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pucksandpower · 9 days

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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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livelaughlovesubs · 2 months

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Ever wondered if gojo is a virgin or not?

~Imagine him crying from how good it feels, when he normally always brags about how good he is~

Dom!reader x sub!gojo - Reader is AFAB

Warning: mommy kink (only a tiny bit), the reader is getting penetrated, dacryphilia (like always)

The white haired boy was as prideful as ever, bragging to everyone about your relationship. You two have been dating for a while now, and whenever you two would go out to hang out with friends, he’d tell everyone how good he is bed. It wasn’t a lie, he was a really good boy behind closed doors, but he liked to exaggerate sometimes. This led to your current situation.

Once again satoru couldn’t keep his pretty little mouth sealed and talked about some personal stuff. There was something different this time, because he talked about how he’s the one ‘in charge’ in the relationship. Now he really shot himself in the leg with that one. The boy just continued letting his foul mouth run loose while you glared at him furiously. Instead of correcting him right now, no, you were going to punish him once you get home.

“Ah..aAhh…mhm, ngh.” Gojo covered his mouth with the palm of his hand, trying to muffle his noises. Shit, why was he the one getting this nervous? He was half inside you, but already whining about how good you felt, how warm and soft. The why your insides squeezed him made him feel dizzy, face flushing red in an instant. You on the other hand was laying down on the bed, mocking him with your suggestive eyes. This was a little bet you two made. Since he was so proud of his skills, you were going to let him have a go.

“I-I can do this, you just…uhm, lay-lay back and watch.” Your handsome but troublesome partner said, desperately trying to keep his pride. He slowly bottomed out inside you, when he finally did, he had to fight with himself to not cum on the spot. Hands on either side of your body, gripping the sheets tightly, so much that his knuckles turned white. Neither him or you have been moving, yet he was so awfully close. This was too embarrassing, especially because you weren't affected at all. While he was sweating buckets and trying to hold back his voice, you were smirking at him with a sarcastic gaze. Your expression told him that you were having fun, entertained by his adorable antics.

Why did you have to humiliate him like this? Couldn’t you let him keep a little pride, by telling him you were feeling good too? A shiver ran down his spine, his heart was pounding and he couldn’t take it anymore. Suddenly the male pressed his face into your chest, arms wrapped around you in a suffocating grasp. His whines were muffled by your body, then he glanced up at you with a pleading look in his eyes.

“Oh? Satoru, does it feel that good?” He didn't respond, he couldn’t, instead he sobbed and whined. Some tears dropped onto your chest. “Fe-feels too go-good…uh-ugh..” “is that so, how cute, but that is no reason to cry now.” You whispered softly while stroking his fluffy locks, he just pressed himself even closer to you, holding you close to him. Was this his way to hide the embarrassment?

“Didn’t you say you were going to make me feel good? With your seductive techniques?” You teased him, repeating the words he exchanged with his friends. “S-stop..please..” woa wait a second, you weren’t expecting him to beg now. How amazing, and how obedient he suddenly is. Then you said, “you better learn your lesson, love, next time I won’t be so nice.” Before he knew it, you changed the position and were now on top of him. “What do you say, satoru?” “Thank you…ah, hngh- mommy.” “Good boy.”

#sub character #sub!character #dom reader #sub Jjk #sub jujutsu kaisen #sub gojo #sub gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo jjk #gojo jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #sub gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader

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pandoraslxna · 1 year

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okay what if neteyam makes you squirt for the first time and he’s just so amazed and finds it so hot that he overstimulates you, desperate to see you squirt again

adult Neteyam x female reader, minors dni 🔞

Neteyam watches with wide eyes, how your clear juices run down the palm of his hand, over his wrist and then dribble onto a small puddle on the ground.

This was the first time something like this had happened to you, the first time you had squirted and you could feel the embarrassment spread all over your cheeks, tainting them red.

"Oh my— Neteyam I’m, I’m so sor–"

"Don’t you dare apologize", he cuts you off. Neteyam was still panting, leaning on his forearm to get an even better view of what was happening between your spread thighs. His fingers were still toying with you, spreading your puffy lips, thumb circling over your throbbing clit.

Everything felt so warm and sticky now, making you squirm as you became utterly aware of what had just happened. Neteyam’s hand was still drenched in your cum, but surprisingly, he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Now it was your turn to watch him with wide eyes, as he suddenly brings two of his digits to his mouth to lick them clean.

"Hmm fuck, you came a lot. That’s so hot", he moans at your taste, tongue swirling over his fingers before he pulls them out of his mouth with a wet pop. "Did my pretty girl enjoy herself?"

"Uh-hu", is all you could manage to respond, feeling like your brain was dangerously close to a short circuit.

In an instant upon hearing your response, Neteyam‘s hand was buried between your legs once again, fingers prodding at your slippery entrance, causing your legs to twitch.

"Good. Because you will do it again", he tells you with a grin. You gasp when two of his digits slide into you with ease.

At this point, he knew exactly what to do to make you finish within seconds, so he begins to thrust them in and out at a rapid pace. Your hands claw at his forearm, moans spilling from your lips like a damn waterfall when he curls his fingers just right to hit that spongey little spot inside of you.

"F-Fuck, too much! Teyam it‘s— s‘too much!" You whimper, hips desperately trying to squirm away from his hands. "I- I can’t, I just came!"

"Oh, I know", Neteyam chuckles completely unfazed, "but you’re my good girl, aren’t you? You can take it. And you will cum for me again, right?"

He keeps pushing insistently against that spot, finger-fucking you so fast that you grew dizzy. "Come for me", he growled, "Come on me. Get me wet and fucking drench me." You couldn’t stop the stream of slickness from squirting out as soon as you hit your second peak, a steady flow that has your eyes rolling back, because of his thumb simultaneously circling your clit.

You didn’t know why it made you tingle all over, hearing him groan like it bought him pleasure as he watched you cum on his fingers, but you were so dopey and more satisfied than you’ve ever been.

You suck in a rush of air when Neteyam shifts to kneel between your thighs, grabbing both of your ankles, so that you’re nearly folded in half, before he lines his cock up with your entrance. With his thumbs, he spreads your folds and more of your juices seep out of you freely.

"You have such a pretty pussy, look how wet you are", Neteyam hums and you have just enough time to prepare yourself, before he thrusts his cock fully into you with a moan.

"One more time. Do it for me, sevin."

