight touch. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.” His gaze shifted to the brooch resting on your dress.

“So do you,” you replied, your words drawing his attention away from the stolen item on your chest. His brows furrowed into a small frown as he struggled to comprehend your statement.

Something clicked in his mind then, and he seized your hand, forcefully lifting it to inspect your wrist. There it was—the one symbol he himself wore, deeply carved into your skin. It glowed an angry carmine, signaling your fall from grace.

A huff escaped his lips as he locked eyes with you again. “Is this the reason you pulled that little stunt back there? You thought I wouldn’t find out about you being the mysterious modifier you placed a bet on?”

“This—” you seethed, leaning closer to him, your frustration palpable, “is your fault. I need to get back, Sylus. This isn’t where I’m supposed to be.”

“Oh?” His smirk turned diabolical as he pressed his chest against yours, his face inches from yours. “And where exactly are you supposed to be, sweetie? By his side?”

Your patience wore thin. “Yes.”

A deep chuckle erupted from his throat, devoid of any humor. “His little angel. Tell me, did you think of him, too, when you were clenching around my cock, as if you couldn’t live without me?”

Your gasp shattered the silence of the night, followed by the sharp crack of your slap against his cheek. “That was a mistake. You were a mistake, Sylus.”

His eyes shifted, the warm carmine hue darkening to an abyssal black, all warmth evaporating from his gaze. “I was?”

You didn’t respond to him immediately, taking a step back to regain some semblance of control over the situation. You struggled to keep your voice steady. “I need to get back, and you’re going to help me, Sylus. What we—what I did was a mistake, and I can’t let it keep me away from home.”

Sylus turned his head away, closing his eyes, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as amusement wrinkled the skin at the edges of his gaze. “Was it really your home, sweetie?”

“It was. Just as it was yours, once upon a—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” In an instant, he was back in front of you, his hand tightening around your throat. The burning symbol on his wrist glowed vividly, exposed by the way his cuff had ridden up during the movement. “That place was never my home. He never wanted me there; He only wanted to control me.”

“You’re wrong.” Your voice came out strained under the pressure of his grip, yet you didn’t flinch or attempt to remove his hand. “He loves you.”

“Is that why he banished me, hmm? Because he loves me?” His tone turned harsh, slicing through the air like a blade. “Does he love you as well? Is his love for you what sent you falling right after me?”

Your breathing grew erratic, each word he spoke igniting a fire on your own wrist. The more you allowed his words to penetrate your defenses, the more intense the burning sensation became. “We defied him, Sylus. You betrayed him most of all; you are the only reason you’ve fallen.”

His grip on your throat tightened to the point where you had to part your lips to draw in a breath. “Is this what you really believe, sweetie? The fallen angel, scorched by his own sins, sealing his fate away from his brother’s home.”

His eyes narrowed into slits, and you instinctively reached up to wrap your fingers around his wrist, struggling against the pressure crushing your windpipe. “I didn’t think you’d be as naive as them.”

“Sylus…” It was difficult to speak now; tears threatened to spill from your eyes. As if he had just realized the extent of the pressure he was applying, he relaxed his grip slightly, allowing you a precious gulp of air. “He can still forgive you. You just never sought him out.”

“You shouldn’t either, angel.” His thumb crept slowly toward your bottom lip, caressing it with a tenderness that felt foreign to his nature. “Do you forget all the times you sought me out? You've always known where your true home lies—by my side. You were always meant to fall with me. Fall for me.”

“No!” You struggled to squirm away from his grasp, desperate to create some space between you. Nothing was ever easy with him. All he needed to do was utter the right words, the incantation that could undamn you, granting you entry back into Heaven without the mark of eternal sin burning your skin.

He seemed almost pleased to see you after all those centuries apart, still trapped down here, far from the place you both once called home. You had foolishly fallen into his sinful embrace, and in doing so, had condemned yourself. He had welcomed you into his own home, promising you a place beside him on his throne, where you would truly belong—with him.

“Speak the words, damn it!” Your voice was nearly a plea as you struggled against him, but he was growing stronger by the second, and he had no intention of letting you go again.

“You don’t belong with him, sweetie. Don’t you see?” His breathing was calm, almost effortless, as he kept you trapped in his grip. “I would never abandon you like he did.”

“I sinned,” you breathed out, feeling yourself pressed completely against his body as he maneuvered you, forcing your back against the cold surface of the alley wall.

His taut form pressed against yours in all the right ways, his head dipping down to find your pulse point, nibbling at the sensitive skin there. Your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes, overwhelmed by a mix of shame and desire.

“Is this a sin, angel?” His teeth grazed your neck, and you instinctively placed your hands on his chest, attempting to push him away. “Your body was made to provide you with pleasure, so tell me… Why is this a sin?”

A whimper escaped your lips as he emphasized his question by sucking on your skin, his hips pressing forward to brush against your abdomen with his slowly hardening erection. The symbol on your wrist felt like it was igniting, the heat intensifying with every movement he made. “Sylus—”

“Shh… You’ve talked enough.” In an instant, his lips were on yours, a surprised gasp escaping you. He seized the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, his hands finding their way to the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

As you surrendered to the moment, you sensed a shift in your peripheral vision. When you tried to pull away to catch your breath, your eyes widened in awe at the sight transforming before you, your mouth falling open.

Sylus’s carmine eyes began to glow, a tearing sound echoing through the alley as massive black wings unfurled from his back, their feathers cascading down to the ground beside his shoes. Your heart swelled with a mix of awe and longing, unable to recall the last time you had seen him like this.

Your pupils dilated, drinking in the striking transformation. His wings, once the purest of whites, had morphed into a dark, charcoal hue, contrasting sharply with his blood-red eyes. Despite the sharp edges of his new form, he remained what everyone described him as; the most beautiful angel of all.

Before you could fully process the shift in the air, his lips were on you again, his hands roaming down your body with an urgency that took your breath away. You had half a mind to pull away, but the heat radiating from your skin was intoxicating. One of his palms settled against the back of your thigh, lifting it until it wrapped around his waist, granting him access to grind against your clothed cunt.

A deep groan rumbled from his throat, and you swallowed it into the kiss, your own moan echoing softly into the night. His head dipped lower, his mouth closing around your breast, the fabric of your dress quickly becoming damp with his saliva. He seemed ravenous, impatience evident in his every movement as he nipped at the fabric, sending jolts of pleasure through you that made your back arch, pushing your breasts further into his eager mouth.

“Sylus…” you moaned, your voice almost breathless, the night taking a turn you hadn’t anticipated when you first stepped into that colosseum.

“I can feel you soaking through my pants, angel,” he grunted into your chest, his hips driving into you once more. “You came here to ask me to deliver you back to him, yet you’re dripping all over me.”

His tone was possessive and almost feral as he threaded his fingers to the neckline of your dress, pushing it down until it rested beneath your breasts, exposing your skin to his eager lips. He began to lap his tongue over your nipple, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

Impatience bubbled within you, your body writhing and squirming against him and the wall as you struggled to make a decision. This was a mistake you had made before, one that had cost you your place in Heaven, yet you couldn't bring yourself to ask him to stop when your entire being buzzed with the pleasure only he could provide.

His white locks brushed against your collarbone, a teasing sensation that made you shiver. You seized the opportunity to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer even as you tried to push him away, the conflicting desires overwhelming you.

“Don’t deny me.” Sylus’s voice dripped with lust as he locked his glowing eyes onto yours, then fell to his knees, lifting your leg over his shoulder. He positioned himself perfectly in front of your clothed cunt, his presence filling the narrow alley. “Embrace me."

“I—” You were breathless, your legs trembling as you took in the sight of him, the way his eyes glowed like embers in the darkness and how his wings loomed large behind him, dominating the space. It was impossible to resist him, yet a flicker of resolve still burned within you. “I can’t, Sylus. He—”

Before you could finish your sentence, he growled, his tongue darting out to tease your panties, and you buckled, a scream tearing from your throat as pleasure shot through you, leaving you gasping.

He glided his fingers along your damp underwear, the soft fabric clinging to you as he brought them up to show you how much they glistened with your arousal. “How dare you speak his name when she’s crying for me?”

You felt as if you were burning, heat radiating from every inch of your body as he tore the fabric with one powerful tug, leaving you bare before him. “Let me remind you what it felt like, sweetie.”

His mouth was on your cunt before you could catch your breath, his tongue lapping eagerly at your folds, devouring you like a man starved. “Such a sweet pussy, angel.”

You mewled and moaned in a symphony of pleasure, your senses overlapping until all that existed was the way his teeth grazed your clit and how his mouth enveloped you completely. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine as you ground your hips against his face, seeking the delicious friction of his nose against your sensitive bud while he pushed his tongue deep into your welcoming heat.

“Sylus, please…” You didn’t even know what you were begging for, but he did. With a swift motion, he brought one hand up, slipping a finger inside you alongside his tongue. “Ah—Oh my God!”

Just as quickly as his mouth and finger were there, they vanished, and when you tried to protest, a yelp escaped your throat as a sudden stinging heat greeted your pussy. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth when he slapped you again, the sound echoing in the dimly lit alley, your body doubling over as you nearly lost your balance. It was only his wings that moved toward you, enveloping you in a soft, feathery sanctuary, steadying you against the cool, rough wall behind.

The tone of his voice was a stark contrast to the gentle caress of his wings as he spoke, a low growl rumbling from deep within. “Calling out his name when you’re begging for me?”

Your eyes widened in shock as the realization of what you’d done washed over you, and your hands instinctively tangled in Sylus’s silken white locks, guiding his face toward where you craved him most once again. “I’m sorry, Sylus, ‘m so sorry…”

Another sharp slap echoed in the air, and you felt an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure surge through you, making you believe you could reach your peak from that sensation alone.

Your frustration simmered as you watched him rise from the ground, his full height towering over you, but relief flooded you when you saw him begin to tug at his belt, loosening his pants around his hips, though they remained on.

Without thinking, your hands rushed to the fabric, desperate to rid him of it, but Sylus only smacked your hand away. His mouth found your neck once more, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “Do you want me to take you, sweetie?”

“Please—”

“Do you want me to corrupt you like I did back then?” His teeth grazed your delicate skin, igniting a mix of pain and pleasure that made you cry out. “You came to my altar once, and now you can’t seem to get enough, can you?”

You hadn’t realized the tears streaming down your cheeks, a blend of overwhelming emotions and bliss, until Sylus’s tongue lapped beneath your eyes, capturing each drop. With a swift motion, he freed his cock from the confines of his pants, rubbing it against your entrance. “You can trick your foolish heart into believing you hate me. That you want to go back, but deep down, you know I am your home.”

He finished his sentence with one sharp thrust, his cock fully seated inside you. A loud moan escaped your lips, and you could swear someone would come searching the alley, finding you pressed against the wall, Sylus’s cock shattering any remaining sense of sanity you had left.

He set a relentless pace, barely allowing you time to adjust as you felt your walls clench around him, as if he were your lifeline and you were desperate to pull him inside you forever.

“Shit…” His groans came freely, raw and unrestricted, as he continued to fuck you against the wall. “I’ve missed you so much, angel.” He peppered your face with open-mouthed kisses, and your head tilted back, eyes crossing from the overwhelming pleasure.

“I—missed you too, Sy—” You struggled to form coherent words, your thoughts a jumbled mess of moans and whines, until the sound of approaching footsteps jolted you out of your blissful trance. You froze in Sylus’s arms, but your body reacted instinctively, clenching around him in a way that made his rhythm stutter for a moment.

He looked at you with a frown, but as he heard the footsteps, his smirk returned, and he picked up his pace. You gasped when you realized how close someone was, mere steps away from where Sylus was fucking you against the wall. His thrusts grew harder, his wings flaring out and slapping against the ground with the force of his movements.

“Sylus! Someone—” You tried to stifle your moans, but he was so deep that you could feel him pressing against your cervix, his hands gripping your hips with a force that would surely leave marks. “S-someone’s coming-”

No matter how alarming your voice sounded, there was no mistaking the way your walls squeezed his cock with each syllable. His eyes rolled back as he pressed a passionate kiss to your lips, whispering against them,

“You’re squeezing me dry, sweetie.” He breathed harder, his hand slipping down to play with your clit, drawing a cry from your lips that you couldn’t contain. “Does it excite you? The thought of someone coming along and seeing you like this?”

Your brain turned to mush under his double assault—his cock filling you completely and his finger teasing your pulsating clit. You struggled to hold onto yourself, but every brush against that sweet spot inside you sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you quivering.

“Do you want someone to catch you bouncing on my cock, angel? A sweet little creature making a mess on the Fallen Angel?” His thrusts became more animalistic, and in the haze of pleasure, you didn’t even notice that no one was nearing your hiding place anymore. Sylus kept pushing your sanity. “If only they knew that my cock was the reason you lost your own wings in the first place."

Your orgasm hit you like a bolt of lightning, your vision going white as you felt your pussy flutter and clench impossibly hard around Sylus’s cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned, losing control as his hips retracted slightly before plunging back in, chasing his own sweet release. “Just like that, sweetie, give it all to me.”

Your thighs trembled around him, your body on the brink of surrender as you felt his last vestiges of control shatter.

Ropes of thick come filled you, coating your walls while his wings enveloped your body, sheltering you from anyone who might intrude and keeping you impossibly close. He continued until you were overflowing with his seed, leaking down your joined bodies, creating a mess on both of you, your moans echoing in the silence.

“You feel like Heaven, sweetie. Too bad you won’t be making it back.”

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its-not-a-pen · 3 days

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i love the hilarious eunuch ranking system by @welcometothejianghu so i decided to make one based on (mostly) REAL historical chinese enunchs!

in chronological order:

Warring States Period long story short, the PM is sleeping with the Empress Dowager, and he wants to extracate himself before her son (future Emperor Qin Shi Huang) gets old enough to find out. the PM finds her a suitable replacement, and the replacement is attached to a guy named Lao Ai. They pluck his beard and pass him off as a eunuch so he can sneak into the palace. Bing bang boom everyone's happy. This goes terribly wrong later, since Lao Ai tries to replace the emperor with his own kids and stages a failed coup. rest in pieces buddy...

it's very likely that Lao Ai was a ficticious character invented by Sima Qian, who will be appearing on this list later.

Qin Dynasty

Zhao Gao helped the first emperor of China conquer an empire, and administer it efficiently with his legal knowledge, but he also made the second emperor into a puppet, and weakened the empire for his own political gain. Max points of complexity, but you'd get more loyalty out of a coffee club punch card.

Before launching his soft coup, he decided to test the waters by bring in a deer and gaslighted the emperor by calling it a horse. the officials who were loyal to him called it a horse, and he executed the rest.

Han Dynasty Jiru, male favourite of Emperor Gaozu (Liu Bang), the peasant scoundrel who became the founder of the Han Dynasty. look, if the emperor has a harem of hundreds of women and you manage to catch his attention, you max out in style points. simple as. for most of chinese history it was fairly common for high-ranking men, especially eunuchs, to wear make up like powder and rouge, but i decided to give Jiru some women's huadia as well, cause he's a baddie.

Jiru gets a bad rap for alledgely distracting the emperor from his duties, but lets be real, history is written by civil officials who have no shortage of professional jealousy and gender/sexuality related prejudice towards eunuchs, since they were the personal attendants of royalty and could exert a lot of influence. plus Liu Bang was already pissing in the hats of confucian scholars, most of the poor work ethic is on HIM. Jiru should get credit for making him marginally less of a troglodite.

all in all he didn't try any court intrigue so extra points for loyalty and complexity. free my man >:( he's just a Han dynasty Monica Lewinsky who got slutshamed by jealous coworkers >:(

Han Dynasty

meet the father of east asian history, sima qian. half the people on this list can owe their placement here thanks to his extremely though history books "records of the grand historian"

history at this time was mostly "creative writing" and sima qian attempted to give the practise more academic intergrety, he went out and personally interviewed people, tried to get primary sources, and got rid of most of the more fanstastical aspects. however, he was not without his biases and some texts can be seen as allegorical/veiled insults towards the Han Dynasty, especially towards Emperor Wu. unlike most of the people on this list, sima qian was from the gentry and castated later in life as a punishment for treason. he was implicated after trying to defend a friend, and could not pay the fine to commute his sentence. the gentlemen at the time were expected to die by suicide rather than live with such ignimony, but sima qian chose to live so he could finish writing the history book his father started. the "giant conspiracy" joke explained: the chinese word for penis is a homophone for "conspiracy".

#chinese history #eunuchs #qin dynasty #han dynasty #warring states #zhao gao #lao ai #jiru #sima qian

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videovamptramp · 9 months

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i’m right over here, why can’t you see me? (2)

// when ellie’s reaction to you and abby hooking up isn’t quite what you expected, she leads you right into abby’s open arms. //

[warnings: jealousy, pining, angst, slight arguing, angry!ellie, illusions to one-sided feelings, simp!abby, fuckgirl!ellie, sexual implications]

xxxxxxxxx

this is pt.2 (pt.1 can be found here)

abby was always taught to be the bigger person. her father consistently reminded her that no matter how people treat her, she should always be the bigger person. that’s most of the reason why she’s so reserved and non-confrontational. when she first started university, she knew she didn’t quite fit in. unlike a vast majority of students around here, she wasn’t here for the “college” experience. she was just here to play soccer and get her degree in engineering. she also noticed you from the first day of freshman year, but she was way too shy to say hi to you. abby’s never really been good at flirting or starting conversation with new people. she often feels too awkward, or too intimidated to say anything.

manny took a liking to her right away; the school got his rooming situation mixed up, and that’s how he ended up being abby’s roommate. it was strange at first for her; she was wary about having a guy as a roommate. but she quickly learned manny was a cool guy. he was funny, and hung up pictures of him and his dad right away. abby could relate, as she was very close to her dad as well.

manny slowly seemed to get abby out of her shell, and would invite her to various functions and parties. but he quickly learned if it didn’t have anything to do with soccer, abby wasn’t really interested. even the girls who threw themselves at the dark haired blonde, would get shot down without abby even realizing she was rejecting them. you were ironically the first person abby found herself interested in. hell, after the party yesterday, abby was almost certain she was enthralled by you.

after walking you back to your dorm, you gave abby your number and hugged her tightly. abby walked all the way back to her shared room with a dorky grin on her face. she could still smell your girly perfume, and all she could think about was your pretty smile. a part of her wondered if you’d cave and call ellie, but when you texted her after she had gotten out of the shower, she knew you didn’t.

y/n (1:34 a.m): i can’t wait to see how she reacts tomorrow, thanks for helping me haha

y/n (1:35 a.m): and thank you for keeping me company tonight, i really liked getting to know you abby 🖤

the smile that tugged at her lips after reading your message was nearly unrecognizable. as she walked out of the bathroom with her eyes and thumbs on her phone screen, manny raises a brow in slight suspicion at the peculiar sight.

abby (1:42 a.m): i really liked getting to know you too, i hope we can get to know each other better :) i was serious about teaching you how to ride a horse lol

“that’s a face i’ve never seen before.” manny states observingly, causing abby to look away from her phone, over at her roommate who was flashing her an intrigued smile. a blush coats her freckled covered cheeks as she thinks about you and your smile. “you remember that girl from my women’s history class? y/n?” abby reminds her best friend, who throws his head back and lets out a bark of a laugh. “abby you jugadora (player)! i knew you’d get laid eventually.” he taunts causing the jock to roll her eyes. “i didn’t ‘get laid’, gross ass. i finally said more than five words to her. i got her number too.” abby smirks, and mischief glints in manny’s eyes. “so nora dragging you to that party was a good thing then?” he half taunts and abby’s phone chimes, signaling that you’ve texted her again; her face gets hot, and manny chuckles.

y/n (1:44 a.m): i’ll be waiting for you to set something up when we’re not tipsy then ;)

abby (1:46a.m): i don’t think you’ll be waiting for very long <3 goodnigjt y/n, sleep tight

y/n (1:47 a.m): goodnight abby 🖤

when you wake up the next morning, your head is throbbing, and thoughts of last night begin to flood your mind. suddenly you remember all about abby’s plan to make ellie jealous. you reach over for your phone and see you have a string of missed calls, and five texts from ellie. your heart thumps as you open the text thread with the brunette.

ellie (2:20 a.m): you home??

ellie (6:34 a.m): why didn’t you call me last night?

ellie (6:35 a.m): did you make it back to your room safely??

ellie (9:35 a.m): you going to class today?

ellie (11:47 a.m) did you really hookup with anderson last night? it’s all that nora chick and her friend are talking about rn.

your cheeks heat up as you read the last message; word certainly seems to move fast around here. before you can even think about a response to ellie’s various messages, your gaze wanders to the time. your eyes widen as you gasp, realizing you slept nearly half the day away; it was already 2:30 p.m and nobody except for abby knew you were alive. you scurry off your bed, and just as your about to grab your clothes and stuff to shower, dina comes barging into your shared dorm. “dude, is it true!? did you hookup with the captain of the soccer team last night!?” dina sounds excited, and your cheeks turn a dark shade of pink, causing her to gasp.

