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#he absolutely cannot take a hint

shining-gem34 · 4 months

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Path Choice: Hunt

||Long overdue thoughts regarding how DH obtains his paths and what it means to him. I did want to like write a drabble about it, but now have this short summary of my thoughts.

The Hunt

Initially, Dan Heng followed The Hunt because he feels like he should. Ever since he was born, he was educated of Dan Feng life and crimes (or more like drilled it into his head). Because he is Dan Feng reincarnation, Dan Heng had to bear his punishment.

By following the Path of the Hunt, the Reignbow Arbitor, Dan Heng feels that "he" (Dan Feng) can find redemption- forgiveness for his sins. That way, Dan Heng won't be haunted by that man past anymore.

There is some idea that Dan Heng met Lan in a dream before he was sentenced to banishment. Unable to recognize the vast space around him, he sees a shooting star moving too fast for his eyes to follow: Beautiful but terrifying. All he hears, as arrows of light descends toward him, are along the lines of: "A Scion of Permanence? The Azure Dragon who attempted to drag the Stars into the ancient sea. Very well. If you seek to redeem your crimes, then take my arrows and vow to annihilate all of Yaoshi spawns in your path."

Then Dan Heng wakes up, confused about his dream. He had no time to decipher it when he's escorted out of the Luofu; exiled. The first signs of Lan blessing are subtle:

The first signs of wind gathering in the palm of his hand (a gift to hide the waters running down his veins)

The confidence he feels unflinching in the face of danger as he wields his spear.

The whispers in the back of his mind (Dan Feng? Lan? Who?) that guides him how to keep his footsteps quiet, to find weaknesses against his opponents, and know when to retreat/fight.

But upon his first meeting with Blade as they clashed, Dan Heng realizes the impact of Lan blessings. The single-minded focus he had, his defenses shifting to pure offensive, and the aggressiveness in his strikes he never had before all because of Blade as his enemy. The fury and hate that tastes like bile in his throat does not belong to him.

It belongs to Lan, and it is Lan that controls him at this moment.

Dan Heng hates it. He hates it even more when he feels something else fighting within him- Permanence, Dan Feng maybe. Struggling to keep Lan power at bay, forcing Dan Heng to stagger in his movements and slow (barely avoiding the lethal strikes of Blade).

Oh, Dan Heng is sick to his core that he has no control at the moment. He hates the feeling that he is never free, even in his own body he has no autonomy.

The first time he stabs Blade in the heart, Dan Heng finally feels like himself. He throws up, the whispers in the back of his mind slowly fading. He believes it was Lan at the moment, but the many times after that...

Dan Heng only slayed Blade if the situation is necessary, and it was within his own choice. In a way, he feels like Lan is watching nearby and mocking him.

The thing is, an Aeon's blessing is also a curse for Dan Heng, he was unaware at the time that the beast he killed many times is the same man his previous incarnation, Dan Feng, dearly loves.

And remember, Lan only requirement for Dan Heng in exchange for his blessings (and allowing him to follow his path) is simple: Annihilate Yaoshi spawns in his path. :)))

Inspired by @everlastiingiimmortals and their amazing Jing Yuan Erudition Path HC's. >:333

#the guard of the express (dan heng)#lotus moon blooming from mud (il dan heng)#jade personal headcanons #||I will do Destruction Path later #||This is a hot mess. I was suppose to do a decent summary.#||I will go back and edit this later #||Remove some tidbits here and there that don't make sense #||I am sleepy #||Willow I still love your Jing Yuan HC's of how he got Nous attention and the impact it had on his life...In all the bad ways. :DDD #||This is long overdue zzzzz #||I also need to decide Dan Feng Path too #||Hints of XingYue #||Okay I was going to add that Dan Heng does love the Luofu despite the shit that happens to him but he considers teh Astral Express #||His home now #||As I wrote the “Follow teh Hunt as a path to redemption” thing #||I really went ahead and be like hehe punishment for Dan Feng where Dan Heng ends up taking that punishment too #||Note Dan Heng absolutely feels like shit because he's not sure if he's in control or something else is which #||adds to his fear when he starts to come to terms that he cannot escape Dan Feng past; that he won' be himself anymore but someone else #||OKay I shut up here now before the tags are filled with more rambles

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shit-talker · 11 months

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One of my absolutely favourite things about Across the Spiderverse, other than the amazing sound and visuals, is the small little metaphorical forshadowing we get.

My person favourite is the cakes. When Jefferson and Rio are talking to Miles's teacher, she tells them that Miles "wants to have his cake and eat it too" which is impossible and Miles bursts in and says "unless you have two cakes." And it's such a subtle way to hint that Miles has conflicting intreasts, and that's his biggest issue. He wants to be Spider-man, but he doesn't want to sacrifice the people he cares about. And in case you think I'm grasping at straws here, they do more with the cake when Miles literally decides to buy two cakes for his dad because he cannot fit the writing on one, but by the time he gets home after doing all his Spider-manning both cakes are destoryed. It's forshadowing not only to the fact that Miles desperately wants both things equally, but by trying to have both of them, he's going to cause detrimental damage.

The idea of having things in double is a general reoccurring theme in ATPV. We see it with the cakes, and we see it when Miles and Pav talk about Chai-tea, and Miles tells the spot not to call it an "ATM Machine" because M means Machine. The constant reference to the unnecessary repetition is almost representing the duality of being Spider-man and how taking on that role means making sacrifices and potentially harming your normal life, but it's also forshadowing to the fact that in the end, we have two Miles's. We have Spider-man Miles and Prowler Miles.

Things in this movie come in doubles and I absolutely fucking love it 😭

#across the spiderverse #miles morales #across the spider verse spoilers #anaylsis #into the spider verse #my english lit brain really came out on this on #my English teacher wpuld be proud 😌#i just think its really cool #there's probably more doubles in it I've just forgotten them

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ew-selfish-art · 8 months

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DPxDC AU: Tim receives an interesting email from DalvCo explaining why the CEO is not to be trusted- It's an internal email and suddenly Tim is experiencing supernatural phenomena. He knows that the two events are absolutely related, but he's going to let the cutie stumble his way through data points and vague threats anyway.

(Sorry this got long lmao)

Tim is exhausted after a long night of staking out a new drug cartel with Hood (which in itself took a lot of energy from both of them to have the patience for the other- things are good, not great)... so right now he's logging into his WE email on the train to his office because he's incredibly late. And while he scrolls and contemplates the failsafes he has to make sure Tam doesn't murder him outright- he sees an unexpected email from Vladimir Masters.

Tim's curiosity is piqued, he'd thought that Vlad would have gotten the hint after Tim dismissed him at that Christmas gala a few years ago. Most people took Tim's snubbing as a fatality in the Gotham socialite scene- Most knew him to be 'an agreeable young man', and Tim's reputation had paid a small price for making Vlad's failed vibe check known to the room. The tabloids blamed it on the champagne glass he had in his hand- Has he mentioned how much he hates Vicky Vale lately??

Tim has a few stops to go and he's pretty sure that he's going to delete the email, but in sleep deprived inspiration, he decides it might as well entertain him while he waits. The letter isn't at all what he expected.

"Hello Wayne Enterprise's CEO Tim Drake, I'm sending you this letter on behalf of the entire Midwest to advise that you, under no circumstances, come into contact with or speak to the CEO of DalvCo Vlad Masters. He is underhanded and utilizes untraceable tactics to procure deals. We have reason to believe you may be targeted in the next few days and hope that you are able to take steps for your own safety to avoid Vlad Masters at all costs.

Sincerely, 👑"

Tim feels bewildered for a moment and then... Like a cat with a new toy mouse. A game was afoot! He needed to track down these hackers, he needed to be their best fucking friend (find out their secrets & Vlads) and he needed to apprehend Vlad ASAP! Untraceable tactics? Tim scoffs, but the challenge excites him.

Arriving at WE, Tam looks ready to throw a knife his way (he reminds her that Pru does it better) and states that if Vlad Masters tries to make an appointment- accept it but give him the run around. Make an appointment and continue to contest it, change it, delay it until Tim is actually ready for him. The lights start to flicker, both of them notice it.

Everytime Tim gets a second to investigate Vlad in his office, the room's temperature drops. Tim notices it, and having experienced a number of supernatural phenomena, he knows it has to be related.

Tim decides not to beat around the bush. He comes back to the office that night equipped with a Ouija board, candles and a bag of other occult accessories. He quickly finds, upon setting up, that there is now a groaning Teenager in front of him- lambasting his efforts and chastizing him for taking a meeting with Vlad. Did he not get the fuckin memo??

Tim quickly begins to ask his questions, grateful to not have to deal with the party game board, and takes diligent notes.

"Right, so, you're just a concerned citizen ghost who knows what kind of nefarious deeds Vlad gets up to, how?" ---

Danny is losing his shit. Here he is, having done all the ground work to tell this guy not to meet with Vlad and he's already got him on the schedule! Danny took a page from Technus' book and transported himself alongside the short email. He didn't get this guy at all! Tim was like, basically the same age and clearly super fucking smart, why was he acting like this was a fucking birthday gift? Scratch that, the dude has a Ouija Board- it's like a lame ass birthday party in here!

Danny cannot help himself but return to the visible spectrum and give this guy a talking to- Which, the atmosphere of a birthday party still doesn't change, for ancient's sake this guy is taking notes with a megawatt smile! He's smiling! Danny just described Vlad taking down like, three American dynasties and the dude is nodding his head along gleefully.

Then suddenly, Danny realizes that he might be on the chopping block. Tim asks his first question and it's not about Vlad at all.

"Er, yeah. Just a concerned ghost citizen." Danny cringes.

"Right, and that's why you hacked into the Mayor of your town's email... Right Tucker?"

Danny blanches, not because the guy knew about Amity Park, but because apparently Tucker's online persona had been compromised. SHIT.

"Uh, I'm not Tucker." Danny attempts to lie- why was he so bad at lying again?!

"Of course you aren't, he's currently playing doomed, but it would have been smart to take the out I offered you. Do you want to tell me your name or do you want me to throw out another random guess? You should know that I've done my homework."

"...It's Danny."

"Certainly not Danny Fenton? Who is, sorry to say it, heir to DalvCo? The same one who totally doesn't have a school record of absences equivalent to well documented town hauntings?"

"Yep." Danny cringes, and giving up the goat, transforms back into his human self, "But seriously dude, you can't meet with Vlad. He'll just... take it all."

Tim blinks at him a few times, and his cheeks flush. Danny desperately tries to ignore that response as well as his own (he knows his ears are red, sue him).

"Right. Well, how would you like an internship? First order of business would be meeting with me and my PA Tam and helping us play ball." The guy has a feral grin. The grin kind of scares Danny, it definitely annoys him and a small part of him is curiously charmed.

"Dude you're not hearing me-" Danny tries before being cut off.

"Yeah yeah, supernatural bullshit is involved, Got that." Tim waves him off. Okay never mind, not charmed at all, Danny is completely annoyed.

"I swear to all the ancients-" Danny has to stop himself to calm down, "Dude consider yourself fucking haunted. I'm not helping you with a suicide mission to talk to the creep and I will be making your ass miserable for deciding to go down this path."

"Is that a promise?" Tim is basically batting his eyelashes at Danny and Danny is desperately trying to ignore that.

"Bet." And then he goes invisible.

"That's cute, pretending to leave me." Tim smirks and Danny can't help but let out an exasperated groan.

As it turns out, Tim is incredibly difficult to spook and his normal haunting methods are not fucking working. Has this guy just, like, seen every single horror movie?

----

Tim knows this is going to be fun, even if it means not going out as Red Robin for a while... Maybe he should get back into his night photography and give the guy a chance to enhance the creepiness of Gotham? Maybe start going to restaurants alone and get the guy to join him at a secluded two person table? Tim has plans on plans on plans.

#dcxdp #dp x dc #dc crossover #dp crossover #danny phantom #tim drake #is it a haunting if the guy being haunted dupes you into dating him?#braindead ship #timxdanny #lmao please take this somewhere. I beg.#tim who has been fear gased too many times and dealt with ras: ur haunting is so fkn cute omg #danny: please take my haunting seriously and reconsider meeting with vlad #vlad: stupid fucking teenagers overbooking their schedule #dc x dp #dpxdc

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the-fluff-piece · 10 months

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They can't keep your relationship a secret- romantic cute fluffy headcanon

One piece guys are dorks. So when you tell them to keep quiet about your blooming romance, they of course fail hilariously. Sfw

Packed with: Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Law, kinemon, Smoker

Like this one? Check out my headcanon masterlist

Luffy

Will nod and immediately go out and tell Usopp and Chopper that he kissed you

He'll be glued to you all day, trying to get another kiss, another nose boop, more cuddles

At night, he'll go to the boys sleeping quarters, take his pillow and be like "gonna sleep in y/n's bed tonight, bye!"

A fight with Sanji and brook follows, who cannot believe that this actually happens

Days until everyone knows for sure: 0.5

Zoro

He doesn't talk much anyway, but he loves showing off. Next time he is fighting Sanji, he will absolutely say "I kissed y/n before you and she loved it!" It's stealth black vs Zoro. The ship needs repairs.

Eventually, he'll just casually tell everyone. "Yo Nami, I wanna buy some jewellery for my girl y/n!" And stuff like that. Only Luffy will absolutely need help understanding

He will boast in front of chopper how he now knows "the women" and give the poor deer shitty dating advice

Days until everyone knows for sure: 3

Sanji

Doesn't even promise you to keep it a secret. He said he would try.

You kiss him and he runs all over the ship, screaming that he's your man now, apologising to Nami and Robin that he is yours now, air walks to the crow's nest to rub it in Zoro's face

You will always be served first, your favourites will dominate the menu. He will not accept that you are separated on missions, errands or simply by chance

If anyone didn't get the hint, he will personally draw a chart for them

Other men looking at you will be informed as well

Days until everyone knows for sure: 0

Law

He kisses you and promises: "of course I won't tell babe!"

Bepo will be the first to know for sure, because Law is anxious you kind of like Bepo, too. When he tells you it's only platonic cuddling, the poor bear will live with the burden of secret. He will not tell. Law will slip up first

He is an attention whore. He will walk across the tang with his shirt open to show off all the bite marks you left and when asked he'll say "that's private stuff between me and y/n", thus telling everyone

His cool demeanor ends the moment you are in danger. He will absolutely lose it and scramble to get to you, he'll be screaming your name until his voice gives out

Days until everyone knows for sure: 5

Kinemon

Will walk around with his perv face all day

When people ask him if he's happy he will deny it and feign depression just out of principle

Whenever he sees you he will be all over you to praise you and talk of THE SECRET

He's talking strange stuff all day, so no one will care

Days until everyone knows for sure: at least 30

Smoker

Is my personal grumpy grown up baby, he doesn't slip up

Even if he is caught red handed and with his pants down, he will intimidate anyone into not having seen anything at all

Days until knows for sure: never.

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moonsaver · 16 days

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Spoilers/leaks? Im so normal about Sunday you guys.....

I've heard from a few theories/leaks that Sunday's main obsession and compulsions (hinted to be OCD) are due to him mainly being possessed by Ena. Everything, down to how he sits, presents himself, positions his hands, etc.. are in "praise" of Ena, who was absorbed by the Aeon of Harmony, Xipe. It is also further suggested that The Family exploits Sunday's ability to be possessed by her as a means of bringing her back.

Also the suggestion of Sunday being really lonely as a result of Robin pursuing her career in singing outside of Penacony and leaving only him to deal with the main duties, with no other direct family member for him to really rely upon, and as a result even harboring some sort of resentment between them because of it. I am so normal about this..

Anyways, that's the main theory part. Here are 2 of my brain conjurings;

1) being Ena's obsession, but not Sunday's.

It's extremely frustrating to have to be in forced proximity for him, to someone he has no interest in, to be forced to play this puppet in the grand scheme of things for Ena, and to be forced to abide by her and take you on as a lover. It's almost humiliating, and angering for Sunday. In an almost ironic turn of events, he starts despising you for the sole reason that you're Ena's lover, and could never be his.

This slowly morphs more and more into tiring vengefulness, which burns out into desperate need of companionship. He hates you. He hates everything about this large-scale performance he has to take part in, be forced to play as a role he never wanted, be possessed by something he could almost hope to understand and is beyond his power,leaving him so angrily helpless, but also so tired. Your ease is something Sunday manages to get wildly, unhealthily attached to, the more he seeks you out when he needs you, and not whenever Ena wants to. The comfort you unknowingly bring to him and not Ena, the burdens you seem to share and take off of him, not Ena, the softness of his true feelings that are brought by you, and not for Ena. At some point, this tandem of masks falls through, and Sunday ultimately looks forward to the day you become his, and solely his. Not of Ena's. Not of his Family's. No one else. Just his.

2) Being Sunday's obsession, but not Ena's.

It's heartbreaking. He can't have you. His flesh is tortured under the absolute strain of Ena's possession over his bones. His fingers twitch in disobedience. His eyes wander in longing. His head is bombarded and stuffed with agonizing cacophonies of reminders of his miserable role. And the backdrop of your silhouette only dares to be covered by it. You cannot come near. The orchestra of his Family will not let that happen. And neither is he willing to let you come in harm's way. To become a miserable puppet of his Family, of The Harmony; to bear the long-standing curse that weaves so thoroughly within their blood, only he alone is forced to redeem. He cannot possibly let Ena notice you. Their gazes are far too many, and far too much.

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mo0nfairy · 9 months

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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART FOUR !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 19.5k (oops)

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!jill, yandere!carlos, smut, gender neutral reader, dom!jill, sub!carlos, switch!reader, nudity, noncon, penetrative s3x, unprotected s3x, oral s3x, masturb4tion, f1ngering, overst1mulation, edging, spitting, physical restraint, love triangle, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, mild force-feeding, violence, death, manipulation, drugging, blood/gore, weapons, unhealthy religious themes, & just lots of creepy shit.

──── Five months; 153 days. That is how long Jill and Carlos have spent in the clouds of heaven with their one and only, Y/N L/N. So much has changed in such little time. Drastically, but all too invigorating in the same breath.

The two people who have claimed to be your lovers tell you tales of what horrors are rooted in the place you once called home. How they lathered your brain in their lies and how they thread through your veins with manipulation — five months have passed and you still cannot believe it to be true. They provided you shelter, comfort, and love; they lent you a rope to climb when you were left for dead at rock bottom.

Even with the clutter of Jill's studies she shows to you as proof, the way she clenches her jaw when you speak of them makes you regret ever mentioning the subject. Even with the scars Carlos shows you from when he had worked for the corporation, the vein that bulges above his brow when you speak of them makes you recoil with apprehension.

Your days and nights have been spent pondering what lies outside of these walls. This sudden contrast in your life doesn't fog your judgment entirely, though. With every day the rain falls, you have come to learn several new things.

Oh, how Jill Valentine loves the taste of Y/N L/N.

It is evident throughout every day, where fragments of her obsession are sprinkled into every moment you spend together.

When dawn arises and the birds begin to fill the air with their melodies, Jill awakes and you are the first thing she sees. And the precious imagery alone causes all higher brain function to abandon her. Being here with you, the only reason she continues to live on is breathtaking. To wake up and find the star of her dreams beside her while the presence of her nightmares fade away — there is no high quite like it.

With a lanky arm wrapped firmly around your waist, the other treads across your flesh. The stripe of your jaw, the expanse of your eyelid, the apple of your cheek. To touch you, never has Jill been so happy. A hum of laughter vibrates in her chest when she takes notice of the string of drool leaking from your mouth. Too damn cute. She restrains herself from cooing and instead, focuses on the way her sweatpants grow tighter when her mind wanders.

Jill drags her calloused fingers among the wet surface of your parted lips and collects the excess saliva, all without a hint of guilt or hesitance. Fervently, like some sort of starved beast, she shoves the digits into her mouth and ensnares her wriggling tongue around them. The constriction is almost suffocating; the flare of heat inside her is almost overwhelming.

Jill could stay here forever, relishing in the absolute euphoria only you are capable of bringing her. However, the day calls out for the two of you (as well as a man who is just as needy as she is for your attention).

With leisure efforts, she pulls the expensive comforters off of your warm body. She gently nudges your arm and purrs out your name. Five months later, there is still nothing that has her heart melting quite like the groggy, all-too-adorable look of lethargy on your expression. The way you rub the sleepiness out of your eyes and groan for "five more minutes," it takes Jill all the strength within her to not lock the door and spend the day drowning you in her love. Sometimes, she waves a white flag to her desires and does such, despite the grizzly bear banging on the door and demanding she let him see you.

Rainfall hastens as light envelops the land. You and Jill arrive at the kitchen where you find Carlos at the stove, laboriously working on something mouthwatering.

Upon your entrance, Carlos beams and risks the fate of burning the food in favor of greeting you. An embrace, one that rivals two lovers who haven't seen each other in decades, is what you're met with. A kiss on your forehead and an affectionate tap to your chin follow, as well as a promise that "breakfast will be ready soon, honey-bee."

Jill averts her gaze from the lovesick man. The sight may convince her to snatch an impromptu weapon from the knife block and slice his throat. Despite the elation of having you at her side, the possessive roots within her will always reside, unfortunately.

Two plates are soon set before you and Jill. For a number of times you cannot possibly fathom, Carlos sits beside you. Shoulders pressed to yours, he wastes no time in scooping a mouthful of delectable food and pressing it to your mouth. You thank him, as you always do, and he gushes about how much of a sweet thing you are. Meanwhile, Jill remains silent and scarfs down the meal with no regard to the effort he put into crafting it (there is much less effort in her dish than there is in yours, but not that she acknowledges).

Carlos refused to cook for her before, claiming that she can "get her own damn food." Though, your kind heart offered some of your breakfast to her and Jill resorted to feeding you with that irritatingly-smug look on her face. From here on out, he'd always leave an extra plate out for her. Carlos would prepare Jill an entire buffet if it meant he'd still possess his role of being your personal fork-holder. Nobody else.

After a night spent in cold sheets, Carlos proceeds to hog you as a child would with their favorite toy. The sleeping schedule you three have fluctuates every other night, to where you'll spend the evening with one of them and the next with the other. The two bedrooms within the home are assigned to Jill and Carlos, where they get to spend the precious time indulging in the joy of finally being alone with you. Evenings with Jill often fuel the gnawing need this man has to have you close. The similar way it does the other way around, as well.