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leclerced · 6 months

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OKAY HEAR ME OUT… blindfolded gf being eaten out by lando but then he moves to the side and lets oscar take over without her knowing (he knows she’ll be into it tho bc like consent) BUT OMG bro just her enjoying getting eaten and then suddenly theres another mouth kissing her…

wait thats so hot im dead.

she feels lando’s mouth leave her as her orgasm approaches and whines, fingers itching to tangle in his hair and pull him back but she keeps her hands tucked under her back where lando told her to put them. she rocks her hips uselessly to try and get some friction as he leaves her body, and then she feels a new pair of hands join lando’s on her body and she shivers. before she can complain, she feels someone settling between her thighs where lando had just been and then lando’s asking her, “what’s your color?”

the new hands are caressing her thighs, the man probably staring at her dripping cunt, and an embarrassed flush covers her body as she gasps, “green.” as soon as the word leaves her mouth, the stranger is on her and she’s moaning loudly as he immediately licks up her slit and starts flicking his tongue over her clit. she’s dizzy from how many times lando’s denied her already and all she wants is to cum, she doesn’t care who makes her.

she hears lando’s voice to her right this time and his proximity surprises her, his voice low in her ear as he asks, “guess who?”

she gasps and rocks her hips into the man’s mouth, her fingers pressing into the mattress under her back. “not maxie this time.” she whimpers out, mind spinning as she tries to recognize the feeling of the stranger's hands and mouth on her. "i-is it carlos?" she receives a pinch on her inner thigh from the other man while lando tuts and the pain makes her whine. the knot in her stomach is painfully tight, but she knows she can’t cum until someone tells her to. “lan, ‘m so close baby.”

he hums next to her, his lips brushing against her neck as he teases, “you can cum when you guess right. tell me who it is.”

she moans loudly as two fingers suddenly press into hers, her thighs shaking involuntarily. “charles? no- uh- is- oh my god- is it oscar?” she’s rewarded with a nod between her thighs as his fingers curl inside her and she immediately moans his name, in confirmation.

lando grins against her skin, “that’s right baby, you wanna cum for oscar? tell him how good he makes you feel.” she doesn’t even know what she’s saying as she immediately begins begging, rocking her hips against his face as she pleads for him to push her over the edge. she’s rewarded with him fucking his fingers faster and him moaning into her pussy, the vibrations sending her straight over the edge as she squirms beneath them.

#ask #anon #ln4/op81 #op81 #op81 blurb #oscar piastri smut #lando norris smut #f1 smut #ln4 #ln4 blurb #blindfold universe

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maeby-cursed · 1 month

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TRACK 1: MISDIAL !

Toji never calls.

It’s one of his most peculiar habits, that although he does carry his phone (a cheap flip-phone he hasn’t ever bothered upgrading) everywhere he goes, he never calls, never texts, never cares to take it out of his back pocket. And most importantly, he never picks it up.

Taking this into account, it’s no wonder that when his phone begins to ring at 4.30am on one of his off days, his first thought is to end it all. He spends so little time with it, he hasn’t quite yet figured how to turn off the sound... and now he’s annoyed.

He grabs the item and stares at it, trying to make sense of the number that flashes on the screen, the green light blinding him momentarily.

“Fucking thing,” Toji mutters, trying to press any button that could make the ringing stop. Eventually he gives up and shoves it under his pillow.

It keeps on ringing.

“You’ve gotta be… fucking…” The phone flips open. “What?”

“Toji?”

He freezes, his hand suddenly tightening around the metal as if to try and cage the sound.

It’s you. Your voice whispers his name once again and he’s never woken up this abruptly since Megumi was an infant.

“Uhm hello,” he stutters. Like an idiot.

“Oh God it’s really you! Fuck, I’m sorry, I meant to call my friend and your surnames are so similar I must’ve pressed the wrong number… Fuck, it’s four in the morning! Christ, I’m really really sorry–”

As you ramble he starts to shake his head, mouth agape, until he realizes you can’t see him. You have his number saved. You are on the other side of the line and he can listen to your breathing.

He starts to feel dizzy.

Did you just ask him a question?

“Uhm, it’s okay, uh… I was about to wake up anyway.” Sure. At 5am on a Sunday.

“Were you? Ugh, I feel terrible… Listen, I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I have to hang up and call my friend or she’ll freak out but I will make it up to you, seriously. Please go back to whatever you were doing! I’m sorry. Again.”

And then you’re gone.

The line goes dead and his hand drops to his lap with the phone still hugged inside the palm. He’s going to engrave the thing into his flesh at this point but he can’t mind.

Toji Fushiguro has known you for two years and yet he was unaware that you had his phone number. Did he give it to you? Did you write it down from the records? You called, you called, you called.

It’s been unbearable these past few weeks; he’s been off taking care of a less than legitimate job, which meant being away from his actually legal office job, which meant less time to stare at you as you pick up calls and take notes and greet clients and smile that pretty smile of yours.

Now, your voice reverberates through his spine and he can’t help but imagine your eyes in the back of his mind.

He’s never been a corny person, he’s not a great romancer and contrary to popular belief, he’s not much of a Casanova, but he knows when he’s in love. Toji’s but a man with a shielded heart whose barriers you’ve taken down with a hammer and a laugh.

So he yields. For the first time since he bought it, Toji opens his phone and saves a number under his son’s.

For the first time in twenty years he chooses to pick up a call, to think of what you’ll come up with to make it up to him, to dream of you searching for him with your eyes… just this once.

And, for the first time in a long long time, he falls asleep just fine, with a smirk toying with the corners of his lips and some hope with the strings of his heart.

#🎐 𓂃 mae’s typing !#and you guys will be like ! 'mae what is this ?' and i'll be like ! 'fuck if i know !'#seriously this is just really random ideas i get and am too tired to elaborate but... yeah #toji fushiguro is a grandpa and i adore him down to his very bones #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #toji x reader #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x reader

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hawkinsquarry · 9 months

Text

don’t think twice, it’s alright

part 1/6 of wraith pinned to the mist

summary: you’re hellbent on keeping steve safe, but he’s just as hellbent on the same with you. [post s4, some canon divergence]

contains: steve x reader; gender unspecified reader; hurt/comfort with steve receiving; unrealized feelings; descriptions of blood/wounds and stitches; alive eddie we can’t do this without him gang

author’s note: idk. idk guys i just love him

He’s groggy. Waking up slowly and gently. Disoriented and so tired he’d might as well give up, but the voices he hears pulls him awake. His heavy lidded eyes slowly force their way open, revealing nothing but a very dark blur.

“Hey,” he hears. He can suddenly feel hands on his forehead, something hard pressed into his thigh. His brows furrow and a bit of panic kicks in. The last thing he remembers is an ungodly creature swinging at him, and now he’s here.

“Hey,” he hears again, and it’s a little clearer now. He relaxes, blinks a couple of times until his vision focuses in on you. “Steve.”

“Oh,” he sighs, relaxing. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you smile. Your hands are on his forehead and it’s then that he notices the dull ache there. He winces and tries to move a hand up, but yours gently pushes it back down. His stomach flips but he doesn’t have his bearings enough to understand why. If he’d been a little less dizzy, he would have noticed the blood on your fingers. “Easy, Steve. It’s okay.”

“‘s goin’ on?” he slurs.

“Nothin’ really,” you say. Something touches right above his eyebrow. “You got a little scratch, that’s all. You remember waking up a few minutes ago?”

He thinks about it hard for a minute before shaking his head. He feels like he would have remembered if you were there. “Uh-uh.”

“That’s okay.” Your voice is warm and soothing. Steve leans into it, relaxing a little further, letting you do whatever. “I’m just patching it up, okay? Do you hurt anywhere?”

