#Ready for a Pole-Shift?

[lakemichigans]

my ability to overlook cringe dialogue is unparalleled

[dawnwriterimagines]

The Guilty Plea

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER

Traitors Among Us (Part 1) and Innocents Among You (Part 2)

Verdict Due (Part 4) Clear Skies (Part 5)

Summary: As you're discharged from the infirmary, under watchful eye, you head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

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Running your fingers along the raised, pink scar across you cheek, the feeling of it...it really looked terrible. A part of you thought it would disappear, hoped it would, but it didn't. It just became severely more noticeable. Looking at this, you knew you'd always have to think of it. You'd sport this reminder for the rest of your life.

Looking away from it, you find your own tired eyes in the mirror, you haven't been sleeping well. Or at all. You can't remember the last time you got 4 hours, let alone 8. Dark circles still surrounded them but at least the bruising and the swelling had gone down.

You couldn't recognize yourself. Not really.

This woman looked so exhausted, so frail and so goddamn angry. It was accurate, it was how you felt. All of it. So, you supposed that the mirror's reflection was the truth, this was you indeed.

"If you need another day or two, no one will ask questions."

You glance over towards your psychologist, your fucking therapist, a nice little 'gift' sent over by the bureau to check in on your mental state after your ordeal. Glaring at him through the reflection of your mirror, he sighs, putting down his pen that slaps against his notepad, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I'm going to Laswell." Ignoring his statement, you speak. "I'm ready. I'll pack up. Get back to base. Vera had me discharged from the infirmary. I can start ov--"

"Vera?"

"My nurse. You met her," you continued, annoyance spiking at the interruption. Your wrist brace squeaking quietly under the pressure of your fist tightening beneath the table.

"Right..."

"Do you listen to a word I say outside of...my 'trauma'?" You wonder, bluntly.

Your psychologist blinks, surprised, before clearing his throat, appalled. "If you feel I can be more attentive to your state of well-being throughout our process, than by all means--"

"Oh, so 'no'?" you lean back into your seat, a strained laugh leaving you. His lips press together and you continue before he can find the words. "Because whenever I mention leaving this fucking team, you either adjust our schedule for another two weeks or suggest hypnotic therapy, as if I need anyone else digging around to fuck up my mental state."

"I never meant to imply--"

"Oh, you implied it," you interrupted, gritting your teeth. "I know what I want. And I want off Task Force 141."

He taps at the leather of his notebook. "Scars heal, just remember that, Ms. (L/n). The reminders of your experience shouldn't have to haunt you."

"It's not the scars, I've had my share way before this," you admitted, rising to your feet. You exhale deeply that tells to the effort of it, the steel gear hinges along your leg braces shift with your change of position. Still getting use to them. "It's the person."

"Has she changed, you think?" the psychologist begins to write, getting somewhere.

"She doesn't exist anymore."

Finally, placing the mirror down and onto the side table, you pushed off of the table, rolling your IV pole along with you. Passing the chair your psychologist sits on, he closes his notebook with a frustrated huff, looking over his shoulder. "Session over for you already, Ms. (L/n)?" he sighs. "We've still got the hour."

"I'm done," you take the knob in your hand. Turning.

In more ways than one.

"You understand that, informing your captain on your leave is required of you. Have you spoken to any of them, in the last few weeks?" he spoke up, quickly. "I'm sure giving them a space to open up, share from their view--"

"Why should I care--"

"--will give you better understanding, better clarity of the situation they were in--

Appalled. "What the fuck?" Jamming the door closed with a loud, shuttering thud, you whip around. "IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM!" you could just rip your hair out. "Who--who says that to someone?!"

Your psychologist sits there, eyes wide in confusion. "What--"

"Christ, can you hear me? Can you--can you see me? I've got metal plates in my spine, braces holding my knees in place and nerve damage that'll never heal! Who gives a fuck about them!" your skin feels red hot, your face twisted in rage. "I gave my life! My life to this! And then I'm tortured, I'm threatened, drugged and beaten by my own team, my f--my family for eight fucking years..."