With the rainfall now intensely heavy and engulfing the green atmosphere, you had deemed yourself fully satiated with love. Managing to slip out of the house for some fresh air after Carlos had so greedily taken yours, you stumble into the garage. From there, you find Jill, whose clothes and skin are adorned with stains of grease.

Wrench in hand, she works tirelessly on her motorcycle. She makes some flirtatious introduction that makes your face hot, as she was always skilled in getting under your skin with her provocative attitude. And for the next several hours (and an inconspicuous task given to Carlos so you'll receive a few seconds of time away from him), you aid Jill in her efforts to patch up her bike. Apparently, an animal had squeezed through some cranny and claimed Jill's baby (besides you, of course) as its dinner. With how deliberately it seemed that the vehicle was unable to function, you wonder what actually occurred during the night.

Never once in your life could you have ever considered fixing a motorcycle to be quite a fun process. And never could you have considered being covered in motor oil to be something so intimate, the inside jokes and coquettish comments from Jill adding to the romance, too.

Absorbed in patching up the complex structure of the fuel system, you don't realize how the hem of your sweater falls from your shoulder. Jill notices, however — oh, how she notices. If you hadn't been so engrossed in the activity your hands were occupied with, you'd see how her eyes latch to your naked skin and the way her mouth waters at the sight.

"Done!" Reaching your hand over, your sleeve treads lower when you set the pliers down upon the rusted tray beside you, exposing even more of your skin. You subconsciously pull the garment to shield your shoulder from the gusts of wind permeating the room (or the hungry eyes that crave to see everything torn from your body).

With a lack of knowledge about motorcycles in general, considering you have never been on one in your life, you make a quirky remark about "testing the new ride!" and sit down on the leather-threaded seat. Though, you sit entirely backward on the vehicle without a spark of false nature in your expression. Do you really think that's how you're supposed to ride a motorcycle? God, just when Jill thought you couldn't get even more adorable, you draw a new line in the sand.

“You tryna' turn me on?" Her voice drops to a low husk, a tone she has never presented but has always been reserved for you, anyway.

"What?" You furrow your brows and quirk your head like a puppy dog. And the sight does not aid the mayhem within the pit of her stomach.

She stands from the rolling stool and slowly treads to the back of the motorcycle, now standing right in front of you. The way you look up at her makes her absolutely exasperated with desire.

"'Too damn good at getting my attention. 'Got me all wrapped around that lil' finger of yours, huh?”

"I... I don't know what you're talking about...?"

"Really now? Sittin' reverse cowgirl and you expect me to not want to tear you apart?"

You flush in response to her insinuations, babbling jumbled nonsense in an attempt to explain your honest mistake. Jill leans closer to you, mere inches of space between you now. Resting her hand against the seat to support her weight, the other toys with the hem of that damned shirt in the way of what she wants most. She can practically feel the warmth radiating off your cheeks, and God, does it make her feral.

The expanse between you two hastens with less and less room, to where you lean backward in response. It isn't until you are entirely draped among the bike does she finally halt and hovers over you, practically bathing in how you blush from the intimacy.

"... Jill...?" You exhale breathlessly, your flustered state adding fuel to the fiery state of her inflated ego.

Despite the fantasies she's had of this moment, the scene she constructed won't be brought to light today. All the teasing, toying, and images where she'd force you to beg for her touch — she has dirtied her brain in the most pleasurable way possible. But, she's far too greedy; way too impatient. There is no possible reality in which she could restrain herself at this moment unless she was somehow physically tied down. Still, she'd find a way to wrangle herself out of any barrier if it meant you'd be lying beneath her like this. So inviting, gorgeous, and ready for her.

The kiss she pulls you into is suffocating.

The fervent, honeyed look trapped in your eyes, how could you expect her to resist? To control herself? Jill indulges herself in the taste of you and places a gentle hand against your waist. Despite being stuck in a cloud of dizzying enrapturement, she is still wary of pushing your boundaries.

Always so eager, however, mere seconds have gone by before Jill converts the intimate kiss to practically shoving her tongue down your throat. She lathes the appendage over the grooves of your teeth, the plush surface of your delectable tongue, and just everywhere she can possibly reach. Almost as if she were a dog, she's lapping every bit of you she can garner from your mouth.

You're dazed with lust, as well. Every little whimper for more is muffled against her greedy mouth but still succeeds in pushing Jill further into a sort of monster-like ravaging. What finally drives her over the edge of becoming an absolute beast is when you grasp hold of her free hand and guide it under your shirt, gasping when her frigid fingers make contact with your nipple.

She doesn't acknowledge how your desire looks like a mere breadcrumb in comparison to her own colossal need for you. Jill is too caught up in reveling in your reciprocation and her own burning hunger to pay the thought any mind.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, she parts from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you to one another.

You're not given a moment to catch your breath, not when a sudden gasp escapes your mouth as Jill begins to tear your clothes from your form. You're gasping her name, using your limbs to shield your naked skin while she continues to rapidly undress you. Every single part of you is now on display for Jill to watch and indulge in. Before you can express your shock at the fucking animal she has abruptly become, she locks a hand around your jaw and forces your gaze on her.

"Open." The authority in her tone doesn't grant you a second to even consider disobeying her. Without words, it is clear as day that Jill Valentine is the one in control.

Letting your tongue loll out of your mouth, you await her next actions with anticipation. She spits a glob of saliva onto the muscle and her supercilious laughter fans against your face. How precious it is the way your eyes perceptibly glisten from her actions. A sharp demand of "swallow" and you obey once more, never ridding her of the intense eye contact she has trapped you in.

Her index and middle finger prod at the flesh of your lips, where you eagerly invite them into your mouth. She sighs out a curse at the feeling of your tongue wrapping itself around her fingers and how you slurp the digits like a goddamn popsicle.

"Dirty fuckin' thing, aren't you?" Jill's fingers delve deeper, losing herself in the way you gag around her and whine out a muffled "mm-hmm!" as a reply.

Pulling her fingers from your mouth with an animated pop!, Jill's eyes never leave the ocean of passion in your eyes as she treads her hand lower.

With teasing efforts that her greedy self doesn't indulge in for too long, her fingers soon nudge against your sex. The contact causes a gasp to flee from your mouth. Circling around your entrance, you're only able to squeeze in several pleas for more before she's forcefully shoving her fingers inside of you.

While you throw your head back with a sharp moan, Jill's jaw drops as she realizes how she is finally able to feel every sliver of you. Inside and out. The spongy expanse of your walls; the silk of your essence mixing with the saliva you left upon her fingers. The garage is painted in the lewd sounds of your whimpers and the squelching induced by her fingers. Everything is perfect.

“Jesus Christ, baby... I could fuck you like this for days.” Her voice causes you to squeeze around her as if you were trying to physically cling to the mind-numbing sensations she's giving you.

Within seconds, Jill finds your sweet spot and begins to torture the love-button. Her calloused digits penetrate deep against it and the stimulation shifts your moans up an octave. With a "yeah? feelin' good?", you can only nod and succumb to the sounds that fall from your mouth.

With how paradisiacal the vehemence her fingers bring, you aren't able to ponder over how this woman is able to magically know your every weak spot, every sensitive bud, and the exact rhythms you prefer without ever informing her. Almost as if she's seen you do the same to yourself.

Soon, however, the heat becomes too much for you to handle and you begin to squirm in her grasp. Even when you whine pathetically about how it's too much, Jill doesn't falter her efforts in the slightest.

"Can't stop, baby... 'Clenching 'round me too tight, got me stuck in here." Her condescending tone and sultry smirk make you cry out in heavenly misery. God, it's only two lanky fingers and you feel more stuffed than a Thanksgiving turkey.

Her digits soon accelerate in speed, your body jolting from the force and legs beginning to quiver. A fire pervades in your core with how forcefully she massages your sweet spot and you let out pornographic "ah!"'s with every thrust she forces into you. The smirk on her face vanishes when you bring your forearm to your mouth in an attempt to muffle the unruly noises tumbling out. She swats your arms away, never ceasing her endeavors to bring you the most Earth-shattering pleasure you could ever know.

"Car-Carlos... He'll hear..." You manage to squeak out. And the sudden shift in her expression makes a surge of fear course through you.

"Carlos? 'Fuck you thinking bout' him for?"

Roughly, Jill pulls one leg of yours to your chest and is able to drive her fingers in deeper. You didn't even think it was possible, hence the shock and sucker-punched look on your face. She sharply reminds you of how it is only you and her together. Not in an attempt to comfort, but to emphasize the territory she has marked. And you can barely hear her possessive tangent through the sound of your own heart racing and the wet, sucking sound of your walls latching onto her. The mewls escaping your mouth have increased in volume and intensity, Carlos now nothing but a distant memory in your foggy brain.

"Y'know I once caught him sniffing your sweater like some sort of depraved junkie? Hand stuffed in his pants like a fuckin' pervert?" You can barely hear the woman speak, not when she's simultaneously turning you into nothing but a pile of mush.

“Bet he’s biting his damn fists thinking about me fuckin' you like this. 'Crying like a bitch knowing you're getting the best fuck of your life out here.” Once again, you're too dumb with pleasure to remind Jill you are also biting your fists and crying fat tears, but for different reasons than the vision she painted of Carlos.

“All mine, all fuckin' mine, baby. No one can fuck you like me, no one...” Her free hand finds its way to your nipple. The pulling and tugging earn her a loud cry from your throat that she practically revels in.

That familiar, but now incredibly stifling and heart-stopping, pool of heat begins to build in your tummy. With a slack jaw and incoherent ramblings, you attempt to find your voice and express the inevitable incoming through your incessant wailing.

"Jill, I-... I'm gonna- Fuck- I'm gonna...!" Jill quirks a brow in response.

"Gonna cum, baby? Hmm?" She exhaled with a quick chuckle, fully splitting you open with her fingers at this point. "All your fault, all your fault for being this fuckin' pretty. Can't fuckin' resist.”

“No, I-... I can’t help it when your fingers are just- just fucking stretching me out.” You throw your head back once more. The way the motorcycle juts uncomfortably at your skull fails to overpower the sheer fervor you're feeling.

Jill merely laughs in response. “Yeah? 'Gonna get all messy on my fingers? Get your fuckin' cum all over my bike?” The heat within you builds and builds until it becomes suffocating for your sweaty body to contain.

"C'mon, pretty thing. Cum f'me..."

With that, the damn breaks and it's as if you had released an entire tsunami the way you spurt around Jill.

Her mouth latches to yours during your peak, tongues mashing against one another. Chest pressed against yours, all your senses know are Jill, Jill, Jill. It is practically agonizing, how gut-wrenchingly pleasurable the orgasm is.

And Jill, all she can do is coo, tease, and watch in absolute wonder at how perfect this was. How perfect you are. When your peak is finally pacified into calm waves, your body goes limp against the bike and your essense leaks onto the clean leather. The entire room seems to melt away while you're brain is still scrambling to garner any brain cells Jill had managed to fuck out of you.

She removes her fingers from your heavenly heat and just stares at the way your slick paints her digits. Standing, Jill uses her heel to kick the rolling stool behind her. Her slender figure is finally able to rest as she sits down, heavy gaze still locked on the captivating sight of you all over her fingers. She brings them to her lips, eyes watering when she is able to catch a whiff, but stops herself before they can reach past and show her tongue what heaven is.

An idea, albeit a bad one (something Jill is notorious for), sprouts in her mind. The part of your body she has so kindly destroyed is sitting right before her, like a grand meal crafted by the most talented chef, just for her. Surely, a meal better than anything Carlos has ever made (which she knows he would certainly agree with, but she digresses).

With a kick to the cement floor, the stool slides across the room. Hastily grabbing a few random cable ties, Jill then swerves back to you. A gentle hand on your cheek, she presses yet another kiss to your whimpering mouth. It is soft and sweet, but it is easy to notice the dominating tendencies that lie beneath the surface. You reciprocate the affections, albeit clumsily, due to your dazed state.

While your tongues practically cuddle with one another, adorning the other in heaps of saliva, you can barely feel how Jill grasps hold of your wrist. She then presses it against the motorcycle handlebar. With her mouth latched to yours like a leech, she uses the cable tie to restrain your wrist to the handle. The other wrist is tied to the adjacent bar swiftly, to where you are now entirely restrained to the bike.

What she plans to do will be far too much for your exhausted body to handle. So, she must ensure that you stay pliant and accept even more heaps of the torturous zeal she intends for you to endure.

Fortunately, you don't seem to mind one bit. Your poor brain still hasn't processed that you will soon go through that same overwhelming, almost-painful pleasure once more. Scooting closer to you, Jill's heavy breaths fan against your sex and earns her a faint gasp from the light stimulation. Mere inches away, the scent of you floods her senses and further envelops her into whatever magic spell you put her under.

Six years. Six whole years.

Through the depraved loneliness of being without the one she loves most, there was always a curious desire that prodded at her brain.

How would you take her? Would you like it rough and intense or soft and tender? What sounds would you make? Would you be shamelessly loud or try to restrain your cute whines? How much stamina would you have? Could she make you weak with mere minutes of intimate contact or would you challenge her to hours of bringing you venereal satisfaction?

The mere idea always sends her hands downstairs, vowing that she'll find you and make you feel even half the sheer euphoria you gift her. And as if the heavens had heard her prayers, despite her irreverent mentality, you have finally returned to her.

With that, Jill lets her jaw drop and tongue fall. Greedily, yet savorly, she drags the muscle from the bottom of your sex to the top.

And the ecstatic delirium that floods her body rivals any drug she could ever pump into her system.

You yank against your restraints and cry from the sudden sensation, her hot breath against your most sensitive parts only adding to the overstimulation. A pleasured groan absconds from Jill's muffled mouth. She has teased this idea numerous times, but the fantasies she's had where she wondered how your essence would sit on her tongue, none of it compared to the real thing.

Better than the most arduous whiskey, better than the ripest fruits, better than water after an eternity spent in a desert. She'd give anything to spend the rest of her life down here.

"Jesus- fuck, baby." Her curses are muted due to the close contact, but with a licentious squelch, she casts her gaze to your face. "If I was on death row, I'd choose this as my last meal... Oh, I'd die a fuckin' saint."

The lewd noises and dirty talk only make you flush more. With your arms restrained, there's no shyly covering your face or hushing your salacious noises. You are entirely vulnerable to whatever Jill intends to put you through.

And as quick as she pulled back to express the thoughts running through her mind, she dives right back into you. There's no gradual descent, no build-up. Just an unadulterated, hungered frenzy that Jill takes out on your poor body. Every devouring suckle has your legs squirming, which she is able to hold down with ease. Nothing can prevent Jill from indulging in the absolute nirvana leaking out of you. Nothing.

Slurping and sucking like a goddamn vampire, you whimper about how the pleasure is too much for you to handle. A hushed chuckle escapes from Jill and reverberates through your entire body, the appending commotion sending a warm tremble down your spine. She could never stop so soon, not with your candied flavor and gorgeous sounds enveloping her like a soft embrace.

Jill was never one to simply flick her tongue, either. No, she was insistent on having your juices explore every inch of her mouth, no matter if it strained her jaw or numbed her tongue. God, this woman was practically drunk on you.

“Could never be done with this pretty body, baby. Never.” Everything you are now experiencing has your brain blanking, entirely unable to process any of her words.

Even when you try to put on your best puppy-dog eyes, as it always makes her weak, she refused to abandon her desires. Your relentless pleas for mercy simply fall on deaf ears. Through all her snarky comments and cocky remarks, it's almost comical how the only way to shut her up was for you to just let her put her mouth all over you.

And everything is just so lewd, so sloppy, so rough. Crescent-moon shapes are carved into your thighs as she pins them down, allowing her greedy mouth further access. Satisfied groans escape from Jill as she just revels in how good it is to be smothered in the absolute love potion pouring into her mouth. Bony hands cling to your hips as she rolls you in a rushed rhythm, needily grinding you against her mouth. Lapping at you like a goddamn slushie, all you can do is lay back and accept the relentless torture. And God, it drives you fucking insane.

You don't even recognize yourself anymore; you've become reminiscent of a famous pornstar the way slobber leaks down your chin and how your moans bounce off the walls. And Jill is just drinking in this sight. She hopes that if she stares long enough, this image will forever be burned into her memory and imprinted behind her eyelids. An eternal porno crafted just for her.

With another flare of heat building, one far more intense than ever before, you truly begin to lose yourself in the whirlpool of soul-crushing pleasure. And every suck and churn of her tongue has your back arching uncontrollably, pushing you further and further to that edge.

Everything intensifies and before you can whimper out a warning, the mob within you releases and you practically gush onto Jill's face.

You cut off her animalistic grunts with the loudest sound you're positive you have ever made. Not even the screams of terror you let out back in Raccoon City could compare to the sheer volume that escapes your throat at this moment. Your entire body is enveloped in violent shivers, to where Jill has to cling to you to prevent the shocks from sending you to the ground. Her covetous tongue guzzles every last drop of you.

It isn't until she hears a cry framed with more pain than pleasure does she finally snap from her libido-filled daze. This doesn't prevent her from indulging in one last obnoxious slurp before finally parting from the best meal she has ever had.

From the jacket she had thrown indolently against the table, Jill reaches over and pulls out her rusted pocket knife. She scoots closer to your face, heart lurching when she sees the tears painting your cheeks. She wipes them clean with her thumb and presses a languid kiss to your sweat-ridden forehead.

Swiftly, Jill cuts the ties around your wrist while remaining ever-so careful to prevent harming your precious skin. Now free, you let out a feeble whimper and grasp hold of her shoulders, outright begging for her care. And Jill practically melts into a puddle at the sight. She encases her constricting arms around your waist and relishes in the way your wrap your arms firmly around her. God, you make her so fucking weak.

You never need to ask her for affection. She would give you absolutely anything.

"Sweet butterfly, you did so fuckin' good. 'Came so hard f'me."

You wrap your naked legs around Jill's form as a means to get even closer to her. In response, she has to keep the sudden flare of desire derived from the action at bay. She's put you through enough, after all. Someone as drop-dead gorgeous as you, anyone in their right mind would plead with the universe to feel those beautiful legs wrapped around them. However, she can't indulge in the fantasies that consisted of you latching onto her like this. Oh, another day. Another day...

When your brain is able to clear through all the dissipated fog, you find yourself in the bathroom with the woman who brought you pleasure you didn't know existed. Stifling water pours down your body, and you are locked in Jill's nude embrace.

Taking a shower with her — this was nothing out of the ordinary. For the five months you have spent here, she has always insisted on washing you with a myriad of excuses. From wishing to show you a new body wash to insisting you were too ill to do it by yourself, cleaning yourself alone is a privilege you haven't known in ages.

The scent of your favorite body wash now sits on your wet skin. Her calloused fingers massage the ambrosial suds into your body and you swear you could fall asleep from the peaceful rhythm. Pampering you, despite your assurances of how you can take care of yourself, is something she has always loved to do. With how easy it is to send you into a state of tranquility, it never fails to make her laugh. Like a sleepy puppy, she jokes to herself.

Ever so greedily, Jill grasps your jaw tenderly and ushers you to meet her gaze.

“C'mon, give me a kiss, baby. Taste how good I made you feel.”

In response, you make weary endeavors to place your lips against her chapped ones. She hums, how cute.

Taking the full initiative of effort, Jill moans as she molds her mouth against yours once again. Her tongue slithers in, allowing you to bask in the flavor she has developed a newfound addiction to. The act of affection is quick, considering how the heat of your nude body and your mouth against hers may push Jill into numbing your mind with pleasure, once more.

From here, she lets you rest your head against her shoulder and your tired body against her form. She continues to massage the fruit-scented soap into your skin, indulging in the satisfied hums she earns when she massages certain knots out of your muscles.

"Y'know, Carlos had a fuckin' field day when I took you back into the house. 'Thought I was murdering you in there, heh." You've been steered into such a meditative state, your exhausted brain fails to process any of Jill's words.

"It's a fuckin' miracle he let me be alone with you right now. 'Had to threaten him with telling you what I caught him doing with your sweater. Fuckin' idiot was so scared, he doesn't even know I already told you."

She presses an abiding kiss to your head before continuing.

"Do you remember, baby? Or were you too fucked out to use your head...? Kinda hard to listen to me when I'm fuckin' your brains out, huh?"

Other than being between your thighs, Jill could spend forever here.

Nights spent trying out facemasks with ridiculous scents, drawing hearts and your initials on the steamed shower walls, and the adoring giggle you give her when she lets you use her hair and face to make soap mohawks or soap beards. There is nothing in the universe that could equate to the ineluctable love Jill has for you. Absolutely nothing.

As every night goes, she massages fragranced lotions into your flesh and dresses you in cloud-soft pajama bottoms. This time, however, she reluctantly wraps one of Carlos' shirts around your form as compensation on his end for what she put you through.

Speaking of the devil, her fingers merely hover over the lock on the bathroom door and he is already trying to force his way in. With a hushed yell of "They're sleeping, can you chill the fuck out!?" Carlos is barrelling into the room, shoving past Jill, and rushing to where your unconscious body is resting on the bathroom counter.

In an instant, his always-gentle hands are on your body, checking for injuries, and faintly whimpers out "My baby" and "What did she do to you?" Jill rolls her eyes and scoffs at how dramatic he is. She would never hurt you, he should know that by now.

Carlos then brings you into his arms as if he were cradling a baby bird, carrying you out of the ensuite and to the lavish sheets of his bed. Two sets of glares at each other, as if they were teenage girls fighting for the heart of the dashing quarterback, and Jill begrudgingly leaves the bedroom.

Locking the door behind her, Carlos wastes no time in climbing beneath the expensive covers and enveloping you in an embrace. The anger poking at his sanity is eased from the warm weight of your body as he snuggles into you. You've always had a knack for mending even the worst parts of him, after all. Still, the rage provoked by what that monster put his precious bumblebee through simmers beneath the surface.

"I should have stopped it. I should have been there..." Carlos places a hand against your chest, searching for the sound that he is wholly convinced can mend any and all turmoil. "But, she would have taken you from me if I stopped her... I'm so sorry, my bumblebee..." The familiar ba-bump! beneath your flesh rivals a genuine lullaby.

Hours passed, and your heartbeat soothes Carlos into a deep slumber. Those protective arms never once weaken from around your body.