He scrunches his nose and thinks about it again. “Feel kinda weird.”

“Yeah,” you laugh lightly. “Eddie gave me a Vicodin for you, probably feeling that.”

“Mmm.”’

“You ever have it before?”

He focuses on your voice. “Party once.”

“Really? Who’d’ve thought, huh?”

He smiles lazily, one eye falling shut as the other stays open. His vision is clearing now. Your face is inches from his as you examine the scratch on his forehead, your brows furrowed and your lips downturned. He frowns then, too. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you say again. “Trying to figure out if you have highlights.”

He sighs. With your face so close to his, all he can really feel is a longing that tugs deep in his chest and makes his stomach flip. The pads of your fingers work easy on him, and he can see you biting your cheek in concentration. If he had the energy, he’d lean up to kiss you; instead, he lays and watches, melting at your attention.

“Where are we?”

“Nancy’s.” You pull away with a cotton gauze pad and his eyes widen at the blood. “No, it’s okay, Steve, it’s not bad. Promise. Robin says she’s seen you look worse.”

“Robin,” he repeats. “Where’s Robin?”

“She’s safe, she’s here,” you soothe. Something wet touches his forehead and he correctly assumes it’s rubbing alcohol. He can’t feel the sting, but the smell makes him shiver, albeit quells his nausea. “She’s upstairs with everyone. Everyone’s safe.”

Steve closes his eyes and exhales shakily. He jumps a little when you take his hand, giving it a little squeeze. He feels warm at the attention.

“You did good,” you whisper. “But if you ever jump out in front of something again, I’m gonna kill you.”

He laughs bluntly and forces his eyes open again. You’re away from him now. He deflates, searching for you, finding you again in front of him packing up a first aid kit. He sees some floss unraveled and his brows knit together again.

“What’s the floss for?”

“Don’t move your eyebrows, okay? You’ll make it bleed again.”

He gives up on the floss, watching you roll it back up. You grab something small and press it into your palm, which he now realizes is covered in blood. He gasps and tries to sit up, but you quickly shush him and push him back down onto the blankets and pillows below him.

“It’s okay -“

“Why are you bleeding?” he asks, his voice cracking, that panic coming back even though he’s almost delusional with sedation. “What happened?”

You blink. “It’s old blood, I’m not bleeding. I promise.”

“Did something hurt you?” he’s trying to push up again, and you lay him back down, holding him there gently with your hands. “What did I do?”

“You did nothing!” You’re almost admonishing him for it, eyes wild with something Steve can’t decipher. “You - Steve, Christ, you make me so mad sometimes.”

“Why?” he asks stupidly.

Your jaw sets and tears pool in your lash line. “Because - I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Can you please just lay here for me?”

He’ll find out later that the blood on your hands is his, but he’s quick to follow your instructions, especially after seeing you so upset. You tuck him in with a blanket, your blood caked hands pushing his hair away from his face. “I’m just going to clean up, okay? Gonna let everyone know you’re alright, and we’ll be back. Do you feel okay?”

Steve can only stare at you. You’re so pretty when you’re upset, and he knows he shouldn’t think that, but wow. Your eyes really sparkle when they’re wet. You’re an angel above him in the dim light of the Wheeler’s basement, a lamp on behind you acting as a halo. He licks his lips and tastes metal, but he doesn’t quite notice. “You’ll come back?”

You sigh and cup his cheek. “Yeah, Steve, I’ll be back, okay?”

He reaches up to put his hand over yours. “Okay.”

It’s not that he’s never really noticed you before, or how his chest gets tight when you’re around, or how he feels like he’d rather go mad and get hurt than ever see you bleed. But it’s like he’s gotten some sense knocked into him. As he watches you descend upstairs, a harsh tug pulls between his nose and throat. He has to focus to not cry, not wanting his brows to furrow and make him bleed like you warned. A shaking, painful exhale escapes his lips. He wants to be good for you and listen to you and never make you mad at him again.

But, that all said, he’ll jump in front of a thousand Demogorgons if it kept you safe.

You could hear everyone pacing upstairs while you stitched Steve up, and as you push the door open with your hip, holding your hands up and away from you, everyone sprints over. They look at you expectantly, a little too intensely, and you have to laugh a little. “He’s okay.”

Robin sighs, eyes avoiding your hands. “He’s an idiot,” she says, for the millionth time. “He’s such an idiot.”

Eddie’s got his head in his hands at the kitchen island. He’s been offering everyone Ativan, but he’s the only one who’s taken any. When he looks up at you he fake gags at the blood on your hands. You roll your eyes and head for the sink, grateful when Jonathan turns it on for you.

“So, he’s okay?” Nancy asks, stepping towards you. “No, like, lasting damage?”

“Uh.” You think about an answer as you lather up your hands. For the first time, your stomach twists at it. You’d been so focused on being a caretaker that you hadn’t had time to think about everything, but now you feel squeamish. “He might have a scar, and I’m pretty sure he’s on concussion twenty-three, but he’s alert.”

You can’t bring him to the hospital because you’d have to admit you were, in fact, monster hunting, which was a punishable offense. You’re thankful Nancy owned a needle and thread - Steve may have bled out otherwise. One wrong move for any of you could be fatal, even if it could typically be cured with medical attention. You force yourself to not think about that now, about the words he said downstairs, about the way his soft brown eyes were looking at you.

“Can we go see him?” Robin asks, halfway through the door.

“Is he still all - like -“ Eddie says, gesturing to his face and making a blech! noise.

“It’s mostly cleaned up,” you say, scrubbing your nails against the palm of your hand, Karen Wheeler’s pristine sink turning crimson. “He’s still handsome, Eddie, don’t worry. Just - don’t say anything to scare him, alright? He doesn’t know he’s stitched up.”

You’re left alone at the sink, illuminated with red and orange from the outside, a thin curtain blocking your view. You try to be as precise as possible with cleaning yourself up so Steve doesn’t worry again. You’re going to rip him a new one when he’s better, lambast him for ever asking what he did wrong when the only thing he’s ever done was care too much and think too little about himself.

You hear their words downstairs - Robin’s thick voice, Eddie’s exclamations - you looked so badass, dude, you busted that thing up! You think of Dustin and the kids, how mad they were that they weren’t allowed to come with you all tonight, but you all decided to not take any chances with them. You know Dustin’s going to lose his shit the moment he sees the criss-cross pattern on Steve’s forehead and you wonder momentarily if you should give him a call to prepare him.

Just as you’re turning off the sink, Jonathan comes bounding up the stairs, looking a little disheveled.

“Don’t like blood?” you ask, wiping your hands with a paper towel.

“Ha,” he deadpans. “He asked for you.”

Your lips pull into a tight line because you know he’s high on painkillers and he’s fixating on you because you’re the first person he saw when he woke up. Probably has questions about what’s happening, or what the hell you did to him. But when you make it downstairs and kneel beside him, he just frowns. “Where’d you go?”

“Had to clean my hands,” you say, holding them up for him. “All better, see?”

He looks past them and at your face. “You said you’d be back.”

“I am now, aren’t I?”