You continue with a heavy chest. "And I'm supposed to invite them for dinner to talk and listen them bitch and moan about why they thought it was necessary to beat me to death for two weeks?! Fuck you!" you spat. "I don't owe them anything!"

"That's not what I was trying to say, Ms. (L/N). I apologize, I overstepped. Come sit down--"

"Of course you meant it," you interrupted, mock humor. "Don't be a pussy, own up to it. Revel in your truth. Be tter yet--" you snatch a journal from the cabinet. Tossing it his way. "Make a note of it."

Turning the knob, you leave the room with a slam of the metal door.

---

You were officially famous. On the base, you were now a legend.

A story that would be mentioned and told at lunch for months. Probably years.

First, you were a rat. Next, you were innocent. This was the most gossip any of those in service had ever seen in their years of service.

An interesting reminder to those in service that you weren't safe off duty either.

You learned a few days ago that there was an update put into the interrogational unit, something about how to properly go about dissecting evidence and being on the lookout for enemy spies in the militia.

You guessed you had been told about it in an effort to be appeased by the thought that the head of control paid attention to anything beyond their own noses for once. But, you had little to no faith in a system that's nearly killed you on and off the field by now, so it didn't matter.

You doubted the new rules would be followed though, there was a plethora of things they'd done to you in that cell that were both illegal and unsanctioned. Most of all, that were expected towards an enemy, a prisoner of war at best, and not a fellow marine.

You arrive at the housing quarters, swiping your key card, pulling the handle and entering the wing. Immediately, you're greeted by a dozen eyes, conversations stopping short and clothes ruffling to silence, suddenly whispers fill the space and eyes turn away.

"Oh, god, it's her..." says one man in the far corner.

"Shut the fuck up, man!" came a harsh whisper back.

"I didn't know it was that bad..."

All those eyes on you, makes you pause in your step, looking around at all of your fellow soldiers, the men and women you've served with for years. Many you recognized, ate with, fought beside that turned their backs to you now. Out of respect? Out of distaste, morale, nerves, pity, it all didn't matter. It all felt the same.

The wheels attached to your IV pole suddenly sounded much too loud on the polished flooring, as you walked down the hall as fast as you were able to.

Breathing out deeply, you get to an elevator, pushing on the button, once, twice, three times, just open goddamn it.

With a ding, the metal doors open, and suddenly you're aware that people could be in the elevator, they could be in this elevator, he could be in this elevator. Your eyes flicker down to the floor, your grip on the pole of your iv tightens, your shoulders stiffen, waiting for a blow that will never come.

You stand there as the doors open up, the small space empty, the metal walls reflect only her and a streak of lighting from the ceiling.

Looking up slowly, finally taking a breath, before sliding the iv up and onto the elevator, following it as you press your floor number along the way.

The ride up is fast, a little rumble as it stops, and then the doors open. Faster than you were prepared for.

Peeking out down the hallway, luckily no one to bump into, which you were thankful for. But, it didn't make this hall any less haunting. You'd been cornered in this same hall, you could recall being hauled out of the room after the solid handle of a knife hits your temple.

You don't go down fast enough, whipping around as you stumble to take the wrist of your attacker, mostly for balance, it's Price. In shock, you're unprepared as Johnny's arm encircle your neck, locking you into position as you both stumble backwards onto the floor. He blocks your airways, hushing you harshly as you struggle, feet kicking out and your vision blurring as your team surrounds you. Your family.

That was quite the headache to wakeup with afterwards.

You hadn't quite remembered until now. Being back served as a hell of a kickstart to your memory.

Just a few more reasons to get the fuck off of 141.

Getting off the elevators, the metal doors sliding closed behind you, you make your way down the hall. The polished flooring creates a subtle squeak through the wheels of your iv pole, your hand absently running over the fading stitches along your side.