Moonlight now paints the bedroom and frames your face; Jill thinks you were painted by Da Vinci himself as she admires you in your unconscious state. The way you so frivolously make her heart grow without lifting a finger should be considered a crime. Though, the sight of you in handcuffs may convince her to give you a lighter sentence. Several gentle nudges to your arm and your eyes flutter open. A finger is pressed to your lips when you try and inquire about her intentions.

"Wanna get outta here?" The prospect of being out of this prison cell makes a smile grow on your lips. Slowly, you remove the constricting arms of Carlos from around your waist and escape the warm expanse of blankets.

Tip-toeing through the home, hushed giggles fill the silent air as you and Jill finally arrive at the garage. Another idea, albeit a bad one (once again, something she is notorious for), had sprouted in her mind. A quick ride on her new-and-improved motorcycle and you'll be back before Carlos even notices you're gone, she assures you. To let you momentarily venture away from this humble abode like a bratty child whose time-out has ended was all you truly wanted.

She has her signature battered jeans on with her biker jacket. Meanwhile, you're stood with your fluffy pajama bottoms, t-shirt beneath a chunky sweater (since Carlos insisted you'd get cold during the night), and bumblebee slippers. The teddy-bear necklace he gifted you is adorned around your neck, as well. You always feel a strange familiarity when you catch sight of the bumblebee necklace he is never seen without. Where have you seen it before?

You'd feel like a loser in her presence if it weren't for those damned heart eyes she's giving you. Jill loves you. So, so much. Even through everything that has happened in these few months, that much is for certain.

"C'mon, wasn't it you who said you wanted to test out the new ride? Or do you not remember that, either?" She taps the seat behind her as a gesture for you to join her.

You fumble to catch the spare helmet she chucks your way and copy how she fastens hers around her head. If you had learned anything that day, motorcycle logic is something you are certainly not familiar with.

Before you are able to sit in the exact spot you had lost all rational thought in just hours ago, Jill halts your actions. She stands to her feet and begins to scrutinize the state of your helmet, all to ensure everything is secure and protecting that pretty face of yours. Despite her reckless nature, anything that could jeopardize your safety has alarms blaring all throughout her thoughts. Still, you deserve to partake in the adrenaline-inducing excitement only she can bring.

Propping down onto the seat (correctly, this time), your arms hover around Jill's waist in an awkward attempt to respect boundaries. Impatient and needy as ever, she revs the engine and the sudden, thunderous roar has you clinging to her body in startlement. The sound will surely wake Carlos, despite his deep-sleeping nature. Swiftly, before the angered grizzly bear can storm out and drag you back to safety, Jill hastens down the long driveway surrounded by empty forestry.

Making a mental note of any potential landmarks was fruitless. There is absolutely nothing that could verify where on planet Earth you were right now. Through the grapevine, or just the instances you've eavesdropped on Jill and Carlos' arguments, this home you've resided in was apparently in Spain. Where exactly in Spain do the three of you live, you haven't a clue. Any inquiries you have expressed have been neglected.

She then accelerates her speed in a teasing manner just to feel you cling harder to her, knocking the thoughts from your brain. With the few vehicles that have passed by you both, you still make effort to scrutinize their identity. All attempts were jeopardized by Jill who sped past them. As a last resort, you had considered jumping from the bike and making an abrupt dash into the woods. However, with broken bones and no ears to listen to your cries for help, that plan was abandoned as quickly as it was formed.

At least the sex is good, you shamefully muse to yourself.

It had only been a mere 20 minutes before you returned to the dirt roads leading to your "humble" abode. From the garage, you see how the golden kitchen light glimmers through the windows and you mentally prepare yourself for the hurricane swarming your way.

With how engrossed you were with your mind, you haven't processed how Carlos will react to you being out of his train of vision for more than several seconds.

Jill's boot knocks the kickstand into place, seemingly reveling in her last few moments before you'd inevitably be snatched away from her. Despite how malleable Carlos was with a few empty threats regarding you, she knows that she crossed a line and nothing will make him bend. Still, she has no regrets whatsoever. Any moment with you is absolute paradise, no matter what consequences may follow afterward.

As if you were two teenagers who snuck out past curfew, you both walk through the front door with your tails between your legs. When you had fully expected Carlos to sprint over to you, the entire opposite happens. Upon your sudden entrance, all he does is sit at the kitchen island, staring blankly into the empty counter. The clutching of his fists, the bulge above his brow, the strain of his clenched jaw — all the telltale signs show that he is absolutely enraged. And the sheer aura of his fury is enough to make you capitulate into the corner.

An arrogant remark sits right on the edge of Jill's lips, but with a wave of your hand, you stop and assure her of how you can handle whatever tantrum is imminent. Approaching slowly, as if Carlos were a feral animal ready to maul anything that moves, you tread behind the island and halt straight across from him.

"I... I wore a helmet...?" You cringe at your own attempt at reassurance.

Face sheen with enmity, Carlos merely turns his head gradually and shifts his full attention to Jill. For the very first time in five months, your presence is ignored. It is almost as if you aren't even there.

You go on a clumsy tangent about how the entire stunt was not devoid of any safety precautions. Still, Carlos' full attention remains on Jill, who stands complacent as she practically revels in his dismay. Day after day, she has always won against him. Twisting his words, pulling his strings, declaring empty threats — he yields to her time after time. How terrified he is of the capability she has to destroy what little piece of you he has.

At this moment, however, this wrath within him has boiled over like a soup left behind on a burning stove. And the way he now looks at her is terrifying. If she goes missing before dawn, you won't be surprised.

In an attempt to save you from your awkward (albeit too-fucking adorable) rambling, Jill opens her mouth to deliver an eloquent explanation. She is able to verbalize a mere syllable before Carlos slams his fist into the countertop, the surface cracking beneath the force of his strength. You cower away from the sudden shift in his energy, which he fails to notice.

Standing abruptly, he charges at Jill in three large strides. Winding his arm back, he surges his fist forward and strikes her in the nose. She grunts, stumbling in her stance from the contact. The room is overwhelmed by silence, accompanied by two sets of panting breaths. Jill spits out a large web of blood onto the hardwood floors and without flinching, she forces her nose back into place with a gut-wrenching crack.

Entirely flabbergasted, you merely stand like a dumbfounded fool while you watch the following events play out.

"That's all 'ya got, pussy? C'mon, man. Hit me!" A smile painted with blood stretches on her face and Carlos ignites with rage. He wants her fucking dead.

Another strike lands on her face once more, to where she slumps to her knees when her legs fail her. Quirking her head, she looks up to Carlos with that annoyingly-smug smirk. Coughing out a bitter chuckle, Jill can't refrain from expressing how hilarious she finds Carlos' pathetic attempt at taking you from her. The way he stands before her, so overwhelmed with farcical rage. How can expect her not to burst out laughing from the pitiful sight?

And without words, the tense gaze they share with one another expresses the same declaration. No matter how much blood is spilled, you can't take them away from me. Using the wall for stability, Jill is able to lift herself from the ground, sharp eyes still attached to Carlos' glower.

"You want a fucking piece of me!? I'll kill you right now, pack my shit, and then take Y/N somewhere you won't ever hurt them again!" The second the words fall from his mouth, that familiar, pompous expression plastered on Jill's face suffers from an abrupt shift.

The sheer audacity this man has to feel entitled to you baffles her. Especially after such undeserving kindness she has shown him. Informing him of your location in Umbrella's sanctuary, the mere act of allowing him in your presence was far more than he could ever deserve. Every day of the past six years had been spent tearing her soul to indistinguishable shreds before sculpting every piece back. And like Hell, she'd let this underdog rid her of the most important thing in her life.

A gasp is precipitously torn from you when Jill withdraws her pocket knife from her leather jacket. With a swift stab and a loud roar, Carlos manages to block her efforts. Still, he remained one second too late when she managed to slice into his arm. He squalls from the harrowing contact but is swift in his recovery.

Despite the blood rushing down his forearm, he surges another punch toward her face. Jill is able to dodge his angry fist, dropping her beloved knife, before launching a brutal blow to his jaw. The force sends Carlos tumbling to the ground with a harsh clamor. After several years of heavy lifting to relieve stress, Jill has built quite a lot of strength. Carlos, as well, but the sheer rage she now possesses could combat even the strongest of brutes.

She punts the knife across the floor and away from his reaching grasp, hereby declaring to send this man to his demise with her bare hands. Straddling him, he has no time to defend himself when she begins to send punch after punch wherever her fists can land.

"Try that shit and I'll gut you like a fuckin' fish!" Jill's newfound tone is reminiscent of an actual monster. The tone has you shuddering in your stance as you can only stare in sheer dread.

The sight of splattered blood and blooming bruises causes nausea to squirm in your stomach like an unwelcome insect. All the words and pleas you wish to scream out are seemingly trapped in the expanse of your throat. Trying to physically separate the two rabid animals may cause you to be harmed in the crossfire. You fear what infantilizing, guilt-ridden treatment you may receive upon that probability. Instead, in a quick flare of rationality, you conjure up an idea you are positive will end this sudden explosion of violence. An idea you know will make them weak.

Without a second thought, the words are spilling from your mouth in a desperate shout.

"I'M LEAVING!"

Voice cracking and laced with awkward nerves, your sudden uproar still succeeds in capturing both of their attention. And the alter in their behavior is so abrupt, it is almost as if they weren't ever at each other's throats. In seconds, they're scrambling to their feet and rushing to your aid, the bloodied knife and fallout of savagery now nonexistent.

"You've seen there's nothing out there for miles, you'd be chow for the wolves!" Jill's voice has returned to the familiar tone she has claimed for you.

Eyes now shimmering with the desperate softness you're so amicable with, it is bewildering how swift these two are to team up when they need it the most.

"Not much different than what's in here..."

If it was audible, the sound of their hearts shattering would burst your eardrums from the sheer mass. Carlos' reaction is overtly emotional, as he always is. Jill perceptibly abates from your words, the sudden sorrow enveloping her expression a shock to you. That collected nature she always acquires crumbles right before your very eyes.

Before she can cling to you and vow to give you whatever it is you want, as long as you stay, Carlos falls to his knees and grasps your full attention. With his head against the floor and his hands clinging to your legs, he proceeds to grovel for you. Warm tears cascade onto your feet and you discern how the raging storm has finally eased. All that is left now is the sound of Carlos' raucous crying and Jill's stressed suspires.

Casting his gaze upwards, Carlos' face is twisted from the sobs jutting out of his body. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, so, so, so, sorry. Hit me, stab me, skin me, do anything! Just... Just don't leave me...”

A gentle hand to your forearm and Jill is whispering of how it's time for you to go to bed. You clench your teeth, ready to inquire if she was genuinely serious. However, the notable guilt in her manner informs you of the actual demand she asks of you. Please, end this. It is only you who can calm us.

From this revelation, you oblige by her orders and begin to stride away from this mess. To feel you move from his tenacious touch, further away from him, Carlos suddenly springs to his feet. He envelops you with his full body weight, another whimper of "don't leave me" whispered into your neck. Never weakening his grasp, you guide him out of the kitchen and you both amble together to Carlos' bedroom. Meanwhile, Jill plants her head in her bruised hands, a sigh of defeat escaping her from how disastrous she has let this day become.

Tonight, Carlos sought any inkling of solace you have. Anything to promise him you are still here with him.

Attempting to flick off the lamplight, your efforts were futile when he practically chucks you into the comforters. Despite his aggression to keep you close (and away from that barbarian), he holds you as if he were handling glass. As he always does.

With a heavy-set preference, he adores sleeping in any position that grants him the privilege of listening to your heartbeat and inhaling your wondrous scent. The combining senses serve as an enlightening reminder that you are alive and here with him. This night was certainly no different, as Carlos clambers into bed with you, albeit clumsily due to his large figure. He then nuzzles his head between the expanse of your shoulder and neck comfortably.

The human-weighted blanket resting on top of you mollifies your exhausted body. Carlos has an earthy scent, like Summer air and fresh grass right after a rainstorm. It soothes you into dreamland and this fact fills you with shame, as well. This sudden contrast in your life doesn't fog your judgment entirely, though. With every day the rain falls, you have come to learn several new things.

Oh, how Carlos Oliveira loves the scent of Y/N L/N.

It is evident throughout every day, where fragments of his obsession are sprinkled into every moment you spend together.

Taking a deep inhale, the serenity that courses through his bones causes his eyes to roll back into his skull. How absolutely serene it is to feel your fingers combing through his thick hair, arms adorned around his brawny figure, and tender lips pressed to his forehead. His cries, now reduced to soft whimpers, tickle against your skin.

No matter the circumstances, being enveloped in your embrace as the day comes to an end will always make his heart swell. To climb into bed and find the most beautiful, breathtaking sight at the edge of his fingertips — there is no bliss quite like it.

The aroma that sent him to heaven six years ago, how he had searched high and low for anything reminiscent of it. A multitude of soaps, air fresheners, perfumes, laundry detergent, and just anything that contained a similar scent to you encircled his home. Despairingly, he has tried to recreate this and pretended it was your fragrance pervading from your warm, lively body. Nevertheless, his efforts were futile.

The scent you possessed was evocatively ambrosial, but it was utterly human. It was so unique, he felt like a fool for believing something as mere as a lit candle or a stick of deodorant could ever replicate that perfection.

At this moment, however, Carlos inhales your scent from your body as if he couldn't breathe. And he is positive there is nothing in the world that could rival the sheer euphoria it gives him. Within minutes, the man using you as his personal mattress begins to snore like a lawn mower. Soon, you fall asleep within his tenacious embrace, as well.

Once morning draws and you blink into consciousness, you find yourself entirely by your lonesome. No clinging Carlos, no amorous Jill. Just sheer, unadulterated solitude. You hadn't realized how familiar the prospect of waking up with company had become, especially after years of early-morning seclusion. The rain still falls; the birds still sing. And for the first time in months, you are alone.

This revelation is short-lived when the man who had clung to you for the entire night soon enters the bedroom. The wound on his arm has since been tended to, the bruises left behind are now affixed to his skin, and his face is puffy from the tears that cascaded just hours before. Through all of this, an almost-manic smile is planted on his face. All as if nothing had ever happened.

A delectable scent follows his presence when he brings a serving cart into the room. On the cart, he had perfected a myriad of dishes for you to enjoy. A stack of French toast, a steaming frittata, scattering scones, multiple parfaits, and numerous other gourmet dishes you can't even dream of pronouncing the names of. All of this for three people, you fear that Carlos will make you devour every last crumb and the ongoing effects it will have on your poor stomach. The way he normally does to ensure you aren't left hungry, as every morning consisted of something along these themes.

In this case, however, the belligerent display of affection and the lingering shadow of last night's events differ immensely from what you had adapted to.

Gleefully, Carlos sits at the edge of the bed beside you and drapes a bed tray upon your lap. A mug painted in your favorite color is full of tea and sits on an neighboring coaster, while he sits and waits anxiously for you to pick your first dish of the day.

When you notice the single set of cutlery, reserved for just you and him to share, you furrow your brows. Where is Jill's set? And why hasn't she prevented him from cooking such an obnoxious amount of food?

Carlos' body goes rigid the instant you speak her name. With an alarmingly flat tone, he claims that she is gone for "work purposes," and despite your hesitance to believe him, he speaks of nothing but the truth.

After such a vicious outburst, Jill had humbly concluded that her relentless torture against Carlos must falter. Not for his sake, but for yours. Now, she will gift him a single day (nothing more) to entirely immerse himself in your healing presence, the same way a child needs to snuggle their teddy bear after a nightmare. While she is away, however, you and your well-being are stamped in her mind and prevent her from completing any work. It makes her sick with worry.

The event affected all three of you, physically and mentally. The several seconds spent with Carlos informed you entirely of his current state, but Jill remained a mystery.

And when Carlos had first entered the bedroom, the sight of your bleary eyes and drooping eye bags almost made him burst into tears right then and there. Unfortunately, he had broken down several times during his tireless efforts to make you an entire buffet for breakfast. However, with what little strength he was able to muster, Carlos is able to dry his tears in your presence. Still, he cannot ponder how you may have feared him in that moment or he might just collapse into a mental breakdown on the floor.

His hands, slower and softer than ever before, find their way to your face. Cupping your cheeks, you find a tornado of swirling emotions within his eyes. Devastation, regret, devotion, guilt, obsession. It is bewildering and terrifying in the same vein.

"You know, last night, I..." The featheriness within his voice is a major contrast to the infuriated uproar you witnessed last night. "I thought you were gone. For good. Still, I… I should have controlled myself. I should have stopped Jill from taking you away, I mean you could've-..."

When those all-too-familiar tears prick at his eyes and threaten to fall, you know his strength has been worn thin. "I just- I-I don't know what I would do if you-"

Carlos cuts himself off with a cracked sob. A wobbly "I'm sorry" is whispered before he excuses himself and abruptly leaves the bedroom. The sounds of his unruly sobs follow him in his footsteps.

After such an intense evening, the consequences of the aftermath haven't truly settled in for you until this moment. Enveloped in silence, you ponder over how one sentence of yours had led to such a disastrous outcome. You contemplate how you had merely met these two in a random city and set them on a lifelong quest to make you forever theirs. At this moment, you question just how much you are capable of.

Plucking a random plate from the tray, you grasp hold of the cutlery and dig into the succulent dish. You eat alone for the first time in five months. You don't know what you have done, but you know you have to clean this mess. Might as well have some fun before it depreciates...

Caring for you, it is certainly no secret how much Carlos enjoys the act. With every assurance you are not some impotent child, all efforts fall on deaf ears. Though, you realize you may be able to mold this to your benefit.

Tending to your every need, it is not done out of upholding a burden. You can take care of yourself, but you do not have to. The look of gratitude you give Carlos when you thank him is reward enough.

This leaves him in Jill's ensuite bathroom, where a hamper overwhelmed with dirty clothes resides in the corner. Being your devoted house-husband practically makes him giddy, so the sight is never onerous in the slightest. Jill, being the slob at heart, did leave a few articles of clothing on the ground, despite the hamper being mere feet away. As irritating as this was, Carlos merely decorates his brain with delusions of the two of you living alone together. This phenomenon has aided him through his efforts in enduring her presence, living in his imagination where you and he live happily ever after. Far, far away.

The sole reason Carlos was not glued to your side at this exact moment was due to how he had just put you in bed for your afternoon nap. Your insistent remarks of how you do not need to sleep in the middle of the day, once again, fall on deaf ears. You have no choice but to rest while he tends to every burden of yours; all responsibilities you possess have now become his. And he could not possibly be happier.

At first, you had stubbornly stood by your exclamation that it would be impossible for you to fall asleep. However, with closed curtains enveloping the room in darkness, peaceful incense pervading the air, soft lullabies harmonizing from speakers, and comforters that could rival lambswool snuggled around you, it didn't take long for you to succumb.

With you now fast asleep, Carlos works hastily, yet thoroughly, around the house so he can return to the love den where you lie. Rubbing circles into your back that soothe you further into sleep, it never fails to make him beam with happiness. And despite his tireless efforts, the disgusting scent of Jill reeking from her clothes protrudes into his beloved fantasy.

A sneer forms on his lips as he pinches the garments with his fingers, touching as little of them as he could, before chucking them into the hamper. The force of the launch sends the entire hamper tumbling over, to where the mess of dirty laundry scatters amongst the clean tiles. He grumbles, once again using minimum effort to collect Jill's clothing while cooing upon holding every crumbled attire that belongs to you.

As he returns the laundry to its respectful place within the hamper, Carlos gleefully grasps hold of one of your henley shirts. What lies beneath causes him to freeze, however.

Shamefully, he salivates at the sight of your underwear.

Several times, this offer has tempted him. To revel in how your essence wafts from the garb, any sane human would want to breathe in that scent forever. But he is not like others; he is stronger than them. For you, he will tie his immense cravings to a leash and restrain them, however long and tight you seem fit.

Due to recent events, however, the structured guard he built brick-by-brick has suffered numerous blows. All at the hands of Jill Valentine. There is not a place in the universe where you could be a burden to him, but her? She is the only reason why anger still makes a home within him.

Carlos needs you. He selfishly needs every last sliver of you, everything Jill had robbed him of the previous day. The self-control he prided himself on has seemingly abandoned him. Then again, how could he control himself when this opportunity has fallen from the hands of God and directly into the palm of his hands? How could he control himself when the purest form of you sits right there, practically calling out his name in the sound of your voice?

With that, he rips the bandaid off. Faster than the speed of light, he yanks your underwear into his hands and practically shoves them into his nostrils. And Carlos moans, so loud and blatant, as the fragrance of you invades every sense in his body.

Familiar, but suddenly overwhelmingly sweltering, a tightness forms within his pants. His vision goes black as his eyes roll into the back of his skull, a sudden flash of light then enveloping his eyesight; his knees resort to jelly, to where he has to cling to the edge of the bathroom counter to maintain his balance. The other hand still clenches your underwear protectively and dependently, as if he were an Art Conservator and he was holding the beautiful Mona Lisa. Oh, it is absolute heaven.

"Is that my...?"

As quick as he had practically inhaled the garment entirely, Carlos had rid his body of the pleasure induced by your scent when your dulcet voice filled the bathroom. Tossing the clothing with the others in the hamper, he pretends to lean against the counter with a rushed "what?" coming out in a quiet squeak. He stands with a hot face provoked by utter humiliation. How did he not hear the door open?

However, there is no loathing or repugnance in your expression, like he had originally anticipated. There's a look of hubris that washes over you when your brain scrutinizes just what you had stumbled upon. An unfamiliar glint sparks in your eyes that he is unable to read. It intrigues him, still.

Mere seconds feel like an agonizing eternity as he stands in the depths of his selfish libido. Instead of cursing Carlos out for his perverted nature, as he, once again, had originally anticipated, you do the very last thing he expected. Your fingers grasp the hem of your shirt before you pull the garb from off your form. And the preposterous gasp that is exuded from him in response almost forces a boisterous laugh out of you.

Your pants follow after, the soft whomp of the clothing hitting the ground remaining the loudest sound in the silent, reticent room. Lastly, you slowly strip yourself of your underwear, the very last thing protecting you from exposure. And you don't have to shift your gaze to know this man's wide eyes are glued to every inch of your naked skin.

"If you like my clothes that much, all you had to do was ask! I have so much already, take as much as you'd like..." The feigned generosity seeping from your tone does not mend the disorder within Carlos' pants.

Hooking your finger around your undergarments, you stride toward the man who is left entirely flabbergasted by your actions.

Chest-to-chest, you speak to him in a low whisper. "Wouldn't you rather have something fresh, anyways?"