“Good,” he says, laying back and closing his eyes. “Don’t leave again.”

You swallow, chest aching. “Okay.”

“These guys can go.” He waves his hand lazily. “So goddamn loud.”

Eddie proves his point by bursting into laughter, making Steve wince.

“Okay,” you repeat. “How about we all try to rest a little? It’s almost morning, anyway.”

As everyone disperses, finding their own places among blanket forts and pillows, Steve stares at you very seriously.

You reach forward to ruffle his hair. “What are you thinkin’ about?”

He continues to stare, and just when it’s starting to worry you, he finally blinks like he snapped out of a trance. “Will you stay close to me?”

You laugh softly. “You want your nurse nearby, huh?”

“Huh? No, just you.”

Robin makes a noise off to the side - she’s still close enough to monitor him but far enough away that he can’t kick at her. When you look, she’s fighting back a smile, and the idea that she’s seeing this too makes your chest hot. You look back at him, his eyes already closed, gorgeous and miserable.

“Okay,” you whisper, grabbing a pillow and laying it next to him. His arm searches for you, finding your forearm, and he grips it.

“Don’t leave,” he says again, his voice quaking a little.

“I won’t,” you swear, glancing at the wound on his forehead, an anger swelling inside of you unbearably. “I’m right here.”

#han posts #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader

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loveinhawkins · 11 months

Text

Steve’s bat bites start to bleed again during the drive out of The War Zone.

It’s a slow realisation, a creeping dampness on his skin.

He stays as still as he can, keeps his movements small and contained when turning the steering wheel; he thinks he mostly gets away with it, manages to park the RV and pitch his voice on just the right side of normal as he tells the kids to scram.

Awareness of his surroundings grows a little fuzzy around the edges, but he senses enough to know that he’s alone—the silence feels heavy, makes his ears ring.

He lifts himself up out of his seat, one hand clinging onto the headrest for balance. The ringing gets sharper, more high-pitched; he shakes his head to try and clear it.

One step forward, then another, and another.

There’s a slight rocking motion under his feet. It feels a little like he’s in a boat that’s docked, constant movement even in the gentlest of waters.

His palms brush against the bathroom door.

“Okay,” Steve whispers to himself.

He hangs onto the sink to keep himself upright—feels the room sway, as if the waters underneath have suddenly become stormy.

With one hand, he finds the knot in the bandage.

“Okay, okay…”

Pulls.

Steve doesn’t think he blacks out, not quite, but there’s a shift, a dizzying tilt… and then, somehow, he’s sitting on the closed toilet seat.

And…

The bat bites must cause hallucinations or something.

Otherwise, Steve cannot explain why Eddie—who notoriously threw up and passed out during a dissection in Biology—is currently pressing a clean bandage against his stomach, staring down at the blood like he can’t look away.

“You’re good, you’re good,” Eddie’s saying.

He’s clearly trying to sound calm, but it’s just coming out strained, like what he really means is this is all a fucking nightmare actually, but we’ve gotta find something to be optimistic about.

“Think it just needs some more pressure,” he goes on. “Yeah, there, see? It’s stopping. Oh, thank God.”

Steve feels more gauze getting wrapped around his middle—if he wasn’t injured, it’d almost be a nice sensation, Eddie’s touch somehow the perfect mix of both firm and gentle.

As he works, Eddie hums nervously.

“Talk to me Harrington,” he says in a shaky sing-song. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging, man, gimme some awkward small talk. Got any hopes? Dreams? Anything I should know?

Oh, so many things, Steve thinks, still light-headed.

But then he really does mull that over: his mind goes to The Upside Down, to belatedly telling Eddie about the hive mind, and oh shit.

“Hey, weird question,” Steve says, “but I’ve not been, like, asking you to make it cold in here or, um, anything like that?”

Eddie blinks. “Uh. No?”

“Okay.” Before he lets the relief of hearing Eddie’s answer sink in, Steve adds, “If I ever do, you need to lock me in here and get out. Tell Nancy.”

Eddie’s staring at him like he’s grown a second head. “Sure. Cool. Cool! Uh, for any particular reason or—?”

“Just in case—like, I don’t feel any different, but—one time, Will Byers, when he was in The Upside Down it, like, infected him? Like a virus. Except more… possession. And they had to kinda… burn it outta him.”

“Ha,” Eddie says. A beat. “Oh fuck, you’re serious.”

“I really don’t have the energy to be messing with you, dude.”

“Sorry. Sometimes you all just say things, y’know? And if I don’t get it, I’m like, well, they’ve been living through this for a while, maybe they’ve got a code going on.”

“I mean,” Steve says, “we kinda do.”

Eddie shakes his head. “So when Buckley said she dealt with a human-flesh-based monster, and the one before that was smoke-related, that wasn’t just, like, a really fucked up metaphor?” Eddie’s eyes are wide, pleading. “Please say it was a metaphor.”

“Sorry,” Steve says sincerely.

Eddie sighs through a lacklustre chuckle. “You’re fine, Steve. As for, uh, being possessed, I don’t think so. You’re no weirder than usual, but—”

“Wow, thanks. Means such a lot coming from you.”

“—you were a bit, like, out of it for a few seconds, but it just looked like you were gonna faint on me. Um. How’re you feeling now?”

“Good,” Steve says. When Eddie raises an eyebrow, he tacks on, “As good as I can be, I guess. Still.” He groans slightly as he stands, goes back over to the sink. “Better check.”

“Check? What?”

Steve runs the water as hot as it will possibly go, until the steam is evident. He sticks his hand right into the stream, hears Eddie hiss as the water scalds his skin.

“Okay, yup. Not possessed.”

“Fucking fantastic. Now I want it cold,” Eddie says.

He takes control of the faucet, nods for Steve to put his hand under the now cold water.

After a minute or two, Eddie sighs and collapses onto the toilet seat himself.

There’s a squeak as Steve turns the faucet off—his skin’s probably not had the good of the cold water for nearly long enough, but it’ll do.

Eddie’s tipped his head back so he’s facing the ceiling, eyes closed. Steve watches him with sympathy; he really must hate blood.

“Eddie. You can go.”

“Mm, nope,” Eddie says without opening his eyes. “I’m fine right here.”

“Suit yourself.”

Steve turns back to the sink, frowns at the tiny mirror above it; there’s black spots on the glass, but he can make out enough. Christ, the bags under his eyes are horrific.

“Relax, Casanova,” Eddie says, almost as if he’s heard Steve’s thoughts. “You look good.”

“Uh-huh. Think your brain’s fried from being on the run.”

Steve leans against the sink with one hip, finds Eddie looking at him with a small smile.

“Yeah, probably. Or maybe being on the run just suits you.” Eddie’s eyes flicker down. His smile falters. “You know, in an ideal world,” he says conversationally, “you’d be in a hospital getting stitches.”

Steve scoffs. “In an ideal world, I’d be in bed sleeping.”

“Amen to that,” Eddie says lightly. But he still looks sombre. “Seriously, though. If it gets… you know. I’d drive you.”

“To the hospital? What are you gonna do, Eddie, wander up to the front desk? Sounds like a real interesting way to get arrested.”