“you did! holy shit, y/n… i didn’t think you had it in you.” she comments, sounding a bit impressed. “what? you didn’t think i had enough rizz to pull abby anderson?” you question half jokingly, causing the raven haired girl to laugh loudly. “oh no, i’m well aware you can pull whoever you want, i just didn’t think you’d move on from ellie so fast! i didn’t even come home last night, i spent the night listening to ellie rant about you and abby hunky anderson.” dina teases you mercilessly, doing nothing to ease the way your face is burning.

the raven haired girls eyes then widen, shining with pure amusement. “did you two do it in here? on your bed!?” she cackles before whistling, “who are you?” dina asks half jokingly as she begins to walk over to her side of the room, reaching for her biology textbook. “you’re leaving again?” you ask out loud, and dina nods, turning her head and flashing you a roguish smile. “yup, i’m studying with jesse till five.” she admits, and you raise your brows, offering her a disbelieving expression. “studying or fucking?” you ask her, poking fun at the slightly taller girl. she rolls her eyes, but looks away from you in order to keep you from seeing the way her face changes in color. “unlike you, i am considerate of jesse’s roommate. we wait until he’s at work.” dina’s response causes you to laugh, shaking your head in amusement.

“whatever. i’m going to shower, and change into pajamas. maybe i’ll make myself a cup soup and watch reruns of buffy all evening.” you tell her, and dina snorts. “maybe you could call anderson to join you. i’m sure she’ll be up for round two.” dina’s voice is sardonic but dripping with lightheartedness. “who says we didn’t already have round two?” you inquire challengingly, causing dina to gasp as she reaches for a pillow on her bed, tossing it right at you. you laugh loudly, as you make your way towards the door with your pajamas and toothbrush in hands. right as you open the door to rush out, you come face to face with ellie who had been debating with herself on whether to knock or not.

her eyebrows meet her hairline as she sees you, your mascara from last night a mess, and your hairs a mess. there’s a wave of hot, red anger that surges throughout the brunette as she realizes you’ve been so busy with abby anderson, you haven’t been able to answer any of her messages, or even been able to wash your face. her eyes flicker over to your bed that’s a mess, and suddenly unwanted images of abby fucking you on your bed flood her mind.

“it’s nice to see you’re alive.” ellie grumbles a bit dramatically as she pushes her way into the room, causing dina to turn around and look at you. “you knew i was okay. i was with abby.” you respond, and the mere mention of the other girl seems to set ellie off. “no i didn’t know that y/n! i don’t know a fucking thing about abby! she could’ve been a weirdo who only wanted to take advantage of you—” you cut ellie off before she can say something stupid, “but she wasn’t! abby and i are both two consenting adults who hooked up, just like everyone else around here!” you snap a bit harshly, and the words feel like a slap to the face for ellie. “so the rumors are true? you and anderson hooked up last night?” ellie’s voice sounds hurt, and you can’t even recognize the expression that’s etched onto her features.

“uh, jesse’s waiting for me, so i’ll let you guys talk.” dina declares a bit awkwardly, she can feel the tension in the room, but she decides to stay out of it and walk away. before she walks out, the raven haired girl flashes you a look of reassurance. when she shuts the door behind her, you and ellie are left alone. you shake your head, “why do you sound so angry about it? you hookup with girls all the time!” you counterpoint, and ellie shakes her head. “but i never ditch you to do it!” she hisses, while you respond with an eye roll. “yes you do! ellie, you ditched me last night for angela! you do it at every party with different girls, but the one time i do it, it’s a problem?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“i was worried about you! i don’t care about your meaningless, shitty hookup with anderson.” ellie spits rudely, and you let out an angry laugh of disbelief. “shitty? why do you think i was asleep all day? it was amazing.” you nearly grimace as you realize you sound like you’re trying too hard to convince ellie. “besides, abby already asked me on a date. she wants to go horseback riding.” you lie right through your teeth, and ellie lets out a chuckle. “yeah? that sounds like complete bullshit.” she calls you on your bluff, and you raise a brow, “what sounds like bullshit? that someone could actually want something more than a hookup with me?” you ask challengingly, causing ellie’s annoyed expression to falter. “no, y/n, that’s not what i meant…” she trails off, her voice lowering slightly.

“then what did you mean? because to me it sounds like you think all abby or anyone could ever want me for is a hookup.” you reply dryly, but ellie can detect the slight hurt in your tone. she shakes her head again, “no that isn’t— it’s not you! it’s abby! girls like her aren’t actually interested in dating anyone. i mean, half the cheerleading team said she sleeps with girls and never talks to them again!” ellie points out, and you furrow your eyebrows. “since when do you listen to rumors?” you demand, making her run her fingers through her hair in frustration. “you can’t seriously be thinking about going out with her, are you?”

her question causes you to frown, “yes i am. and unless you can give me an actual reason on why i shouldn’t, then we have nothing left to fight about.” your voice is strangely stern, and something in ellie’s stomach drops because of it. “i’m going to go shower… just like was before you barged in here.” you know you sound meaner than usual, but you can’t help it. ellie was supposed to be showing you how sexy she was when she was jealous, not what a jerk she was. you didn’t even mean to lie about your date with abby; it had just slipped out. ellie had a way of pushing your buttons, and in a way you knew the more you talked about abby, the more you were pushing hers. you walk out of your room, shutting the door behind you and leaving ellie alone. she can’t help but glance over at the messy, undid bed that was taunting her. ellie hates thinking about you and abby together, but she still can’t figure out why. dina was right, the brunette might just be the most oblivious person on the planet.

you’re not as upset after getting clean. a warm shower and a fresh set of pajamas always makes you feel better. when you get back to your room, ellie is no longer there, but there's a twinge of guilt that runs through your veins. you push it as far away from your thoughts as you can. you know you shouldn't feel bad; after all, ellie has been raving about how "pretty" and "hot" angela is for the last four weeks! you shouldn't feel the slightest bit guilty for making her jealous with abby.

as your mind thinks about the honey blonde girl, a small, inevitable smile makes it's way onto your lips. though the smile falls fast when you realize you're going to have to ask abby to help you again. this time it was your own doing; you angrily lied to ellie and told her you had a date with abby. in a way it made you feel a bit pathetic, faking a date. the cruel voice in your head was telling you that ellie was right; you couldn't get a date with someone like abby... not an actual date at least. but ellie didn't really know that. as far as she knew, you were going to be riding off into the sunset with abby after your date.

ellie doesn’t text you throughout the rest of the evening or night. a part of you feels a bit bad for lying to her, but the other part of you knows you only did it because she was acting stupid. the next morning you wake up and get ready for your classes; feeling way better than you did yesterday. abby sees you walking to your second class, which happens to be women’s history with her. she can’t stop herself from approaching you, regardless of the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“y/n.” she greets you with that soft accent, that causes an unfamiliar warmth to course throughout your body. “abigail.” you respond back, unable to contain the smile on your face. “how did things go with williams yesterday?” she asks curiously, and your smile falls at the mention of your best friend. “not good? was my plan a bust?” she questions cautiously, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. you sigh, “i don’t know. i mean, she was really mad yesterday when she came to my room. she heard people saying we hooked up, and she said all you wanted was to hookup and never talk to me again…” you trail off, and abby opens her mouth to disagree, but you go on before she can get a word out.

“i kinda got really mad when she said that and i might’ve lied to her about us having a date.” you blush in pure embarrassment, and abby lets out a laugh. “oh jeez, i don’t even wanna picture how angry she got when you told her that.” abby’s voice is light, yet there’s a slight seriousness in her tone; she remembers the way ellie was glaring at her the other night. you shake your head, a small frown etching itself onto your face. abby can’t figure out how you look so pretty all the time; even when you’re upset. “yeah she was pretty mad… but who cares? she’s just acting like a jerk! i mean, to be jealous is one thing but she doesn’t have to be an asshole about it. she’s supposed to be my best friend. realistically she’s supposed to be happy for me.” you mutter, causing the blonde to raise her brows in amusement.

“she’s your best friend who’s in love with you. the more time you spend with me, the angrier she’s gonna get.” abby points out with a slight mumble, and you sigh, “if ellie is as in love with me as you and dina say she is, then she would’ve said something yesterday. but she didn’t. i honestly think ellie just isn’t into me like that.” you sound genuinely sad as you come to terms with this, and the dismal expression on your face causes something to tug at abby’s heartstrings. she doesn’t like seeing you sad.

“she’s just stubborn. she needs more of a push. i mean you said she got upset when you told her we have a date.” abby tries, as you both stand outside of the classroom, continuing the conversation. “yeah, but she’s ellie, she literally has anger issues. maybe she was just mad that i promised to call, and i didn’t.” you explain, and abby shrugs. “then lets go on a date. let’s see how ellie reacts to it.” the taller girl throws the idea out there, causing you to freeze. you look at her, “you wanna take me on a “date”, just so i can see how ellie reacts?” your voice has suspicion laced throughout it, as abby nods. “why do you wanna help me so badly?” you interrogate slightly, obviously not trusting the blonde.

she laughs at the way your eyes are narrowed, and she can’t help but find every expression of yours absolutely adorable. “because i like you. you’re the coolest person i’ve met around here aside from nora and manny. i’ll help you get the girl if that’s what you want. i’m a great wingman.” she winks at you, and you roll your eyes playfully, that genuine smile that causes abby’s heart to palpitate returns. “you’re also a very sweet person.” you add onto her boast; this causes the back of her neck to heat up, as she looks down at her boots and smiles. you wrap your arms around her and hug her tightly, just like you did the other night.

and just like the first time you hugged her, abby’s mind begins to race as the smell of your perfume takes over her senses. she hugs you back, and when you pull away you have this mischievous grin on your face. “i guess we’ve officially got a date then, anderson.” you half joke, as you lead abby into the classroom. abby’s sure her face is as red as a tomato, and she’s much too busy thinking about how soft you are and how good you smell to think of a good response. instead, all abby can do is follow you like a puppy to your seat. she sits down next to you, and throughout the entire class, she doesn’t pay attention once.

after the class ends she realizes she hasn’t taken a single note, and has no idea what the assignment topic for tonight is. every thought she seemed to have, circled back to you. the worst of it was, you were probably thinking about ellie while she was thinking about you nonstop.

after class, she groans to herself as she realizes she has no idea what the assignment topic for tonight is. she was too busy stealing glances at you, and thinking about your “date”.

“god, what the hell did i get myself into?”

abby thinks to herself as she walks into her shared dorm. she throws herself onto her bed, her thoughts never leaving you.

meanwhile ellie slams the door behind her as she storms into her room. she can’t help but feel more upset than ever. she saw you and abby walking to class today, and it caused an ugly green wave of jealousy to wash over her. for a moment she actually wanted to go up to abby and punch her right in front of you, though ellie knew you’d never forgive her for that. but ellie also couldn’t just sit around and watch you fall for abby fucking anderson.

suddenly, she pauses in the middle of pacing as an idea hits her; like a lightbulb lighting up over her head. ellie knows what she has to do; she’s going to ruin your date with abby, and she has a million different ideas on how to do it.

xxxxxxx

team abby or team ellie? 👀

taglist: @macaroni676 @swxxtbnny @bellaramseyswife @asabovesobelow666 @thatonementallyillsimp @fofinhamarie @p4ison1vy @harrysslutsstuff @jalousiexx @mostlyhornyandsad @clouded-whispers @elliewilliams4ever @forelliesposts @dergy @uraesthete @4rt3m1ss @3bolivia @calderysuh @milfsandtittyenthusiast @fofinhamarie @mikimambo @elliewilliamsgf69 @ariiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii01 @ellienbilliearemywives @emst4rr @nabiba @bycoincidencesoflife @jennasoneanonly @lizzygoldenr @bready101 @dinasbigtoe @fairlyang @wingedoafbasketballjudge-blog @halfmooneclipse @defencelessarcher @selfcentered-bitch @vswerve @iwantyoutocryforme @hsangel64 @abbysleftbicepp @gabsssssblog @2dmenlackimperfection @cinematicdilfs @masclover111 @mai5mai @teenagedramaqueenlisa

i’m sorry to everyone it didn’t let me tag, some of your blogs weren’t popping up 😭 merry christmas loves, stay safe - vamp <3

#ellie x y/n #fuck!girl ellie williams #abby anderson x fem reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #the last of us #abby the last of us #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #ellie williams x reader jealous #jealous ellie williams x reader #abby anderson #ellie williams #abby anderson x fem reader angst #fanfic #fake dating

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alisonsfics · 1 month

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secret’s out

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: you and carmy have been able to successfully hide your relationship from your friends for four months. but when they all get invited to carmy’s apartment for a party, they find something that spoils your secret relationship.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: swearing, smut implications

“We really have to get back out there, Carmy,” you mumbled against his lips. You tried to pull away from him, but he grabbed your hips and held you still.

“Don’t wanna. Just wanna stay right here with you,” he protested, moving your hands back to where they had been in his hair. Carmy loved the feeling of your fingers running through his curls. “They’re gonna realize we’re gone,” you tried to protest, but Carmy was making it difficult.

You hummed contently as Carmy’s hands ran down your sides. “You really wanna leave?” He teased you. Carmy could read you like the back of his hand.

“You know I don’t, but we don’t want all our friends to realize we’re dating, do we?” You asked him.

Carmy finally pulled out of the kiss. “I just miss you. That’s all. I see you everyday but we have act like we’re just coworkers. And we have to be so careful. I have to watch every move I make around you. I know we can’t, but I just wish I could flaunt you to everyone.” He told you, honestly.

You took his hands and interlaced your fingers with his. “I know, baby. I’ll make it up to you later, though.” You flirted, kissing the inside of his wrist.

Carmy huffed. “We have that party later at my place with everybody, where I once again won’t even be allowed to hold your hand or…do this,” Carmy said, trying to distract you. He attached his lips behind your ear, sucking softly on your skin. He knew how much you loved it.

“We always have after the party.” You said, pressing a kiss to Carmy’s neck.

“God, I love you,” Carmy said, with awe in his eyes. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before sneaking back into the kitchen. You waited a few minutes before joining him, so no one would get suspicious.

Later at the party, you and Carmy were making sure to keep your distance. If you both were inseparable, your friends would figure it out pretty quickly.

Carmy was in the kitchen chatting with Fak and Marcus. You were sitting in the living room with Richie, Sydney, Nat, and Tina. Every once in a while, Carmy would meet your gaze and smirk at you as he took a sip of his beer. You tried your best to maintain a straight face.

Richie was in the middle of a rant about god knows what. You had been zoned out for the past few minutes, and now you had no idea what he was talking about.

“The fuck keeps poking me?” Richie grumbled, bringing your attention back to the conversation. Richie stood up and started pushing the couch cushions on the couch that him, Syd, and Nat were sitting on.

You all watched him in confusion. “What the fuck are you talking about? There’s nothing there, Richie.” Sydney told him. Richie kept searching the couch. “No, see. Right here,” he said, finally realizing where the mystery object was.

Richie stuck his hand behind the cushion, grabbed it, and then held it up.

The four of you froze when you realized what it was.

Richie was holding up a dark red lacy bra.

Your bra.

But no one knew that.

“Yo, cousin,” Richie yelled, successfully grabbing Carmy’s attention. “Yo, what’s up?” Carmy asked, walking around the corner. He froze when he saw what was in Richie’s hand.

There was complete silence for a second as everyone realized what was happening.

Then, chaos erupted.

Natalie and Sydney jumped off the couch. “I am never sitting on this couch again.” Natalie said with visible disgust on her face. Carmy’s face turned the darkest shade of red you’d ever seen.

Marcus let out a whistle, embarrassing Carmy further. “Who does this belong to, cousin?” Richie asked, intrigued by Carmy’s mystery woman.

You stayed seated in the armchair, trying to make sure there wasn’t embarrassment written on your face too.

“Fuckin’ give that to me,” Carmy said, snatching the bra out of Richie’s hand and storming into his room. You heard him slam his dresser drawer after stuffing your bra in there.

You remembered back to the night that your bra ended up in the couch. You had just bought a new bra to surprise Carmy. He was a big fan of the purchase. In summary, it didn’t stay on very long and you both never even made it to Carmy’s bed.

Carmy came back into the room and avoided eye contact with the whole group. “So, who’s the girl, Berzatto?” You asked, teasingly. You knew if you were the only one who didn’t tease him, they’d get suspicious. You watched a smirk start to form on his face, but he stopped himself.

“Wouldn’t you all like to know?” Carmy answered without answering. He retreated back to the kitchen, searching for his keys. Richie and Marcus followed right behind him, practically whispering in his ear.

“Who’s the special lady, chef?” Marcus asked him. “None of your fuckin’ business, you assholes,” Carmy said with a chuckle. Richie threw his arm around Carmy’s shoulders, holding him close. “No wonder you’ve been so much more tolerable lately. You’ve been getting laid.” Richie said, smirking at Carmy.

“I’m taking a smoke break. Please don’t follow me.” Carmy said, ducking out the door.

“Who do you guys think the girl is? Is it Claire?” Sydney asked, looking over at you and Sugar. Sugar was quick to shake her head no. “I don’t think it’s Claire. I don’t think it’s anyone we know. I mean, he’s clearly crazy about her, and that’s why he hasn’t told anybody. He doesn’t want anybody to scare her off.” She added.

“What do you mean? You think this is a group of people that would scare a girl away. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said, sarcastically.

“Guys, he left his phone.” Richie cheered, running over to the living room. You felt your stomach drop. The only proof that Richie could find about yours and Carmy’s relationship was in your phones. Carmy always made sure to hide the pictures of you both in his apartment when he had friends over.

You mentally prayed to any deity that would listen. You needed Richie to not get into Carmy’s phone. Just like that, you watched Richie perfectly guess Carmy’s password.

“Alright, c’mon cousin. You gotta have a picture of this mystery girl.” Richie said, clicking on the photos app. You wracked your brain for any reason to get that phone out of Richie’s hand.