You use your free hand to toy with the edge of his shirt, admiring the way his strong physique juts against the fabric. When your finger makes contact with the raw flesh of his abdomen, Carlos heaves out an uneven, stuttered breath. Almost as if he had run a marathon, your mere touch sends him tripping face-first into oblivion. The firm hand he placed upon the counter surface hastens into a desperate gasp to keep his balance, once again.

Just when Carlos had thought he had stumbled upon the gates of heaven, you purr out praises that make his eyes roll back into his head for the nth time. How strong he was when he defended your life back in Raccoon City to how he always managed to carry the groceries with one hand. Your candied words provoke a dreamy sigh out of him.

The silence on his end is bridging on the cusp of awkward. His gaze is hazy and drooping as Carlos stares into your eyes, nowhere else.

"S-Sleep..." You could hear a pin drop before you could discern his nervous tone. "You should... You-You should be sl- sleeping..."

"Alone? Or... Would you rather I sleep with you?" Another gasp flees from Carlos. His entire body breaks out into a shiver from your implications.

As much as his brain practically pleads him not to, he shifts his gaze away from you and to the boring ceiling in a weak attempt at maintaining courtesy. The single act is more difficult than any obstacle he has faced in his entire life.

As shameful as it is, however, Carlos has thought of this scene plenty of times. How he fantasized about enhancing the flavor of his food by mixing your delectable juices with the dish. How he winced listening to every pained whimper Jill pulled from you, but how his active imagination was contaminated with visions of gratifying you more than she ever could. You deserve every inkling of happiness the world has to offer and Carlos vows on doing everything within his power to grant you such.

The garment once in your hand is now long forgotten on the bathroom floor. Your pretty fingers barely hover over the expanse of his happy trail, adorned in thick heaps of jet-black hair. And he goes lightheaded from the faint contact alone.

You've already taken notice of the way his member protrudes through his jeans, but it is now clear as day how desperate Carlos wishes for you to choose him instead of your afternoon nap. Fortunately for him, you venture further, further, and further into his pants until your hand cups around his cock, nothing but the thin layer of his underwear separating you two. Carlos is never one to swear around you, (except for last night, but that is irrelevant) claiming you deserve tender praises instead of such violent language. Though, when you touch him, he growls out the most guttural "fuck!" you've ever heard part from someone's lips.

Perceiving how something wet leaks through his underwear, you furrow your brows as the revelation settles. Did you bring this man to orgasm just from being naked? No wonder it is always Jill who washes you...

This should have been evident in the sudden acceleration of his breathing, the dreamy, lust-stained glimmer engulfing his eyes, or the way his body trembles as if had been stuck in a mid-Winter storm. He practically chucks his head back and rests against the bathroom mirror; his chopped fingernails could tear the counter in two with how firm he clenches onto the surface.

More gasps and soft whines escape his slack jaw, obviously abstaining from screaming how good you make him feel. And every pant of your name escaping his breathless self causes flares of heat to imbue your body.

More assembles of pre-cum amalgamate with the previous mass of still-warm seed and bleed through the fabric. You lift his shirt a mere inch to allow you easier access. But, Carlos is swift to obey what he assumed to be your command and he eagerly tears his shirt over his head.

A heavy set of mouthwatering abs sheen with sweat, a display of disheveled chest hair, and two pairs of beefy, scar-ridden arms is what you are met with. You do not put any effort into masking your obvious gawking of Carlos' build. And he is elated to have your eyes on him.

When he had assumed Jill took you from him the day before, never to be seen again, this heavy dread has sat cozy in his gut since. Today, to have your full attention on him as he presents how every inch of his skin is for you to own, the pressure lightens and flutters away like a Monarch Butterfly.

“Oh, my g- my goddd" Carlos whines out after one particular harsh thrust of your palm.

He begins to twitch in your grasp when your efforts accelerate; his eyebrows curl upwards beneath the canopy of his mop-head hair. Carlos hasn't dared to shift his eyes down to you. Out of reason of deference, as you deserve. Though, he knows as a genuine fact that a single glance at your naked body, intense gaze, and the sight of your hands all over him would thrust him like a football into an earth-bending finish.

Restraining himself was an absolute pipedream, however. Your voice, your touch, and your scent pervade and overwhelm all senses within him. When your nimble fingers ghost over the sensitive expanse of his balls, he almost keels over and can't obstruct the words that bubble in his throat.

“You're gonna- You're gonna make me cum again...!” Promptly, you then yank your hand from the warm depths of Carlos' pants, practically roistering in the way he genuinely cries from the loss of contact.

When you expect him to initiate a swarm of stuttering beseeches to please continue, please make him feel good, please send him to the absolute nirvana only you can give him, you are met with the opposite, instead. Much to your surprise, he begins to thank you profusely, over and over and over again.

To beg you for anything would go against all of Carlos' morals, as every breath out of your mouth is pure gospel. And he'd be damned if he were to ever let himself be selfish with you, hence why he drowns you in gratitude for ever-so kindly giving him even just a speck of pleasure. He does not deserve more of you; it should be him on his knees at this moment, worshiping all of you.

The facade you had painted with confidence begins to crack when you become genuinely concerned for his well-being. You had only fondled him for less than a minute, had you broken him already?

The way he's heaving and gasping ushers you to believe he may blackout on the countertop. You wonder what Jill would think if she came home to found Carlos shirtless and unconscious on her bathroom counter, while you stand entirely naked with cum caked onto your hand. The thought is snatched from your mind when he begins to speak, almost as if he had magically sensed your attention reverting to her.

"Y/N... My-My honey, I can't stand just sitting here..." His adam's apple bobs when he swallows the salivation foaming in his mouth.

"Please let- Please let me make you feel good... Ask anything of me and it’ll be yours. There is nothing in this world I would ever deny you..." Carlos' tangent appeared like a bolt out of the blue.

Although your veneer had minor fractures due to your own shock, you still upheld your smug guise. With his eyes shut, still not daring to bask his undeserving gaze on your saintly body, you answer him with the same tone that never fails to make his knees weak.

"Take me to the bedroom."

Peeling his eyes open and casting his gaze on you, Carlos searches your expression for any sign of falter in truth. Another tremble reverberates through his body when he blesses his vision with the sight of you. After all, no matter how far he has fallen into the depths of enrapturement, any demand you throw his way will immediately be met.

He then clumsily stands to his feet. Fully expecting to walk there together, you take a single step away before a sudden yelp is pulled from you. With pure ease, you are suddenly scooped into Carlos' strong arms. When you encase your arms around his neck, the clammy state of his skin catches you off guard. Without a single speck of sweat on your entire body, you're perplexed he had been driven to such an exerted physical state from your trivial palm.

With how exhausted every fraction of Carlos seemed to be because of you, your heart caves. You shuffle from your spot in his arms and attempt to usher him down to the bed, where you would sit atop his body. This demand, despite his winning strike with following all, was rejected. His tender hands halt you from your efforts and hoist you back into his hold, once more.

"I'm sorry, honey-bee, but I-I can't let you work. Please- Please lay back and let me do everything I can to make you feel good... It's what you deserve; it's what I need." Even if you had turned his brain would mush, his relentless obligation to serve you could conquer through anything.

Arriving at your shared bed, Carlos drapes you among the silken sheets and is just in sheer awe of you. The atmosphere is uncomfortable as he hovers over you and just leers into the abyss of your soul. You then resort to pulling him against you by the back of his neck and enveloping him in an aggressive kiss.

The way Carlos kisses you has always been overwhelmed with reverent fervor. Now, however, there's a perceptible undertone of intense avidity in the way he molds his mouth against yours. And in the absolute best way possible, your scent overwhelms him like Summer sunlight beating against his skin.

Carlos has teased this idea numerous times, but the fantasies he's had where he wondered how your scent would sit in his nostrils, none of it compared to the real thing. Better than a crisp breeze in a mountaintop meadow, better than garden-fresh flowers, better than air after an eternity spent beneath the water. He'd give anything to spend the rest of his life with you.

Pulling away to allow your tight lungs the privilege of oxygen, Carlos immediately begins to fill the air with feverish, puddle-brained chatter. “Honey... Y/N... M’gonna take such good care of you, 'gonna do everything I can to make you happy. Won’t let anything happen to you, won’t let anything or anyone upset you... 'Gonna make you so happy.”

A tug to his belt loop and Carlos obeys quicker than you could ever verbalize your desire. He tears his jeans off as if the garb had been on fire, exposing his toned legs adorned with dark hair.

Reaching your hand out just an inch, he seems to have read your mind and carries out your unspoken demand, once again. He strips himself of his underwear, to where he now towers over your form entirely naked. And you have to restrain yourself from physically expressing your astonishment at the sight. When you had thought you had drawn an accurate picture of him while your hand was exploring downstairs, you hadn't prepared yourself for how everything would sit before your eyes.

The most perceivable sight was how much girth Carlos possessed and the slight tinge of fear you felt for what it may do to your body. With a rough estimation of nine inches, his sticky tip blares an annoyed red, the same hue as his desperation. His happy trail had led to even more heaps of bushy hair. A prominent vein runs diagonally down his curved shaft. The thickness grows in width from the base to the very tip of his cock. A set of heavy balls, the same expanse of sensitive skin that had him shaking beneath you, sit beneath.

“You deserve everything, Y/N. You- you deserve it all. Please... Please tell me everything... Tell me what I can give you, I-I'll give it all to you...” The lack of vocal indications on your end has taken quite a toll on him. No verbal commands sent his way and he's on the verge of tears.

Your words, your body, your scent — everything about you has Carlos stumbling to another early finish. His lips seem glued to yours, as well. Tongues cemented together as his hands caress all over your perfect body.

With his heartbeat skyrocketing, his figure tense with shock, and the way his chest rises and falls with heaving breaths, it was crystal clear just how hard he was resisting the urge to give in and fuck you into the next week. But, you're his sweet bumblebee, his darling deity. To be so selfish with you would make him deserving of a punishment worse than death.

“Carlos..." He nods in response to you so eagerly, you wonder if the force had sent his brain slamming against the walls of his skull. "... I want you to fuck me and fill me up over and over again until there’s no possible way I can escape the happiness you bring me.”

The growl that erupts in response to your filthy words was something akin to an animal. His hands, now propped against the side of your head to prop himself up, now clench the bedsheets with enough force to rip them.

Eyes practically burning holes into his, you grasp hold of his dick and revel in the way he trembles in response, before aligning him with your entrance. Appallingly, a tube of scentless lube had been hidden in the bedside drawer for the entire five months you've been here. Just waiting for this moment.

Now entirely slick with lube and pre-cum (you wouldn't be surprised if Carlos' tears were in that mix, as well), you playfully nudge his bulbous head against the edge of your hole. For the second time that day, your free hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him into another burning kiss. With a deep inhale of preparation, you slide him into you with steady effort.

And the way Carlos whimpers against your mouth makes you inadvertently clench around him.

With the mere tip inside of you, his voice raises several octaves and his eyebrows furrow from the sensations flooding his body. The kiss is broken by Carlos involuntarily, to where his open mouth moans against yours shamelessly. His mind is plagued by every inch of euphoria he didn't think was humanly possible to conjure, to a point where any rational thought had been robbed.

The further your silken walls adjust to his girth, the more you guide him inside. Every whine, every moan, every breathless tangent about you're perfection in all of its glory — it has you hazy with salacious desire. His hands continue to fondle you passionately and his lips still plant love all over your face and neck. You never thought someone could treat you with such doting care, especially after Jill's rough tactics from the day prior.

When he is entirely buried within you, it ejects an abrupt sound out of both of you. A gasp escapes your throat from how full you are at this moment. Two lanky fingers had nothing on the sheer girth of this cock sitting inside of you. Carlos practically yelps at the feeling of being swathed in your heavenly heat. The revelation of what is happening finally settles and he can hardly contain the sheer exhilaration that seeps from his body.

The tears that had been bridging in his eyes release and cascade down his cheeks, another physical representation of how devastatingly devoted he is to you. The number of curses and pornographic moans he releases into your ear seem almost exaggerated, but if Carlos is anything, he is surely not a liar. To lie to you, of all people, would be pure sin.

“I can’t lose you to her...” He babbles mindlessly yet honestly, “I’m so fucking obsessed with you, I-... I really can’t lose you, baby-bee... You’re taking me too fucking good. God, please!”

"Aww, you poor thing..." You mockingly coo to him. "Are you 'gonna cum already? You said you'd take care of me, but here you are saying all this dumb gibberish just from having your dick inside of me."

Unbeknownst to you, the 'dumb gibberish' you assumed to be the product of a sex-drunk mind was the unadulterated truth.

You thought of his state as pitiful, but if you had known how every plead of his was genuine, you surely would not poke the bear. Meanwhile, every gentle thrust has Carlos whimpering and crying as the sheer love he has for you devastates his entire being. You could degrade him, insult him, beat him to within an inch of his life and he would still come back to you again and again. All as if he was born for the sole reason of making love to you. As if God crafted his mind, his body, and his soul for the sole purpose of bringing you pleasure.

And as endearing as the slow, sensual motions were, you have now fully adjusted to his size and you were craving more of what his body is capable of giving you.

"You said you'd do anything for me, yeah?" His reserved attention escapes from your body the second your voice pervades, to where he nods avidly without hesitation.

"Then fuck me like you mean it."

A hand against his tailbone, you usher him to accelerate his speed. And to call his rhythm messy would be generous.

Riddled with gut-wrenching pleasure, Carlos can hardly keep the pace he had used for the one-night stands he had years ago. Every random bar hopper or coworker he had in his sheets was nothing short of utterly boring. Still, he enjoyed the inflation they gave to his ego when they moaned in annoying tones about how he was the "best fuck of their life." With you beneath him, all finesse and skill had been fogged by the sheer eroticism he possesses for you.

Since you had waltzed into his life, those random hookups dulled so obnoxiously in comparison to you, not a single soul could get his blood pumping the way you do. Not that he ever attempted, however. Any attempt at buying him a drink or fluttering their lashes would be met with an unforeseen roar of fury. To interrupt the time he spent with you in his head was a death wish, after all.

In present time, more importantly, Carlos begins to plunge into you with religious fervor. Those muscles you could never grow tired of admiring become taut as they strive to send his dick as deep as it can go. His strong, dominant physique does not match the noises tumbling from his mouth, however. Labored praises and desperate wails pant against your face before he delves into another frenzied kiss of millions.

With what little knowledge that managed to survive the muddled storm reigning havoc within his brain, Carlos uses his free hand to stimulate your sex. You throw your head back against the cushioned pillows from the new, sudden flare of pleasure. Instead of the boost it gave to his self-esteem, the way it did with others, it feels as though someone had clenched his heart with their fist. To know he is making you feel good has no difference with absolute heaven.

The sensation of his cock twitching within the expanse of your walls has you giggling from how ephemeral he lasts.

"Are you gonna fill me to the fucking brim? Have me walk around the house with your hot cum leaking down my thighs? Let Jill see how fucking good you make me feel?"

“Fucking-" The way Carlos growls is almost monstrous. A grunt follows at the prospect of claiming you from Jill.

"Yeah? You like that idea?"

“God-fucking-damn, you know how much I fucking love that idea." The voice that had grown high-pitched had suffered from a sudden descent, his tone was now entirely guttural. Despite this, his hands always remain tender and those whimpers still sit on his tongue.

Carlos pulls his body upwards, grasping hold of your legs and setting them on his shoulders. Now in a mating press, your nipples and sweaty skin are practically snuggled into the hairy expanse of his chest. He cages his forearms around your head, hastening his sporadic assault inside of you.

The sudden force has your eyes crossing and your head dizzy with jubilation; the lavish bed frame squeals with every thrust sent into your body. That smug facade you had crafted for this event begins to melt into the sheets. From the bliss claiming your body and how overwhelmingly loved you feel, that familiar heat inside your gut intensifies. Feeling the absolute paradise of your walls begin to flutter around him, Carlos is completely lost in empyrean ecstasy at the sight of you so overwhelmed with happiness. Still, you deserve more. You deserve happiness that even he cannot give you, but he is more than willing to hunt down every sliver.

I can't let you go, Carlos thinks to himself, If anything tried to take you from me, I'm scared of who I'd become...

"Please, honey... Please cum for me. Need to- Need you to feel good. Need you to cum around me. I don't care about me, I only care about you. Please, I-I'm begging you... Please..." It seems as though the heavy set of balls slapping against your ass weren't begging to release inside of you. Everything and anything is for you, after all.

In spite of your egoistic nature being squished with every thrust, a fraction of it remained.

"I'll cum if..." You teasingly bring your finger to your chin as if you were deep in thought, while Carlos anticipates your response. "I'll cum if you can tell me the first tooth I lost and how old I was..."

I've got him there, you muse to yourself. You entertain what kind of mindless delirium he'll plead out for you when it's impossible for him to guess the answer.

"Second premolar. Five years old."

The five words are said within a single breath.

And you don't have much of a chance to delve into how the fuck he knew that, not when his cock is sending you to cloud nine.

You retort with another demand, pretending you had never tried to make such a senseless joke in the first place.

"I... I'll only cum if you cum, too. 'Wanna feel your load inside me, 'wanna have proof of how good you treat me."

Carlos practically explodes into you from the words you whimpered out.

There is no build-up; your mere words control his body like a puppeteer and have him spilling out into your guts. A pleasured bleat, one that would emulate even the most expensive worker at a high-end brothel, escapes from him. Like some sort of slut he doesn't recognize, he wails out incoherent, babbling words of devotion.

Thick, sticky, warm seed paints your walls and oozes onto the fancy sheets below. Still, the sheer power of his thrusts does not waver in the slightest. Even with the fatigue settling into his body, Carlos' cock hardens instantaneously in response to your heat swathing around him.

“Finding me in RC that night was the worst mistake of your life.” Even in the face of the absolute mess you have turned him into, Carlos' voice still contains that deep, husky tone that sends chills down your body. “You’ll never be rid of me now. Wherever you go, I will follow. You will never escape my love; you will never escape my worship..."

You're practically crying at this point. From the satiating pleasure overwhelming your body, but also the terror-inducing undertones that stain all of Carlos' words.

You will never escape this pleasure, you now realize.

And he is fully convinced you are God, how you tighten and moan for him. You had leaped down from the clouds, left behind an army of angels and devoted followers, and fallen right into his arms. All for him to dedicate his life to glorifying.

Toes curling and fingers clenching the sheets, the orgasm that soon hits you is adorned with love but is unbelievably severe in the same breath. A shriek of pure delectation sprouts from your throat and envelops the air. Meanwhile, the sight of you in the peaks of exhilaration pushes Carlos over that edge, once again.

“Fuuuuck. Give it to me, honey. Give it to me. F-Fuck…!”

Carlos' stomach sucks in, suffocating him entirely and confining around his gut like a tight knot. Another deafening curse follows when that string is cut and another load of seed is spilled into your body.

With his mind now past any barrier of chivalry, he has fully granted himself permission to subsume every inch of you. The sheer sight of all your skin is so impeccably paradisiacal, his body can't refrain from reacting.

In the height of his pleasure, he ponders over how if you were a religion, he’d live in the attic of your church and bathe in holy water every day. His knees would become numb from the hours spent praying at your altar; his eyes would become dry from the hours spent reading through the bible and analyzing every detail. Any syllable out of your mouth would be met with immediate agreement and any treacherous remarks others make adhering to you would be met with the barrel of his gun. Carlos is your most devoted follower, your most loyal servant. Always and forever, he is for you to use to your liking.

Languid and muzzy compliments kissed upon your skin tell you of how you have left Carlos entirely brain-dead. For a moment, you think you may have fucked all obsession out of him when his peak simmers down (although this prospect is impossible). With the sweat, lube, cum, and god-knows-what else is on your body, all you crave at this moment is a bubble bath. Then, you'll abide by the rules set out for you and indulge in an afternoon nap.

With that, you take advantage of his nearly-unconscious state and muster enough strength within you to shove his limp body off. A bereft whimper escapes his throat in response but is quickly overpowered by the sheer euphoria flooding his body. Soon, Carlos returns to mumbling nonsense about the perfection you possess and other incoherent babbles of captivation.

Standing, albeit wobbling slightly due to your woozy brain, you tread to the ensuite bathroom where this mess had first begun. You ignore the mess of dirty clothes scattered around in favor of cleaning your lethargic body.

A swift churn to the valve and lukewarm water begins to spread throughout the sumptuous bathtub. Several spurts of your favorite soap into the running faucet, the pleasant scent soon spreads throughout the room. Five months and the simple act of enjoying a bath in solitude was almost unfamiliar to you. Since then, you had forgotten just how meditative it was to let your body melt into the relaxing, warm water without any wandering hands. Massaging your muscles and scrubbing every mess from your smooth skin, it felt amazing and empowering to have control of yourself for once.

For the hour spent soaking in sheer tranquility, you then unclog the drain and watch as the water drains. Drying your body with an expensive towel you can't fathom the price of, you cast your gaze through the large window.

Outside, the only thing accompanying this house was trees. More heaps of rain scatter the area enveloped in late-night hues, accompanying the heavy fog that sat upon the forest floors. If it was merely that easy, you'd launch your body through that glass right now and dash for your freedom. But, you know your efforts would never be brought to fruition. Instead, you apply a set of perfumed lotion to your skin and dress yourself in a fresh set of clean pajamas. Again, something you had rarely been given the advantage to do yourself.

When you leave the ensuite, however, you are thrown into a loop when you witness what now lies within the bedroom.

Candles and incense scatter the dark room, illuminating the array of rose petals adorning the floors. The bed was now completely clean with a fresh set of sheets, pillows, and comforters. A tray table is set upon the blankets. Sat on top of it, you find a mug of your favorite tea and a glass of water with cucumber and lemon slices for him (it has always been his favorite, after all). Two plates of spaghetti with one fork accompany them, as well. In addition to this, a charcuterie board enriched with all sorts of delicious snacks was rested by the delicious meal.

The most unforgettable part about this sudden scene, however, was Carlos. In the hour you had spent alone, not only had managed to cook a variety of dishes for you, but he had also managed to shower in Jill's ensuite, style his hair, patch up his stubble, and dress himself in a tailored suit.

All you can do is stand on the threshold and question how in the fuck was he able to do all of this within a single hour? You are so flabbergasted in fact, you ponder if the bathtub behind you was actually a portal to an alternate reality. Additionally, you can't refrain from laughing to yourself over how he is surely the only man on Earth to set all of this up after sex.