Passing the shadows of your tortured memory, the doorway of the office was closed, locked.

You pass Kyle's room.

Johnny's.

Finally, you rush up to the next room on the left, grabbing the handle, before beginning to twist, but then you're yanking your hand back as if the metal had burned you. Your back ramming into the back wall, catching yourself, this wasn't your room.

It was Simon's.

You'd spent hours, days, in that room. More than your own.

Why wouldn't you? You were about to get married to the man. You had more in this room than you had in yours.

Sharp breaths leave you, shivering in your effort to keep yourself together, your head goes back into the wall, swallowing down the ache in your chest.

You wait, muscles tensed and your body pressing back into the wall, hoping it'd absorb you if that door opens. Listening for every sound, any pin drop, even an exhale from beyond that doorway. Luckily, Simon seemed to be out for the day.

Hurriedly, nearly running, you steady yourself against the wall as you rush down to the corner of the hallway, finally finding your room.

Turning the handle, it's not locked, it's broken. It opens with ease.

Entering the room slowly, pushing the doorway aside, the crackle of glass beneath your boots as you step forwards, clothes and picture frames laying scattered.

The mattress flipped and ripped open, springs and cotton cut from it. Your wall of metals and certificates, from acts of bravery and mementos of valor, discarded, later you'd find them in the trash, one with a bullet lodged into the gold.

Sniffling as you leaned down, picking a specific frame off the ground, the only one that hadn't been broken. Laying along the ruined rug, with no care for the glass digging through your jeans, you stare at the still shot of your family.

The only family you had outside of Task Force 141, your father and his sister, military brats themselves, until their retirement. Your mother had passed, or just up and left, days after your 5th birthday, you weren't completely sure, the story kept changing every year. But, these two were the only family you've ever known, ever had, until you joined the military, following in their footsteps.

They'd been so proud when you arrived back after your first assignment, in truth you were heavily traumatized, but seeing them, you just had to smile. Having a family that understood the harsh toll on the line of a trooper, now a lieutenant, it was always easier to bring your troubles to them. But, they were also military nuts so "suck it up" was also a quick go to answer from your aunt, while your father was the smoother talker.

They had met Simon, loved him, his rank, his love for you, his seriousness. They trusted him completely with your heart.

So, when he called them, after the evidence leaked...

They believed him.

"What're you talking about?" You took the handle of the chair in your grip, easing you down into it as your legs do weak at what you were hearing. "I didn't...I didn't do it, Dad."

"Do you know how humiliating and disappointing--how it felt to hear him say that to me, hm?" he says, static crackles on the reciever. "My daughter...my own flesh and blood...working with terrorists--"

"I'm not working with anyone! Are you-" you huff out a breath of disbelief. "Are you even listening to me? I've never betrayed the code. How can you think that way of me?"

For a moment, he's silent. "Alright, then," he began. "Than, what'd you do? huh?"

"What--what..."

"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" your father yells. "What did you do?! What could they possibly have had on you that made you the most likely target? You had to have had done something, been somewhere, were with somebody you weren't supposed to be with! They didn't just get that information from anywhere."

"What the fuck--" Your expression twists with frustration and misery, running your hand through your hair, pulling at it. "I've sacrificed every part of myself for this job, for this team, what do I have to gain from throwing that all away? They send me everywhere, places you've never heard of, places you'll never hear about and people you'll never have to meet, because of me! Why would you just believe Simon? Why couldn't you just wait to talk to me?!"

Hearing your father scoff at your words was painful. "What reason do I have not to believe him? He knows you, maybe even better than any of us. Besides, he was going to be my son in law--"

"I'm your daughter! Fuck Simon, what about me? You'd believe him instead?"

He sighs. "Listen, you're upsetting Cass. We didn't expect your call. I gotta make this brief..."

"You're upset?" pulling at your hair, sucking in sharply. "I'm the one who's permanently fucking altered here. What do either of you have to be upset about?!"