The first photo Richie pulled up was a picture of yours and Carmy’s shadows. You’d both gone for a walk along the river, and Carmy had taken a picture of your shadows as you held hands.

Marcus and Sydney started booing that they couldn’t see the girls face, so Richie kept scrolling. He came onto another gem that was just a picture of your hand holding Carmy’s. You felt yourself start to hide your hands in your lap.

Richie started scrolling faster, getting more desperate for answers. You felt your heart skip a beat as he stopped on a picture.

It was a spicier picture.

One night with Carmy, as things got a little heated, he stopped to take your picture. He said you looked like the most beautiful woman on the planet, so he took a picture to commemorate it.

It was taken from his perspective as he was straddling you. It showed you lying on Carmy’s bed in a matching bra and panties set. Your hair was messy, and your lipstick was smeared. And to top it off, Carmy’s very recognizable tattooed hand was resting on your stomach.

You practically leapt across the room and snatched the phone out of Richie’s hand. Every person in the room was staring at you with shock and disbelief on their faces.

“It’s you? You’re fucking Carm?” Richie almost yelled. You had worried that your friends were getting suspicious, but it was clear from their reactions that they didn’t expect it at all.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You lied, slipping Carmy’s phone into your back pocket. They all clearly knew you were lying, but you were completely on the spot. You didn’t know what to say, and Carmy wasn’t even there to take some of the heat.

“You’re fucking my brother? You’ve told me stories about your sex life. Those were about my little brother?” Natalie asked, once again disgusted. She retreated to the kitchen to refill her wine glass. “You know what? Good for you. You saw what you wanted and you got it, but at the same time, I think I know too much about you both know.” Sydney tried to be supportive. You giggled at her response and accepted the high five she gave you.

Then, the door flung open, and Carmy walked back inside. “Well well well,” Richie said, turning to face Carmy with an almost wicked grin. You could see the light drain out of Carmy’s eyes.

“They know, Carmy,” you filled him in. He took a second to process your words. He hoped you weren’t talking about what he knew you were. “You told them?” He asked you.

Before you could respond, Richie butted in. “No, she didn’t. Something else told us,” Richie said, still smirking. He loved watched Carmy squirm as he tried to figure out what was going on.

“What’s he talking about?” Carmy asked, looking to you for help.

“You need to change your phone password. Richie was able to guess it.” You explained. Carmy froze before patting his pockets to check for his phone. You slid it out of your pocket and held it up to show him.

“All I have to say is well done.” Richie continued to tease him. Carmy walked over towards you and nudged you out of your seat. He sat down and pulled you down onto his lap. If everybody knew, he wasn’t going to sit on the other side of the room from you anymore.

“What did they see?” He whispered in your ear. You gave him a look that made him question whether he wanted to know or not. You unlocked his phone, turned down the brightness, and then showed him the photo. “Oh, shit. They saw that,” Carmy said, his eyes growing wide.

“Yeah, we saw it. And now we can’t unsee our friend doing things with our brother.” Sugar called out from the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, Sugar. I really am. I wish I told you sooner.” You apologized to her. She quickly shook her head. “Fuck telling me sooner. I don’t want to know sooner. I want to un-know. Please wipe my memory,” she said, earning a laugh from the room.

“That’s my favorite picture of you, y’know?” Carmy whispered in your ear so no one would hear him.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @bookwormchick91 @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs @navs-bhat @mattsfavbigtitties @the-sylver-dragon

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto fic #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto imagine #the bear fanfiction #the bear

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cultven · 1 month

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Butch Wolverine Headcannons

(General Headcannons and X Female! Reader)

This is sooooo indulgent, my mind is just taken over by her… Here are some head cannons I daydreamed up with my pussy

Warnings: Some very very mild sexual implications

Female! Logan doesn’t shave. Like ever. Due to her animalistic properties, the hair just grows back in a matter of hours, so it’s not worth the upkeep. She occasionally tries her best for special events, but it’s always rendered useless. Plus, she knows you don’t mind anyway, it’s just so much work.

Bras are her worst enemy. Occasionally she’ll fight in a sports bra, but you will never catch her in one of those frilly Victoria's Secret bras. Unless you ask, of course. Then she’ll gladly drop a small fortune on a cute little bra and underwear set just for you.

Every month the day before her period her cramps hit her like a truck. Despite her advanced regenerative properties, her uterus seems to be the exception. Seeing her outside her room during this time is an accomplishment as she is practically bedridden. The only way she truly survives these times is due to your care and support. You provide all her favorite foods and offer her numerous heating pads and other soothing ointments. Female! Logan will never admit it, but she absolutely adores being babied by you.

She is usually the big spoon, scooping you up in her muscular arms. She presses you firmly to her chest and sometimes, if you're lucky, lets you turn around and practically smother yourself in her tits while cuddling. It’s like a small dosage of heaven. Wolverine would pepper small kisses in your hair, smelling your sweet shampoo.

Other times when she’s feeling particularly soft, she’ll allow you to embrace her from behind, acting as the big spoon.

Her arm is always around you, no question whatsoever. She’s far from insecure in your relationship, knowing how loyal you are to each other, but she just loves flaunting you to others. This pretty little thing on her hip? Yeah, that’s her girlfriend. Jealous? You should be. At least that’s Female! Logan’s mentality.

When it’s your turn to cling onto Female! Logan, it’s always onto her arms. You love feeling the hard and soft muscles flex under your fingertips. It always gets you going.

Female! Logan is not a fan of Scott Summers. Not in the slightest. The first time you came around Xavier’s to meet the other mutants he was instantly intrigued by you. Some light conversation led to flirting on his part. Usually, he’s smart enough not to mess with Female! Logan, but he hadn’t assumed the two of you were dating until he got a swift punch right along his jawline. From then on Female! Logan has assured you were never left alone in a room with Summers for longer than thirty seconds.

Instead of adopting regular Logan’s alcoholism, Female! Logan tends to stay more on the side of smoking. Hand her a fresh pack of Marlboro Reds and she’ll reward you that night. ;)

Admittedly, she doesn’t smell great. It could be worse, but hygiene is not one of her top concerns. Every year as one of the smaller gifts you give her is a bottle of Bath & Body Works body washes, and every year you end up just using it yourself. She believes taking brisk showers is most effective, she doesn’t have time to slather herself in expensive products. You always wonder how her hair stays so fluffy. You suppose it’s just natural.

Speaking of her hair, you are OBSESSED. She has a short layered wolf cut with the classic ear tufts, which you’re pretty sure are natural since you never see her style them. If you’re ever having a rough night just pet and play with your girlfriend’s hair for a few minutes and you’re out like a baby. Sometimes you think she has you under a magical spell.

Backtracking to showering, you end up showering together a lot. Female! Logan always happens to need to shower at the same time you do, but you know it’s her way of asking if she could join. Of course, the answer is always yes. Her mentality of quick showers immediately goes out the window when she watches you strip down and stand under the running water. The shower wasn’t the only thing wet at that moment.

After your extracurricular activities in the shower, the aftercare is always sweet and loving. Hot water falls over both your bodies as you rub each other's skin with soap lovingly. You scrub the shampoo into her scalp, she exfoliates your legs. Once you’re both done you immediately get into your pajamas and cuddle under a nice blanket, watching something until you’re both soundly asleep.

Everyone at the mansion thinks you guys are so cute. They constantly tease Female! Logan for being able to snag such a positive, sunshiny girlfriend. She typically shrugs them off with a mean glare and a snarky comment back, but deep down she knows she’s truly lucky to have found someone as accepting and loving as you. Sometimes she doesn’t feel she’s worth the hassle, but you always find a way to reassure her.

It takes a few years for Female! Logan to propose, mostly because of her insecurities as a mutant, but when she does you are instantly in shambles, bawling out your acceptance.

Female! Logan never thought she would get married, especially not to a regular human. She never thought humans could ever fully understand and accept a mutant the way that you do. Additionally, she fears her lifestyle will get you hurt, something that haunts her nightmares. But after seeing your beautiful bright smile after she popped the question there was no doubt in her mind she needed you as her wife.

A big wedding was never what either of you wanted. If she was being honest, Female! Logan would have been happy with just eloping, but you wanted to do something small and she could never say no to you.

On a warm day in spring, the two of you finally wed, the other residents of the mansion applauding the two of you. It was a small crowd, only a few select friends, but it couldn’t have felt more perfect for the two of you.

a/n: I could easily write more. Someone please request a oneshot with her (and also name ideas, I don’t want to keep referring to her as Female! Logan. I’m not sure if there is already an agreed-upon name for her.)

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rynwritesreid · 9 months

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A night to remember-Spencer Reid

A/N: Okay, firstly thank you for all the love on mind-games, honestly I might post the next chapter next week but I am not sure. Also, for some reason even if you @ is correct and everything, some times tumblr won’t let me tag you :(

Summary: Spencer is back from prison, and he’s changed but not in all the ways you want. You discuss with Spencer something you’ve been wanting to try and he is willing to give it a shot.

Content: Post prison Spencer. Fem!reader. Mean dom spencer. Sub!reader. Pet names/name calling. Degrading kink. Overstimulation. Orgasm denial. Begging. Established relationship. Smut (and some fluff). Spencer asks a lot of time for your consent (as they should, especially if you are in BDSM dom/sub relationship). Begging. Sex toys. Virginal fingering. Handcuffs(slight bondage ig) 18+

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

It wasn’t a secret that prison, and the whole Cat Adams situation, had changed Spencer. It was evident in the way Spencer carried himself, the hardened glint in his eyes that pierced through the darkness. The weight of his experiences behind bars had etched lines on his face, transforming him into someone unrecognizable.

He seemed darker; he didn’t seem to mind having to kill in order to protect anymore. He had told you on several occasions that he would kill for you, well his exact words were; “you I’d kill for you. I mean if anyone ever tried to hurt you, I would make sure that’s the last ever thing they’d do.”

Though Spencer had always been protective, this was new, and while the rest of the team knew what he had been through recently had changed him, they had no idea just how much it had changed him.

Spencer had also changed how he was at home; he was no longer ‘vanilla’, but he wasn’t exactly rough. He treated you like a princess; he would not let you go to sleep until he had at least made you cum twice. And while you loved this, you wanted him to be rough with you, degrade you, to spank you and to deny you the pleasure he so often gives you.

But you didn’t know how to bring this up with him. You didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, or like he wasn’t good enough and that you weren’t enjoying what he was doing. However, you also knew nothing would change if you didn’t bring this up with him.

One evening, as Spencer cooked dinner for the both of them, you couldn't help but find the perfect opportunity to broach the subject. The room was filled with the aroma of his signature dish, a comforting reminder of the old Spencer, and you felt a pang of nostalgia.

As you sat across from him, you took a deep breath and began, "Spencer, I know things have changed since your time in prison, but I need to tell you something that's been on my mind."

He halted mid-stir, his knife-wielding hand trembling slightly. You could see the cogs turning behind his eyes, trying to process the implications of your words.

"I want to try something new in the bedroom. I want you to be rough with me, to dominate me, to make me feel as if I'm entirely under your control. I mean don’t get me wrong I enjoy what you do now, but I want this, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Spencer set the knife down carefully on the cutting board, wiping his hand on his apron before turning to face you. The look of concern had faded, replaced by a hint of curiosity and intrigue. He had always been good at reading people; this was no different.

"Is that all?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "You want me to be rough with you? To dominate you?"

You nodded, glancing down at your own hands, fidgeting nervously in your lap. A sudden surge of heat filled your cheeks as you spoke, "Yes, Spencer. I want you to control me. I want you to take me in a way that I've never been taken before. I want to feel completely vulnerable and at your mercy.

It was a request he had never received before, but he saw the raw desire in your eyes. He could sense the urgency in your voice, and the hunger that was burning deep within you.

"Alright, but I need you to trust me," he said, taking a deep breath. "This will be different, and it might be intense."

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. You had never felt this way before, this desperate need to be dominated, to give yourself completely to him. The thought of it made you shudder with excitement.

“Well, we can’t do anything now, we need to eat, so you just sit there and look pretty for the time been while I finish dinner, okay?” Spencer chuckled under his breath, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The look in your eyes told him that this wasn't just some fleeting desire, it was something that had been simmering deep within you for quite some time. He knew that he had to tread carefully, as this was uncharted territory for both of them.

Spencer continued to prepare the meal, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. He knew that he had to show you the intensity and control you craved without truly hurting you. He needed to make you trusted him completely, and only then could he truly take control.

As dinner was ready, Spencer dished up the meal and served it onto the plates. Sitting down, he took a moment to observe you. Your eyes were filled with a mixture of anticipation and a slight hint of trepidation. He knew you were scared, but he also knew that you trusted him enough to explore this new territory.

"You have my word," he said softly, looking directly into your eyes. "I'll take care of you, and I'll make sure you feel safe and cherished throughout this whole experience. But you have to trust me. Can you do that?"

You looked into his eyes, feeling a wave of relief wash over you at his promise. Trusting him was easy, you knew that. You trusted him with your life, and that was no small thing.

"Yes, Spencer," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I trust you."

He smiled; relief evident in his expression. "Good," he said, taking your hand in his. "Then let's eat, and we'll talk about what this entails later."

As you ate, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within you. This wasn't just about trying something new; it was about exploring a side of your relationship that you had never dared too before. You knew it would be intense, but you trusted Spencer to guide you through it.

After dinner, you both sat on the couch, the dishes cleaned up and put away. Spencer turned to face you; his expression serious but gentle.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubts.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "I trust you, Spencer. I know you'll take care of me."

He smiled, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. "I won't let you down," he promised, his voice firm and reassuring.

With that, he leaned in and kissed you lightly, a tender touch that spoke of the trust and affection that had always been the foundation of your relationship.

You watched as he moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. He kissed you again, this time with more passion, his lips lingering on yours. You could feel his hand gently brushing your hair off your face, his touch sending a shiver through your body.

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice low and intense.

You smiled up at him, your heart racing. This was it, the moment you had been waiting for. You knew that it would be intense, that it would test your limits, but you trusted him completely.

"I'm yours," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer slowly pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours. He traced his fingers along your jaw, his touch gentle but firm. He could feel the heat radiating from your skin, a testament to the desire that was coursing through you.

He stood up, towering over you, his body tense with anticipation. You could see the change in him, the alpha male dominance that had been dormant for so long beginning to surface.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked one last time, his voice deep and commanding.

You nodded, your heart racing. You were ready for this, ready to explore the darker side of your desires.

With that, Spencer reached down and grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet. He led you to the bedroom, the air thick with anticipation.

As you entered the bedroom, Spencer turned to face you, his eyes burning with intensity. He was no longer the gentle man you had known before, but a powerful and dominating presence that filled the room.

"Kneel," he commanded, his voice thick with desire.

You quickly obeyed, your heart pounding with excitement as you looked up at him. He stood over you, his muscles tense, his eyes fixed on your face.

"You're mine," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "And you will submit to me completely."

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. You were ready for this, ready to give yourself to him completely. He reached down and grabbed your wrist, pulling you to your feet.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered, his voice firm.

You did as he commanded, feeling a thrill of excitement as you stripped down to your underwear. He watched you intently, his eyes never leaving your body. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to take it.

He took a step forward, touching your skin for the first time. His fingers traced the curve of your hip, the soft skin of your stomach, and the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. You shivered, feeling a flood of pleasure course through your body.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

His hands moved up to your breasts, cupping them in his large palms, kneading them gently. You moaned softly, your desire for him growing stronger by the second.

Spencer's lips met your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your throat, and his teeth gently nipping at your skin. He moved down to one of your breasts, taking it into his mouth and sucking it gently. You arched your back, thrusting your chest out to meet his lips, and he took the other breast in his mouth as well.

He stood up, undressing himself as he did so. You watched, mesmerized, as his body revealed itself to you. He was everything you had imagined and more.

He stood in front of you, his erection hard and ready. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped you.

"No," he commanded, his voice firm. "I decide when you touch me.”

You looked up at him, your eyes pleading. You wanted so much to touch him, but you trusted him enough to follow his lead.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice low and seductive.

You complied, your heart racing as you did so. You knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for, and you were ready to give yourself to him completely.

Spencer stood behind you, his hands resting gently on your hips. He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "You're mine, and I'm going to take you in ways you've never imagined before."

He slowly began to touch your skin, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip, the soft skin of your stomach, and the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. You shivered, feeling a flood of pleasure course through your body. His fingers moved up to your breasts, cupping them in his large palms, kneading them gently. You moaned softly, your desire for him growing stronger by the second.

"You ready for this?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice shaking with anticipation.

As you spoke, you felt his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. His erection was now pressed against your back, a reminder of what was to come.

He guided you towards the bed, gently placing you down on the soft sheets. You could feel the anticipation building inside you, your heart pounding with excitement.

Spencer climbed on top of you, his body hovering above you. He looked into your eyes, his expression intense and full of desire.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked one last time, his voice deep and commanding.

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. "I trust you," you whispered. "I'm yours."

With that, he leaned down and kissed you passionately, his lips crushing against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring, and tasting you, as if to mark his territory.

You could feel his breath against your skin, hot and ragged, matched only by your own. His hips moved against yours, his erection pulsing with desire, and you knew that this was it. This was the moment you had been waiting for, the moment when you would give yourself completely to him.

He slowly pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours. He traced his fingers along your jaw, his touch gentle but firm. You could feel the tingle of his fingers on your skin, a reminder of the journey you were about to embark on.

He reached down and grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. You felt the rush of dominance that flowed through him, a primal instinct that had been dormant for so long but was now fully alive.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "And you will do as I say."

His eyes bored into yours, filled with a fierce intensity that made your heart race even faster. You could see the animalistic hunger in him, the raw desire that couldn't be contained any longer.

He leaned down and nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, causing you to moan in pleasure. You could feel the heat of his body against your own, and you knew that there was no turning back now.

Spencer's lips moved up to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, "You're going to love this."

You felt his erection throbbing against your thigh, a reminder of what was to come. You were ready for this, ready to give yourself completely to him.

He slowly moved his hand down your body, trailing his fingers along your side until they reached your inner thigh. You could feel the heat and desire radiating from his body, and you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for.

As his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin near your core, you felt a surge of pleasure and arousal coursing through your body. You arched your back, pressing yourself against him, wanting more.

Spencer's hand continued to explore your body, moving lower and lower until he finally reached your most intimate place. He slowly slid one finger inside you, feeling the warmth and wetness that welcomed him.

You moaned softly, your body trembling with pleasure as his finger moved inside you. He pulled it out and brought it up to your lips, smearing your essence on them.

"Taste yourself," he commanded, his voice deep and authoritative.

You complied, licking his finger clean, savouring the taste of your own desire. It only fuelled your desire for him even more.

"You taste delicious, don’t you," Spencer whispered, his eyes burning with desire.

With his other hand, he slowly pulled your legs apart, spreading them wide open for him. You could feel the heat between your legs growing, and you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for.

As his fingers continued to explore your body, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you like a tidal wave. You knew that you were completely at his mercy and that he was going to take you to places you never thought possible.

Spencer's hand continued to move between your legs, teasing and taunting you with its every touch. You were more than ready for him, your body trembling with anticipation, and yet he seemed to want to savour this moment.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your breath coming quicker and quicker as you felt his fingers slowly enter you again. This time, he didn't stop, pulling out and plunging back in, faster and harder with each thrust.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice ragged with desire. "I want you so bad."

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, throbbing with need, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you.

"I'm going to make you scream my name," Spencer promised, his voice low and sultry.