With pure ease, once again, Carlos trudges over to you and scoops you up into his arms. Even with wet hair, pajamas, and tired eyes, it shocks you how this man still looks at you like you're a model fresh off the runway. Or more accurately, an angel that had descended from the clouds and into this bedroom.

"You know you didn't have to do all of this for me, right?" For the umpteenth time that day, Carlos sets you upon the fresh set of bedsheets, tucking the high-quality comforter around your legs.

"There is no line that I wouldn't cross for you..." A smile quirks on his lips. The horror-stricken connotations reside beneath the dreamy sheen of his gaze.

From here on out, Carlos sits on the edge of the bed and oscillates between feeding you and himself spaghetti. And the way he crafts the dish is easily the most delectable piece you have ever tasted, which is never a surprise when it comes to his culinary skills.

During the process, it seems as though everything has returned to normal and the events that had taken place on this exact bed had never happened. It isn't ignored out of embarrassment or regret, though. Instead, it is from absolute disbelief that such an amazing thing had happened to someone like him. He can hardly contain the gratitude and heart-stopping rapture coursing through his body, hence the dramatic measures he took to express these feelings.

With an onslaught of cheesy jokes and praises that would put Romeo and Juliet's love to shame, that smile you give Carlos makes everything he has ever done absolutely worth it. There is no greater happiness he can feel than when he is witnessing your own.

When you attempt to pluck a grape from the grape cluster rested upon the board, though, Carlos is brought out of his haze and he halts your actions. He grasps the cluster for himself, tilting your head back with a gentle tap to your chin, and proceeds to feed you grapes as if you were some divine being. And in his eyes, you are all that and more. It is evident in just how blissful he feels from feeding you, the act of worship far better than any drug.

When the cluster of ripe fruit was reduced to nothing but lone twigs, the disappointment within Carlos' expression was almost palpable. The sorrow is short-lived, however, when he resorts to feeding you more heaps of spaghetti.

If you were honest, you have lost count of how many times you have eaten this exact dish for dinner. At first, you were confused as to why you were all eating spaghetti almost every night. That is until you realized Carlos was attempting to reenact the adorable scene from Lady and the Tramp. It would have been romantic if it weren't for the third party practically glaring daggers into his soul every time he strived for this outcome. Without Jill here, you swallow your pride and indulge him in what he has been craving for months.

You bite down on the edge of the spaghetti string and hold the other end with the fork, ushering him into the act of affection. And God, Carlos lights up like a kid on Christmas morning when he finally computes your intentions.

Eagerly taking the string into his mouth, he does not savor the moment in the slightest. Before you can garner even an inch of the delicious capellini, Carlos is practically slurping the strand down his throat as he hastens closer to you. There's a wild glimmer that twinkles in his eye as he continues to accelerate.

A deep, shaky exhale is released from him when your lips finally meet. He tastes of his normal tang of mint and lemon but with the added flavor of his homemade marinara recipe. Using your teeth to cut the spaghetti string in two, your attempts at establishing how the romantic scene was over were never acknowledged. Large hands cling to your face and indulge in any last sliver of you he can hoard.

"I love you, honey-bee, I love you so much. You've saved my life over and over and over again and I will do everything in my power to show you how grateful I am..." Carlos' words are sweet and ridden with unhealthy amounts of ceaseless worship. Meanwhile, you chase your breath when he finally releases your mouth from his relentless, loving torture.

Soon, every crumb from all plates has vanished within your stomach, despite your assurances you have been fully satiated.

A tinge of guilt eats away at you when you realize just how much this man has done for you. The trance he is lost in whenever he tends to you has seemingly gone unbeknownst to you, even after all these months. You offer to take care of the dishes, but the way he tenses in response makes you recoil. It had been two months since it happened, but Carlos remembers it like it was a mere second ago.

When you had tended to the mess left after breakfast, your butterfingers had dropped a glass, causing it to shatter against the tiled floors. Fortunately, you had managed to lift yourself onto the counter in a swift attempt at protecting yourself. Despite these efforts, one minor, practically microscopic, cat scratch had been left on your shin. And Carlos lost his mind.

Since then, you have been banned from partaking in any house chores. This rule had stood before this incident, but with the new underlying fear, he was far more strict with this order. After all, you could clear your throat and he'd convince himself you were having an asthma attack.

Now, however, he reminds you of how you are still on bed rest from the night prior, before leaving a prolonged kiss on your forehead and leaving with the dishes.

The door closes and you immediately escape the restricting sheets surrounding you. Venturing onto the balcony, you rest against the ledge and admire how the stars scatter among the night sky. The bright moon complements them and dazzles you. All those nights in the sanctuary spent looking at the same sky, you wonder what your friends were occupied with right now.

Are you still considered missing or have you been presumed dead by now? Did they all know you'd be taken away or are they still trying to search for you after you mysteriously vanished?

Carlos returns in record time and you are swift in wiping away the evidence of tears brimming in your eyes. He informs you of how you should be in bed and attempts to sound strict, but the permanent, loving tint in his expression jeopardizes his efforts. With a face like yours, how could he ever be mad?

When you ask to stay, he hesitates. But, when you give him those puppy-dog eyes that never fail to make him weak, he caves in. With an assurance of how you could stargaze on the porch swing together, as well as an additional remark of how he is more comfortable than the bed, his cheeks grow warm and all rules he had set are thrown out the window.

Sitting in the exact seat you had suggested, Carlos pulls you into his lap. Another stupid joke of millions is made by him before he blows a raspberry into the side of your face. The burst of laughter and heart-wrenching giggles he earns makes him feel weightless. A trail of kisses are left down your right arm, an act of affection he had always initiated in regards to the injury you faced six years ago. And by giving him a compliment about his suit and a nickname of "teddy bear" (his favorite), you have now melted this man into a puddle of sugary words and dazed devotion.

With the swinging of the chair, the tender caresses to your body, and the soft breeze from the late-night air, you soon drift off in his arms. In 24 hours, Carlos has concluded that he may forgive Jill for what she did to you if this is the product of all her wrongdoings.

Once more, with every day the rain falls, you have come to learn several new things.

Oh, how Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira love Y/N L/N.

It is evident throughout every day, where fragments of their adoration are sprinkled into every moment you spend together.

Life with these two is mellow, but intense in the same breath. You're treated like royalty, never allowed to lift a single finger. However, never once in your life have you been indulged in such intense displays of devotion. You'll be worshiped like a deity, soon to be smothered beneath their suffocating embrace without any room for dispute. You are never alone; if you're not with one, you are certainly with the other. Whether this is rooted in their overprotective nature or the simple desire to be with you at all times (or possibly even both) will forever remain a mystery to you.

Jill is overwhelmingly possessive and never refrains from proving how easily she can claim you. Displaying her strength throughout the day, expressing the barriers she's overcome to save you, and bragging about the fights she's won. You would be fearful of her violent tangents if it weren't for the swirling adoration in her hazy, blue eyes.

There is no need to take that cutthroat, bad-cop exterior to heart, either. Not when the box hidden beneath the floorboards tells an entirely different story. Just don’t be surprised if your nail clippings and underwear suddenly vanish out of thin air.

Carlos has a warm heart reserved for you, but the organ is astonishingly jealous, as well. Constantly cooking myriads of dishes for you, cleaning every speck of dust to ever exist, being your teddy bear. You would be overwhelmed by his aggressive affections if it weren't for those tender hands soothing his baby of any restless sorrow.

There is no need to take that tenacious, puffy-eyed exterior to heart, either. Not when the journals hidden beneath the floorboards tell an entirely different story. Just don’t be surprised if you find pages covered with your name and proclamations of devotion, all written red with his fresh blood.

Life had been adorned in these matters for a while. Another month has tread by and all wounds, both physical and mental, have fortunately healed. As well as the poor kitchen island, which has now been revived with a sleek marble finish. You'll just choose to ignore how Carlos and Jill had locked you in the bedroom when the repairman spent several hours patching up the counter, ensuring he didn't wander off. If he found you, he'd surely want you for himself, the two are sure of it.

Instead, you swerve your attention toward how all conflicts have been reduced to minimal bickers. Though the jealous glares and backhanded comments will always remain, your days together have shifted toward much brighter circumstances.

With the presence of Spring lurking, the golden sun has escaped through the clouds and now engulfs the world in its warm hues. Your relentless suggestions of enjoying the pleasant weather had originally been brought to zero fruition. Especially with what occurred the last time you had left. Danger resides around every corner, they claimed. Outside these suffocating walls, you would be exposed to this. Even from something as little as nearly tripping over a protruding tree root, the thought made them both aghast.

However, when you look at them like that, they can feel their stern exterior crack beneath the harsh blows your adorable self delivers. And the look of surprised joy in your expression when they introduced the idea of enjoying a picnic by the private riverside erased any restriction either of them had.

The wicker basket sitting on a picnic blanket is full of numerous delicious treats, all crafted by Carlos' hands. With your fresh pair of expensive boots on (after Jill insisted on sitting you down and quadruple-knotting your shoelaces), the three of you are leaving the house at each other's sides. More so, Carlos is shoulder-to-shoulder with you and flinching at any feeble sound while Jill remains level-headed, soaking in your enthusiastic state of mind.

The wooden, decaying trail was adorned with unkempt debris, a considerable contrast to the pristine appearance of the house. With a hand around your waist, Jill guards you against the protruding nails and chunks of sharp wood threatening to bring you harm. The sight of several goosebumps littering your arm and Carlos strips his coat off and fastens it around your form. All as if you weren't wearing clothing thick enough to be considered armor. You're surprised he hadn't suffocated you with bubble wrap before you left.

Despite their suffocating and infantilizing treatment, you do not let them spoil this experience. For months, you have only ever seen this wondrous rainforest through a window. Now, being within the genuine physicality of it was nothing short of breathtaking.

Gentle rain patters against the healthy leaves; birds squawk and chitter throughout the trees. The thunderous sound of a heavy waterfall echoes throughout the expanse and has you mesmerized. And you cannot forget the fresh air invading your lungs and just how much you had longed for it.

The scent of rainwater and late-morning fog complement the state of serenity you're in, as well. You almost step directly into the adjacent river from how captivated you were by the beautiful sight. From behind you, Jill's voice pervades the peaceful atmosphere.

"Careful, baby. 'Don't want you gettin' wet. Rather it be in another wa- agh!" A rough grunt is pulled from Jill before she can complete her sentence. Abruptly, she is shoved to the forest floor.

Her well-being is entirely ignored by Carlos, who chooses to ensnare you in his protective hold instead. Letting your vision absorb what had occurred over your shoulder, you see a man dressed in a white-lab coat towering over her. When you see that familiar Umbrella symbol on his shoulder, you are ashamed to feel a sense of safety in their presence. They had provided you with the only place you were ever able to confidently call "home", after all.

When you attempt to wrangle from Carlos' suffocating hold, your efforts halt when he whips out a handgun and points the weapon at the assailant. Did he really bring that to our picnic?

A harsh kick to his crotch and the man above Jill keeled over, granting her the opportunity to spring to her feet and race to your aid. She then grabs hold of the handgun she brought, as well. Why on Earth did they both bring weapons!?

Never one to hesitate, she flicks the safety off, juts her finger against the trigger, and a permeating bang! thunders against your eardrums. Before you can witness the aftermath induced by her bullet, Carlos' hand shields your eyes from the sight. A heavy set of numerous footsteps follow the silence left after the gunshot and strengthen the dreadful fear in your gut.

When they begin to hasten towards you alone, a flurry of gunshots echo.

Amid the chaos, an unseen force from behind yanks you out of the strong arms locked around your form. You splat harshly against the ground and the contact robs a groan of pain from your chest. Attempting to identify what was responsible for the sudden altercation, you find another stranger at your side who was dressed in the same white garb. The terror envelops you in its bitter embrace as you anticipate his next move.

Before he can even think of touching you, however, he is violently tackled to the ground by Carlos. Glancing past him, vomit threatens to escape from your stomach when you find several other men lying lifeless. Pools of blood mend with the soil and paint your shoes; the scent of iron and gunpowder make your nose twitch from the unwelcome pervasion.

"Put a fuckin' finger on them and I'll leave all of yours at your mother's doorstep!" It doesn't surprise you that Jill was responsible for this flare of savagery. Gun in one hand, pocket knife in the other, the blood of your assailants adorns her entire body as she continues to combat anyone standing in her way.

"How dare you put your fucking hands on them!? I'll spend eternity making sure you're rotting in Hell for what you’ve done!" Carlos did not differ from her state, either. Your attacker had already been presumed dead, but the man above him continues to surge his fists into the gorey expanse of his deformed face.

And much like the brawl between Jill and Carlos, you were left in a state of shock and unable to make any coherent actions.

All you do is sit at the stump of this tree and watch as the hysterical display folds out before you. The carnage satiating your senses is enough evidence that these two will conquer this battle. But as they claim more bodies, more heaps of men adorned with the same Umbrella patch follow.

Jill and Carlos quickly become overpowered by the sheer amount of violent people closing in on them. Through every punch, every slice, every gunshot, all advantages used to defend themselves are stolen from them. Several men now hold them compliant to the muddied ground as the two roar out curses and threats.

Another man soon joins the scene, verbally tutting at the impact left behind, before turning to you. And when you fully take in his features, your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach.

Doctor Gorkis, or 'Matt', as he insisted you to call him stands by your feet.

He had aided you during the precarious descent into your new life within the sanctuary and remained your friend throughout the years. And if you were honest with yourself, you have always harbored a sort of childlike crush on him. The knight in shining armor; the prince who saves you from the evil dragon. The feelings you had for him were something along those lines. If Jill and Carlos knew this, they'd surely rip his head off, but that presumption was irrelevant right now.

Matt bends down to your level, the violent shouts of "don't you fucking touch them!" from behind him nothing but a mere passing car, a drifting thought.

"Hello, Y/N..." When you hear his voice, you finally comprehend how much you have yearned for your old life, for him. It is soft and euphonious, but still possesses a friendly shimmer that could melt even the coldest of hearts, you're sure of it.

Shifting your attention away from your old friend, you look to Jill and Carlos. They both struggle and shout beneath the weight of their attackers, more desperate than you have ever seen them before.

Poor Carlos is just sobbing. All his speech is sullied and incoherent, far too overwhelmed by the weight of his emotions. Shockingly, you see Jill weeping, as well. This is the first occurrence in which you have seen such acute emotion within her, within both of them.

A single night in heaven granted them six endless years of torture. Then, they were gifted six months of sheer bliss. To know that in the blink of an eye, this stranger could unsheathe a weapon and take your life right then and there, while all they can do is watch in horror — it destroys them.

Your gaze is soon forced back onto Matt. Albeit forcefully when he tilts his head into your train of vision, intense eyes peering into yours.

"A lot has changed since you were taken from us. Our organization has changed for the better and we have taken extra precautions to ensure our patients' safety. Your safety. You will be safe now. That is... If you'll come with me...?" His words confuse you.

"Butterfly, don't you dare listen to him! He's full of shit!" One on hand, you're convinced Jill and Carlos had saved you from a corrupt company.

"Sweet Bumblebee, you are the only reason I am alive! Don't listen to him...! Please, don't listen to him..." On the other hand, the familiarity of Matt's presence lulls you into complying.

"Those two don't care for you, not like me and all of your friends back home. If you come with me, you can see them again..." You don't know who to believe.

The fear paralyzing your body, despite how meager it was compared to everything else, is all the proof you need to decide what path you should venture on.

You cannot trust anyone, so you choose to trust yourself.

You were never meant to be in the restricting paradise of Umbrella's sanctuary; you were never meant to be locked away with your two corrupt lovers. Maybe you were always meant to be alone.

Using the tree for stability, you stand on your feet. Matt follows your movements, seemingly guarding you from the two feral dogs pinned to the forest floor.

With the ball in your court, all three of them hastily anticipate your answer.

A step away and your answer is clear.

You choose no one.

And you choose to ignore how Jill and Carlos practically screech for you as you walk away from them. But, you couldn't choose to ignore Matt when he follows you in your path and closes the short distance between you two. He pulls out an anesthesia mask with his gloved hand and presses it to your face, ensnaring you in his arms.

As you are soothed into unconsciousness, he reassures you that everything will be alright. And if you choose to ignore the desperate shouts of your name fading out, you could almost believe him.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ LOST IN THE LABYRINTH

OF MY MIND . . . ❞

bc i can't control myself, here are more visions of jill and carlos' house. here, here, here, here, here, and here.

gif credits :: jill & carlos.

2K notes · View notes

withloveajaxx · 1 year

Text

so baby let's keep this secret

𓂅 genre: modern! childe, scara, al haitham, xiao x gn! reader

𓂅 warnings: hints of making out in scara's part + childe's part is a hint of suggestive teasing

𓂅 summary: secret relationship with the genshin boys

𓂅 note: this is my first time writing for scara and haitham so,,, apologies if i mischaracterize them or they seem out of character :"D comments on their characterization are greatly appreciated ^^ but yea, that's it hehe, hope u enjoy this fic n have a wonderful day!!

CHILDE

tbf a secret relationship with childe isn't a secret to anyone at all because mans is whipped for you, but we gotta give him some credit for holding himself back from kissing you 24/7.

a "secret" relationship with this man is basically minimalized pda with a huge amount of teasing.

he absolutely loves to be the sole reason why your cheeks get red and you get all flustered in public.

when people ask you what's wrong and you can barely get out a blatant lie, childe already has a smug, yet somehow charming smirk on his face.

he's not good at hiding how whipped he is, but he does surprisingly well hiding his touches from the general eye of the public.

like whenever he's in a restaurant with you, he always makes it a point to sit beside you. he is never sitting anywhere else.

secondly, his hand is always on your thigh or fiddling with your fingers beneath the table. he simply cannot resist touching you in any way.

and finally, if he's being a little bitch… he'll slyly sneak an arm around your waist, squeezing it gently. i can bet my life he's lifting your shirt up slightly to rub your exposed skin to get you all bothered.

he's absolutely ravishing you when you get home though. spoiling you with kisses, cuddles, and anything you ask from him <3

ngl, with how touchy feely he is, i don't think people are gonna take that long to figure out what's going on between you two. the "secret" relationship is unfortunately a 5/10 in terms of success.

SCARAMOUCHE

you cannot tell me this man wouldn't take your relationship to his grave. 10/10 in this secret relationship 💀

unlike childe, he can keep his eyes and his hands off of you in public. he has a lot of self control and no amount of your teasing is going to get him to expose you guys (unless you pull out the tears or some begging then maybe). but like childe… he is absolutely obsessed with you when yall have a little private time.

this is where it gets spicy but i can just imagine scaramouche just reaching his limit from holding himself back from you after a long day, and he's just ready to break when you two are behind closed doors.

after all, he is a man of little patience isn't he? when you two get to his place after a long day, he doesn't even wait for a split second until his lips are slotting themselves against yours for a heated kiss.

he has you pinned against the wall beside the door, one elbow beside your head while the other slides down to rest on your hips.

when he parts the fairly passionate kiss his lips are still hovering dangerously close to yours. he doesn't even take that long to catch his breath, diving in for another kiss until he hears abrupt knocks at his door, and a voice he knows distinctly belonging to childe.

cursing under his breath, he holds a hand over your mouth, making sure you're hidden from the direct line of sight of the door before opening it to reveal the ginger headed man.

"make it quick, dimwit. i was in the middle of doing something," scara hisses venemously, eyes narrowing at childe. poor childe chuckles in nervouseness, scratching the back of his neck. "is that so? sorry, didn't know, maybe i'll come back later."

"yeah, whatever. just scram." and with that, the door is slammed closed and sacra's undivided attention is back on you again.

"c'mon," is all he says, taking your hand in his before leading you to a more secluded space in his apartment where no one and nothing can interrupt him from having his time with you.

ALHAITHAM

i think he'd be pretty good at keeping things lowkey. he acts the same towards everyone with some exceptions to you, so i'd say 10/10.

definitely not touchy in public (nor in private to be honest), but he's definitely into the little moments.

little moments like making eye contact from across the room and sending you the slightest hints of a smile.

or even grazing your pinkies together when your walking side-by-side in thr middle of the campus hallways.

there are bits of physical affection here and there, but the main thing that gives this man away is the quality time and acts of services that he does towards you.

hatiham doesn't spend nearly as much time with others as he does with you. you're always with him whether it be in the library studying, in a coffee shop while he reads a book, or in museums looking around and scuptures and paintings.

it's especially in crowded places like museums and coffee shops where he does small actions of adoration and affection.

like when you guys go on study or book dates, you'll feel his eyes on you when you're trying to write something down or read something.

when you look at him to ask you what's wrong, he's simply staring at you with a soft expression that screams nothing but admiration and love. it's quite endearing really, to see his ears turn the lightest shade of pink afterwards.

"do you need something, haitham?" you ask, the smile he loves so much gracing your features. he gently shakes his head, reaching his hand out on the table to take yours, "no. nothing. i was just admiring you, is all."

XIAO

there's a constant redness of his usually pale cheeks is a dead giveaway to your relationship, and he's pretty protective too so i'd say a 6/10.

whenever you catch xiao staring at you, his cheeks and the tips of his ears immediately burn red, and he whips his head around so fast.

people always notice and his friends always tease him for it, but he can't help such a reaction when what he thinks is the most stunning person is looking right at him.

or whenever he looks around the room to search for you only to find that you're already looking at him… his cheeks are literally on fire.

the adorable glow on his cheeks isn't the only sign he gives though. mind you, this man is very protective over you.

he wants to make sure that absolutely no harm comes in your way, and he'll do anything to make sure of that. he doesn't care if your relationship would be exposed that way, all he cares about is your overall safety and wellbeing.

he's the type of man who pulls you closer to him while you're crossing the street or walking by the road, having his hand on you in some way in case anything happens.

the type of guy who brings random stuff like bandaids, hair ties, and sweets for you just in case you need anything.

he's also constantly asking how you are through text, just in case you need him to do something or in case you need him by your side for whatever reason.

my favourite part about secret relationships with xiao is the kind of dates you'd have. he's definitely the type of man to do homey, indoor dates. he'd build lego bouquets for and with you, he's sit for hours bingeing movies or series you like, relax and read a book with you, or even just nap and cuddle. even though your dates are mostly at home to keep away from the prying eyes of others, he's sure to make it something you'll always love and never regret.