But Eddie doesn’t leap at the chance to make a joke.

“Steve,” he says softly. “I mean it. I wouldn’t care.”

“That would sorta ruin the whole priority of hiding you.”

“That’s—” Eddie huffs. “That’s not the priority.”

“Huh, that’s funny, cause it is in my book.” Steve nods at the door, to his whole world just outside. “One of many.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow. “And your name better be right at the top, Harrington.”

Steve hums.

“In bold. Underlined.”

“Whatever you say.”

Eddie groans quietly, runs a hand down his face. “You worry me, man.”

“I’m not trying to.”

“I know. Just…” Eddie hesitates. “Don’t go off alone. You know?”

Steve thinks it over. He steps forward and offers Eddie his hand.

Eddie takes it.

When Steve pulls him up, he stumbles a little, as if he feels like he’s on a boat, too.

“Oops, sorry.” He grabs onto Steve’s forearm for balance. “Think this should be the other way round, man.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so.”

Steve leads the way out of the bathroom—doesn’t mention the fact that, really, they’re both holding each other up.

There’s a bottle of water left in the back. Steve twists the cap off. Drinks.

“You too,” he tells Eddie.

“Huh?”

Steve considers him—thinks of the little flare of panic he felt when watching Eddie walk through the woods, tiptoeing around vines. How he had a sudden instinct to catch up to him, to make sure he wasn’t alone.

“I’m making a deal,” Steve says. “I won’t go off alone if you don’t.”

He lifts the bottle up as if making a toast—drinks again then passes it over to Eddie.

For the slightest of moments, their fingers brush; Eddie’s rings skim over Steve’s knuckles.

“So what’s this?” Eddie asks. “Legally binding magical water?”

Steve shrugs. “Cool metaphor,” he replies.

You say you just turn heel and run, Eddie. But sometimes I think if there was a fire, you’d run towards the flames if it meant no-one else got hurt.

Eddie smiles. Tilts the bottle towards Steve.

“Guess it’s a promise, then,” he says.

He drinks.

Steve prays that it holds.

#reciprocal hurt/comfort & protectiveness because they notice each other and care so damn much. with a side of banter of course ❤️#pre steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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stevenose · 9 months

Text

hold me down (18+)

day 6 of 31 of the august writing challenge

today’s word: comfort

contains: steve x reader; gender unspecified reader; whatever the kink is where u just want someone to lay on u. some breath play; cumming inside; finger sucking ???? ejdhekhhj

Not even the thickness of Steve’s cock filling you up was enough. Your legs bent at the knees, tight around his hips. He fills you deeply, fully, knocking the air out of you. But it’s still not enough.

“Steve,” you moan, back arching as your hips try to meet his. He moves slow, calculated. Sometimes he just likes to see how much you squirm. When he goes too fast, he can’t enjoy the view. Now he’s enjoying the push and pull, the tightness and warmth of you. He sighs in response, smiling lightly as he continues to fuck you.

It’s not enough.

“Steve,” you say again, moving your hands to his elbows. He’s propped up on them but you push, making him lose his balance.

“What?” he asks, confused, hips stalling.

You just moan, still pushing weakly at his elbows.

“Answer me, honey, or else I’ll have to stop.”

“I want you.”

It makes Steve smile. “You got me. I’m right here.”

“No, like -“ You sigh in frustration because you don’t even really know what you want except for him to crush you. Which is bizarre, and you can’t really say that. “Wanna feel all of you.”

He looks down with furrowed brows. Was I not in all the way? But sure enough he is, buried to the hilt inside of you. He frowns when he looks back up, a little embarrassed. “Uh, you have all of it -“

“You!” you cry, now pulling your arms around his shoulders and pushing him down. He tries to catch himself but it’s useless - he falls chest to chest with you, both of you gasping. He opens his mouth to apologize but you push your hips up and moan. “Like that.”

“Huh?”

“Lay on me and fuck me,” you whine. “Jesus, Steve, just do it.”

“Uh -“ Steve blinks. He can’t really move when he’s right on top of you, so instead he props himself up just slightly on his elbows before pulling out and then pushing in again. You breathe out happily, head thrown back on the pillow beneath you.

“Good boy,” you moan.

It leaves him feeling some kind of way - hot and energetic. He catches your lips as he continues, still keeping with the deep strokes, his tongue licking yours. His chest rubs against yours and you moan at the friction it causes. He’s warm and soft on top of you, a comfort better than anything else. You want to be smothered by him, the weight grounding you, feeling him against you.

“Flip over,” he breathes against your lips, and you do, rolling onto your tummy. Steve’s quick to slide inside of you again, and he drapes his body over your back, knocking you off of your knees and flat against the mattress. He’s really pushing on you now, able to practically lay on you, his hips meeting your ass with each stroke. You moan loudly, rocking your hips. “Like that?”

“Uh-huh,” you groan, trying to keep your head up.

“You’re an angel,” he whispers, mouth pressed against your ear. He’s all-encompassing. “Takin’ it so good.”

“Uh-huh,” you moan again. It takes effort to breathe. It’s dizzying and gorgeous. Even if you’re under him now, you could cry at the thought of him getting off of you once you both finish. You never want to leave this position. “Harder.”

Steve pulls out slow, nearly all the way, and it’s like waiting for the initial drop on a rollercoaster. Anticipation pooling in your chest, your body tensing under him, not knowing when he’ll -

“Shiiiiiit,” you moan, suddenly sheathed on his cock. “Oh… fuck.”

“Yeah?” he’s panting a little from the exertion. Fucking himself hard and fast into you. He sees you failing to keep your head up, so he reaches around with an arm, putting you in a headlock. You clench around him, mouth dropping, and he presses a wet kiss to your cheek. “There you go, just lay there ‘n take it.”

Your head falls to the side, your cheek resting on his strong bicep, chin in the junction of his arm. You can feel yourself drooling but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps up his pace, crushing you, hairy chest against your back and you feel that white hot feeling intensifying in your lower stomach. You might just cum without being touched, a first for you.

You start talking, but not anything that makes sense. Your head jumbled up by all of it. Steve laughs breathlessly, takes a moment to adjust before railing you again. “Gettin’ dumb on my cock again?” he asks. “Y-you’re such a good fuck, you know that?”

A wild moan escapes your parted lips. You angle your ass up slightly so his thrusts hit harder. Your hands reach for his arm, just resting on it, eyes rolling back as he takes you for all you are. Everything is Steve. His cologne, his sweat, his hairspray is all you can smell with your bated breaths; his weight and cock pummeling your walls all you can feel. His big hand on the pillow above you all you can see. You have half a mind to taste him, too - and so you do, moving your head to the side to suck his thumb into your mouth.

“Shit!” he grits, arm tightening around your neck. “G-gonna - cum, oh - fuck, baby - y’gotta stop-“

You swirl your tongue and that’s it for him. He fills you, warm and thick, and even that feels comforting. His warm breath in your ear and his hot, flushed skin like a heated blanket. Even though you haven’t cum, you feel relaxed, too, your legs unclenching and body going limp.