As he continued to thrust into you, his fingers moving in and out of you in a rhythm that was both maddening and intoxicating, you couldn't help but moan softly, your body arching in response to his touch. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your desire for him growing stronger with each passing second.

“You look so beautiful like this, surrendering yourself to me, letting me make you moan like the slut you really are.” He whispered; his voice filled with lust.

Your body trembled in response, your arousal increasing with every word. You knew that you were completely at his mercy, and you loved every moment of it.

Spencer's fingers continued to move inside you, pulsing rhythmically with his thrusts. You could feel his erection growing harder and thicker against your thigh, and you knew that he was close.

"I want to hear you scream," Spencer hissed.

Just as you were about cum, he pulled a way, a small smirk on his face.

“Did you think I was going to let you cum that easily?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement.

You gasped, your body flush with disappointment but also anticipation. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, and it was thrilling.

Spencer leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to make you beg for it," he whispered, “and remember when you are begging for it, you asked for this, you wanted this.”

He slowly put his fingers back in you, but his pace no longer fast, it was slow, and it was deliberate.

"Please, Spencer," you whimpered, your body craving the release that he was denying you.

“Is that all you’ve got baby? And is this all it’s taken me?” he taunted, his lips still brushing against your ear. "You're going to have to do better than that, little one."

His fingers moved in and out of you, teasing your most sensitive spot, and you knew that he was going to make you beg for it. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body trembling with the need to cum.

And just like before he stopped, he wasn’t going to give in even though it was killing him not too. Your eyes were pleading with him, begging him to continue, but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“Now if I remember correctly, you brought toys to replace me while I was gone, didn’t you?” he smirked, his eyes locked on yours, “I think it’s time to put them to use.”

Spencer’s eyes were scanning the room, trying to see where you might have put them, he knew it wouldn’t have been in any of the normal places. That’s when his eyes landed on the wardrobe, and he looked back at you.

“I can see that look in your eyes, baby. You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “Now did you hide them in there, princess?”

You nod yes, unable to form any more words as you feel a surge of anticipation and desire.

Spencer walks over to the wardrobe and opens it, revealing a small collection of sex toys that you had purchased while he was away. He grabs a vibrator and a pair of handcuffs, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I knew you couldn't resist," he smirks, his voice filled with victory. "Now, let's see how much you can take, shall we?"

He walks back over to you, the vibrator in his hand, and secures your hands above your head with the handcuffs. You struggle slightly, but the desire coursing through you is too intense to resist.

You watch as Spencer approaches you, his eyes burning with hunger. He runs the tip of the vibrator along your sensitive skin, teasing you mercilessly.

"This is going to feel so good, baby," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. His tone is commanding, and you have no choice but to obey.

He turns on the vibrator and presses it against your clit, and you let out a soft moan. The sensation is intense, and you can feel your body responding to it.

"That's it, baby," Spencer encourages. "You're so wet, so ready for me."

He pushes the vibrator inside you, and you feel it pulsate against your inner walls. "Take it all, you slut."

Your eyes roll back as the sensation overwhelms you, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure. Spencer smiles slyly, watching as you lose control.

"There's my good girl," he purrs. "You're such a dirty little slut."

He increases the speed of the vibrator, and you arch your back, trying to get closer to the pleasure. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer, your body trembling with each pulse of the vibrator.

"Please," you whimper, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't stop."

Spencer grins, his eyes locked on yours. "Not yet baby. I want to see you beg for it."

He pulls the vibrator out of you and turns it off, leaving you desperate for more. You look at him in desperation, your pupils dilated, your breathing ragged.

"Please, Spencer," you beg, your voice shaking with need. "Please, I need it so badly."

He smirks at your desperation, his eyes never leaving yours. "You want it?”

With a sly grin, he takes the vibrator and runs it along your outer lips, teasing you mercilessly. You can't help but moan softly, your body arching towards him in response.

"Beg for it, baby," he commands, his voice a mix of desire and amusement. "Tell me how much you need it."

Your breath hitches in your throat, your desire for him growing stronger with each passing second. "I need it so badly, Spencer. Please, I'm begging you."

He chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "That's my good girl. You know exactly what you want."

And with that, he pressed the vibrator back inside you, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure. It felt amazing, better than anything you had ever experienced before. He continued to tease you with the vibrator, moving it in and out of you, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

"Please, Spencer," you pleaded, your voice shaking with need. "Please let me cum. Please make me cum."

He smirked at your desperation; his eyes locked on yours. "You're going to have to beg for it, my dear," he said, his voice low and sultry.

But you didn't care. You needed this. You needed him. And so, you let out a desperate moan, your body trembling with the need to cum. "Please, Spencer," you pleaded, "I need it so badly. Please make me cum.”

You were past the point of no return, Spencer's commands and denial only adding fuel to the fire. Your body was on fire, desperately craving the release he was denying you. You knew you could take it no longer, and yet, you found yourself begging for more.

"Please, Spencer," you moaned, your voice pleading. "Let me cum."

He chuckled, a wicked glimmer in his eyes. "Not yet baby. I want to draw this out," he said, running the vibrator over your clit, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

"Please, Spencer," you begged, your voice hoarse. "I need it so badly."

He smirked, a devilish look on his face. "But you're forgetting something, you asked for this. You wanted to be treated like a slut, but now you’re begging for me to make you cum?”

You knew you needed to beg for it. You needed to surrender to him, to let him have control over your body, your mind, your very being.

"Please, Spencer," you whimpered, "please make me cum. Please, I can't take it anymore.”

He took the vibrator and ran it along your outer lips, teasing you mercilessly. You could feel the pulsating sensation building up inside you, your body arching towards him in response.

"Please, Spencer," you begged. "I need it so badly."

He chuckled; his eyes locked on yours. "You really are a dirty slut, aren't you?"

You nodded, your mind reeling with the intensity of the experience. Spencer did take some pity on you; he could see your eyes were filling with tears and he did love to watch you cum.

"That's it, baby," he whispered, his voice full of desire. "Beg for it, let me hear how much you need it."

You choked out the words, your voice rough with need. "Please, Spencer. Please make me cum. I need it so badly."

He smirked, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, aren't you the perfect slut?"

With that, he turned on the vibrator and ran it over your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You arched your back, your hips bucking against the vibrator.

"That's it, baby," he urged, his voice filled with command. “Cum for me, letting me see what I can do to you.”

And with that, you felt the orgasm building up inside you, closer and closer until you couldn't take it anymore. You let out a loud moan of pleasure, feeling the waves rush through your body as you finally succumbed to the desire that had been building up inside you.

"That's it, baby," Spencer said, his voice filled with triumph. "You're mine, every bit of you, and you'll never forget this moment."

You lay there, panting and sweating, feeling completely spent. Your body was trembling, your mind was still reeling from the sensations you had just experienced. You felt like you had been pushed to the limit and beyond, but you also knew that you had never felt more alive.

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, you couldn't help but feel a sense of submission, a feeling of being completely under Spencer's control. You knew that you had begged for it, and you had enjoyed every moment of it.

Spencer leaned down and kissed your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. "That was incredible, baby. You'll always be my dirty little slut."

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of pride in the role you had played in this scene. You knew that you had given him exactly what he wanted, and that feeling of power was exhilarating.

“Now I am going to go get some water, because that was intense.” You watched as Spencer got up to go get some water, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for him.

You knew that Spencer was also going to need so aftercare, because that was his first time doing something like this, but you also knew you were going to have to drink before you could do anything.

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wxstros · 2 months

Text

Bonds Forged in Fire

In a world where dragons did not dance and Rhaenyra reigns unchallenged on the Iron Throne, her legacy endures through her three valiant sons, with the Targaryens having bowed to their rightful queen. You, a traveller in this medieval tapestry, have at last discovered the opportune moment to seek solace in Essos, intending to live out your days unburdened and free. No longer are you compelled to mend the fragile bonds among feuding cousins, having already nurtured a brotherhood among the Velaryon and Targaryen youths. Freed from the duty of attending to Alicent, appeasing your father Daemon, or strategizing for the benefit of the realm and its beloved Rhaenyra, you stand on the cusp of true retirement... or do you?

warnings: typical targcest/inc*st. DARK CHARACTERS; controlling behavior, manipulation, gaslighting. cursing. reader is a modern human. dance of the dragons did not happen. canon typical violence. yandere behavior!

pairings: hotd x reader, daemon targaryen x daughter!reader (platonic)

CHAPTER TWO: NO LONGER A FREE WOMAN

Quiet and Commanding. Graceful and Bloodthirsty — you were both the calmness of the sea and it's tempest. In a desperate act of survival, you reshaped the fate of Westeros; a no ordinary feat by all means, and you bore the scars of fabricating this delicate peace.

You sought to end a war before it grew to become one. Tearing the heart of the dragon so it no longer bore heads, you suffered the consequences of your meddling, self-preserving nature, from the curse of Targaryens.

Madness. Delusions. Paranoia..

Paranoia is ever common among people of power, and in your whimsical rendition of the present, you found yourself ensnared in the very web you sought to untangle.

Your knowledge of the succession of events was vital in its formative years; you were the weaver of histories yet unwritten, the keeper of secrets that shaped destinies. In the quiet chambers of the Red Keep, where whispers carried more weight than steel, you stood as a sentinel of wisdom amidst the unfolding of ambition and intrigue.

Once, you navigated the tapestry of Westerosi politics with a sure hand, guiding alliances and decisions that now lay woven into the fabric of a new era. But the future you once knew, predictable as the turning of seasons, now unfolded with unpredictable swiftness.

The absence of war reshaped the contours of power, leaving uncertainties where once there were certainties... and you had become one of it's unfortunate casualties.

"If I may speak, my lady," she began, her voice a whisper that hung in the air like the fragrance of roses in bloom. You turned to face her, your expression calm yet attentive, silently inviting her to share the secrets that threaded through the underbelly of courtly life. A strategically placed informant, a madame you kept in your good graces, for her valuable informations.

With practiced ease, you gestured for her to continue as you returned to your preparations, the delicate clink of jewelry punctuating the quiet conversation between you. The madame hesitated, her words measured and cautious, betraying the weight of the information she carried.

"I've come upon certain... revelations," she finally ventured, her tone laden with the gravity of her disclosure. She recounted, with a waver in her countenance, the princes' preferences— their specific demands echoing through the chambers like whispers of scandal. Each word revealed a world hidden behind closed doors, where fantasies intertwined with the obligations of royalty and it's stifling constraints.

Your hands paused momentarily, the silver earrings poised between your fingers as you absorbed the implications of her words. You feared the unspoken consequences of such desires. One that transcended the boundaries of rank and decorum, casting shadows upon the noble facade that adorned the princes in public.

"They call for you," she had confessed in a hushed tone, her eyes troubled yet resolute. "Not just any women, but those with your likeness. They cry out your name in the throes of passion, seeking to recreate a semblance of what they know in the sanctity of their chambers."

With a nod of dismissal, the madame withdrew, leaving the chamber with a bow of deference. Alone once more, you resumed your preparations, the morning light seeming dimmer now as you contemplated the delicate balance between power and discretion within the heart of the Red Keep. Yet, the madame's parting words lingered, her voice tinged with an urgency that unsettled you.

"Forgive me, if you must call me insolent." she had said, her eyes wide with concern, "Leave this place once you get the chance. These princes... they are not what they seem. Their love is a dangerous thing."

The weight of her warning wasn't missed, nor unrewarded. Leave, she said. And you almost wept at your desire to do so. The thought of escape had always been present, but now it seemed more pressing, more necessary.

The Targaryen madness... a curse that had plagued their bloodline for generations, was not a mere myth. It was a living, breathing beast that lurked within the halls of the keep, a beast that had ensnared even the most unsuspecting hearts.

The tales of their ancestors, the whispers of dragons and fire, echoed in your thoughts.

You had seen the cracks in their facades, the fleeting moments when the mask slipped, revealing the turmoil beneath. It was in the soft utterance, in a mad whisper of devotion.

with me, no harm shall come your way; rhaenyra, whispers.

i would kill anyone who tries to take you from me; daemon, vows.

you must always have me in your heart. it must have only me; aegon pleads.

It was devotion that threatened to consume you. It was in the quiet plea for acceptance. It was in the vulnerable displays, where the attachment grew into something you could no longer control.

never leave me; jacaerys utters with conviction.

tell me you need me; aemond, grips you.

tell me you love me; heleana whispers.

tell me you're mine...

The madness was not just in their blood; it was in their very souls, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf all who drew too close.

As you finished your preparations, you pondered your next step. To outmaneuver the most powerful people in the realm; to extricate yourself from their grasp, required more than just cunning. It required a keen understanding of the intricate dance of power and madness that played out within these walls.

As you stepped into the corridor, the weight of the madame's warning heavy upon your shoulders, you knew that your journey was far from over. The road ahead was treacherous, but with each step, you inched closer to the freedom that lay beyond the reach of the dragon's fire.

The small council was filled with nobles loyal to Rhaenyra's claim. People who were wise, honest, and unbearably scheming. Aemond was among the council, a concession to allow for unity and to placate those who supported his family. Yet, his presence was more than strategic; Aemond had always been smart and decisive, qualities that made him a valuable asset in matters of governance and warfare. His sharp mind and keen insights often cut through the labyrinth of political machinations, bringing clarity and resolution to complex issues.

Jacaerys, the crown prince, also held a seat on the council. As Rhaenyra's eldest son, it was imperative that he learn the intricacies of rule and the delicate balance of power within the realm. His participation was both an educational experience and a symbol of continuity, showing that the future of the realm was in capable hands. Though Aemond and Jace had a fraught history, they had reached a tenuous truce, understanding the necessity of cooperation for a shared cause. Their interactions were civil, even if not genuinely friendly, a testament to their shared commitment to the greater good.

Aegon, noticeably absent from the meeting, was occupied with securing an allegiance with a rich noble visiting. His transformation from a reckless youth to a responsible leader was a surprising deviation from the expected path, proving that even the most unlikely individuals could rise to the occasion when the realm demanded it.

Where there was once dignified discussions had unravelled into a heated one...

"A marriage allegiance, to the North?" Daemon repeats incredulously, a frown marring his features at the absurd suggestion from one of the lords in the small council.

The man, while relatively small in stature, held his stance despite receiving hostile glares from multiple pairs of scathing gazes. He was certain they wished to command his head off, but the loyalty to your cause remains in him. "The princess is of the right age to marry; it would strengthen our ties with the North and ensure their loyalty," the lord persisted.

Aemond tensed, repressing the urge to draw his sword and cut the insolent bastard's tongue for his brazen suggestion. His dear, sweet cousin, would not debase herself to a mere wolf when she had the blood of a dragon coursing through her veins!

Jace had a similar, quiet indignation. You would not marry to distant mountains, let alone to a foreign man. It was one thing to share your affections among their family, an entirely different one, should it be directed to another entirely.

Rhaenyra, at the head of the council, was first to voice her dissent, her expression calm yet resolute. "The realm is at peace. What need have we for an alliance with the North? We do not need to complicate matters with alliances that may bring more harm than good."

"Peace reigns now, the future is uncertain. Strengthening our ties with the North ensures stability in times of unforeseen turmoil. The marriage alliance is a precautionary measure, one that could safeguard the realm," the lord insisted, gathering murmurs of support around the table.

Daemon slammed his fist on the table, his voice booming. "We have dragons! We should be the ones feared, not groveling for alliances like beggars. The North should be seeking our favor, not the other way around. This talk of marriage is a distraction, a needless concession."

"We do not need to rally more support. Our house is strong enough without resorting to such measures," Jacareys adds, stoic though his eyes blazed with unspoken fury.

The defiance in the room was palpable, a wall of resistance against the idea of your marriage to a northerner, the famed Cregan Stark warden of the North.

Every time the notion of marriage was presented, they always had an excuse, a reason to dismiss it. Their hatred for the idea was unmistakable, rooted in their desire to keep you close, to maintain the unity of the family within the confines of King's Landing.

You never much bothered to disagree. Marriage was never your priority; you were trying to stave off the extinction of the Targaryens, where could you find the energy and time to please a husband?

However, this time, you decided to break the pattern.

"I agree," you said, your voice steady and calm. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to you in shock.

"You what?" Daemon's voice was low, dangerous, a silent threat hung in the air as if begging you to repeat your agreement.

"I admire Cregan Stark," you continued, ignoring the rising tension. "He is known to be handsome, domineering, strong, and capable. Such a match would be beneficial for our house."

And he lives in the desolate cold. Far from King's Landing. Come winter, and no dragon, however mighty, could cross its threshold.

Rhaenyra was speechless, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find words. Daemon's face turned a deeper shade of red, his anger barely contained. Aemond and Jace looked as though they were on the verge of losing their composure, their fists clenched tightly.

"You would leave for the North?" While emotionless and composed, Aemond was anything but.

"This is absurd. You can't possibly mean this," Jace added, his tone equally tense.

You met their gazes with unwavering resolve. "This alliance is strategic. It ensures the realm's continued prosperity and stability. It is a decision made for the greater good."

Daemon's expression darkened, his frustration palpable as he struggled to reconcile his paternal instincts with sound reason, and not violent tendencies. He thiught it much easier to wield a sword and conquer cities.

"Whoever wove these tales, planting fairy-tale notions of a prince charming into my daughter's head, is a deceiver. They think they can trick her, make her believe in an idyllic fantasy. My daughter is naive and innocent in their eyes, easy to sway. But I will find this manipulator and have his head for daring to poison her mind with such nonsense!" He uttered, voice laced with venom, a final threat to whoever disagreed with his judgement— Daemon thought you naive, and gullible to suggestion, believing it was not your own will, but a treacherous cunt's ideas.

Afterall, you would never desire to leave him; your poor father... and the rest, whoever they may be. He still has no idea which was whom; he kept a tally of one or two silver haired kid, and the rest were lost to him.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, her composure returning as she placed a hand on the table, grounding herself.

"We must weigh all options, think of the ramifications. A marriage... it is not a decision to be taken lightly."

Despite her words, you knew her mind was already made up. She had always been fiercely protective, and the idea of you leaving King's Landing, leaving her side, was something she could not easily accept.

The path to freedom was fraught with peril, but you had come too far to falter now. Your nod to the Arryn lord, was subtle— indicating he back down from his duel of wits. It was an issue for another day. Rhaenyra had made it so.

With a determined breath, you resolved to tread carefully, to gather the strength and allies needed to break free from the chains that bound you.

The Targaryen curse was a formidable foe, but you were no stranger to battles fought in the shadows.

***

do comment if you want to get tagged! 💗☺️

#hotd x reader #yandere hotd #hotd x you #hotd fic #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #cregan stark x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #lucerys velaryon x reader #helaena targaryen x reader #alicent hightower x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #jace velaryon x reader #house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 3 months

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(Genshin Impact/H:SR) Asking "What does PLAP PLAP PLAP mean?" to their S/O

Genshin: Arlecchino, Ayaka, Ei, Furina, Jean, Kokomi, Shenhe, Xianyun Star Rail: Asta, Firefly, Natasha, March 7th, Stelle

I don't know what possessed me to write this, other than imagining it'd be REALLY funny, and REALLY stupid.

NSF-W IMPLICATIONS BELOW THE CUT!

Arlecchino had overheard this term passing by a younger couple, and she had no earthly idea of what it meant.

It seemed like everyday, the vocabulary gap was growing wider and wider between her and the others.

And considering it was a couple saying it, and not children, there was really only one person to ask.

(Arlecchino) "S/O. I'd like to ask you about something I overheard."