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giuliettagaltieri · 4 months

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Swarm of Bees

Pairing: Fiancé!Gojō x Fiancée!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Gojō Satoru gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warning: angst, arranged marriage, age gap, hints of dacryphilia, Gojō is a bully at heart.

Word Count: 1596

3 of 9

There are many things that Gojō Satoru hates.

One, the higher ups of the jujutsu society.

Two, when people say “No offense, but…” And proceed to insult him.

Three, people who get in his way.

And four, when he is not getting the attention he deserves.

In the past few years, Gojō has been working as a teacher in the Jujutsu High. He still leaves for missions, it was only expected as he is the strongest sorcerer. But he stays in the school quite often compared to when he was a field sorcerer.

And quite frankly, he expected more visits from a certain someone.

But he never got them anymore.

Shoko would often put out her cigarette to drop her face on her palms whenever Gojō talks about this. And he cannot understand why she does that.

From time to time, he receives gifts from you. But no more letters. Nothing that adds a personal touch from you. Just food. As if you’re sending them so he won’t forget you existed.

But if he were to be asked, forgetting you was impossible as your time to be wedded comes closer and closer.

And now, you are celebrating your 20th naming day.

You turned into a beautiful young lady. Truly worthy of him.

But much to his aggravation, it seems like many took notice of your change too.

Men from different clans were hovering over you.

Greeting you, complimenting you about the simplest of things. It made something inside him itch and it bothered him to no end.

They only liked you now because you turned out to be a well-polished woman. They did not see you with snot on your nose as you wailed after scraping your knee, which he absolutely had no involvement whatsoever or when your face bubbled like a squirrel when you did not get your way.

“You’re pouting.” Shoko comments as she sips on her glass of champagne.

The celebration was at its peak. The musical ensemble was playing a lively tune and gossips and giggles were filling the floral air of your estate house.

And you, the center of the event.

Almost every pair of eyes were on you.

Gone was the shy little lady of your house. You are now a woman who is ready to take her first steps into society. You were like a fresh fruit, ripe for the taking. Had it not been for Gojō’s presence, many insolent men would have asked, no, begged for your hand right then.

Your hair glittered with every turn of your head. Your painted lips curving up to a perfect smile whenever a gentleman compliments you. Yet the innocent smile is always paired with the haughty spark in your eyes as you decline their offer to dance.

It was the fourth time that you declined an offer in the same hour.

And Gojō Satoru cannot stand to watch such blatant disrespect any longer.

Both Shoko and Nanami follow him with their watching eyes as he makes his way to you. Their feet are ready to move as soon as the man makes a fool of himself or starts a fit in the middle of your perfect evening. Or both.

They were at the edge of their seats when Gojō clears his throat to catch your attention. The two of them watch very closely for any sudden movement from any of you.

But like fluid from the most graceful of waterfalls, you rise from your seat, standing on the tip of your toes to lean on Gojō’s chest.

All breaths halted at your action, including the man you were smiling up to. His crystalline blue eyes watching you, almost calculating your every move. But you smile slyly at him as your fingers trace his jaw and your lips find his cheek.

“I am delighted to see you. But I am terribly sorry Gojō-sama, I would have to decline.” Your thumb caresses his cold cheek. “My dance card is full for the evening.”

Like a nymph, you slide away from him to accept the hand of a young man who was waiting for you. And Gojō can only watch as you are being guided to the center of the floor.

And you danced so beautifully.

The itch turned into a burn. And Gojō had to sit the entire evening with such sensation nesting in his chest, almost clawing out into a form of aggression.

Whenever your dance partner spins you or their gloved hands wander closely to your bottom, Gojō has to quell the urge to pummel them to the ground. He did not quite understand the urge to do so. But after having the feeling for the rest of the night, he has come to terms with it. Given up on trying to understand the impulse and just settled with the idea that every man who speaks with you is disrespecting him.

And you.

Oh, he is so cross with you.

How dare you fill in your dance card without reserving even a single dance for him. Have you forgotten that you are betrothed to him? Or do you just fancy the little game you are playing? Acting as if he is not around.

The clock hand tells that the night was no longer young. But you were still being twirled around in the middle of the dance hall. It was your final dance for the evening. And by the slight delay in your steps, he is well aware that you are exhausted from dancing for hours.

By the time the last note travels through the air, Gojō was already on his feet and marching towards you.

You took no notice of course as you were smiling brightly at your dance partner as he bowed to place a kiss on your gloved hand.

But before his lips could touch you, Gojō Satoru unceremoniously grabs you by your midriff and carries you like a mannequin being set up for display.

Your startled squeal catches the attention of every person in the room and they watch as you wrap your arms around your fiancé’s neck in panic.

As the man carries you and disappears behind the doors to your garden, the chatter resumes but now, soft smiles are gracing the lips of every attendee.

They have been granted the front row seats to watch your game of push and pull with the strongest sorcerer. Some of them have been watching ever since before you learned to walk.

It brought them great joy to see the man finally taking an action to claim you as his woman.

You, on the other hand, have your heart beating wildly on your chest.

Have you pushed too far?

Has your act of refusing his offer to dance been too much of a blow to his pride?

When Gojō places you down, you also pull your arms back to your sides. You do not want to meet his eyes. No, not at all.

“Sit.”

You still instinctively look up at him though. “Huh?”

He gestures to the bench behind you. “I said, sit.”

Immediately, you pull at your dress to smoothen the fabric as you sit down. You did not appreciate how the act made you even smaller compared to his full height.

Your fingers twiddle with each other to release some of the budding nervousness in your chest.

“I-I am terribly sorry if I upset you, Gojō-sama.” You stammer.

There you are.

A smirk finds itself on Gojō's lips. You haven’t changed one bit. You were only brave when there were other people around but you are the same shy little girl that he knew the moment you were alone.

He kneels before you to look you in the eye. “Upset me? Whatever do you mean, my love?” His tone was dark and dangerous despite him smiling playfully at you.

You wanted to cry.

And his smile widens when your eyes turn glassy just as your lips wobble.

He just watched your suffering, willing yourself to hold back the tears. Just as you thought you'd break, he clicks his tongue and digs through the poof of your gown to take off your sandals.

And as he expected, blisters covered your dainty feet.

“How were you dancing so beautifully with such discomfort.” He says with his voice grim.

You can only watch him as his hands work on healing your wounds.

At times like this, you feel the safest. As if nothing in the world could harm you.

And without much thinking, your hands cup his cheek. And Gojō looks at you with still a tiny frown by his eyebrows.

“Are you upset with me?” You ask with your voice barely above a whisper.

“That depends. Are you done with your ruse?” He cocks an eyebrow and you nod shyly. “Then we’re good.”

“Will you dance with me now?”

When you smile at him so softly, how can he say no?

But to your surprise, the man grabs you by your waist, lifts you up until your now healed feet are stepping on his shoes.

You hastily tried to get off but he tightens his hold on your waist.

“Stay.”

It was a simple command but you find yourself surrendering all that you are to him.

Your hands find themselves resting atop his shoulders and with the echoes of the music spilling to the dim garden, Gojō Satoru makes you feel as if you too were honored throughout heaven and earth, simply because he had you in his arms and he was swaying you to the faintest of melodies.

Where the Blue Roses Grow

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojō x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojō satoru #gojo fluff #gojo satoru angst #where the blue roses grow #arranged marriage

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i4oba · 29 days

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nct dream as… / times of a day 𓈒✳︎🚃

[— might be a little suggestive here and there!]

✰ 6:45 am .. jaemin

helios, through the half lidded eyes of yours was there to greet both of you at the same time—you could feel its hands coming near your bare body, the rays of the sun hugging your shape perfectly, casting such beautiful silhouettes behind, you and jaemin blending all together in your hazy state. you could feel the weight of his arms on your waist, hugging you so tight, sweet nothings leaving his lips, barely above a breath, hoarse voice laced with sleep. his scent, the sweet fragrance is dizzying, the warmth of him engulfing you just as much as helios’ breath of the morning; the sky is rosy, as if it was blushing while taking its time to fully wake up, faint shades of orange and yellow dancing through it endlessly. it’s such a beautiful way to start a day, with your lover all over you, deeply ingrained in your existence.

✰ 1:20 pm .. chenle

with the fierce determination of hermes, an arm slung around your waist; you were there—sun burning the uncovered skin of your shoulders, sweat making its way down on your temples as you took a look at the beautiful postcard in your hands, quickly snatched from a souvenir shop you passed barely twenty minutes ago. with such beautiful words and phrases, cursive letters and the scent of blooming flowers, you handed it over to your lover, hands aching to intertwine. he takes it, honest smile on his face, mumbling something along the line of “i’m the luckiest guy around”, wanting nothing but strolling around the foreign city for the rest of the day, stopping just for a minute in front of a pastry shop. there are freshly baked croissants!

✰ 3:25 pm .. jisung

was it all just a coincidence or did he know about all of it, you cannot be quite sure of but you, in fact enjoyed the way he pulled you straight into the sudden dancing flashmob. the sun was shining, birds singing endlessly along with the folk music played by a kind-looking band of teenagers, flute and harp harmonising together with the occasional sound of the guitar; you did not know how to dance or what kind of dance you should think of, but your lover pulled you closer to himself and took the lead, precise moves following one another as you felt yourself become a gracious nymph all of a sudden, trapped in a human’s fragile body. “honey, you’re doing so great,” jisung beamed happily, hands travelling lower on your skin, smile so wide and heartwarming. “i love you, so much,” he mumbled into your ears, voice losing the battle against the beautiful music.

✰ 7:05 pm .. jeno

with dionysus musing in your ears, you take a sip of the rich, sweet red wine your lover poured a few seconds before. the important event you two should have gone to long forgotten, with absolutely lust filled intentions you touch jeno’s rosy lips, tugging at his messily made tie, thighs rubbing against each other as you pulled him closer to yourself. the voice of dionysus slowly fading, you could feel the inviting hands of eros, guiding every movement of yours with extra care, fully planned with a hint of sinful acts. you sighs against your boyfriend’s mouth, not caring about consequences, reputation nor anything else, as you put his hands on either side of your hips. you wanted him—you needed him at that exact moment, the taste of his lips intoxicating, almost too permanent.

✰ 8:50 pm .. renjun

with lips slightly parted, tongue darting out to wet them quickly, renjun focused on the way your bare body looked behind the canvas. he couldn’t keep his eyes off of your curves, the way your hands did such a bad job at hiding yourself, timid reflection making it all too complicated to even think about anything but you. he felt drunk, as he watched your neck, the beautiful thighs of yours, wanting nothing more than to look deeply into your eyes and touch you, touch you everywhere he can and everywhere you’d let him to do so; you were everything and even more, compared to helen of troy, magical and enchanting, alluring. “can you please finish that painting, my junnie…” you mumbled quietly, shaking your head slightly. “i need you.”

✰ 10:45 pm .. haechan

“you should never come back to this studio, man, taeyong will kick your ass,” you laughed so hard, tears were about to fall out of your eyes, replaying the freshly made song of your boyfriend. he was a self proclaimed master producer but the thing is—it was rather funny than good. of course you appreciated his effort in making a lovesong for you, to confess for the hundreth time and once more. you were his muse supposedly and even if it was unlistenable, you loved it. at least more than taeyong, who would be furious if he knew you two were there, late into the night, making out on the couch of his studio until your lips were swollen, out of breath and with only one thing in your mind: love, love and love. you would never do anything else, even if it meant taking the risk of battling twelve times like heracles.

✰ 11:35 pm .. mark

being faced with the rolling credits after god know’s how many movies being watched, you slowly rested your head on mark’s shoulder. you reached out for his hand so you could take it in yours, not caring about silly actors’ and actresses’ love affairs or the world ending in front of you. all that mattered was the two of you, the adoration you felt for him, how he needed to have you close to him. his hair falling into his eyes, you tried to brush it away from there cautiously, caressing his cheek ever so lightly. you’ve never wanted to kiss him more than you did at that moment, every rational thought vanishing from your brain at the beautiful sight of him, as if he was the long lost son of the oh so wonderful aphrodite. “do it, love. kiss me and i’m yours,” was all he said quietly.

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velvetsainz · 3 months

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summary: [ cl16 x fem!reader ] corsica continues to inspire, even when away from the heat of the sun. part of the hot monaco nights series.

word count: 2.8k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), a lil hint of plot, use of explicit language, unprotected sex (plan appropriately, folks), p in v, creampie, oral (f!receiving), google-translated french (i cannot and will not be stopped), em dashes strike back, once again time is a social construct

a/n: more horny fuckers in corsica (crowd cheers)! longest one yet!! struggled getting this written but ultimately happy with how it turned out, so hopefully y'all are, too. my biggest thanks as always to @lecrep @leclerc-hs @multiseb21 for their support & encouragement 🤍 enjoy, bbys! xx

As always, this was Charles's fault.

Well, kinda.

Okay, not at all, but, like, that’s beside the point.

What the point actually was that this was your favorite way to have him.

His hands gripped tightly into the plush of your hips, thumbs guiding the way your pelvis lazily drew patterns. His cock was hard and hot and buried deep inside you, and the Monégasque was fighting all of his instincts not to roll the two of you over so he could find a way to sate the burning heat in his own core.

“Chérie,” he whined, hazel eyes still heavy-lidded as he’d only awoken a short while before. Other parts of him had been awake for much longer, though, given the way he’d been grinding his cock against your ass before you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“Relax, baby,” you chided with a heavy sigh, one hand on his toned chest while the other toyed with your pearl. “You’re on holiday—enjoy it. We don’t have anywhere to be.”

“But this is torture, mon cœur,” the man groaned, hands trying to urge you faster. Still, you resisted and shot him a devilish look.

“This,” you rolled your hips tightly and flexed your walls around his throbbing member, “is nothing. I can make it torture if you’d prefer that, though, hm?”

He let out a frustrated sound through his nose, a groan stifled in his throat. His hands traced over the tanned expanse of your thighs before trailing to the small of your back under the faded oversized shirt of his you’d donned after he’d fucked you within an inch of your life the night before.

“At least let me kiss you, hm? Donne-moi quelque chose, s'il te plaît,” Charles nearly begged, the French tumbling from his lips as you ground yourself in slow, lazy circles. He needed more—more friction, more skin, more touch, anything. He wasn’t one to beg, usually, but he was more than willing in this instance.

“So needy,” you teased, but the way his hands tangled in your hair and his tongue slid against your own had your hips bucking in such a way that gave away your hand; you had a straight flush but his was royal. A choked sound left the back of your throat as you moved your hips quicker, one of the hands in your hair moving to grab the flesh of your ass to urge you on.

As you pulled away for a moment, Charles didn’t waste his chance and used his other hand to pull back the hem of the t-shirt you wore and latch his plump lips to one of your pert nipples in a way that made your toes curl and your eyes close tight as stars sparked.

“Fuck,” you swore, “I–”

“So needy,” he teased like an absolute little shit before you swatted at his head and he took his golden opportunity.

Banding an arm around your back, the driver pulled you tight to his chest and planted his feet into the bed before driving his hips up into your own in a way that made your insides feel like molten lava. With a filthy cry, you grabbed tight to the sheets on either side of your boyfriend as he set the new pace.

“Je pensais que je te l'avais enlevé hier soir,” he grunted in your ear as he speared against something blindingly delicious within you, and his hand palmed at your ass with your tits pressed tight against his chest. You knew it was good for him, too, when he started slipping into Italian, blurring the lines between the languages he knew so well until they were practically an unintelligible mess.

“Charles–I’m gonna—ah!,” you started to warn as the edges of your vision blurred and the heat in the pit of your core started seeping through the cracks in your bones.

“Je sais, minette,” he grit as he felt your cunt spasm tightly around him, his own orgasm careening towards him at a blinding speed like an avalanche in the Dolomites. “Putain–,” he swore as his hips bucked spasmodically into you, pressing into the wet velvet heat as far as your core would allow as every part of him chased whatever would bring him closer to his completion.

You felt him shudder beneath you as his hands held you tight against him; he wanted to feel all of you, and you certainly were in no place to complain as your own orgasm started to recede. You basked in the warmth of one another, the way your hips slotted so perfectly against his, how your hearts pounded against each other’s chests.

Part of you didn’t want to break the blissful quiet of the post-orgasm glow, but your pride had other qualms. “You’re a sore loser, you know that?,” you teased as you rolled partway off your partner, hissing as you lost the comfortable stretch of his cock inside of you.

Chuckling softly, he shrugged as he turned his head to the side to see your heavy eyes. “I have no idea what you are talking about—I was simply exercising a-a new strategy!”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You are unbelievable, Leclerc.”

“Unbelieve...ably good?,” he asked with a stupid grin that made you roll your eyes once more before you leaned in to kiss him once again.

“Unfortunately yes–”

“Say no more!,” he beamed before shooting out of bed, reinvigorated. He disappeared for a few moments, your eyes closing as sleep tempted you once more.

You heard him pad back in and around to the side of the bed you’d rolled to, something warm and wet touching the inside of your thigh. Gently, he cleaned you with a warm washcloth before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Sleepyhead,” he teased gently as you popped your eyes open for just a moment to peek at him as he went about the room, tidying up from the night before. You two had gotten a bit…wild, to put it mildly.

“I resemble that remark,” you quipped, eyes closed once more as you raised a finger in the air. Soon enough, though, you were drifting back off to sleep, only to wake several hours later in the late afternoon.

There was a note on top of your phone on the bedside table, scribbled in his surprisingly neat half-print, half-cursive handwriting. “Out for a run,” it read, a little heart and smiley face with its tongue sticking out accompanying it. Unsure when he’d be back, you finally convinced yourself to slip out of bed and into a much-needed shower. You smelled like a mix of salt and chlorine and citrus—heaven, to Charles, but the grit of it was a bit much to take. Besides, you needed to wash your hair as the two of you had plans for the evening, and your hair had become a mess over the past few days.

Stripping out of the shirt you’d haphazardly thrown on the night before, you ducked under the warm spray of the shower once you’d managed to settle on a half-decent playlist. Humming to yourself, you didn’t hear Charles come back as you neared the end of your shower.

Sitting on the bench at the end of the unmade bed, he watched you through the half-fogged glass of the shower as the scent of your soap drifted through the air and the warmth of the steam lingered at the threshold between the two rooms. He shouldn’t want you as badly as he does, but there’s something about your connection that was more intoxicating than any alcohol or drug could ever try to rival. Everything about you drew him in, pulled him closer and closer like he was caught in a whirlpool; you’d bewitched him—mind, body, and soul—and under no circumstance did he want the spell to be broken.

You caught sight of him as you stepped out and began toweling off, asking, “Good run?”

He nodded as he stood, finally kicking off his shoes and shucking himself out of his shorts and briefs. “Not as good as this morning,” he wrinkled his nose at the qualifier, pecking your lips before restarting the shower so he, too, could join you in your newfound cleanliness. “Good shower?”

“Not as good as this morning,” you conceded in teasing as you watched him slip under the water with a laugh.

As he showered, you went to work at the vanity, going through your neglected skincare routine and brushing the tangles from your freshly washed hair. By the time it was wrapped in a towel and on its way to drying, Charles had finished his own shower and was drying off with the lone clean towel you’d left him (you desperately needed to do some laundry tomorrow).

Towel wrapped around his waist, he took up his seat on the bench once more, scrolling aimlessly on his phone to distract himself from how you leaned over the vanity as you carefully applied your makeup. You’d abandoned the towel that had been around your body, tired of having to fight the damn thing to stay secured every two minutes. Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you naked before.

Charles, of course, did not mind this, but it certainly made it difficult to keep his focus on anywhere except the peek of your slit between your thighs and the curve of your tits every time you lent closer to the mirror in inspection. It was dizzying, the way the blood rushed from his head to his…other head just at the mere sight of you.

Twitter half-held his attention for another five minutes, but that was all he could muster before he was stalking back to you and on his knees no less. With a start and a gasp, you felt the heat of his tongue where you loved it most, eyes rolling back before you could catch yourself. He hummed in response to the pitiful keening that left your lips.

“You are—fuck,” you started, caught off guard by the earnest press of Charles's thumb against your clit, “insatiable. How do…how?” You had no idea where he pulled the stamina from, but you certainly weren’t complaining nor upset.

Stubbled open-mouth kisses pressed their way up your spine until he was standing behind you, caging you in with a hand on the vanity counter on either side of your hips. “Quelque chose sur vous,” he breathed into the nape of your neck before planting a searing kiss there. “I don’t know,” he shrugged with a groan as he rested his brow against your shoulder.

“Like I said earlier,” you teased softly as you turned in his arms, in the small cage he made with his arms against the countertop, “so needy.” The smell of his soap was still strong, but there was also something uniquely Charles, something you yourself could never get enough of.

He laughed at that, and you could feel the rumble of it where your abdomens met. “Maybe,” he relented with a devilish twinkle in his eye, “but something tells me you are just as–”

You tutted, pressing a finger to his lips. “Don’t you dare finish that thought. At this rate we’ll never make it out tonight if you keep trying to fuck me,” you warned with a tilt of your head.

“But–”

“No buts.”

“Not even this one?,” he smirked, thinking himself something of a genius as the little shit fully palmed each cheek and pulled you in closer to press tightly against his toned body.

“Especially not that one!,” you swatted at his hands before he started running away from you and your faux-outrage, leaving you alone in the bathroom to finish getting ready.

An hour later he peeked his head in once more, dressed in a linen outfit perfect for a hot, humid, night on the Mediterranean. (Of course, this was something you’d helped him pick because Lord knows this man couldn’t be left to his own devices when it came to style; he had the style sense of a 14-year-old boy, and yet you loved him despite it—you were truly a saint.) “Almost ready?,” he asked, eyes raking over the mid-length sleeveless silk dress you’d chosen, hair pulled into a messy French twist with simple gold accessories. It wasn’t until he saw the slit clear up the middle of your thigh that he let out an exasperated sigh. He was in for a long night.

Turns out, it wasn’t the worst thing ever. Because by the time you’d made it back to the villa, you were both half-drunk on sangria and unable to keep your hands off one another…or, at least, more so than usual.

You’d gone to dinner and afterward, a small club where, in the darkened corner away from the flash of colored lights and drunken laughter of other revelers, you two made out like you were teenagers again. He whispered naughty things in your ear, hot insistent hands slipping under your dress to grasp at the skin he so badly wanted to be pressed against—especially with how you’d toyed with him all night. If you thought you were going to get away with grinding your ass against him, trailing the toe of your sandal up his legs during dinner, and whining in his ear with no shame…you had another thing coming.