Steve pumps inside of you a few more times, making sure you’re properly filled, before moving his arm away from under you and pulling out. He’s shaking when he flips you over to look at you, your eyes a little crossed. “Hey, you with me? Are you okay?”

You nod and simply pull him down into you again. “Don’t go.”

He laughs and kisses your forehead. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

#stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader #steve harrington smut

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sanspuppet · 4 months

Text

“Touch me” prompt. 18 - Yeosang scenario

W/T: handjob, face fucking, cum eating, praises, pet name: princess

just some alpha Yeosang in need of some touch lmao, no plot just smut u know me 🧍🏻‍♀️

requested by @tamera21 i hope you can enjoy mwah💕

not me writing this because i can’t sleep help it’s 3 in the morning

actually listening to this on loop while writing, so i recommend doing the same while reading :) it’s an italian song btw

divider by @_cafekitsune

The air felt dizzy outside, shots of water drops were hitting the window walls on another boring Sunday. You were laying on the couch, legs crossed as you scrolled through your instagram fyp. It was kinda rude to say that you weren’t paying any attention to your boyfriend for all day, you felt bored and lazy, sure thing the icky weather wasn’t helping. You heard footsteps taking their way towards you at some point, which you still didn’t pay attention to, just minding your own business as you were stalking your favorite celebrities with their last posts. Yeosang was looking at you with hooded eyes, he still isn’t surely the mean type, but oh fuck if he was annoyed by you.

“Uh-hum i’m sorry, bothering you?” Yeosang huffed, his hands on his waist, waiting for you to rise your gaze up to him. But the only thing he got from you was a quick: “Mmm?” eyes still locked on the phone screen.

“Fucking hell, look at me please.” he sighed, once he realized that it would take more than just that to gain your attention, Yeosang stepped towards you, enough for him to grab your chin, forcing you to finally lock eyes with him.

“Oh hi darling, what’s wrong?” you questioned him as nothing just happened, smiling at him despite he still looked annoyed. In fact, he raised one eyebrow, furrowing his nose as he spoke up:

“‘What’s wrong?’ you didn’t talk to me the entire morning, plus if it couldn’t be worse, i’m hard” the last word suddenly woke up your core, tensing your lower abdomen muscles when shivers ran down to reach the gap between you thighs.

“Are gonna act like a brat any longer, or you’ll finally be a good girl and take my needy cock, huh?” his fingertips were buried in your soft cheeks, his boner getting harder every second he passed by imagining your pretty face painted with his thick cum.

“U-uhm i-, i’ll help you.”

“Good, princess” Yeosang let go of your chin, moving backwards and pointing the floor. “On your knees, listen to me okay?” as it seemed like he was just petting you, you immediately did as he said, kneeling in front of him, your gaze still locked on his drop dead gorgeous face.

“Go ahead” he gave a quick nod, his eyes focusing on your phone abandoned on the couch, grimacing at it like it was the reason you weren’t paying attention to him the whole day. “Touch me” Your hands landed on the zip of jeans as soon as he mouthed, dragging his underwear down with his pants. Your mouth started drooling at the first second you saw his cock a few inches far from your lips, arousal hitting your lower core as your body was already convinced that it’d be a long afternoon. Your hands grabbed his dick, twisting them around his length as your lips were sucking on its stimulated tip. Eyes were observing every detail of Yeosang’s chest and abdomen when he breathed heavily to repress any moan. Though it became so fucking difficult once your throat took all the way up to his cock, your tongue messing with his balls, gaining from him breathing groans.

“Fuck, that feels amazing princess.” his fingers carded through your hair, moving it away from your forehead before pulling it back. “Oh god, keep doing that” You tried to breathe in with your nose, as your throat was stuffed full with Yeosang’s dick. Your mind was quickly going blank, moving your head automatically when every single coherent thought left your brain, it always took nothing for you to go cockdrunk. The situation up there was very similar, Yeosang was loosing his mind over the overwhelming pleasure of your touch, because fuck you surely knew how to worship properly a dick. He blinked hard, furrowing his eyebrows, feeling his orgasm on his way to approach him. “So good, princess. Helping me to get off, such a caring girlie” his words became pathetic while the gap between his body and the pure blissing pleasure got smaller, spasming slightly at every louder moan. “Acting so good now, is this what i should do every time you don’t pay attention to me? Just forcing you to suck my dick?” You pulled out, needy for air. One hand kept working on his length, while the other rubbed away the saliva exiting your mouth. “Fuck, look at me. I’m close princess, i am, s-shit…”

Yeosang’s breath was unstable once his orgasm hit his body, gulping hard the saliva to help focusing on something else apart from how amazingly you just worshipped his cock. You parted your lips once white ropes of cum started to shoot all over your face, attaching them on his cockhead to make sure to take every single drop. You looked up at him, opening your mouth to show him how full of his seed you were. At his surprise, he widened his eyes the same second you swallowed all of it, sticking your tongue out to prove your act. Yeosang chuckled, kneeling down to be face to face with you, he stamped a kiss on your overworked lips, after caressing your cheeks.

“You did so good for me princess, shall i take care of you as well?”

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tinyundercover · 25 days

Text

pepper & felix

part nine

uh oh word count: 3.0k cw: talk of death and minor injury

Being released from Alice’s hand brought short-lived relief, followed by panic.

Dark, plush walls closed around Pepper and Basil as they tumbled inside the pocket of Alice’s jacket, crying out in surprise. Terror struck Pepper like lightning, cold and sharp, and his heart was suddenly threatening to pound out of his chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Pepper swore under his breath, scrabbling for purchase within the dark, cramped space. Felix had held him a few times, but Pepper had never been inside a pocket, especially one that he did not consent to be in. Somewhere to his right, Basil was cursing too, her breathing quick and uneven.

“Fuck! Felix!” Pepper instinctively lunged for the top of the pocket and missed, slipping down the fabric walls. “Motherfucke—”

Both borrowers flinched as Alice spoke, her sharp reverberating around them. “Felix, hey— something just came up. I think I’m gonna head out too.”

Felix’s voice, soft and comforting, seemed so painfully far away. “Oh! Yeah, no worries at all. Want me to walk you out?”

“No, that’s alright.” Alice answered quickly. “But I’ll see you around. And— congratulations.” She laughed lightly.

Felix said something in response, but Pepper could barely hear it over his own heart pounding. His stomach, full of ice, seemed to weigh him down as he struggled to reach the top of the pocket again, Basil at his side, both of them hissing in exertion.

Once again, they plummeted to the bottom of the pocket as Alice moved forward. The pocket swayed with each step, and Pepper immediately fought the dizziness away, trying to focus on Basil’s panicked breathing next to him. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “Pepper, oh my god— oh my god, Pepper, what do we do—”

Pepper continued to shout Felix’s name until his throat was hoarse, but the familiar click of the front door made his heart sink. Felix couldn’t hear him. And now Alice was leaving.