S/O took the teacup into their hand and smiled at her.

(S/O) "What is it, Arle?"

(Arlecchino) "Do you know what, and apologies if I am mispronouncing this, plap plap plap is?"

S/O immediately spat out their drink all over the table, making Arlecchino blink twice in surprise.

Their fist hit their chest repeatedly as they engaged in a violent coughing fit, suddenly turning to her with a much more shocked expression.

(S/O) "WHAT?!"

(Arlecchino) "Judging by your reaction, you appear to."

Arlecchino noticed they immediately began blushing, trying to look everywhere except at her.

But S/O knew better than to lie to her, or god forbid she went to ask her kids what it meant.

(S/O) "It...It uh, refers to an action in bed."

Arlecchino didn't have to ask twice, noticing how they emphasized the last word.

(Arlecchino) "...I see. Is this what all couples are doing these days?"

S/O sighed, cleaning up their mess.

(S/O) "Apparently, if you overheard it in broad daylight..."

(Arlecchino) "Do you think we should join them as well?"

S/O could've sworn there was a small smirk at the end of her question, but she was stoic as ever. They, however, were reduced to another coughing and blushing mess.

(Ayaka) "S/O, does plap have a special meaning to it?"

Ayaka thinks it's some kind of sound effect, but she wasn't entirely sure. She had read it in a book from the Yae Publishing House, but the book didn't really go into detail what it meant.

Ayaka seemed genuinely puzzled at S/O's reaction, why were they so red?

(Ayaka) "S/O, are you alright? You're turning red very quickly!"

(S/O) "I-I'm fine! It's just-Uh...How do I explain this?"

She tilted her head slightly at S/O looking around the room, making sure Thoma or Ayato wasn't in earshot.

Then, S/O whispered into her ear, making Ayaka's eyes widen and join them in turning bright red.

(Ayaka) "...A-Ah...?!"

Ayaka immediately buries her hands into her face.

(Ayaka) "P-Please forget I asked that question, it was incredibly crude of me to say something like that out loud!"

(Ei) "S/O. There's a word in this book I do not recognize."

(S/O) "Here, let me see!"

S/O happily snuggled close to Ei, their eyes going line by line until they reached the word she was pointing at.

And Ei felt their heartrate suddenly spike up, but since she was behind their head, she couldn't see their expression.

(Ei) "...Do you know what it means?"

(S/O) "...Ei, what is this book?"

(Ei) "One that Miko recommended I read and show you, actually."

(S/O) "E-Ei...this book is um...how to phrase this, smut?"

(Ei) "I am aware."

(S/O) "...Wha-"

(Ei) "I know what I am reading heavily involves sex, S/O. I am no fool, but what does plap mean?"

S/O had to explain to her in detail, and why it became a thing, all the while Ei looked mildly intrigued and S/O wanted to die.

But first, they had to ask Miko why in the hell did they give Ei smut?!

(Furina) "...P-Plap?"

Furina's eyes frowned at the word she had just read.

She grabbed a bunch of books on sale while she was out in the city, not really caring their origin or genre.

But clearly, S/O did as they dropped their book completely when Furina spoke it aloud.

(S/O) "F-Furina...?!"

She turned to them with an eyebrow raised.

(Furina) "What is it?"

Noticing how flustered they had become, she grew even more confused as she quickly put the pieces together.

(Furina) "Does...plap mean something to you, S/O?"

(S/O) "Y-You know what that means, right Furina?"

(Furina) "...Psh, of course I do!"

She said without batting an eyelash, staring directly at S/O.

Of course she had no idea what on Gods' green Tevyat it meant, but maybe she could impress S/O by knowing such a word!

(Furina) "Plapping comes naturally to me-"

(S/O) "PLEASE STOP SAYING THAT WORD, FURINA."

Jean emits a quiet "huh" as she puts down her book.

Lisa had suggested this one to read, and admittedly it was a little...raunchier than what she usually reads for romance, but it was still cute.

Until it got to a certain part where it was only giving onomatopoeia for a scene.

Jean wanted to ask Lisa what it meant, until S/O came through the door to their bedroom.

(Jean) "Ah, perfect timing!"

(S/O) "Hello, love. What book are you reading?'

(Jean) "Funny you should mention it, there's a word in here I don't quite understand."

(S/O) "Really? That's surprising, coming from you. What is it?"

Jean opened the page before finding it again, and turning to S/O.

(Jean) "Plap plap plap?"

In an instant, S/O's words died at their throat.

(S/O) ...Nevermind, it makes a lot more sense now...

(Jean) "Um...are you alright dear? Your face looks like its heating up."

Kokomi knew this book Yae picked out for her would be strange.

On top of having the strangest plot for romance she's read, now there were all sorts of words she had no idea what they meant.

Kokomi hummed a cute grunt of annoyance, making S/O's head lift as they were cuddling in bed together.

(S/O) "Koko?"

(Kokomi) "Here, can you read this and tell me what it means?"

(S/O) "Sure."

S/O smiled and picked up the book and glanced at the page. Kokomi saw their expression change by the second, growing more and more concerned.

(S/O) "...W-Which passage are you asking about, Koko?"

(Kokomi) "The one that says plap in it. Is that a noise?"

(S/O) "...Y-Yes it is."

Kokomi grabbed her book back, not noticing how embarrassed S/O was becoming, putting one finger under her chin.

(Kokomi) sigh "This book continues to elude me in its writing. I'm half tempted to pick another book at this rate."

S/O was secretly praying she would, lest she get to some...spicier parts of that same page, and they did not want to have to explain that to their girlfriend.

Shenhe would usually ask all sorts of questions to S/O, ranging from food, what the usual mortal activity was, or even how they were.

This time, it was something that made them flustered, which those occassions weren't in short supply either.

(Shenhe) "S/O, what does it mean when something goes plap plap plap?"

Shenhe saw the telltale signs that this question made S/O embarrassed, the flush in their cheeks, the widening in their eyes, and body freezing up.

(Shenhe) "...Is this another situation where I shouldn't ask others about it?"

Shenhe saw their head nod yes, making her happy that she can at least tell a situation just by words alone.

And S/O knew that they had to be as direct as possible so she wouldn't be confused.

(S/O) "Y-Yes, it's um...r-related to sex, Shenhe."

After explaining it to her, she quickly understands the concept.

(Shenhe) "Is it possible for us-"

(S/O) T-THAT'S ENOUGH, SHENHE!"

Xianyun had to get familiar with a lot of terms when she came to Liyue, no doubt Zhongli and Shenhe had to do the same.

Thankfully, she had Ganyu and many other kind souls in the Harbor to teach her.

None more educating than her S/O. And like always, she had a question for her beloved.

(Xianyun) "One must ask you something, S/O. I overheard a young mortal couple saying something that flustered their friends. Is plap plap plap something taboo?"

S/O coughed on their food, eyes glancing over to Xianyun, making sure they heard the question correct.

Xianyun was sitting silently, awaiting an answer as she adjusted her glasses with a finger.

(S/O) "V-Very taboo, Xianyun..."

(Xianyun) "But what exactly does it mean?"

(S/O) "It...ugh, it has to do with intercourse..."

That was the best way they could've phrased that without exploding.

(Xianyun) "...Is that it? That seems fairly mundane for everyone to become so flustered about, yourself included-"

(S/O) "YOU SHOULDN'T GO AROUND FLAUNTING IT TO OTHERS!"

Asta saw some kind of weird ad on her phone while she was shopping.

No doubt it'd give her a virus, so she ignored it, but the word on there was quite strange.

(Asta) "The heck is a plap?"

The door to her bedroom slid open, with S/O laying down next to her while Asta kept scrolling.

(S/O) "Heya-...Something bothering you? Your face is doing that cute frown."

She giggled at that but shook her head.

(Asta) "Nah, nothing. Just a word I didn't know on some clickbait ad."

(S/O) "What was it?"

S/O got their answer when they leaned over to her phone.

(Asta) "That one riiiiight there. Know what that-"

And Asta got her answer when she saw their face.

(Asta) "Wow! You're burning up!"

(S/O) "Um...J-Just search it up."

Asta raised an eyebrow.

(Asta) "Why can't you just tell me?"

(S/O) "Just d-do it."

(Asta) "Oookay? ... ... ...O-Oh. Ooooh..."

Firefly was very confused when she heard those three words for the first time.

Silver Wolf had said it, regarding her and S/O. Kafka laughed while Blade rolled his eyes, yet Firefly had no idea what it actually meant.

And, to be expected, neither of the three would tell her what it meant.

Meaning there was one person who would!

Getting her phone out, she texted S/O.

[Firefly] S/O!~ [S/O] What's up, sweetie? [Firefly] What's 'plap plap plap'? ... [S/O] is typing... ...

(Firefly) "...Huh?"

Suddenly, S/O stopped typing, making her pout.

(Firefly) "Hmph! Why is no one telling me what that means?!"

She'd just have to ask them in person, then they couldn't avoid it!

ONE IN PERSON EXPLANATION LATER

Firefly had completely frozen in place, her eyes wide-eyed like a doe as her words stuttered and died before they fully formed.

(Firefly) "I-I...A-AH!"

She couldn't meet S/O's eyes anymore, and immediately encased herself in her armor, looking away.

March overheard a couple planetside say it, and it made her giggle.

It was kinda fun to say!

But...she didn't really knew what it meant. Dan Heng and Pom-Pom sure didn't.

Caelus and Stelle seemed to laugh at it, but never told her.

Welt and Himeko's eyes widened a bit upon hearing March say it, but would find an excuse when she asked what it meant.

She COULD look at the internet and find out, but instead:

March wrapped her arms playfully around S/O's shoulders, feeling them relax into her hug.

(March 7th) "S/O! Question!"

(S/O) "Hm? What's your question, March?"

(March 7th) "Does plap plap plap mean anything weird?"

March felt their body stiffen in response. She could tell they wanted to move out her arms, but she didn't let them with her ironclad grip.

(S/O) "Does...Does it relate to you holding onto me like that...?!"

(March 7th) "Iunno, you tell me! Everyone's acting super weird everytime I say it."

(S/O) "It...uh..."

They whispered it into her ear, making her back up and cover her mouth in shock.

(March 7th) "I...I'VE BEEN SAYING THAT ALL DAY!"

(S/O) "Oh my god..."

Natasha wasn't an idiot, of course she knew what it meant.

She had to tell many people off from saying it near her kids.

But...it was kind of funny to see people's reactions to it, and she was not above teasing S/O in the slightest.

With a little smirk after work one night, she cuddles close into S/O, sounding as innocent as possible.

(Natasha) "S/O?"

(S/O) "Yes, Nat?"

(Natasha) "Can you tell me what plap means? I thought I heard some of the kids saying it."

Watching S/O's face scrunch up into a mixture of horror and embarrassment was absolutely hilarious, so much so her facade immediately broke.

(S/O) "N-NAT! You can't just ask crap like that out of the blue!"

(Natasha) "Sorry, sorry, I couldn't resist! You're just so cute when you do that.~"

Stelle 100% knows what it means.

The question was, did S/O?

It was a good thing she was usually super stoic, at least in person, cause that meant she could bullshit S/O into thinking she didn't.

She walks into their room, with the best poker face she had.

(Stelle) "Hey, S/O."

(S/O) "What's up, Stelle?"

(Stelle) "What does plap plap plap mean?"

Watching their breath stop for a split second, their eyes suddenly darting back and forth.

Oh yeah, they knew what it meant.

S/O stared at her with a red face for a few moments before frowning.

(S/O) "...I know what you're doing, Stelle. You 100% know what it means!"

Damn it, she failed the deception check.

They knew her too well...

Oh well, watching them be flustered was always super cute/funny.

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pucksandpower · 5 months

Text

Hypnotized

Lando Norris x hypnotherapist!Reader

Summary: in which Lando becomes intimately familiar with the professional (and not so professional) benefits of hypnosis

Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent (though Lando is very much a willing participant), and temporary mindbreak

You lean back in your plush leather chair, taking a sip of tea as you look over the notes for your next client. Lando Norris — a rising star of Formula 1, seeking help to improve his performance on the track. You’ve worked with elite athletes before, but there’s something about this case that intrigues you.

The door opens and he strides in, radiating youthful confidence. “Ms. Y/L/N, thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Please, have a seat Lando. And call me Y/N,” you reply with a warm smile. “I have to admit, when your team reached out, I was surprised. Most drivers come to me later in their careers when the mental side gets tougher.”

He settles onto the couch across from you. “Yeah, well, I’m a bit of an overachiever,” he grins cheekily. “I figure I should get every advantage I can while I’m young.”

You can’t help but be charmed by his boyish cockiness. “Fair enough. So, walk me through what’s bringing you here. What are you hoping hypnotherapy can do for you?”

Lando scratches his head, suddenly looking a bit sheepish. “To be honest, I’m not totally sure? The team psychologists have helped with some stuff like visualization and confidence building. But I feel like there’s still … I don’t know, another level I can’t quite tap into?”

He pauses, cheeks reddening slightly. “I may have also heard some … rumors about hypnosis helping drivers get, uh, in the zone in a different way.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “I see. And what sort of zone were you hoping to reach exactly?”

“Just, you know, being totally focused. Primed to perform at my absolute peak,” he answers quickly, not meeting your eyes. “Eliminate any lingering doubts or hesitation.”

“Mmmhmm,” you murmur, watching his fidgeting increase. It’s clear there’s more to this, perhaps some adolescent fantasy driven by locker room talk. You decide to have a bit of fun drawing it out.

“Well, maximum focus and confidence under extreme stress is certainly one of the primary benefits of hypnotherapy for athletes. Though of course, there can be … other effects depending on the suggestions given.”

Lando’s eyes flick up to meet yours, pupils dilating with obvious intrigue. “Other effects? Like what?”

You shrug lightly. “Oh, lowered inhibition, increased susceptibility to instructions, compulsions to obey ...” You trail off, letting the implications hang in the air. “But I’m sure whatever rumors you’ve heard are just overblown exaggerations.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “R-right, of course. So, uh, how would we go about getting me in that totally focused zone?”

You can scarcely suppress a grin — he’s hooked now, curiosity and hormones getting the better of him. “Well, first we’d need to get you in a deeply relaxed state, open and receptive to suggestions. I’d start with some deep breathing exercises, maybe have you focus on the sound of my voice ...”

Unconsciously, Lando’s eyelids grow heavier as you speak in a low, soothing tone. “Breath slowly deepening, muscles going deliciously loose and limp ...”

He blinks hard, shaking his head minutely. “Sorry, what was I saying?”

“Don’t worry,” you assure him. “A little taste of just how quickly you might respond. Hypnotic states can sneak up quite easily when you’re not prepared for them.”

Lando swallows again, but there’s no hiding the interest smoldering in his eyes now. “That’s … good to know. So, uh, once I was in this state, what sort of suggestions would you give?”

You lean forward, holding his gaze. “Anything you need, darling. Perhaps prompts to fill your mind with dizzying focus — a white hot, all-consuming need to push every limit and achieve perfection. Or maybe something to strip away distractions and doubts, leaving you deliciously pliant and desperate to follow instructions without hesitation ...”

His breath catches as ripples of arousal play across his features. You’ve dangled the bait thoroughly now, time to reel him in.

“Of course, that’s all just theoretical for an athlete like you,” you continue lightly. “I’m sure you’d only want suggestions tailored for pure professional benefit.”

Lando opens his mouth, then closes it, visibly wrestling with indecision. Finally, he sits up straight, jaw setting in boyish determination.

“Actually … I think maybe exploring some of those other effects could be useful too. You know, for full preparation.”

You bite back a smile — he’s all bravado again, feigning nonchalance. How delicious.

“Well, if you’re certain. We should probably start with a simple induction and suggestion, see how you respond.”

Rising from your chair, you cross the room to where he sits, movements slow and deliberate. Lando’s eyes are immediately drawn to the sway of your hips, the rapid rise and fall of his chest betraying his arousal.

“Just relax and look into my eyes ...” you murmur, voice dropping an octave as you hold up a pendant and begin tracing figure eights before his face. “Let your mind follow the path of the pendulum, breathing slowly … in and out ...”

His pupils blown wide, Lando is soon leaning back bonelessly, mouth slightly ajar. A few dazed blinks is all the resistance he offers as you trail featherlight touches down his arm.

“There’s a good boy … nice and open, isn’t it? Let everything else fall away except the need to please me.”

A shudder wracks his frame and you can see the tendons in his neck straining, fighting the compulsion already worming into his psyche. But his eyes remain locked on yours, drowning in your control.

“I … I want to ...” he stammers helplessly.

“Shhhh,” you soothe, bending closer so that your lips nearly brush his ear. “You don’t need to worry about what you want anymore. That’s my choice now, understood?”

He gives a tiny nod and you feel a surge of heady power.

“Such a good boy. And to reward your obedience, you’re going to take off your shirt. Slowly ...”

There’s a moment of tension, then Lando raises trembling hands to grasp the hem of his shirt. You can see the mottled flush spreading across his torso as inch by inch it’s revealed to you. His breath is coming in ragged pants by the time the shirt drops to the floor, chest heaving with mingled want and shame.

“Very nice,” you practically purr. “I can see you’re already feeling the compulsions seeping in. Should we make them … deeper?”

His head bobs dumbly and you laugh, low and throaty.

“That’s what I thought. Now, lay back for me ...”

Lando immediately obeys, body going pliant and helpless. You pull over an ottoman, sitting so you can gently straddle his hips, relishing the hitch in his breath as your heat settles against him.

“You’re going to do absolutely everything I say without hesitation or doubt,” you whisper harshly, watching him shudder. “Any instructions, no matter what they may be, you’ll follow with desperate enthusiasm.”

He whimpers, hips twitching upwards in mute plea. Grasping his jaw firmly, you force his eyes to yours.

“This is for your own good, darling. We need to burn away every last shred of selfishness and pride so you can ascend to true, shattering focus. You understand, don’t you?”

“Y-yes … yes,” he slurs, already sinking deeper into degrading bliss.

You reward him with a slow, filthy grind of your hips and he cries out unabashedly. Everywhere your hands and mouth worship his skin, you can feel the tremors of arousal and surrender.

“That’s perfect,” you murmur against the hollow of his throat. “Now, I want you to strip the rest of the way ...”

Before the words have fully left your lips, Lando is frantically shucking his pants and boxers, whining as his flushed length bobs free. The brazen lust and need in his hooded eyes would be shocking from the bashful newbie you met earlier.

You give an approving hum, thrilling at how quickly your control has already remade him. One fingernail traces along rigid flesh and he bucks shamelessly into your touch.

“You’re being such a good boy. I think it’s time we really sealed this new role into your head. Imagine the most dizzying, overwhelming orgasm you’ve ever had, multiplied a hundredfold ...”

His eyes roll back, mouth open in a silent wail at just the suggestion. You grip him firmly, relishing the desperate whine that bursts from his lips.

“You’re going to come like that, harder than you ever dreamed. And as the lightning arcs of bliss engulf your entire being, all that pleasure will become inextricably entwined with an overwhelming need to obey my every whim ...”

Lando is panting and keening, hips pumping up into your tight fist. You can feel his body straining closer to that precipice, cords of muscle standing out in sharp relief. With a final brutal stroke, you growl the trigger words,

“Come for me, love!”

His back bows in a silent scream, mouth frozen in rapturous torment. You gentle him through each shuddering pulse, ensuring every layer of consciousness is saturated with soul-shattering ecstasy and the new compulsions you’ve locked within.

At last, he sags back to the couch, eyes glassy and unfocused. You bend close, lips caressing the damp hair at his temple.