With you bent over the back of the sofa, Charles shoved your dress over your hips where he chuckled in disbelief. You smiled a Cheshire grin, knowing what he’d finally discovered for himself: you weren’t wearing any panties.

“You dirty girl,” he tsked in your ear as he pulled your back flush with his front, a strong arm around your middle in a way that was reminiscent of your midday fuck. His hand smoothed over the plane of your belly and dipped into the sacred heat of your cunt to draw a whimper from your lips that he’d been desperate to hear all evening. “So needy,” he teased as he ground his hard length against the curve of your ass and into the small of your back.

“Please–,” you pleaded with him, your sangria-addled mind having one desire and one desire, alone.

“Ne t'inquiète pas, chérie,” he hushed you as you bent back over and started arching your back for him: you were going to make this an offer he couldn’t refuse. Groaning at the sight, he pressed the tip of his cock against your soaked entrance before slotting his pelvis against your own in one fell press of his hips.

He cursed, dropping his head down to rest against the space between your shoulder blades. You wiggled your hips in desperation, needing friction—needing anything—to ease the ache between your legs. Hissing at the sensation, Charles nipped at the skin over your spine before soothing it with his tongue. “Je sais, minette,” he groaned before starting a truly punishing rhythm with each stroke. His hands gripped tight at your hips, only stopping for a moment to help you hitch one of your legs onto the back of the couch you were bent over which allowed his cock to grind against something deep within you.

You were hurtling fast and hard to your climax, and you could tell your partner wasn’t far behind with how his praises and curses tumbled from his lips in equal measure. The Monégasque was a talker in bed, you’d come to learn, but even more so now that his mind’s filter had been soaked in shitty sangria.

“So close–Charles, pl-please,” you whined pitifully before a hand entwined in your now-ruined bun and tugged, wrenching a choked gasp from your throat. You babbled half-incoherently as he held you against him once more and his other hand snaked around the front of your hip to rub tight circles over your pearl with that perfect rasp of much-needed friction.

“Jouis pour moi, chérie,” he gritted in your ear, and you didn’t need to be told twice as waves of pleasure crashed over your body. Warmth spread from your core to the tips of your toes, breath caught in your throat as you rode the earliest waves. Your hips bucked insistently against him, his own losing their rhythm at the feeling of you clenching so tightly around him and pulling him headfirst into a blinding high of his own.

With a choked gasp and your name on his lips, you felt as he came inside you just moments after your own orgasm. Panting and positively fucked out, you dropped down over the couch once more, slowly but surely floating back down into your body. Charles draped over you in exhaustion, catching his own breath as one of his hands found yours and traced over it mindlessly with gentle fingers.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to figure out I wasn’t wearing any underwear,” you pondered aloud like the thought of your bare cunt under that dress hadn’t just resulted in the fuck of your life. You were a tease—and an unabashed one, at that.

“Mon Dieu, chérie.”

final note: one more part for our stay in corsica before we depart the island! hoping you guys will enjoy it! 🤍 as always, you can follow my writing sideblog @velvetsainz-writes where i reblog inspo & recs!

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fukashiin · 1 year

Text

how they admire you from afar

— w. ace, deuce, floyd, kalim, jamil

⤷ times when they stare at you and think "wow theyre pretty"

ACE TRAPPOLA

- you? beautiful? him staring at you because of it?

- audacious. seriously

- he stares at you so much and he hates YOUR guts for it somehow

- like why do you have to look so breathtaking when doing the most ordinary of tasks? do you WANT him to stare at you? (not like you’re aware of how much he does anyway)

- and you miss the salty side eye he gives to the previous person you were talking to

- fail to notice the subtle pouts he sends your way and he ignores you back for the next week

- like literally what is his problem

- but the time he spends trying to “ignore” you doesn’t last for long

- because. you don’t know. how beautiful you are in his eyes.

- scribbles the most illegible notes down in his journal back in his dorm because he just can’t get rid of the sight of your face (no human is supposed to be that pretty. he’s just being ridiculous)

- posts weirdly ominous captions on his magicam stories about how “he’s going to lose it” or “how can someone be THAT blind?”

- he removed you from his close friends just so you couldn’t view it

- and he’s still wondering why you aren't taking the hint? ace please wake up you're going to harvard

- the next day is his basketball tournament. you were invited

- and the moment he was about to shoot the ball through the basket, he saw you amongst the crowd, cheering for him, yelling his name, encouraging him to score a point for NRC’s team

- he misses the shot with his hand a centimeter away from the basket and the ball bounces off the ring

- the whistle blows and the tension falls off of everyone’s shoulders

- he’s not ashamed in the least. in fact he was still focusing on you. why did you look so confused? head tilted and everything? now is not the time to distract him when he’s in a tournament you know? this is a very important day for him and he absolutely cannot miss this shot.

- he comes back to his senses when both teams that were competing against each other disappeared from the ring. only turns out it was time to take a break and he was informed of his foolish mistake

- he sees you running up to him, scoffs, and turns away

- why do you have to put him through so much? just when will you notice his dumb advances towards you?

- but all his thoughts dissipate into thin air when you smile at him so sweetly and reassure him that he’ll do better the next round

- he really hates you

- and he’s really down bad for you

DEUCE SPADE

- no. he can’t accept this. he won’t accept this. what happened to his first priority to become NRC’s notable honour student?

- stage 1: denial

- his gaze settles on you entirely, while you’re taking notes in class and you’re unaware of a hungry gaze that burns into the back of your head

- deuce then realises that he’s been balancing on the front two legs of his seat this entire time

- slips and hits his chin directly on the edge of the desk when mr. crewel calls out his name

- pull out the bandages with my melody characters cutely printed onto them, he’s going to need it

- but when your hands come in contact with his skin

- he absolutely

- FOLDS

- “let me bandage it up for you” you said. “i promise it won’t hurt one bit” you SAID

- stares at you the whole time while you’re focused on cleaning his bruise (caused by you)

- he takes notice of the bandages and feels the childish tears pricking at his eyes (caused by you)

- mutters a weak ‘thank you’ once you’re done and when you push your hair back to get rid of the accumulated sweat on your forehead, he feels an arrow shooting right through his heart

- can he blame you? everything you do is just so seemingly flawless and attractive that he can’t help but wonder if he’s truly worthy of your attention. after all, you are aware of his past

- spams his mother’s phone once he’s back at the dorm in the evening, telling her that there’s this person who’s so drop-dead gorgeous that he can’t get them out of his mind and he’s begging her, asking her what he should do with such unfamiliar feelings that poke at his heart

- except ms spade was probably dealing with a workload that evening and had her notifications off for the entire day (and probably forgot in the process so she’s worried about his son not texting her for one whole day)

- they’re bothj so silly

- the next couple of days fly by, same as ever, with deuce admiring your features at the other side of the table while you help wipe the crumbs off of grim’s face during lunch

- his entire thought process was just about how dreamy you were, he’s so lovestruck it’s insane

- and great seven does he thank them above for being able to live this day

- because you suddenly remembered that your fridge back at ramshackle dorm was out of stock

- so you offered deuce this golden opportunity to head to sam’s store together to help shop for missing groceries that you desperately needed to fill your fridge again

- he snaps out of his own thoughts and nods his head. violently. was he trying to mimic those bobble head figures?

- you were content and looked at him with that killer-smile

- instant K.O

- ace watches from the sidelines and gets up to purchase another deluxe steak hamburger that the cafeteria was handing out for a limited time

FLOYD LEECH

- completely ditches his work at mostro lounge just to sit at the booth you’re at to stare at you

- he doesn’t even say anything

- he just stares

- maybe even twirls a lil strand of your hair if you consent to that

- and he’s completely head-over-heels for you. but who knows that other than jade and azul thanks to their gifted intuition? not you, for all they know

- absolute menace

- casually slings an arm around your shoulders, wrap his arms around your waist from behind-he does all of these and starts a countdown out of nowhere for the person that you were conversing with to get away from the two of you

- you: (　ﾟдﾟ) Floyd: (*^ω^*)

- what’s that about personal space??? yeah he has zero idea of what that is while he continues staring at you

- your lips to be specific.

- every part of you just seems so-pretty? whenever you two have mixed classes together all his thoughts go right through the window and you’re the only thing that his eyes see

- leaves the classroom feeling pretty goofy. slacks his arms behind his head and accidentally whacks a student right in the face with his elbow

- hallway chases are nothing new

- you have to run twice as fast as you do in PE

- he justt thinks you’re so cute the nicknames are endless

- “my adorable shrimpy” “my cutesy little sherbet in a cup” “my one and only mike wazowski”

- they’re not even related to sea animals anymore

- revoke his pet name privileges please

KALIM-AL-ASIM

- smitten the moment he makes eye contact with you

- menace number #2 (lovingly)

- what’s wrong? you don’t want a costly chandelier installed in ramshackle’s lounge? Funny! kalim does not bother and your complaints fall on deaf ears

- cups his cheeks in his hands and kicks his legs while he watches you from afar like a little high school girl

- he has a big fat crush on you and he isn’t afraid to show it

- INSISTS jamil that they should bring back every traditional cuisine from their hometown for you to try out

- sends unprofessionally written love letters onto ramshackle’s doorstep when he’s away for the holidays (jamil modified some parts of the letter to not make it too hard to understand)

- think his only love language is giving gifts? absolutely not. doesn’t even know what the five love languages are but masters them all (and it doesn't even take him any strenuous effort)

- rambles to jamil about how beautiful you are during lunch. proceeds to even make an hour-long powerpoint presentation to show to his 30 younger siblings back at home with low-quality images downloaded from shutterstock.

- “how pretty are they?” “are you two going to get married?” “can i see them in person some time? I’ll be nice!”

- no you did NOT give him permission. but you’re okay with that. you love him too much to scold him anyway<333

- one time you were invited to scarabia’s dorm where they were holding a large banquet (kalim sat beside you and mindlessly kept placing portions of food from the table onto your own plate-it started overflowing you HAD to stop him from grabbing the tongs)

- by the time everything was settled, you went back to your own dorm to get a goodnight’s rest

- but kalim was so adamant on not letting you go that a student from his dorm basically had to rip him off of your figure

- he loves you and your cute face so much

- scratch that he loves everything about you from head to toe

- when he was back in his room daydreaming about you, he heard the door burst open

- turns out it was jamil needing to inform him about the upcoming dorm leader meeting happening the next day

- kalim accidentally called him “teddy bear” thinking it was you who decided to come back and give him a farewell kiss

- jamil took his first shot that day

JAMIL VIPER

- jamil viper is not like the other guys

- no he’s different

- he stubbornly pushes all his surfacing feelings down and outwardly ignores the elephant in the room!

- which is his abrupt crush on you

- but seriously-he has no idea what to do

- when you offered to help him make dishes for the next dorm feast scarabia was having

- he couldn’t stop staring at the way your hands handled the kitchen utensils so effortlessly

- and how you looked so laser focused on chopping the ingredients with beads of sweat starting to form on your forehead

- he’s DEFINITELY not into you at all. there’s nothing outstanding about you. he does not think you’re even pretty in the least. (press X to doubt)

- kalim takes notice frustratingly quick and suddenly he’s not a dorm leader anymore but a persuasive wingman

- kalim: you like them right??? do you want me to confess to them for you???? i promise i wont make you look stupid!

- jamil: PLEASE STO

- but when you start to become aware of the subtle signs and how he’s much more softer when it comes to you, jamil assures you that you had no fault in this at all and he’s stupid for letting such affection get to his head

- “It’s not you, it’s me.”

- (he secretly tells himself that it is kind of you because you’re just too charming to take his eyes off of??? inflexible much)

- but he still continues to stare at you. he doesn’t even know if it’s out of pure habit or if he’s just shameless anymore (news flash: it’s both)

- throw your personality into the mix and he’s very much in love

- and you were kind enough to not pay mind to it. when you do notice and call him out-he’s flushed. he’s flustered. bro ascended.

- and when you do accept his feelings, he’s relieved. he even offers to cook for you every day 24/7. and you’re rather surprised at his ability to balance all his responsibilities on his shoulders without a single slip up.

- sometimes kalim would walk with you guys in the hallway when arriving to your locker to pick up some books for your next lesson. jamil doesnt particularly mind but

- why does it feel like he’s the one who’s third wheeling?

- but in all honesty, he doesn’t mind in the least

- because he knew that you reciprocate his feelings so sincerely-and he’s grateful for it.

- mega W if you start dating jamil you won in life

#i had way too much fun writing this #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #floyd leech x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade #floyd leech #kalim al asim #jamil viper

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itaehynz · 9 months

Text

SEVEN DAYS A WEEK. — C.YJ

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: fluff, crack, suggestive.

breakdown/summary: yeonjun is sooo seven coded — based off the song ‘seven’ by jungkook, i can no longer contain these thoughts about yeonjun 😵‍💫😵‍💫 i just know he’d be so consistent when it comes to him being in love with someone, like a lovesick puppy!

warnings: profanity, suggestive words, yeonjun is kind of a himbo (?), reader is a bit mean at first but she warms up to him, yeonjun does not give up at all.

yeonjun who is confused at first, as to why you’re not giving him the attention everyone else does? is there something wrong with him, is he ugly? it can’t be that. or maybe you just don’t get the hype of being so obsessed with him? ding ding ding. he’s first thinking to himself, maybe i can attract them with flowers? and that’s when he starts his mission:

getting you and your attention.

yeonjun, who tries to get you within a week’s time, if he can’t get you by saturday, he’ll leave you be… well, he would but he’s way too prideful, he knows he can get you within a week.

—

SUNDAY.

he drops off a bouquet of flowers to your house, thank god you were home at the time. he feels as if he’s already had you wrapped around his finger before you text him.

tloml <3: don’t drop off shit at my house w/o letting me know first. i’m throwing them away + i still don’t want you.

ouch, that was harsh. he thinks to himself, typing a response for your “cruel” response to his offering.

you: y/nnn :( why do you hate me?

tloml <3: i don’t hate you, i just don’t like how you’re trying to throw yourself at me. can’t you take a hint?

you: well for one, i’m not throwing myself at you. it’s just when i want something, i don’t stop until i get it. and two, no, i cannot take a hint especially when it’s coming from you! 😋

tloml <3: yeonjun, please get the fuck off my phone. i gave you my number so you can ask me about the comic you purchased, not so you can send flowers to my home. next time you send something to my house, i’m going to find you and bash your smug face into cement.

you: oh my gosh you said my name 🤭 hearing you say that makes me so happy, you don’t even understand.

tloml <3: i’m not even really saying it…

you: so? i can hear it in my head.

tloml <3: you’re insane, don’t text me again.

he tries sending another message but it doesn’t go through, that’s when he finally realizes what you did. you BLOCKED him. he’s in utter shock. did he go too far? what if you hate him now? he shakes these thoughts away with a swipe of a hand through his hair. i guess i’ll just have to work harder for these next days.

—

MONDAY.

yeonjun decides to bring food and flowers (again) to your job! he sees you from the window of his car, working the front register. your hair is tied up into a ponytail, you’re wearing a beige crew neck with the words “new york” embroidered on it, loose gray sweatpants & old high top converse.

good thing you work in a comic book store.

yeonjun thinks you look absolutely stunning. he leaves his car to approach the store, walking in with his chin held high plus the food and flowers in hand. you hear the bell above the front door ring, looking up to greet the new customer.

“hello! welcome to the eternal comic store, how can i-” you sigh, “what do you want, yeonjun?” you say as he looks at you with a bright smile.

“ohhh you know nothing, just wanted to drop these off for you,” he places the food and flowers on the counter, hoping you’ll atleast take something. you look at him annoyed, not understanding what’s so special about you that he continues to keep trying with you… you’re starting to like it.

“thank you but, can i ask you a question?” he nods. “why do you keep trying to get at me? i already said i don’t like you, was that not enough? do i have to punch you in the face?” you ask, irritation slowly making its way into your tone.

yeonjun raises his eyebrows, not expecting that question but still knowing his answer. “y/n, the first minute i walked in this store i just felt myself gravitating towards you. you have this type of aura, i don’t know how to describe it,” he pauses, resting his head on his chin.

“it’s just like, you’re comforting? yeah that, even though you’ve been nothing but mean to me… i can tell that’s just you having your guard up to protect yourself and i get it. but besides you having a comforting aura, you’re just really pretty and i’d also like to get to know you because you seem cool! and, please do not punch me, i might cry.” he finishes, straightening his lips into a thin line.

you blink, trying to understand everything. you open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out, so you just roll your eyes and nod. he watches your expression with the same smile on his face, admiring how nice your eyes are.

“thank you for the food and flowers yeonjun, but please get out of the store,” you finally say, rushing a hand through your hair. he catches the small smile you give him and nods before saying, “alsooo, do you mind unblocking my number? i won’t annoy you but can you please just do it?” he asks with a small pout.

you nod shooing him away and pulling out your phone to do so. he smiles widely, walking away with his hands in his pockets.

even though he annoys you to no end, he’s very consistent and it’s something you slightly admire. just slightly.

—

TUESDAY.

yeonjun comes back to your job with nothing to give except his conversation. he waves at you as he walks in, not caring how you stare at him blankly instead of waving back.

this time he came in with a friend, a friend named soobin apparently. yeonjun must be talking about you to soobin because he keeps glancing over at you behind the counter.

“see, she’s so pretty. doing her job and stuff, normal human things,” he sighs, “why doesn’t she want me?” he looks over at soobin.

soobin rolls his eyes, looking through the manga section. “probably because you’re a pain in the ass? i don’t know though, just a thought.” yeonjun smacks the back of his head, causing it to make a noise which has your head perking up from your phone.

he looks over at you, smiling and waving his hand trying to say it’s nothing, don’t worry which has you rolling your eyes and looking back down at your phone.

his smile fades away as he looks back at soobin, “don’t be a dumbass, i’m not even that annoying to her… yet,” he adds looking over at you once again. “yeah, yet.” soobin mumbles.

“i’m sorry, what was that?” yeonjun asks, which makes soobin shake his head. he nods, snapping his fingers as a way to tell soobin to hurry up.

soobin picks up a manga, walking over to the counter. yeonjun follows behind, smile adorning his face as he approaches you. seeing him from your peripheral, you choose to ignore him and focus on his friend.

“will that be all?” you ask as soobin nods, “okay, that will be 8.36. will you be paying with cash or card?” yeonjun notices how you haven’t said much of a word to him nor have you even gave him his daily dose of mean glares. “card is fine,” soobin says.

you accept his card, swiping it quickly before handing it back. “enjoy your read!” you chirp, giving him a small smile.

yeonjun tells him to go, watching as he walks out. looking back over at you, he pouts, “y/nnn, why haven’t you talked to me?” he quirks his head to the right.

“what is there to talk about? once again, i already said i don’t like you, yeonjun.” you walk out from behind the counter, going over to a bookshelf. he follows you like a lost puppy, pout stuck on his face.

“yes, i get that but you haven’t like me for a while and we still spoke a little. what’s so different now, do you not like me even more today?” he questions, coming closer to you.

you turn around to him and say, “yeah, pretty much.” he stands there, pout gone and jaw on the floor.

“WHAT DID I DO?” he yells, making the few customers turn around. your eyes widen, covering his mouth with your hand. you grab him by his hand, dragging him to the back room, “yeonjun, shut up! do not yell please, i was kidding.” you whisper yell.

“y/n, please let go of my hand before i kiss you,” he says with a blank look on his face.

you look down to see you are in fact, holding his hand. you snatch it away, confused on why you didn’t do so sooner. looking back up at him, you sigh telling him that it’s just best to not yell anymore or else he’ll be banned from the store.

“i thought you’d want me banned from the store?” he asks, genuinely confused. “as much as i’d love to, you and your friends are some of our best paying customers,” you tell him as you walk back to the front.

he follows behind you with a light smirk on his face, “can you please say you enjoy my company already, this fake rudeness is getting a bit old y/n,” he says yawning into his palm.

“get out the store.” you tell him exhausted, rubbing your nose bridge with two fingers. he raises his hands in defense before walking away while saying “byeee y/n, i’ll see you tomorrow,” blowing you a kiss.

“bye yeonjun,” resting your chin in your hand, thinking about the whole thing. is yeonjun starting to grow on you? it seems so.

let’s pray you don’t make it too obvious.

—

WEDNESDAY.

this time, yeonjun doesn’t even come in the store. he doesn’t even text you either, which is a shock to you.

hm, he must have not tried anything today, you sigh, finally some peace and quiet.

well, that’s what you thought. until yeonjun’s friend, soobin comes into the store.

“hi, are you y/n?” he asks carefully. you nod slowly, confused with what’s going on. “yeonjun wanted me to give you this, enjoy your day!” he adds, handing you a small box with an envelope attached to it.

“you too,” you say looking down at the box, confusion gracing your features. what the hell is this, you think to yourself.

you open the envelope first, seeing a letter.

“hi pretty, it’s yeonjun.

today is the worst day of my life, i came down with a fever :( i couldn’t drop you off anything because i didn’t have any energy to reach for my phone, hence why i’m writing a letter!! i hope i’m okay by tomorrow or if not, friday.

i’m really really sorry i couldn’t send you food with this, i’ll try tomorrow if i feel okay. for now, you can just have this. i’ve noticed you have an interest in lotus flowers so, i hope you like this.

love, yeonjun. :)”

you place the letter to the side, opening the small box.

a necklace.

he got you a fucking necklace.

a silver lotus flower necklace, it’s actually beautiful. you take it out, checking if it’s real just for… precautions. you once again don’t know what’s so special about you that yeonjun decided to give you necklace but you’re gonna wear it. you don’t know why but something just feels right about wearing it, is it possible that you may be falling for yeonjun? you’d like to say no but you’re not even sure of your own answer.

you spend the rest of the day at home contemplating on whether you should text yeonjun, just to check if he’s okay. not that you really care or anything (you do).

you: hi yeonjun, i got your gift and letter from soobin. thank you for the necklace :) i just wanted to check up on you, see if you’re okay. text me back when you can, love you.

you send the message without hesitation before reading over it but once you do, you regret ever sending it.

you told yeonjun you love him. are you fucking insane?

before you can even finish processing what you’ve done, your eyes are widening in shock. seeing three bubbles pop up meaning that yeonjun is texting back. fuck, what if he doesn’t say it back? no, what if he says it back and doesn’t mean it.

a few minutes pass as your phone pings in alert, a text from yeonjun gracing your notifications. you open it reading,

yeonjun: hi pretty <3 thank you for texting me, i was scared you hated me or something lol

yeonjun: but you’re welcome, it was nothing! you know i love giving you things ☺️ & thank you for checking in, i’m doing a bit better! i had some kimchi soup my friend taehyun made for me, it was really good, i hope you ate something >:(. but yes i’m feeling a bit better so thank you for that! and, i’ll always text back fast if it’s you!

yeonjun: but i’m gonna go back to sleep bcuz junie is sleepy… & i love you too pretty :)

for some reason, you can’t help but feel glad that he’s doing better but… you’re even happier that he said he loves you too.

your stomach is filled with butterflies as you reread the last message over and over again, stuck on the fact that he didn’t even question how early you said the L word.

this is a very unfamiliar feeling, you’re not very fond of it. but you’re going to stop yourself before it gets any worse.