Alice walked briskly, indicated by the rapid swaying of the pocket around them. Pepper’s stomach turned, and he felt Basil grab his shoulder in terror, both of them thrown off balance. His heart dropped. “Shit. Basil, we’re gonna— we’re gonna get out of here, I swear, I—”

He was interrupted by a monstrous noise aside, and he flinched, holding tight onto his sister. It took him a moment to register that the roaring outside must be from Alice’s car.

“Where— where is she taking us?” Basil managed to ask through gritted teeth. Pepper let out a sharp breath, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he forced out, heart racing. Unlike Felix, Alice was unpredictable. Pepper knew almost nothing about her, and that realization made his stomach go cold. “I—”

“Fucking humans,” Basil hissed, burying her face in her hands. Her breath hitched. “God, I can’t believe this. I— she’s gonna kill us, she’s gonna—”

“No— she won’t,” Pepper assured, although his voice wobbled. A shaky hand scrubbed at his eyes. “She won’t, Basil, I promise.”

His heart jumped when he remembered that he had his bag with him, and he lunged for it, managing to yank his hook out in the tight space. Basil gasped sharply, scrambling back to make space as Pepper reached up, hook wobbling in his grip, trying to catch it on the lip of the pocket.

He let out a sharp breath as his hook hit something smooth and solid, and with an icy feeling in his gut, he dropped the hook to his side.

“This pocket is zipped shut,” he said miserably, flopping back down. Basil’s breath shuddered.

Silenced by their own despair, the borrowers huddled against each other. Pepper’s stomach was filled with ice, his heart threatening to pound out of his chest with each passing minute. He felt the shoulder of his jacket grow wet with Basil’s tears, and he silently pulled her closer, squeezing his eyes shut.

The drive was short. When the engine of the car shut off, Pepper tensed, tightening his grip on Basil’s arm. Fear flooded back into his stomach as Alice stood up, swaying the pocket with her movement.

“We should have stayed in the walls,” Basil mumbled. Pepper stayed silent.

The next few minutes felt like torture. Both borrowers flinched with every movement, expecting the pocket to zip open at any moment. Pepper ended up shoving his hook back into his bag, praying that Alice wouldn’t think to confiscate it from him.

He held his breath as Alice suddenly paused, the world outside quieting.

Pepper had known that they would be grabbed again, but it still made his stomach lurch to hear the zipper open above them. Both borrowers let out gasps of panic as a hand twice their size invaded their space, swiftly tightening around the both of them, firm and unrelenting.

The world spun around them as they were pulled out. Basil elbowed Pepper painfully as she immediately began to fight back, hissing and swearing.

Alice tightened her fist, pressing Pepper and Basil against each other. They were met with icy blue eyes and a frown as Alice looked them over, and Pepper’s breath shuddered, feeling his own heartbeat against the tough skin surrounding him.

Pepper didn’t want to think about what would happen if Alice tightened her fist any more.

“You two have some explaining to do,” Alice said sharply, eyes narrowing.

Alice’s kitchen was slightly larger than Felix’s. The two borrowers were being held inches above the countertop, which made Pepper’s heart jump with false hope of escaping.

Basil did not stop fighting. She thrashed and kicked in Alice’s grip, while Pepper glared up at Alice, face pale.

“We’re Felix’s friends,” he demanded. His voice shook.

Alice raised an eyebrow. “You can’t be serious.”

“We are!” Pepper snapped, chest heaving against the pressure around him.

The dark-haired human observed their struggling for a moment before digging through a cabinet with her free hand. Pepper barely caught a glimpse of a glass jar before the pressure around him vanished and he and Basil were being dropped inside, earning startled cries from both of them.

Cold, solid glass rushed up to meet them. Pepper let out a shout of pain as he hit the bottom of the jar, hearing his sister do the same next to him. He grabbed his arm, sucking in a sharp breath and squeezing his eyes shut.

The jar clicked as Alice set it down on the counter. Through his blurry vision, Pepper could see Alice placing both her hands on the counter, peering closer at them.

“What the hell are you?” Alice demanded.

Pepper ignored her, helping Basil up. His sister was cradling her elbow in a similar fashion to Pepper, wincing.

A large hand tapped the jar, making them both jump. “Hey. Tell me what you are,” Alice hissed. Basil’s nose scrunched.

“I’m fucking annoyed.” Basil snapped, eyes dark and intense. “You— you just kidnapped us.” She wobbled on her feet and grabbed onto Pepper for support.

Alice’s lips thinned into a line. In an instant, the jar was in her hand, and the borrowers yelped as they tumbled back against the glass.

“All I know is that you two were sneaking around Felix’s apartment and spying on us,” Alice snapped. She rattled the jar, sending jolts of pain through Pepper’s body as he collided with the glass. Unable to keep their balance, both borrowers collapsed into the bottom of the jar, gasping for breath. “What the hell do you want from Felix?”

Pepper groaned, his blood pounding in his ears. Fear jolted through his body like a wave, and he shakily propped himself up on his elbows, squinting at Alice through the glass. “Nothing,” he forced out. To his left, Basil made a noise of pain, clutching at her jaw. “I told you… we’re Felix’s friends.”

Alice rolled her eyes, making Pepper’s stomach twist. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“Yes!” Pepper’s throat was tight. “We were just stopping by. We weren’t bothering anyone. We didn’t— we didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You were watching us,” Alice corrected, lip curling. “Why? And what are you?”

Pepper had already turned his attention to his sister, who was sitting against the back of the glass jar, clutching her face. Pepper’s heart sank when he noticed the dark mark stretching from her jaw to her cheekbone.

“I’m fine,” Basil muttered as Pepper leaned closer, panic flashing in his gray eyes. “I’m fine.”

Pepper hesitated. “Basil—”

The jar impatiently rattled again, and Pepper collapsed against Basil, both borrowers hissing in pain. “Stop,” Pepper pleaded, staring up at the human. “You’re hurting us.”

Alice paused, blue eyes calculating. After a second of consideration she sent the jar back down on the counter and reached into the cabinet again, momentarily distracted.

Pepper grabbed Basil’s shoulder, searching his sister’s expression. His stomach twisted at the sight of the dark bruise on her cheek, covering a quarter of her face. Pepper could feel similar bruises forming on his body, spreading from his elbows to his chest to his knees. His heart pounded.

Basil’s shoulders shuddered as she breathed, blearily scanning Pepper’s face. Her brown eyes were wet.

Pepper barely acknowledged the noises above them as Alice screwed a lid onto the jar. His gray eyes were suddenly welling with tears, and guilt rushed up to meet him.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed to Basil, voice wobbling. “This is all my fault, Basil. I—I’m so sorry.”

Basil had warned him not to trust humans. He has willfully ignored her, and now she was paying the price.

He snapped his gaze to Alice as she spoke, her voice sharp. “Felix is sweet.” Her blue eyes flickered between Pepper and Basil, who were stiff and silent. “I don’t know why you were creeping around his place, but he has enough stress to deal with right now without you two messing with him. You’re staying in here until you want to explain yourselves.”

Pepper wanted to snap back and argue, but he glanced at Basil and decided against it. The last thing he wanted was to encourage Alice to shake the jar again.