“Tell me, darling, how does it feel to be remade into perfection?”

He blinks slowly, lips curving in a blissful smile. “I … I need to obey ...” he slurs dozily. “Please … use me however you desire ...”

You chuckle darkly, letting nails rake over his sensitized flesh and making him buck weakly. “Oh I will, lover. I’m going to take you to shattering new heights of surrender. You won’t be able to so much as enter the cockpit without shuddering need to please me foremost in your mind ...”

His only response is a quiet whimper, eyes already slipping shut in sated exhaustion, completely yours to reshape however you wish.

You settle back, excitement thrilling through you at all the delicious possibilities stretching ahead.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you make your way through the paddock area towards the McLaren motorhome at the British Grand Prix. Fans press eagerly against the barriers lining the path, craning for a glimpse of their racing idols as they’re escorted by burly security guards.

You keep your head held high, unruffled by the frenzy of flashing cameras and shouted requests for autographs as you stride confidently alongside Lando.

He casts you a sidelong glance, the excited energy thrumming off him in waves. “Thanks for being here, Y/N,” he murmurs with a small, bashful smile. “Having you in my corner calms my nerves a bit.”

You reach out to give his arm a reassuring squeeze, warmth blooming in your chest. “Of course, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Your voice takes on a slightly teasing lilt as you add, “Besides, this way I can provide my … specialized services should you require them before the race.”

A dusky flush steals across Lando’s cheeks at your words, his eyes darkening in a way that sends a curl of heat unfurling low in your belly. Before he can respond, one of the crew members is ushering you both towards a nondescript door.

With a nod of thanks, Lando pushes through the door, allowing you to enter the modestly appointed room first before following and securing it behind you.

The space is small yet functional — equipped with a well-worn sofa situated before a large television displaying timing data, along with an armchair tucked into the corner. Your gaze lands on the single bed shoved against the far wall and you suddenly find it difficult to swallow around the lump in your throat.

“Sorry about the mess,” Lando says almost sheepishly, running a hand through his chestnut locks. “I haven’t exactly had much time to tidy up.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you murmur distractedly, already hyper-aware of the thick tension charging the air between your bodies, crackling like a livewire in the small distance separating you.

Lando opens his mouth as if to speak, then seems to think better of it, shuffling his feet almost bashfully. You can practically see the thoughts whirring at a million miles an hour behind his furrowed brow, weighing him down as nerves and doubts threaten to shatter his hard-won focus.

Without a word, you close the distance between you, cradling his face in your hands to force him to meet your gaze.

“Let me help you,” you breathe, your voice low and gentle yet laced with that commanding tone he can never seem to resist.

He immediately melts into your touch, the taut lines of stress slowly easing from his features. “Please,” he whispers back, every inch of nervous energy and kinetic vibration seeming to melt from his body as your thumbs trace soothing patterns across the sharp planes of his cheekbones. “Need you to clear my mind.”

A soft, fond smile curves your lips at the naked entreaty in his tone. This man — so cocky and confident in most aspects of life, yet so unguarded and sweetly vulnerable when it’s just the two of you.

You continue your tender ministrations, watching in rapt fascination as his eyes drift shut and his breathing grows steady and even. When you finally speak, your words are low and hypnotic, the timbre of your voice wrapping around Lando like a warm blanket ushering him down, down into delicious oblivion.

“That’s it, darling … let yourself sink deeper with each breath. Shut out all the noise and distractions — everything except my voice guiding you. Focus on the rise and fall of your chest, the gentle thump of your heartbeat … allow your body to grow heavy and pliant as you let me take the lead ...”

He shivers slightly, yielding fully to your hypnotic trance with a soft, contented exhalation. In this blissed-out state, his features are lax and utterly at peace, the hard lines of tension and worry melting away until he looks almost cherubic.

“There you are,” you can’t help but murmur in approval, trailing your fingertips along the sharp line of his jaw. “So perfect and calm for me.” Your gaze rakes over the long fans of his lashes fanning across his cheekbones, the full pout of his lips parted ever so slightly on deep, even breaths. He looks utterly debauched, despite the fact that you’ve barely even touched him yet.

Unable to resist such temptation any longer, you bend to capture Lando’s lips in a slow kiss — gentle at first, then deepening into something more heated, more ravenous as your tongue sweeps into the heat of his mouth to tangle with his own.

He remains completely pliant beneath your wandering hands and questing mouth, body thrumming with blissful surrender as you map every lush inch of him.

Finally, breathless and flushed, you tear your mouth from his with a soft groan of regret. “God, darling … what you do to me ...” you murmur, trailing hot, openmouthed kisses along the stubbled line of his jaw, down the taut cords of his neck. “Just seeing you like this, so gorgeous and willing … falling so deep for me … I could take you right here like this and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

You scrape your teeth over that sensitive patch of skin just below his ear and he trembles almost violently, a low whine spilling past his lips even as his head lolls back to allow you better access. When you press an openmouthed kiss to his wildly fluttering pulse point, his voice comes out low and syrupy sweet.

“Please, Y/N … please ...” he slurs in a breathy exhale, body arching reflexively into yours as his hands come up to clutch at your hips in a silent entreaty.

A frisson of lust races down your spine at his wanton plea, stoking the simmering ember of arousal into a roaring blaze. How quickly his mind has slipped into a glorious, aching haze of want and need for your touch.

You could so easily press your advantage right now — undress him with exquisite slowness, bend him over and take him in delirious new ways that would leave him utterly incoherent. The mental images alone are nearly enough to make you growl in feral possessiveness.

Somehow, you manage to retain a herculean thread of control, nuzzling against the heated skin of Lando’s neck as you press him gently yet insistently towards the bed until the backs of his thighs hit the mattress and he sinks onto the soft cotton sheets with a dazed exhale. His eyes are molten embers burning with naked want and trust as he gazes up at you, outright trembling with the effort of holding himself back from hauling you down on top of him.

Gently brushing a stray lock of hair from his brow, you settle yourself to straddle his lap, reveling in the delicious points of heated skin against skin where your bodies make contact through the thin barrier of your clothing. For an aching span of heartbeats, you drink in the sight of him — kiss-swollen lips parted on shallow pants, the tempting vee of his open shirt collar exposing just a tantalizing sliver of his smooth chest, hard planes of muscle rippling beneath tanned skin as he quivers with ill-restrained desire.

“Beautiful,” you husk in a low rasp, summoning every ounce of your rapidly waning willpower to force the words past the molten heat in your throat. “You are so fucking beautiful like this.”

Lando swallows thickly at the unadulterated lust and reverence saturating your tone, his throat bobbing convulsively. “You … you should see yourself,” he finally manages in a strained murmur. “You’re a goddess ...” His hands come up of their own volition to splay across the supple curves of your waist, tracing searing paths across your skin as if to memorize every lush dip and swell.

A throaty chuckle escapes you as you lean into his touch in shameless encouragement. “I could devour you in this moment and I’d still crave more.” Dipping your head to drag openmouthed kisses along the salty-sweet skin of his collarbone, you muse heatedly, “In fact, I’m tempted to lock that door and have you right here like the decadent treat you are.”

“God, yes ...” Lando outright groans at your words, hips arching up in a desperate, instinctual grind against yours that leaves you both shuddering at the sudden, intoxicating friction. His fingers curl into the soft flesh of your hips, pupil-blown eyes full of unrestrained need as he gazes up at you like you’re the answer to his every secret desire. “Please, Y/N … anything, just … need you.”

The reverent, naked pleading in his voice steals the breath from your lungs and you’re abruptly reminded of the singular responsibility you have — not just as his lover, but as the person he’s entrusted to guide and ground him when he’s spiraling.

Your mouth curves into an indulgent smile as you tenderly cradle his face in your palms, tapping into that core of composure and peace that helps tether you both in moments like this.

“In due time, my love,” you murmur, leaning in to pepper slow, lingering kisses across his brow, along the delicate skin beneath his eyes. You feel Lando physically sink back against the mattress with a soft exhalation as your tender ministrations lull him once more into a state of relaxation and receptivity — his mind clearing of everything but blissful focus on you and your touch.

“Remember why you’re here, and all the hard work that brought you to this moment,” you continue in a low, soothing murmur against his flushed skin. “You’ve poured your heart and soul into this dream, and now it’s time to reap the sweet fruit of your efforts. Leave behind all the doubts, all the fear and anxious energy that’s been holding you back.” Arching up on your knees, you gently resettle your weight so you’re seated flush against his core, waves of heat radiating between your joined bodies in delicious waves with every motion and shallow breath.

“Let go of everything but my voice, my touch grounding you in this moment. This is your destiny, Lando — all you have to do is embrace it.” With your final murmured words, you seal the sentiment by slanting your mouth over his in a filthy, openmouthed kiss that quickly descends into pure, unbridled passion as he releases an unrestrained keen of surrender.

His arms come up to band around your waist, clutching you impossibly closer as if to merge your very beings into one searing point of euphoric light. You lose yourselves in the wet slide of tongue and teeth and racing heartbeats until the buzzing of Lando’s phone against the nearby nightstand finally jolts you from your haze of lust and need. For a suspended beat, you simply drink in the sight of him — debauched and beautifully wrecked in the best way possible, with slick lips parted around panting breaths and hair tousled in a riotous mess.

“Time?” Lando finally rasps, sounding as utterly gutted as you feel.

You force yourself to glance at the glowing numbers on his phone screen, steeling yourself against the surge of regret at having to end this delicious interlude. “Twenty minutes until you need to be in the garage,” you confirm with a heavy exhale.

With a low groan that goes straight to your core, Lando surges up to slant his mouth hungrily over yours once more in one last kiss goodbye before allowing you to carefully extract yourself from his lap. You both take a few moments to catch your breath and restore some semblance of outward composure, though your insides continue to feel like a lit match in a patch of dry tinder.

“Ready for this?” You arch a pointed brow at Lando as he pushes off the bed to put on his fireproofs and race suit with admirably steady hands, given how thoroughly unwound he had been mere moments ago.

He flashes you his trademark grin — though this time it holds an air of supreme confidence and purpose that sends a thrill racing down your spine. “Like you said … this is my destiny.” Pulling you close with one hand at the small of your back, he dips his head to murmur gratefully against your lips, “And you helped me find it today.”

With one final kiss that leaves you lightheaded, Lando turns to grab his water bottle and heads towards the door, every bit the consummate professional buckling down to handle the job at hand. You watch him go with a tender smile playing across your lips, filled with an irrational surge of pride at how far he’s come.

A few hours later, you’re holding your breath in the garage as Lando’s MCL38 comes screaming around the final turn and over the finish line — the checkered flag signaling his maiden victory at long last. From on top the podium, his elated gaze immediately finds yours through the throngs of people and hoisted champagne bottles.

The smile he bestows is so private and full of promise that warmth blossoms in your chest and your skin tingles deliciously in anticipation.

After the celebrations and press obligations have wound down, Lando nearly sprints off the track and back into the paddock area, lifting you clean off your feet in a tight embrace when he reaches you. His lips move feverishly against your own, words tumbling out in a reverent exhale barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

“Thank you, thank you … I couldn’t have done it without you. God, I love you so much ...”

And in that perfect moment — drunk on the roar of the crowd, the giddy thrill of victory, and the smoldering promise in the depths of Lando’s eyes — you’re already mentally preparing to give him the most mind-blowing reward imaginable.

***

The champagne is still buzzing through your veins, lending an extra fizz of exhilaration to the crackling charge in the air as you hastily key into your hotel suite hand-in-hand with Lando.

No sooner has the door clicked shut behind you than he’s on you in a searing tangle of heat and desire — mouth hot and insistent, fingers skating across every bare inch of exposed skin as if he’s a man dying of thirst and you’re the last oasis for miles.

“Fuck, Y/N ...” he rasps reverently against the fevered skin of your neck, pressing a hot, openmouthed kiss to your wildly fluttering pulse. “You’re incredible, so bloody perfect.” His hands roam hungrily, deftly stripping you of layer upon layer of clothing until you’re left deliciously bare before his molten gaze. “Let me worship you properly, yeah? God knows you deserve it after today.”

A tremor of need races through you at his naked desire, amplified tenfold by the molten timbre of Lando’s rough, lust-thickened voice. Without breaking eye contact, you hook your fingers through his belt loops and begin walking him back towards the lavish bedroom, relishing the sharp inhale he sucks through his teeth at your commanding confidence.

There’s a practiced, sensual arch to your spine as you work the tails of his crisp button-down free from the waistband of his trousers, taking your sweet time to pop each individual button until the smooth, tanned expanse of his torso is laid bare.

Warm fingertips trail an achingly slow path up the defined ridges of his abdomen as you drink in the sight of him — pupils blown wide with barely restrained want and that delicious lower lip caught between his teeth as his chest rises and falls with shallow stuttering pants.

“Is this what you want, darling?” You murmur silkily, palming him through the rapidly tenting fabric of his pants and delighting in the strangled whine that punches from his lips at the contact. His hands fly up to clutch convulsively at your hips, gripping with bruising force as if you’re his only lifeline in a raging sea of lust and sensation.

“Yes … please,” he forces out on a ragged exhale, body practically thrumming with desperation as you continue to work him with languid strokes while rocking your hips in a slow, sensual grind against his throbbing need.

The headiness of having this confident man quivering and needy at your touch sends a heady surge of possessive satisfaction coursing through you.

“Well, since you asked so nicely ...”

With a decadent hum, you deftly pop the button of Lando’s pants and drag the zipper down in one smooth motion, allowing his rigid cock to spring free at last, flushed and straining obscenely. You swipe your thumb through the pearlescent bead of precome gathered at the swollen tip, making his hips judder with desperate rolls at the stimulation.

“Y/N … fuck, I need … need your mouth ...” Lando grits out, tangling his fingers in your hair with a barely restrained growl.

You can’t help the low, sultry chuckle that spills past your lips at his feverish plea. “So impatient,” you tut, even as you sink gracefully to your knees before him, trailing openmouthed kisses along the hard ridges of his abdomen. “But you’ve been such a good boy for me lately, I suppose I can reward you.”

Another punched-out curse fractures the air as Lando’s head tips back on a low groan at the first hot lick of your tongue up the length of his rigid shaft. You take your sweet time working him over until his entire body is trembling with the effort of holding himself in check, fingers clenched white-knuckle tight in your hair.

“Look at you, so pretty for me,” you purr at him from beneath your lashes. “I wonder how quickly I could have you coming apart completely on my tongue.”

A broken, desperate whine escapes Lando at your words. “Fuck … I’m not gonna last,” he warns through gritted teeth.

With a final swirl of your tongue around the swollen crown of him, you pull off with a lush, obscene pop. “Don’t you dare hold back for me,” you murmur, voice dripping wanton sin as you tighten your grip at the base of his throbbing length to stave off the mounting waves of his building release. “I want to taste every … last … drop.”

The broken whine that tears itself from Lando’s throat quickly warps into a strangled shout of ecstasy as you hollow your cheeks and sink back down to take his aching cock as far as you can. He outright sobs your name over and over as you relentlessly work him undone with hollowed cheeks and swirls of your talented tongue — at this point he’s putty in your hands, helpless to do anything other than clutch at you and shatter apart.

You pull back with a filthy, slurping noise just as the first hot ropes of milky white spurt from his slit, painting your tongue and lips with thick, viscous streaks. A guttural groan rumbles up from his chest at the shamelessly lewd sight, cock giving one final twitch against your lips as you swallow greedily, lapping and sucking every musky drop from his overstimulated flesh.

His knees nearly buckle at the over-the-top eroticism of it all, hands knotting tighter in your hair as if the grounding points of contact are all that’s keeping him anchored to this mortal plane.

Only once you’ve thoroughly wrung him dry with your mouth and tongue do you sit back on your heels, swiping the back of your hand across your swollen, well-used lips to clean away the remnant beads of his climax. Each breath Lando sucks into his heaving lungs is like molten fire in his tortured chest, his pupils still dilated as he gazes down in awe and not a small amount of reverence at where you’re tucked so demurely between his parted thighs.

“Bloody fucking hell, love,” he rasps around a breathy, disbelieving puff of laughter. “C’mere, lemme return the favor … I need to taste you in the worst way.”

His words go straight to your rapidly tightening core, sending a fresh gush of slick arousal pooling between your thighs. You allow him to haul you up by your elbows and press you into the plush mattress, surrendering to his hot, open-mouthed kisses and seeking hands as he divests you completely of your last shreds of clothing.

When his tongue finally finds your drenched center, you keen high and helpless in the back of your throat. “Oh god, Lando … yes, just like that ...”

Lando answers your breathless encouragement by burying his tongue deeper into your grasping heat with a satisfied groan. The wildly intimate stretch and stimulation of his clever licks and kitten flicks against your swollen bud quickly has you squirming and thrashing against the mattress in a glorious, overstimulated daze.

All you can do is pant and whimper encouragements, fingers tangling unconsciously in his thick chestnut locks as you rock yourself shamelessly into his mouth.

Just when you think the maddening coil of ecstasy winding tighter and tighter deep in your core can’t possibly grow any tighter, Lando slips two long fingers inside your slick, fluttering entrance with a guttural groan of satisfaction. The fullness of the dual sensations instantly has you seizing up all over, back arching off the bed as he works you over with sure, steady strokes.

“Oh fuck, fuck me … Lando, you feel … so g-good, ungh!” The inarticulate stream of praise and curses rapidly devolves into broken moans as he relentlessly pistons his fingers in and out, strumming insistently against that spongy cluster of nerves with each punishing thrust. You’re quickly rendered mindless, nothing but a writhing, desperate bundle of raw need and want with every nerve alight at his exquisite touch.

When Lando’s lips finally close over your pulsing clit and suckle hard, your entire world shatters into stardust with the force of your climax. A hoarse shout rips from deep in your chest as the coil within you finally detonates in waves of dizzying, toe-curling pleasure that seem to go on and on and on. Lando works you through it all with his plush mouth and tireless fingers, lapping up the honeyed rush of your release like a man dying of thirst.

For several long, blissful moments, the only sounds are your mingled gasps and pants for air as you float hazily down from your high. Lando’s lips trail scorching paths along the inside of your trembling thighs, nuzzling and nipping at sensitive flesh before finally lifting his head to grace you with that familiar adoring look that never fails to make your heartbeat trip.

“Look at the mess you’ve made, love,” he drags his index finger through the slick mess coating his chin and lips. With a blatantly filthy leer that sends a shiver of fresh arousal cascading down your spine, he slips the digit into his mouth and sucks it clean with a rumbling groan of satisfaction. “Delicious.”

You’re still totally wrecked and incoherent from your release, every nerve in your body humming and jangling in the aftermath like overstimulated livewires. A punched-out moan manages to escape you at his brazen obscenity as your hips lift off the bed in an instinctual, needful grind. “Inside me. Need y-you inside ...”

Lando rises over you in one fluid, graceful motion, hips slotting effortlessly between your splayed thighs as he brackets your face between his large palms, drinking you in hungrily. “God, look at you — you’re fucking glorious like this, wrecked and desperate for me,” he murmurs in a low rasp, cock dragging slickly through your sopping folds to nudge insistently at your entrance. “How do you do this to me, huh? Break me apart so effortlessly then have me begging on my knees for more of you ...”

With that, he bottoms out in one smooth, torturous glide — the exquisite, familiar fullness stealing your breath and sending stars bursting across your vision at the electrifying feeling of being stuffed so deliciously deep. You wrap your legs high around his taut waist, ankles locking needfully as you roll your hips in frantic little circles seeking any kind of friction.