—

THURSDAY.

once again, yeonjun doesn’t show up. but his friend does, it’s a different friend though.

jjun: hi pretty! i’m still a little sick so i’m having my friend drop off some food for you + something extra ;) i hope you enjoy, love you & enjoy your shift!

you: read at 10:07 am.

you feel bad for not responding back but once again, stopping yourself before it gets worse is the only the thing you know.

who you’re assuming is yeonjun’s friend comes in, he has long brown hair and doe eyes. he’s wearing a blue beanie & a plain white short sleeve with grey sweats. he gently smiles at you, waving hello before walking up to the counter.

“this is from yeonjun, which i’m pretty sure you knew already,” he pauses to look around, “oh, he also says that he loves you and he’ll see you tomorrow!” he nods with a smile still on his face. you say thank you before he begins walking out the store, looking down in the bag you notice another small box somewhat the same from yesterday and another envelope.

you open the envelope first once again, reading what yeonjun has written to you.

“helloooo again pretty! i know you’re probably already tired of these letters but it has become a form of communication between us and now i’ll never stop!

i noticed you didn’t respond to my message which made me a little sad but maybe you’re just having a bad day! which is totally okay, i just hope you enjoy this meal and have a good rest of your day at work!

love, yeonjun! :)”

you fold the letter back up, guilt coming back to you as the letter reminds you that you haven’t responded to him.

you know what, fuck this. you’re not responding. don’t let the guilt eat you alive and just carry on with your day, he’ll be fine.

you finish up your shift at 6pm. you walk to the back room, punching in your time sheet once again to clock out.

you have your airpods in, music playing before it pauses. siri reads, “incoming facetime call from yeonjun”.

why the hell is he calling you? he must have buttdialed you. you let it ring, waiting for it to hang up by itself but when it does, he calls you again.

growing agitated, you take your phone out of your pocket and decide to pick up.

“what do you want yeonjun? why are you calling me?” is the first thing you ask as his face pops up on the screen.

he has a pout on his face and his eyes are narrowed “why haven’t you texted me y/n,” he sniffles slightly. “do you fucking hate me?” he asks, you start growing regretful of the decision you made as you hear how upset he sounds.

“what?” is all you can seem to say right now, which leaves him baffled.

“that’s all you’re gonna say?” he asks, venom lacing his tone for the first time in a while.

“yes, goodbye yeonjun.” you say before hanging up abruptly, leaving yeonjun shocked on the other end.

tomorrow, yeonjun’s definitely going to give you an earful.

—

FRIDAY.

today, yeonjun finally comes in. you sigh heavily, already knowing what’s about to come. you’re ready for him to talk your ear off but you weren’t ready for what he came in wearing.

he’s wearing a black wifebeater with a gray hoodie over it, black sweatpants and black converse. his long black hair is slightly disheveled from all the times he’s ran his hands through it. his plump lips, covered in moisturizer as they shine from the store lighting. makes you wonder what his lips would look like covered in your slick after licking you up so softly, slim fingers pumping in and out of your rough walls, hitting that same spot over, and over again.

get your head out of your ass y/n.

you shake off these thoughts, watching yeonjun walk up to the counter.

“can i talk to you in the back,” he asks with a fake smile gracing his face. you nod as you get up, telling your coworker to handle the register for you.

you and yeonjun both go to the back before you speak first.

“what are we in here for?” you question already knowing the answer. he rolls his eyes in annoyance, clicking his tongue.

“ever since you said you loved me in messages, which i knew was a mistake, you’ve been ignoring me. why is that?” he says ticking his head to the side.

you look up trying to find a valid response, “i don’t know yeonjun, maybe i just didn’t feel like texting you anymore after that?” you say, fake irritation lacing your tone.

his eyes widen in shock, “really y/n? that’s your excuse? that’s the dumbest shit i’ve ever heard, please be honest with me. you know i won’t judge anything you tell me.” he says, genuine anger starting to cover up his gentle tone.

you sigh, “i don’t know why honestly. yeonjun, you’ve been doing nothing but bothering me ever since last friday so, i don’t even understand how i could feel this way.”

yeonjun’s eyebrow raises, “feel what way?” you blink in shock.

“i’m pretty sure i have feelings for you.” you say, looking down at your shoes.

now it’s yeonjun’s turn to blink in shock, “oh wow.” he says looking over to the side.

“and y/n, why didn’t you tell me?” he asks. “because i wasn’t sure before and i tried to make myself lose feelings but, you kept doing all this sweet shit for me and i just couldn’t stop myself anymore. i really do like you, yeonjun.”

you both share a look before yeonjun glances down at your lips and you do the same to him.

his eyes dart back up to yours before he smiles gently.

“y/n, you know i like you back. i make it very clear but, i get why you were scared… i think. you were probably confused by the unfamiliar feeling, and i completely understand that.” he says, now speaking in his normal tone.

your face softens at the way he’s trying to understand where you’re coming from. you smile softly, making his eyes light up.

“that’s the first time i’ve ever seen you smile y/n,” he says with pure adoration glazing his naturally soft tone.

“yeah, i know,” you say with the smile still on your face.

“i’d like it if you smiled more around me, it’s really pretty,” he adds, watching you cover your face with your hands.

he brings his hand to your face, peeling your hands away. he licks his lips, implying that he obviously wants something.

“i already know what you want so just do it—” you say before he cuts you off, smashing his lips onto yours. even though you’re slightly caught off guard, you kiss back with just as much passion as him.

one of his hands are softly gripping onto your neck as the other is resting on your hip. both of your arms are slinging around his neck, moving into him deepening the kiss.

he moves the hand on your waist down to your thigh, tapping softly signaling you to jump up. doing so, he picks you up with ease resting you down on a small counter near the back room door. his left hand begins rubbing small circles into the flesh of your thigh, while his right hand is grabbing your chin to deepen the kiss even more with his tongue.

the slight intrusion of his tongue makes you softly moan into the kiss which has him lowering the kisses to your neck, he lightly sucks on your sweet spot drawing a delicious moan from you. he covers your mouth with his free hand, continuing to suck on that spot making you close your eyes in satisfaction.

he stops abruptly, a smug smile plastered on his face.

“i don’t think we should be doing this here, y/n,” he whispers with the same smile still on his face. you groan in annoyance, but think about how right he is.

“we can finish this back at my place, if you want?” he asks as he eyes you down with lust glazing over them. you nod bashfully, jumping off the counter gently patting down your clothing to try and make yourself look normal.

he does the same, fixing his hair and clothing. you both walk out before you ask your co-worker to clock you out when it’s time for your shift to end. they nod with a smile, already knowing what you’re about to be up to.

you smile back, walking out hand in hand with yeonjun, letting yeonjun take you to his place to have you however he would like to.

—

SATURDAY.

you wake up to find yourself in an unfamiliar space. you look over to find your clothes on the floor, along with someone else’s. they’re yeonjun’s. you finally realize what you’ve done, you slept with him.

you look down at your waist, seeing his arms wrapped around you. you try to get out of his grasp to go to the bathroom but he subconsciously tightens it, “y/nnn, where are you going?” he mumbles sleepily, pout resting on his face.

your face softens at the sound of his voice, “just to the bathroom jun, i’ll be back don’t worry,” you say. he hums in response, “my shirts are in the top left drawer and my boxers are right under that drawer.”

he releases his grasp on you and lets you get up to find clothing. you get up and walk to his drawer, picking the first pieces of clothing you see and putting them on. you walk over to his bathroom, taking a new toothbrush out of the pack.

you peek out the bathroom, seeing that yeonjun is still sleeping. you take a few minutes to brush your teeth and wash your face, coming up with the plan to make you and yeonjun breakfast.

you make your way to the kitchen, trying not to make any noise as you look for a frying pan. once you find one you turn on the stovetop, checking the fridge for any eggs. grabbing the carton, you crack a couple onto the already heated pan preparing an omelette.

you hear soft footsteps approaching you, feeling yeonjun’s arms wrap around you once again.

“good morning baby, what are you making?” he asks, looking over your shoulder to see what’s being made. he hums in delight, nuzzling his nose the crook of your neck, placing open mouthed kisses.

“jun stop, you’re distracting me,” he giggles, moving away from your neck to let you focus.

“how much longer is this gonna takeeee, i wanna cuddle with you,” yeonjun pleads, a small frown painting his features.

“i’m almost done, give me a sec,” you reply, plating both dishes & finally walking over to sit down next to yeonjun.

he smiles in glee, taking in the smell of the freshly-made breakfast. he pats the cushion next to him motioning for you to sit down as you hand him his plate.

“thank you pretty,” he says while cutting the omelette into a small enough bite for him to chew, humming in delight at the savory taste. you watch him with a mix of hopefulness & confusion swirling in your eyes, waiting for him to tell you he likes it.

he nods slowly, “i like it! it’s really good, your cooking is amazing y/n,” he smiles, taking another bite.

“thank you yeonjun,” you say as you begin to take small bites of your own food. you feel the male next to you wrapping his arm around your waist, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“i know this is sudden but, will you be my girlfriend? i really want you to be, it’d really mean the world to me… you can say no!” he mumbles at first, gradually increasing his volume. you stare at him dumbfounded, shocked he’d even think you’d want anything else more than that.

“it’s weird you’d think otherwise jun, i’d love to be your girlfriend.” you say, raising your hand to gently rub his cheek.

he melts into your touch, turning his head to kiss your palm.

“i’m glad, i love you so so much.”

“i love you so so much more.” you say, before pressing a soft kiss onto yeonjun’s lips.

2023 TTYUNZ.

taglist: @k-labels @boba-beom @bucketofhiros @yeofy @n0-thisispatrick @hyukafied @hyunimylove @luvsoobs @choiwrld @majestyjun @tyunkus @belovedxiao @h00nerz !

author’s note: this was kinda rushed i’m so sorry guys, i hope you enjoy! 🥹🥹

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melverie · 5 months

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Can I just say that I absolutely LOVE how ever since they all found out that MC is human and was brought here against their will, it was Lucifer who kept insisting that they shouldn't be the ones to trap MC in the Devildom. That whether they want to stay or not is a decision MC has to make themself and that the brothers should support them no matter what they end up choosing

And now that the moment is finally here, now that MC has confirmed that they indeed plan on heading home, and now that all of his brothers agreed on helping them get back, having forged a pact and lending their powers to do so—

Now that he knows that he's the final piece needed to send them back; that the lingering idea of the yet to be forged pact between them is what's stopping MC from potentially leaving their side for good, leaving his side for good—

Now that they have finally gotten to this point, he realizes something. And he's unable to live with it

And so, he goes back on his word.

He's taking that choice from them.

"I don't want to."

Lucifer's pride is what keeps his voice leveled and neutral, as if it were just another day. As if he everything was completely fine. As if he didn't feel this pain in his heart, almost as if someone had rammed a dagger through his chest over and over and over again

To most people, he'd appear to be in perfect control of his emotions—if only his gaze wouldn't completely obliterated that frail façade of his. The way his beautiful dark eyes shimmering with a hint of blood red silently plead, beg MC to stay...

Internally, he is breaking apart because he knows what he is doing isn't right. He knows that he shouldn't trap them like a bird in a cage, and yet he can't help himself. Not in this situation. Not when it comes to MC

'No'

He—Lucifer, Avatar of Pride himself—is the last thing trapping the very person that finally made him realize what his sister had meant forever ago

'I won't let you go'

How one day, someone would stumble their way into his life, and how he'd love them so wholeheartedly and so deeply that everything else would become trivial as long as he'd get to hold them in his arms

'I can't let you go'

Someone that he'd happily throw away everything for, not even considering any alternatives if only for the shred of a chance at just one last tomorrow with them

'Please stay with us. Please stay with me'

Everything.

'I cannot lose you, MC'

Even if they'll never forgive him for it.

"I'm not going to forge a pact with MC."

#obey me nightbringer lesson 34 spoilers #slipped into writing mode at some point whoops #this was such a small moment but i love it so much #it does so much for his character even tho you don't realize it at first #tho ngl his “i don't wanna >:(” kinda makes him sound like a 5yo SDJDAKFLHSLGHSD #it's okay luci we love you anyway <3 (lass mich in meine zeit zurück du hu--)#anyway i already mentioned this in the post but the way he kept his expression neutral?#THE WAY HE KEPT HIS EXPRESSION PREFECTLY NEUTRAL?!?!?!??!!?#you just know he was BREAKING APART inside #i swear sometimes i'm so soft for him #anyway can you tell i have a lot of emotions rn HSDJAKFLHSHGSG #obey me spoilers #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me lesson 34 spoilers #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me nightbringer lesson 34 #obey me lesson 34 #;mel's main story disscetion #;mel's analyses

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reiderwriter · 4 months

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Hi love! How are you? I'm currently obsessed with your content and I was hoping I could make a request?

I have this idea of Spencer just like reading a great book and maybe his bombshell girlfriend just loves to see him read cause, of course he looks AMAZING, so she gets a little flustered and h@rney because of him, and while Spencer often can't believe he has such a gorgeous girlfriend he still gets all cocky and proud for how obsessed she is with him.

Something like fluff and smut maybe?

Also if this doesn't resonate with you feel free to ignore it. Thanks and lots of love!

(hope I'm making the request in the right place btw <3)

A/N: Hello! This was absolutely the right place to request. Thank you once again for sending it in! I made this one a little bit soppy and soft, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! As much as I love rough/dominant/ playful smut, tender smut does sometimes just have me feeling very 👉👈☺️ you know?

Find my masterlist here ❤️

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, mutual masturbation, tender sex, slight thigh riding, hints at soft!Dom Spencer

You were usually happy to pick up a book and read along with Spencer when he got in one of these days, but today something felt charged.

You weren't sure if it was the way his hands were tensed, flowing across the page like it was his one mission in life to take in every word ever written, or the way his hair half hung in his face, but he'd enraptured you.

You sat in a suspended daze, not looking away, grin splitting your face without a care in the world.

When he got like this, it was like your heart was going to burst with admiration.

“Y/N, you're staring at me.” He tried to make the words stern, keeping his eyes on his book and continuing to read, but you noticed his hand having to go over the same spot two or three times, noticed the pink hue of his cheeks as you leaned in and tucked his hair out of his eye. You made sure to let your hands linger, falling down from his ear to his neck slowly as you let them fall away from him.

“How could I not stare at you?” You caught his eye and your heart sang, kneeling up on the sofa next to him as you basked in the sunlight of his attention.

“I thought you wanted to read?” He laughed a little, fingers stilled on the page as his other hand cradled the spine in one. You felt ridiculous feeling jealous of how tenderly he held the book, how you desperately wanted his fingers to run across your skin like that.

You wondered what words he would read across your face, your thighs, your breasts and hips. You wondered what telling signs of devotion would be inscribed there.

“Spencer, please put the book down,” you held out a hand for the book as you said the words, and he contemplated for a second before giving in. “Thank you.”

You carefully placed a bookmark in the book - habit not necessity - and scooted an inch closer to your partner.

“Spencer. You are too distracting. I cannot read, and therefore, neither can you.”

“But I'm not distracted, Y/N.” He laughed a little at your childlike jealousy, the poit forming on your lips as you pushed up against him in protest of his words.

“I'm sure I can distract you if you'd like.” You lay your hand over his crotch then, slowly tracing your lusty thoughts through his pants.

“You're a brat, you know that?” He whispered, bringing a hand over yours. He didn't stop you though, but controlled your movements, showing you how hard you should press, how fast your movements should go. You loved this silent guidance from him, loved that he took you seriously enough to show you what he needed.

“Takes one to know one.” You winked back at him and his face flushes some more, a giggle escaping your lips as your fingers fumbled with his pant buttons.

He pressed a kiss to your lips and grabbed your hip with his spare hand, pulling you into his lap within another shared breath.

“Then I guess we'll just have to make each other behave,” he whispered, tugging your skirt up just as you managed to free his cock from his pants. He lifted his hips slightly to push the clothing down into a more comfortable position, before placing his lips back over yours, letting his fingers blindly find your center.

His hands slid along your skin with all the care and attention you were used to. He was always light and teasing with his touches, caressing you until the point of insanity before pushing you further and sending you spiralling into a fit of pleasure.

As his fingers swirled across your clit you moaned into his kiss, keeping your pace on his cock steady as you both worked towards your climax.

These lazy embraces were the highlight of your monotony, the bliss found in each others hugs, kisses, touches and caresses enough to sustain you for weeks.

You never could keep your hands off of him for that long though.

“Spencer, please, I'm going to cum.” You whimpered as his thumb dragged across your clit, other fingers exploring your depths now.

Your hips rocked against his dominant hand as his other guided your own still, his small hisses and moans only spurring you on and working you up, nearing your finishing line.

“Y/N, you're so beautiful.” He moaned, stilling your hand as his cock twitched, shooting his white load across the bottom of your stomach and underside of your dress.

The sight of him coming undone in your hand was enough to have you clenching around his fingers. He didn't stop but let you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, stroking your back and smoothing your hair out as you regained your breath and composure.

“I need to clean up.” You whispered, letting your forehead rest against his.

“We need to clean up. How about a bath?”

With a smile and a giggle, you pressed another lingering kiss to his temple before slowly climbing up and off of him.

“No books allowed, though?” You said, questioning the man's motives.

“My hands are yours, Y/N.” you rolled your eyes and dragged him up, letting him cradle you in his arms as you walked to the bathroom joint at the hip.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #reiderslibrary #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #maturereiding

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casualheizouenjoyers · 11 months

Text

- secrets i have held in my heart

featuring: jing yuan, bailu, yanqing, reader

warnings: a bit angsty ig, hanahaki au, blood, sickness, throwing up, coughing and just general sick stuff

Orchids grow where others cannot.

This phrase reigns especially true when orchids begin to grow in your body. Scratching your throat and clogging up your lungs.

You try to laugh it off as a small cough, a small sickness, as if the whole thing didn’t fill you with dread when you thought about the invasive plant infesting your every breath.

It isn’t until finally you violently cough over your sink that a bloodied white orchid petal came fluttering out.

Were… you some form of mara struck? You wondered in confusion at the collection of petals that grew with each hack of your lungs.

The high elder —Bailu— immediately takes up your case. Which is potentially concerning as you’ve gone to about possibly any doctor that will see you for some kind of explanation to your floral fever and none of them have had anything good to say.

In fact, they have nothing to say about your illness. No one knew what was causing the orchids to bloom, making a home of your decaying body; a pretty parasite taking you ahold.

The little Vidyadhara girl frowned upon seeing the collection of whole flowers and crumbled petals, all coated with a splattered layer of dried blood.

Bailu’s eyes squinted as she observed the floral.

Perhaps, it was some kind of achievement that you had every doctor and healer on the luofu stumped at your conditions?

It isn’t until you’re coughing out another flower, this time red covering it was still vibrant and liquid, that the healer decided you were some form of mara struck and needed to be monitored closely. Even as she wrote out her prescription and made you promise to come back the next week, you could tell she wasn’t too sure about what she was saying.

That did absolutely nothing to calm your nerves.

You go home after collecting your prescription and puke out leaves and stems along with the flowers.

Despite your sickness, work is work, you decided, and working as a tutor was fulfilling for you. You hope —prayed— that the sight of your favorite student, Yanqing, would bring you some form of joy. The lesson went smoothly, though it was clear your student’s mind was up in the clouds, but you didn’t comment about it as yours was rooted deep elsewhere.

With the closing of the textbook, Yanqing’s eyes light up.

“Can we swordfight now?” The teenaged boy asked.

You almost said no.

You had realized early on that Yanqing would do his work and pay attention better if you found a way to relate it to swordsmanship, or if you promised that the two of you would spar a little after a lesson.

There was a growing weakness in your body. It seemed that describing the flowers as a parasite wasn’t inaccurate, as every day went on you felt them drain the energy out of you.

Yanqing waited for your response.

You nodded, standing up and picking up your sword from where it rested on a wall. Once, you had used it as a cloud knight, now it only ever saw use when teaching the blonde boy.

Yanqing excitedly ran to the other side of the room, drawing his sword and getting into position. He paused, looking over at you.

When did your eyes become so sunken in? Your hand shook as you held your sword up and it became increasingly clear to Yanqing that you were in no position to swordfight.

Your student called out your name, a hint of concern in his voice.

“I— Give me a moment—” You called out, placing a hand on your head as a sudden headache came, making your vision blur and your legs lose balance as you head tumbling for the floor.

Yanqing tossed his sword far away as he slid to catch you.

Bailu is halfway through her yearly appointment with the general when you come in with Yanqing by your side.

You mumbled apologies for the interruption and swore on your life you were fine.

You had honestly not realized how bad things had gotten in the few days from the last time you had seen the healer.

Your heart fluttered at the sight of Jing Yuan.

The orchid also fluttered out of your mouth in a set of coughs that leave you out of breath on the ground, Yanqing down at your side again.

There are multiple voices speaking but your mind can focus on none of them.

Jing Yuan helped you up and you feel your heart clench up as a choke comes to your throat.

More orchids.

He whispered to you in a soft voice, trying to help you through this coughing fit as Yanqing explained the situation that had happened just a few minutes before.

Bailu watched this, shock painted on the girls face as she realized two truths.

You were indeed mara struck, just with a rare mutation that had gone out thousands of years ago.

You were also in love with the general

and it was going to be the death of you.

#piers writes #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #hsr #hsr fic #hanahaki au #gender neutral reader #a little angst as a treat #teehee #who wrote this broooo #part two when #??#dont ask me

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