He bit his tongue and elected to stay silent, huddling closer to his sister. Alice made a noncommittal noise and slid the jar further away until it was tucked next to the wall and a large glass ornament.

“Still don’t want to talk?” Alice pressed. Pepper held his breath, and the human sighed, glancing at the nearest clock. It was getting late.

“Then you’re staying right here tonight,” she decided, stepping back. “You better explain yourselves tomorrow.” She gave them a long glare, making Pepper’s skin prickle, before she turned away, leaving them in the kitchen alone.

Pepper’s shoulders slumped in relief as Alice’s footsteps receded. He swallowed hard, taking several deep breaths before turning towards Basil again. “Are you— are you okay?”

His sister was staring straight ahead, her brown eyes watery. Her jaw clenched, and she muttered, “I’m alive.”

Pepper’s breath hitched. “I’m so sorry. For— for all of this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Basil said stiffly, turning to face him. Her gaze danced over his form, lingering on his neck where he was certain there was a dark bruise. “It’s… I just… I can’t fucking believe this. We're in a jar.”

Her shoulders shuddered with a dry sob, dropping her head back against the glass. “My whole life, I’ve been so— I’ve been so careful. I did everything right, and— and I slipped up once and now I’m in a jar with my brother. We’re both gonna die.”

Misery crept through Pepper’s veins, cold and numb. “Basil, she’s not gonna kill us—”

“Just because you blindly trust humans doesn’t mean I do,” Basil snapped, whipping her head so quickly that she winced in pain. Pepper fell silent, mouth dry. “This girl just kidnapped us and stuck us in a jar and you still think that we’re safe with her? What is wrong with you?” Her words were bitter.

Pepper blinked rapidly, inching away. A flush crossed his face. “That’s not what I’m saying,” he said hotly.

Fresh tears were pouring down Basil’s bruised face. “I just—” she took a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. “I just can’t trust humans like you can.”

“I don’t just trust all humans—”

“Pepper, we were in her fist, and you were barely struggling—”

“That’s not— I wasn’t— struggling wouldn’t have done anything!”

Basil huffed, turning her face away. She hesitated before bracing a palm against the glass, pulling herself into a wobbly stance. Pepper leaned back, gaze scanning her form for any invisible injuries.

“Let’s just talk about this later,” Basil muttered, weakly twisting around to grab at her backpack. She struggled for a brief second before she retrieved her hook.

Oh. Pepper had nearly forgotten that they had their hooks with them— but what good would they even do?

“What are you doing?” He asked cautiously, vaguely wondering if Basil was going to stab him.

His sister ignored him, squinting up at the lid of the jar. Five thin holes had been punched through the lid, and Basil reached her arms above her head, struggling to latch her hook through one of the holes.

Pepper watched her for a moment, wincing every time she huffed in pain, before he shifted to lean back against the glass. He wrapped his arms around his knees.

Basil worked for a few minutes, wobbling on her toes. She was just tall enough for her hook to brush against the lid of the jar, but it couldn’t latch onto the holes without slipping off. “Fuck,” Basil grumbled finally, throwing her hook to the ground with an angry clatter. She flopped down a moment later, burying her face in her hands.

Empathy flooded into Pepper’s heart at her misery. “Let me try.”

His own hook was still tucked away in his bag, but he elected to use Basil’s hook instead. He picked it up, holding it above his head just like Basil had done.

He had realized quickly what Basil had been trying to do. If they manage to latch the hook through one of the holes, they might be able to twist the lid off themselves. Pepper had little hope that such an unlikely scenario would happen, but they didn’t have many other options.

He stood on his toes, his ribs aching. The tip of the hook continued to irritatingly bounce off the smooth lid, making Pepper growl in annoyance.

He was very aware of Basil’s brown eyes on him. When he failed for the sixth time, she murmured, “I’m sorry for what I said.”

He spared her a glance before stretching up again. “It’s okay,” he said simply.

Basil could swear at him or insult him or punch him, and he wouldn’t blame her for any of it. The terror of the situation was gut-wrenching, and the thought that he might be possible for his sister’s demise made him want to throw up. She had every right in the world to be mad at him.

“I just… I just can’t believe this is happening,” Basil admitted hollowly.

Pepper swore under his breath as the hook bounced off of the lid for what felt like the hundredth time. He finally dropped it to the ground in a similar fashion to Basil, and collapsed against the wall, perpendicular to his sister.

He rested his head against the glass, sighing heavily. “Maybe Alice will tell Felix about us. And he’ll come rescue us.”

Basil went pale, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of another human getting involved. “…Yeah,” she mumbled. “Yeah, I hope so.”

Pepper tried not to think about how Alice had intentionally kept the borrowers from Felix for the entirety of the night. The likelihood of her sharing her discovery with Felix seemed very low.

Basil suddenly sat up straighter, eyes wide. Pepper blinked at her expectantly.

“Pepper,” she whispered. “Felix is your soulmate.” Her words came out in a rush.

He raised his eyebrows, rubbing at his face. “Yeah, man.”

“No, no, Pepper, you can call him right now.”

He stiffened, staring at Basil. Her breathing was quick, her brown eyes blinking rapidly. She seemed just as terrified as him, but her face was brightening with a glimmer of hope.

Pepper’s stomach had gone cold. Panic was already seeping into his veins at the thought of contacting Felix. “No.”

Basil blanched. “What?”

“I can’t— Basil, I can’t tell him, not like this.” Pepper’s breath hitched in panic, and he pulled his knees closer to his bruised chest. “I’m not ready to tell him.”

Basil let out a breath, jerking back in shock. “You’re joking.”

“I’m sorry, I— I can’t—!”

“That doesn’t matter right now!” Basil hissed, running her agitated hands through her hair. “Pepper, please. This can’t be that important. Alice has already hurt us– we don’t know what she might do tomorrow. Please.”

Pepper clenched his jaw, blinking rapidly to stop the welling of tears. “I’ve been so scared to tell him that we’re soulmates, and— for him to find out like this, it’s just…” his breath hitched.

“He’s never gonna find out if you’re stuck in a jar forever,” Basil pointed out weakly. She shifted over to sit next to Pepper, placing a trembling hand on his arm. His shoulders shuddered. “I’m sorry, Pepper, I really am. I know this sucks, and… and it’s just awful, to have to do this. But… I don’t think you have a choice. We’re trapped.”

Pepper met her watery gaze. His eyes fell to the dark bruise on her cheek, stretching from the corner of her eye to the base of her jaw. His heart shattered.

With a sob, he threw his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

She didn’t speak, only rested her head on his shoulder for a long moment. He could feel the thumping of her heart against his own chest, quick and nervous. His breath hitched as he said, “Okay.”

Basil nodded gently, then shifted back to give him space. Pepper closed his eyes, mind swimming with trepidation.

Would Felix hate him after this?

With a shaky breath, he clasped his hands and held them against his chest.

“…Felix?”

---------

rest in peace alice!

TAGLIST: @smallsday @compact-katrina @satethesatelite @taters169 @entomolog-t

#g/t #pepper & felix #g/t writing

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