“Oh god, Lando … move, please … need you to move, it hurts so fucking good ...”

He answers your pleading moans with a soul-scorching kiss, lips and tongue consuming you in delicious, velvet heat as he sets a ruthless, punishing pace, spearing into your clenching depths with all the force and stamina that makes him such a world-class athlete. You match him thrust for thrust, your cries swallowed by his plundering mouth as the delicious drag and slap of skin against skin fills your senses.

“I’ll never get enough,” Lando grits out between breathy curses. His teeth find purchase at the dip of your neck, sending a starburst of sensation and pain across your sensitized nerves that only compounds the haze of carnal bliss wrapping you in its searing embrace. “Could spend my life buried inside you like this and it still wouldn’t be long enough ...”

His words ignite something feral, darkly possessive in your core, an echoing howl of belonging and ownership that it feels like you’ve been careening towards since the very first time he surrendered to you in trance. With a carnal growl, you hook your ankles tighter, using your legs to flip Lando onto his back as you rise up to straddle his hips.

His eyes go comically wide before he’s grinding up into you with a gasp, grasping your hips hard enough to bruise as you set a punishing new rhythm.

“Say it again … tell me who you belong to.” Your voice is hoarse, burnished in equal parts wanton need and flinty command — you don’t care which one makes him shatter apart at the seams so long as he answers your order.

Lando immediately locks eyes with yours, gaze fever-bright and seeming to pierce straight into your very soul as he clamps his hands around your throat with delicious pressure. “You,” he groans without hesitation, the pads of his fingers flexing as your pulse throbs wildly beneath his touch. “You own me, down to my bloody bones.”

The reverent oath sends a surge of lust and possession searing through your bloodstream, stoking the incandescent heat pooling low in your belly to fever pitch once more. Your hips move in wild rolls, desperate and ragged as you ride him with reckless abandon. Lando keeps one hand locked at the juncture of your throat while the other skates up your side to palm your breast, rolling the peaked tip between calloused fingers.

“I can feel you getting close already, look at you … my perfect, filthy girl throwing herself at me like she needs nothing else but my cock splitting her apart,” he growls gutturally, his words and the punishing rhythm growing more and more erratic as your combined pleasure crests higher and higher.

Quite suddenly, Lando hooks his feet against the mattress and surges up to capture your lips in a sweltering, soul-devouring kiss as his hips somehow piston even faster into your desperately clenching depths. His name fractures and shatters around the seal of your kiss as your entire world liquefies into ribbons of rapture, ecstasy blotting out all coherent thought until every last shred of tension and want finally implodes in a supernova behind your navel.

Lando gasps against your lips as your release floods him, thick and scorching hot — wave after wave milking the most intense convulsions from his straining cock as his own orgasm shatters loose. You rock together through the shared obliteration of your mutual bliss until there’s nothing left but the gentle lapping of aftershocks and Lando’s thumb stroking idly along the racing pulse at the hollow of your throat.

When you finally manage to crack your eyes and focus on the beautiful wreck of a man sprawled boneless beneath you, the look of besotten awe on his features nearly takes your breath away all over again. Then his rueful chuckle rumbles up from deep in his chest, melting away the last smoldering embers of tension as he brushes a stray lock of damp hair back from your brow.

“What on earth am I going to do with you, love?” He murmurs, the hint of a smirk toying at the corner of his lips. “Now I’m permanently addicted.” He presses a lingering, searing kiss to your swollen mouth before pulling back to rest his forehead against yours. “Though I suppose there are worse fates.”

You answer his sentiment with a breathless chuckle of your own, tracing the lines of his face in an achingly tender caress as the last lingering flickers of passion slowly ebb and flow into deep, drowsy contentment. “Such are the spoils of victory,” you breathe fondly. “Though I suppose I should thank you for being such an … enthusiastic participant.”

“Mmm, I think I can manage that.” His eyes slip closed as he winds his arms around you to roll until you’re flush atop his chest, every supple inch of heated skin against skin and your legs tangled together in a sprawl. “You’ve ruined me,” he murmurs softly, reverently against your hair. “And I’ve never been more grateful for anything in my life.”

You hum serenely in agreement, nestling impossibly closer as Lando’s breathing evens out and you both begin to drift into a dozy haze of sated bliss. The warm, hypnotic lull of his heartbeat against your cheek and the delicious ache of well-used muscles is pure nirvana.

In this moment, suspended in time in the afterglow, you can scarcely fathom how you ever existed before Lando barreled into your life and ignited this intoxicating flame of desire, devotion, and bone-deep belonging between you.

His voice, already rough and worn velvet from your passionate exertions, breaks the contented silence once more as he nuzzles against your temple. “Stay with me tonight? God knows I could use a few more hours with you in my arms before we have to brave the real world again.”

A languid smile curves your lips at his soft plea, warmth blooming in your chest. “As if you even need to ask,” you murmur, punctuating the sentiment with a tender brush of your lips across the thundering pulse at the base of his throat. “I’m yours, remember? Any time and any place you’ll have me.”

Lando doesn’t respond further, simply tightens his arm around your waist as he hooks his chin over your head with a low, satisfied rumble.

With his name a breathless vow on your lips, you allow the bone-deep weariness of pure satisfaction to finally pull you under into peaceful oblivion beside the only man who will ever hold the keys to unraveling you so completely in return.

***

The pale moonlight filters through the gauzy curtains of Lando’s posh London flat, casting everything in an ethereal blue-silver glow as you burrow deeper into the plush duvet.

A lazy, spent sort of satisfaction permeates the air in the wake of your earlier lovemaking — though honestly, is there ever a time when you don’t feel utterly cherished and deliciously sated these days?

Lando’s arm is a warm, heavy brand across your waist, the solid plane of his chest pressed flush against your back. You can sense the steady thrum of his heartbeat mellowing into the deep, even cadence of slumber and make to slip out of his embrace, eager to make use of the en-suite facilities. But the moment you shift, his arm reflexively tightens, drawing you impossibly closer as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck with a low, sleepy noise of protest.

“Mmm … stay,” he mumbles groggily against your skin, voice still rough and sweetly wrecked from the way you had him crying out your name mere hours ago.

You huff a quiet laugh at his drowsy insistence, nosing affectionately at his tousled curls. “I’ll be right back, you insatiable thing,” you rasp, carefully extracting yourself from his octopus-like clutches to plant a lingering kiss to his slack, pillow-creased cheek. “Promise I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Lando grumbles something indistinct but doesn’t protest further, already slipping back into the lull of sleep with a final contented sigh muffled against the plush bedding. You take a moment to simply drink in the sight of him sprawled out so unguardedly – all toned muscle and tousled chestnut curls, the crisp white sheets tangling artfully around his hips to offer tempting peeks of tanned skin and lean, powerful thighs.

He’s gorgeous like this, you muse with a soft smile, feeling that oh-so-familiar spark of possessive want begin to simmer low in your belly. A dizzying rush of affection and belonging surges through you as your gaze rakes over the starburst of reddened lovebites peppering his throat and shoulders from where you marked him as yours so enthusiastically earlier.

It’s hard to fathom that there was ever a time you considered your life remotely complete before Lando and his smoldering passion whirlwinded into your world.

Still, you force yourself to tear your eyes away from the alluring scene with a steadying breath, retreating to the en-suite with the promise to return hanging unspoken between you.

By the time you’ve padded back into the bedroom wrapped in one of Lando’s obscenely soft bathrobes, he’s shifted to sprawl across the centerline of the mattress, face half-buried in his pillow and one hand flung haphazardly above his head. The rakish sprawl of bedsheets and moonlight across his sculpted form renders him a vision of absolute debauchery and desire — not that you’d have him any other way.

You can’t resist ghosting your fingers in a featherlight caress along the hard ridges of his spine and the lean cords of muscle defining his broad shoulders, relishing the shiver that chases itself visibly across his skin. “You awake, darling?”

Lando grunts an affirmation, languidly cracking one eye to regard you through the tangled fringe of lashes fanning across his cheekbones. There’s a hint of wry amusement laced through the rough velvet of his voice when he speaks. “Was starting to worry you’d wandered off again without me.”

“Never,” you reply instantly, warmth threading through the simple avowal. Moving to settle in the vee of his splayed thighs, you trail a meandering path of openmouthed kisses along his lower back, nosing aside the rumpled sheet to expose the swell of his ass with deliberate intent. “You know I’m defenseless against this gorgeous body of yours.”

A low, approving rumble vibrates up from Lando’s chest at your blatant appreciation, his hips giving an unconscious, languid roll as your lips brush across the dimples at the base of his spine in a teasing caress. But then, quite suddenly, the boneless sprawl of his limbs seems to tense as a perceptible aura of hesitance permeates the desire charging the air between you.

You immediately feel the subtle shift in his energy, that jarring note of dissonance plucking disquietingly at your intuitive senses — the same ones that have always allowed you to tune into the deepest vibrations of the soul with preternatural clarity. Without pause, you abandon your sensual exploration of his body to settle beside him once more, cradling the sharp line of his jaw in your palm and wordlessly coaxing him to turn and meet your gaze.

“Hey … talk to me, love,” you murmur, the soothing tone of your voice blanketing the sharp edged undercurrent of uncertainty in its rich, soothing folds. “Where’d you go just now?”

Lando exhales a soft, humorless puff of breath, worrying his plush lower lip between his teeth in that adorable yet concerning tell of his whenever something is weighing on that mind.

For a long stretch, he studies your features in silence, the only sounds in the room the ambient thrum of the city beyond the flat’s walls and the occasional muted honk of a passing car in the night below. Just when you’re about to prompt him again, the words finally tumble out in a low, slightly self-conscious rush.

“You … you don’t take on other clients like me, do you?” You feel him tense further under your palm, discomfited energy practically vibrating off him in waves. “Not that I’m judging, honest! It’s none of my business what you do or who you see for work, but I just ...” He breaks off on a frustrated exhale, jaw ticking in that way that tells you he’s holding back a tidal wave of emotion beneath his placid surface.

A dawning realization begins to unfurl in your chest, intimately familiar with the root of Lando’s inner turmoil. This brilliant, sensitive, achingly beautiful man — the force on the racetrack who melts into the most sweetly vulnerable creature behind closed doors whenever you bestow him with the full force of your focused attention. Of course he would crave that intensity of focus, that promise of belonging solely to him in your most intimate embraces, no matter how irrational or paradoxical the notion seems from the outside looking in.

Slowly, carefully, you reach up to frame that beloved face between your palms, silently urging Lando to hold your unwavering gaze as the words he needs to hear spill forth in a low, resonant murmur.

“Do you remember when this first started between us? How completely you surrendered yourself to me in the most profound way?” You begin, watching his pupils slowly dilate and a nearly imperceptible tension begin to unwind from his shoulders at the timbre of your voice. “The absolute trust it takes to let someone delve that deep into the most sacred corners of your psyche … to share your fears, insecurities, and unvarnished essence without artifice?”

Lando swallows thickly, nodding once in a jerky affirmation as the words seem to bypass his conscious mind and resonate somewhere deeper. You card your fingers soothingly through his disheveled curls, allowing your touch to lull and ground him as you continue in that same low, hypnotic cadence.

“That depth of surrender and connection is not something that can simply be replicated or transposed onto others, Lando. What we have is singular. Untouchable.” You press your forehead to his, registering the faint hitch in his breath as you drink in every last nuance of his features. “My gift has always been to help unravel the truths someone tries to bury, follow the threads that tether the conscious mind to something vaster and more primal. But with you ...”

A low exhale ghosts across his parted lips as your thumb traces the sharp line of his cheekbone in an achingly tender caress. “With you, it was as if the universe aligned to allow me to shed every last shred of protection and pretense until there was nothing left but the purest vibration of my very essence resonating in time with yours. Do you understand?”

Lando’s gaze is a hazy swirl of naked emotion and trust, drinking in your every syllable with the desperate reverence of a man being offered the world’s greatest truth. “Like … like the truest version of ourselves was always there, simply waiting to recognize its other half,” he rasps, the words seeming to bypass his conscious faculties entirely as he remains held captive in the depths of your connection. “Two souls spilling into one another.”

“Precisely.” Your lips curve in the ghost of a smile, a bone-deep sense of belonging and contentment settling over you both like a well-worn hug. “In that moment, you became an inextricable part of me, and I of you. Something that profound doesn’t simply … vanish, or dim, or lessen with time and distance.”

You allow the weighted truth of your decree to resonate between your joined bodies for a suspended heartbeat, cradling Lando’s face as if mapping every plane and angle with worshipful precision.

“I could help countless others access their potential or tap into dimly lit corners of their awareness,” you continue. “But there will only ever be one person to whom I belong in that elemental way. One person who will ever see this side of me and who lays the very fabric of their being bare without reservation.”

A tremulous exhalation shudders across Lando’s lips at the finality in your tone, as if every lingering filament of doubt or uncertainty has finally dissolved in the face of your avowal. One of his hands comes up to splay across the small of your back, fingers flexing and bunching the silky material of your robe in a desperate clutch as if you’re the last solid comfort in a churning sea.

When his eyes slip open once more, they’re practically luminescent with a naked heat that sends a delicious curl of answering want unfurling through your core.

“Show me,” he rasps, the simple entreaty laced with an edge of heart-stoppingly vulnerable need. “Please, Y/N …. I need to feel you completely.”

In the stillness that follows, the only sounds are your mingled exhales and the thunderous gallop of racing pulses filling the air with resonant verses of sin and worship. Then, with an instinctual roll of your hips, you’re slotting one toned thigh between Lando’s splayed legs and sealing your mouth over his in a filthy, searing kiss that instantly has his back arching off the rumpled sheets with a muffled groan.

There’s nothing tentative in the wanton slide of your lips and tongues, every flick and brush and gentle graze brimming with carnal intent and the unspoken promise to strip one another to the very marrow.

Lando surrenders to the sweet onslaught eagerly, hands skating across your body in frantic, searing paths until the belt of your robe finally falls away and he can palm the bare curves of your ass to grind you more fully against his rapidly stiffening length.

You break away with a sharp gasp at the delicious friction, mouth immediately seeking out the fevered juncture of Lando’s neck and shoulder to mouth searing patterns across the taut tendons there. “You want my gift?” You rasp against the thrumming pulse under your lips, rolling your hips in a languid, purposeful grind that drags the already swollen head of his cock through the slick evidence of your arousal with tantalizing friction.

Lando’s response is a low, breathless stream of curses and encouragements, blunt fingernails raking distractedly down the length of your spine in a way that sets every nerve alight with tingling sparks of pleasure-pain.

Allowing him to nip and suck intoxicating patterns across your collarbones, you dip your hand between your bodies until you can wrap your fingers around his rigid shaft, dragging the pads in a devastatingly slow glide from base to tip.

The groan that punches from Lando’s chest at your touch is guttural, hips pumping restlessly into the tight channel of your fist. “Fuck, yes … want all of you, every bloody inch ...”

His words seem to bypass your conscious mind entirely. You’re suddenly blisteringly aware of each and every point where your bodies join: the heated crush of his straining cock in your palm, the delicious friction of your slick folds catching and dragging against the cut grooves of his abdomen with each gyration of your hips, the teasing rasp of his calloused palms as they roam hungrily across your skin.

It’s as if Lando’s very being calls out to yours in an ancient tongue, rendering coherent thought utterly obsolete as you simply feel — the pulsing, cosmic certainty of your connection amplifying every tingling spark of friction and delirious drag of skin against skin until your entire world narrows to the joining of your shared potential cresting higher with each and every move.

“Now,” you grate out, vision whiting out as your climax detonates in a blinding supernova behind your navel — an ecstasy so transcendent that you’re certain it scorches across the very fabric of your soul. Your fingernails sink vicious crescent moons into Lando’s bicep as you arch against him with a keening cry.

“Y/N!” His hoarse shout fractures on a broken whine, muscles tensing as the first searing pulse of his orgasm floods your belly, joined soon by rich, viscous ropes of white heat that leave you both totally undone.

You simply clutch at each other through the relentless waves, Lando’s teeth sinking into the juncture of your neck and shoulder as if urging you to brand him irrevocably as yours.

When the explosive rapture finally begins to ebb, you both sag into the tangled bedding in a limp sprawl of sweat-slicked limbs and trembling aftershocks, chests heaving in perfect synchronicity as you cling to one another like lost mariners adrift in some fathomless sea.

You can’t even begin to discern where your consciousness begins and Lando’s ends — your very essences having merged so irrevocably that you simply exist as a singular vibration pulsing through the cosmos.

It takes several long, suspended moments for the concept of individual awareness to gradually seep back into the edges of your being, though even then it feels blasphemous to separate yourself from the soul-deep profundity of what you’ve just shared.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, you manage to crack your eyelids enough to drink in the sight of Lando gazing back at you with that same awed wonder etched across his beloved features.

“Bloody fucking hell,” he rasps, the words little more than a throaty whisper ghosting against your over-sensitized skin. “That was … there aren’t even words, are there?”

In lieu of responding, you simply wind your arms around him with a tremulous exhale, hooking your chin over the solid comfort of his shoulder and allowing his clean, earthy scent to wash over you like a balm.

In this place, suspended between bliss and awareness, there’s no need for words or platitudes. You can feel Lando’s very essence thrumming in tandem with yours — the inherent recognition of your twin flame and sacred belonging reverberating on a molecular level.

Here, entangled in the vital warmth of shared trust and intimacy, all that exists is the boundless and the eternal.

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rosemaze-reveries · 5 months

Text

During an interview, the manor guests suddenly get a question about you. (Part 2)

hello hello! here is part 2 as promised. there are less characters than I hoped to write, but in exchange each blurb is a little longer than pt.1 !

part 1 can be found here

🦌🪼🤡🦎🪞🤕🕯️🎭

Q. Could you describe your relationship with (Y/N)?

🦌 Bane rubs his chin, tracing his memory. "Hm... Indeed, I'm familiar with that name. I'd suppose that's someone I knew when I worked for the DeRosses." He crosses his arms with a low, contemplative grunt, as if struggling to remember anything else. "I'd need a photograph." I happen to have a couple on hand, and he takes them gently. A long period of silence follows. After leafing through the photos for some time, he says: "I remember. They were always talking about marriage." With you? "Mm. I was never interested, but I never said no. Eventually I made them a ring from a scrap of iron. I hoped they'd stop visiting me if I satisfied them... It's too dangerous to come to the forest everyday." Then he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a ring of his own. "In exchange, they gave one back." He's been cherishing it all this time, even when he'd forgotten its origin.

🪼 Ivy - "I'm no stranger to feeling like I'm missing my other half, you know. That sense of loss is one of the only constants I have left. (Y/N) fills my emptiness, and without them it increases twofold." I open my mouth to ask, Do you think you could be soulmates? but then my eyes dart to the Yithian and I realize my mistake. Sorry, was that insensitive? Ivy is not amused with my implication that she might be interested in claiming (Y/N)'s soul. "My dear interviewer, I am a scholar, not a monster. Whatever you're insinuating, you're gravely mistaken."

🤡 Joker's face suddenly hardens, in spite of the fragile, twiddling-thumbs demeanor he'd shown me thus far. His hands ball into shaking fists and his lips purse, as if he's psyching himself up for a fight. Are you okay? I ask, preemptively guarding myself with my clipboard. Tears brim his eyes and the strength falls from his shoulders. He mutters out, "All I wanted was to be their sword and shield, their angel of light, and they left me out of my mind. Hahaha... Wanna know the biggest joke of all? I'd let them drive me crazy all over again."

🦎 Luchino's mouth stretches into a lazy grin. "That one's a cutie, eh? Had the pleasure of meeting them yet?" I shake my head, reminding him that (Y/N) is the focus of my current investigation. I guess his laidback attitude fooled me into saying too much. He promptly straightens his back, the smile fading. "Yeah... Yeah, from one researcher to another, I get the intrigue," he says. "But I can't say I fancy another guy using my love as a test subject."

🪞 Mary - "Do you take pleasure in nosing around a lady's private affairs? I'd expect more tact, even for an interviewer." The chill in her tone startles me. I sputter out something in my defense, but Mary huffs and waves me into silence. "(Y/N) is enjoying the privilege of being my right-hand. They're my favorite one so far, too. I dismissed the others without a second thought."

🤕 Naib - "On good terms." Wringing out any insightful answers from this man is tougher than I thought. In hopes of inspiring more of a reaction, I tell a small lie: When I interviewed (Y/N), they described a rather colorful affection for you... Almost immediately, Naib breaks eye contact and crosses his arms. But I still only get a guttural "Hm." in response. Can you confirm if this is true? I press. His answer is, once again, a curt "Hm." (Slightly more affirmative, I would say).

🕯️ Philippe - "My work has always stood as a testament to my love," he caresses the wax figure grafted onto his shoulder, "but shielding someone in life is a far greater challenge than honoring my losses. My worries are endless." Suddenly reminded of his sister's tragedy, I offer a sympathetic smile. Do you believe (Y/N) is in danger? Philippe returns my smile, though I can't make out the intent. "Of course. Evil lurks around every corner. At the very least, it won't reach them while I'm around."

🎭 Sangria - A fond smile graces her face as she recounts her memory. "It was clear to me after some time that I had disastrously entranced them." Then she adds, lightly, "I hadn't meant to, of course. At the time, I thought, I'm not looking for love—no, I'd had enough of it all—but soon, their smile would appear in my mind every time I sang. When someone gives you that much inspiration? You'd be a fool to let them go." She has a playful tone of voice, but I can tell (Y/N) means a great deal to her.

#SORRY FOR THE DELAY 😭 did not mean to disappear for a month oml #identity v #idv x reader #identity v x reader #bane perez x reader #ivy x reader #joker x reader #luchino diruse x reader #mary x reader #naib subedar x reader #philippe x reader #sangria x reader #idv imagines

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websterss · 6 months

Text

THE DEVIL WEARS CONVERSE — LUKE PATTERSON

SUMMARY: If there's one thing Caleb is scared of it's the color red and the devil.

WARNING(S): angst, some fluff, implications of smut, some making out

WORD COUNT: 3,604

PAIRING: Luke Patterson x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed! This was one fic I lost when I made a new blog and was reposting my works.

MASTERLIST

You had caught Luke's eye as soon as he stepped out onto the floor. Many people flaunting and going amidst their night caught his attention. He felt that he and the guys were a little underdressed for the fancy club, but it had been your appearance alone that had you catching their eyes like flies. They were drawn to you in particular. Luke most of all, couldn't sway where his sights were directed towards.

"Hey boys, I'll be right back." He made to move past Reggie, his hand on his chest in passing but was stopped when Willie intersected him. Luke looked down at the hand that Willie pressed against his chest. He scoffed in amusement. "Where's the fire?"

"N-Nowhere, but there could be. I wouldn't recommend it. Not her. Y/n isn't someone you just go up and talk to." Willie's face fell with fear.

"Oh yeah, why's that? Is she important or something?" Luke laughed, but Willie wasn't finding Luke's advances towards you hilarious. "She off-bounds?"

"Yea- Yeah, she is in fact," Willie said nervously. After taking notice of Willie's shift in tone when he spoke of you, Luke's eyebrows furrowed with curiosity.

"What are you getting at, Willie? You seem protective." Luke questioned as he put two and two together. He was almost certain that Alex was Willie's crush, he didn't take him to swing both ways or had he simply misread him, that and the way he reacted just now…it seemed unprecedented. "I thought you liked Alex?" Luke crossed his arms.

"I do- It's not like that. Just- Just promise me you won't approach her. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you guys." Willie pleads.

Luke couldn't help but raise a brow, Willie was acting like she was some sort of monster. "A heartbreaker then, that's okay Willie. I've had my fair share of girls like her." He smiled boyishly. He reached up to slap Willie on his upper arm in reassurance. "Nothing's going to happen." Luke shrugged off Willie. Willie was being dramatic. The interest of doing something irrational intrigued him like a child who was told to not play with fire.

"Luke, I mean it. She's not even a regular. You won't see her that much. She's only ever here on business."

"Only ever here for business, huh?" Luke repeated curiously with an eyebrow up. "Then why can't I talk to her? What's gonna happen, Willie?" Luke wasn't one for following orders, that was not in his nature. He couldn't stand being told what not to do, it only made him crave what he wasn't meant to have or do even more. So, it was no mistake that Willie had made one just now. This little curiosity of Luke's was going to get the best of him. The way Willie made it sound like you did some kind of illicit activity intrigued him even more. "What, does she work for the mob or something?" He said half-jokingly with a brow lift. It was only natural to be enticed by a beautiful woman whom people were being tight-lipped about, it only made you seem more interesting and willing to know more about in his books.

"N-Nothing good." He muttered softly. "Why don't I show you guys to your table?"

"Yes, please!" Alex raised a finger, eager to move past Willie's sudden fear-stricken face.

"You guys go ahead. I'll be right back." Luke finally did move past Reggie and began making his way over to you.

"Luke, I wouldn't!" Willie exclaimed.

"I'm just gonna say hi." He turned to walk backwards as he faced him with a cheeky smile. Then turned as he approached the empty bar, beside you and the bartender giving you your drinks with shaky hands. That had him raising his brows with interest.

"Hi Marcus, long time no see." You flashed the man with a sweet smirk. Marcus's smile fell upon the realization you were sitting before the bar. He stopped cleaning the glass in his hands letting it fall to the ground with a smash. He winced at the sound of it breaking. He remained composed as your smile didn't let up. You were the mere image of innocence, you conjured up the identity of a teenage girl this time around. Last year you looked older, dressed up as a woman in a black dress, but this by far was his least favorite one on you, your childlike nature and appearance was scaring him shitless. Your soul was pure rotten, you by no means represented youth and innocence.

"Y/n." He dipped his head in greetings.

"I see Caleb still keeps you around." You tilted your head.

Because he knows I can keep you tranquil. He wanted to say but opted not to. "I'm the only one who can make a dirty cocktail." He lets out nervously.

"That you can, sweetie. Though I'm more in the mood for something sweet tonight, like you." You poke his sternum. Your sweet angelic laughter unsettles him, but he laughs along with you. Knowing Caleb would have his soul again if he made you angry.

"Perhaps a living soul?" He offered with a timid smile.

"Hell no, Lucifer knows I deal with too many of them back home as it is. Why on earth would I waste my time on one tonight? Though you do have a fair amount of them tonight..." You hum surveying the floor. You turned back to the bar. "How about a slushy, make it strong, and fruity." You order.

"So you're not here to collect a soul?"

"I have other matters to tend to Marcus. I've been getting screwed over you see. My bargain with your showman has not been followed down to the last letter, and I am not happy Marcus." You sigh. "I mean how stupid does Caleb peg me? Stealing souls from me." Your laughter darkens with every word that escapes you. "I am a woman of business, and I don't see my need to be tethered to one so insidious. You understand, Marcus?"

Marcus nods furiously. "Where's Willie? As of now, he's my new eyes and ears. Caleb still has his soul right? Of course, he does that's how he controls you all. If this gets out to Caleb sweetie, I'll be the one to devour that pure soul of yours." You raise a brow in question gesturing to his chest. Marcus nods and snaps his fingers. Your requested drink appearing before you. You raised the glass to your lips and let your shoulders drop. "This is why I love you, Marcus."

"Am I no longer your eyes and ears?"

"No." You could see Marcus's disappointment flash in his eyes. "You've been upgraded to my personal assistant."

Marcus felt honored. "Oh wow. Does this mean I don't have to be behind the bar anymore?"

"Only when we come to the club, but other than that..." You snap your fingers nonchalantly. Caleb's stupid stamp floated off of Marcus's wrist. The poor man looked as though he'd cry.

He did.

"Consider it a gift, sweetie. That's all you're gonna get...really." You shrug. You didn't like getting too sentimental with others. Marcus palmed his mouth. Covering it to muffle his cries. You looked around hopefully no one was watching the scene unfold before you. You shrink in your stool and take another sip of your drink. You took another gulp of your drink, enjoying the flavor it had, it was indeed what you had asked for.

"Marcus." You called his name softly when the tears finally stopped flowing. "Look at me." Marcus's head raised and eyes widened with fear once again. "Stop, please."

"S-Sorry. I'm good, I'm good." You nodded with him, your eyes widened with concern. "Thank you..." He muttered softly.

"Sure." You laughed out nervously wanting his hands off you. “Marcus.” You spoke sternly this time which brought him to pay attention and made him stop touching you. “How about another drink, yeah.” You shifted the mood, hoping to reassure him by taking his mind off of being freed by you. "Surprise me this time."

"Yes- Yes, right away." He composed himself as best he could and began to make your new drink.

Luke's gaze was fixated on the bartender's shaky hands, having caught the last of your conversation with him before he grew close. It was something that caught his attention to no end. A burning hole in his brain as he wondered why you had such an effect on people, good and bad. He wanted to know more about you. So he sat on the stool right beside you.

He turned towards you; his hands were resting on the counter, as he tapped along to the melody playing throughout the club. Luke's gaze met yours, raising a brow as he took notice that you were eyeing him. It made him a little self-conscious, but he hid that fact with an amused smirk.

"Nice shoes." His grin brightened. "I'm more of a vans guy myself but I think it's time I make a drastic brand change." Luke turned in the stool, next to the very pretty girl, who looked completely out of place. Your leather jacket and dark blue denim, not to mention your incredibly red shoes, didn't fit the club's dress code.

You peered over the glass in your hand. Your eyes narrowed curiously at the curly-haired stranger who unashamedly sat in the vacant seat next to yours. Surely he had to be pulling your hair. When you saw no falter in his charming smile, you played along. Hoping to amuse the poor lad unaware of the person you were, of your identity. Most would cower at the sight of you but his lack of knowledge told you all you needed to. He was clueless...and a pretty sight. You set your drink down and smirk, turning your full self towards him.

"Thanks. I had them dyed with the blood of the damned." You stuck your leg out, tilting your head in admiration of your shoes.

Your brows pinched closer together upon his laugh. You were confused by his reaction, what had been so funny? You were being your most sincere.

He snickered again, trying hard not to laugh, in fear of offending you. He let out another brief laugh, trying his best not to lose it. It was the way your words so casually rolled off your tongue that got him. He smirked. "Damned you say. Does that mean that you had to damn them yourself or were they already damned and you just decided to take advantage of the opportunity." He joked around, though curiosity filled his mind as he wondered what your answer would be. He sure wasn't expecting your sweet angelic tune that escaped you as a response. Your head fell back. Marcus stilled, looking at the new stranger who caused such a reaction from you and then at you. Was this a stroke you were having and he was completely unaware? He opted to join in, his fake laughs weren't noticed by you luckily.

He eyed Luke as though he put the moon in the sky. He got you to laugh. Completely unheard of.

Luke felt satisfied. His grin widened as he softly joined in on your bubbled display of joy. "I mean they do make killer shoes. I kind of want some now." He shrugged with half interest.

Marcus finally released a stifled laugh. The poor man was holding it in, not knowing where you two would take the conversation. "I can't say I've ever had the urge to wear shoes made of human blood," He spoke in an attempt to keep the energy at bay.

"Well," Luke started, "they're rather fashionable, right? I mean, I know leather clothing is still in style, you're perfectly on top of that trend already." He joked back casually. You felt something strange in your chest as he raked his eyes up and down your entirety. "All I'd be missing is the shoes..." He bit his lip.

"Yeah?" You looked back at him amused. "You want a pair?"

"Why not?" He entertained the idea.

"What is happening?" Marcus mouthed in shock.

What was happening indeed? Didn't he know who you were? His lack of fear was the most shocking part of this whole interaction. Surely he wasn't one of Caleb's newest edition of collected ghosts. Another soul he had taken, or made Willie lure him in to take it while he's blindsighted by the pretty picture Caleb paints for him. For once you wanted to lay your claim on a soul. To rub it in Caleb's face for stealing your portion of the bargain. You extended your hand out to him and asked him what any wise girl would do. You asked for his name.

"I'm Luke." He took your hand gently. Unaware of the marking you placed under his skin. Your bargains, your markings, were more subtle than Caleb's, where he wanted to show them off, you kept yours hidden behind a mere handshake. Along with the idea of never actually telling them you had done so.

"Pleasure." Your grip on his hand remained firm and tight as your eyes searched his own. You could already envision Caleb brewing with envy once he sees you and Luke engaging in a friendly, and dare you say romantic conversation. Luke didn't appear to know the full truth of what was going on. He appeared to be so blindly curious and unaware. So you went ahead and lit a spark to that curiosity as you pressed a finger to the back of his hand, caressing the length of it.

"Luke," you said slowly, testing it out. The name sounded nice; it rolled off your tongue perfectly. Luke, Luke, Luke. He would be your plaything for tonight, perhaps another time as well should you choose to extend that privilege. You felt a tinge of regret for marking a soul as pure as his, you could feel his warmth the second he sat down, but that was soon washed away with his charming grin; it made you want to make him break his moral barriers all the more. He seemed so different from the others, he was your next perfect leverage on Caleb. "I'm Y/n." You leaned forward, Luke's eyes falling in a daze at your sultry voice and doe eyes.

"Y/n..." He breathed out, mesmerized.

"Marcus I want a private space." You turned to the poor lad who was still stunned that this one guy alone was able to sweeten you down like honey. Get on your good side in the blink of an eye. "Now!"

Willie had paced back and forth, going over what he would say to Caleb as he waited for him at the bottom steps of his dressing room. When the man of the hour finally descended the steps Willied perked up.

"Oh hey um, Caleb." He smiled. "I brought those ghosts I met, um it's still cool they're here right?"

"Of course William! I even reserved a special table for them." Caleb shrugged him off nonchalantly.

"Woah! Uh alright, um thank you!" Willie reeled back, not expecting him to do something so nice.

"No, no, thank you!" Caleb sipped at his tea and watched as Willie made his way to leave but turned the wrong way.

"That way!" Willie laughed as he turned to go in the right direction this time.

"Hey William, while I have you here. Make sure to let me know when Y/n has arrived. I need at least half an hour to ready myself before her arrival."

"Oh, Y/n? She's already here." Willie shook his head confused, hadn't he known?

Certainly not, it appeared.

"What!" Caleb screeched, making Willie to flinch. The cup in his hands clattered onto the steps. Willie shrunk in on himself as Caleb berated him. "You useless monkey, why do I even keep you around? Oh my god, I'm not even dressed. Quick go make sure she gets everything she wants. Hopefully not my soul...Whatever she wants give it to her. A lifer's soul, it's hers. I don't care. I need to go look presentable. Go!" Willie straightened out as he walked away from Caleb's dressing room with haste. Caleb ordered staff to make sure you remained in a good mood. He was late, you had been earlier than expected and he was about to lose his shit.

When Caleb dispersed from the dancers and band, you had rolled your eyes as he made his entrance past the golden curtain.

He gulped nervously when his eyes danced back and forth between you sitting back on the sofa, and Luke kissing down your neck like a lovesick puppy. You hadn't stopped his attack on your skin. Caleb straightened out, clearly his throat to make his presence known.

"I don't like being kept waiting, Caleb, I have better things to do." Your voice broke in soft breaths as Luke found your sweet spot.

"Y/n, nice to have you back my sweet. We've missed your presence at the club and I-"

"Don't patronize me, ghost." You rolled your head back against the cushion.

"Ah, I see you've found our special guest of the night." He laughed nervously. "Have we bored you already, the night has only just begun." Caleb was thankful he didn't have to find you in a much more compromising situation. As he watched your hand run through Luke’s hair, a pang of emotion rose in him, jealousy? Anger? Regret? He felt his emotions bubble over as he watched Luke's lips meet your collarbones, his hands running down your back to your waist. Caleb bit his lip to keep an audible curse from escaping his lips.

You smirked, he was lucky that Luke wasn't getting too ahead of himself, but seeing how things were playing out at the moment it wouldn't take much for Luke to slip. Your attention turned back to him once Luke's lips had moved elsewhere on your body.

"Caleb, how stupid do you think I am?" Your question had caught him off guard.

He was speechless for a few moments before he regained his composure. He laughed a bit in your face. "Y/n, it's obvious," He took a deep, shaky breath before continuing. "He's a soul I promise to you in our deal. I got two more waiting on you out on the floor."

Luke's head dropped lower to your chest, his kisses stooping lower down your blouse. Caleb's eyes narrowed at the sight.

"Luke's already mine." You sigh in contentment. "I meant about the souls you’re taking for yourself, Caleb."

"What of them?" Caleb's face remained emotionless. He kept his arms crossed while your head was nuzzled into Luke's neck, you were barely holding on to the conversation while your chest had been preoccupied with Luke's hot breaths. His hands slide up and down your body.

"You can't even deny you've broken our bargain." You reminded him, your mind clouded with the sensation of his kisses. "You know what happens when people cross me, Caleb." You giggled as your breath hitched with every word spoken. You placed a hand over Luke's curls to stop him from continuing his kisses down your torso, his lips rested on your chest instead.

"Surely, we can work something out." He begins softly.

"I don't think so." You spoke plainly, your eyes finally focusing on Caleb. Your hands placed on the back of the sofa, you were feeling a bit confident and sassy, something Caleb hadn't seen for a good while, not with him at least. You sit up causing Luke to fall off you. You grip his chin gently and turn his face towards Caleb. You watch as the ghost shrinks back into the shell of the man that he is as Luke's gorgeous brown eyes flash red at him.

You staked your claim on him. "You touch the other two, and this all goes away." You gesture to the room, to the entirety of the club. "I’m going to need Willie's soul by the strike of midnight. Poor thing needs a break from you seeing as you can't do your job properly. He's mine until I say so. You understand, Caleb." You recline back into the cushion.

"Yes ma'am." He nods, feeling like a child being scolded.

"You can see yourself out now. It's like you said; the night is only getting started." Your angelic laugh is one for his nightmares. Not to mention your red eyes. You hold his gaze as you push down on Luke's curls, his body sinking to the carpet before you. "You might not want to stay around for this next part Caleb. Wouldn't want to traumatize you as it is." Caleb gasps and turns in place of the sound of your zipper being pulled.

Caleb's jaw went slack. His head tilted to the side. He tried hard to hide his surprise, but he wasn't sure what he should have said in this occurrence. "Right… I will be leaving. Enjoy yourselves." He uttered stiffly. Caleb retreated out of the room.

Luke's warm hands gripped your thighs, squeezing them slightly. His lips moved back up to your neck. His fingertips trailed lightly along your collarbone, his breath hot, you could feel his blood rushing. Once you were sure Caleb was out of earshot you pulled Luke up by the collar of his shirt.

"What's wrong?" Luke's dazed-out look had you feeling a smidge of guilt. "I thought we were having fun?" He breathed out a laugh as he tried to lean in to kiss you.

"It's not that kind of business, baby. Another time." You gripped his chin and sweetly placed a kiss on his lips.

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