"Watch your fucking mouth!" he seethes. The anger in his voice isn't new, but the way he spits it at you is. "You did this to yourself, I didn't. Maybe that's what your nightmares were about, am I right? Your guilt?"

Wiping the streaks of tears that had fallen down your face, lips quivering and chest aching with sobs you frustratedly shoved down. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I don't deserve the disgrace that will come with you as my kin, I've lived my part of this war. No daughter of mine should even be in this fucking position," your father spat, disgusted into the receiver. Suddenly, he was the cruel, bitter old man your mother had always known him to be, you wished she had stayed to at least remind you of that. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much. "You should be ashamed of yourself, but at least you got yourself out it. The least you could do for us."

"Well--what does that mean?" you spoke, quietly.

"Don't call again..."

"Dad, no--" you break this time, a sob escaping you.

"Me and your Aunt Cass..."

"Daddy please, don't do this--"

"..We've decided to cut ties. We're not taking any heat from this, you're on your own," he finishes, clearing his throat, waiting a moment, listening to the pleads and cries of his only daughter, his once pride. "You take care of yourself. Goodbye, kid."

"Why can't you just believe me? Why?!" you cried.

"Don't come to the house."

"No, no,--" the line goes dead. And staring down at your phone, his caller id going blank and the call disconnecting.

Your phone all of a sudden feels heavy, the device and your hand falling down to your thigh, before the phone slips out of your grip and onto the floor. You sit there silently, until your tears drop up and even after.

Staring at the photo now was haunting in its own way, it was just another painful reminder.

Using the bed frame to stand to your feet, your grip on the frame is painful as you squeeze it, the glass cracks audibly.

"Bonnie..."

Whipping around at the sound of John MacTavish's voice, you back up a few steps at the sight of him, your back hitting the edge of your desk.

He reaches out as you stumble, before his fingers curl back into his palm as you find your balance, his hands receding back to his sides. He doesn't enter the room, just lingering just beyond the doorway, his eyes flickering around the room, guiltily.

"I didn't know--we didn't know you were out," he speaks quietly, as opposed prideful personality that translated into his voice usually.

You say nothing.

In the dark, your eyes are wide and your shoulders are tensed up, he can see the glint of your leg braces, the iv pole at the side, the scar beneath your eye. You looked terrified to see him.

"We were coming back to clean up today, just got back from...from a mission..." he stutters on his words, shifting his feet.

"It's been a week."

His lips press together hearing your voice. "I know..." Johnny glances around at the room he'd let those officers destroy, it hadn't been them, but they might as well had done it. "I know...we just...didn't know it was so bad."

"Really?" your voice is mockingly sweet, drawing out the word. "You didn't know? Well look..." you hold up your family photo, the light in the hallway catching on the glass. "You missed one."

Your hand dropping, the heavy frame comes down just as fast, ramming into the ground, the glass practically exploding on impact.

Johnny flinches, the photo of your family...He looks back to you, surprised. "Bonnie..."

Snatching the next closest thing from your desk, a ceramic cup. "Oh, wow, can't believe you guys missed this one," you chuck it into the wall. It breaks on impact, the remains scatter along the flipped mattress and onto the floor. "That used to be my favorite mug by the way."

The Scotsman worriedly steps forwards, 'Lass, I'm sorry--"

"FUCK YOU!" you spat, coming into the light. You're sure you look deranged, and you didn't care. You could've wrapped your hands around his throat, killed him right on the floor and you wouldn't have blinked. "It doesn't mean anything! 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', over and over and over again! As if you shouldn't be! Your apologies mean fuck all."

"I know...I know," he breathes. "But, I've gotta say it anyway, bonnie. I should've believed you, there was no reason not to. I know that now. I just--"

"Believe me!" you cut him off with a yell. "Trust me! Fucking 'HELP ME'!" you screamed with the same fever as your days in the interrogation room, that terrible cell, the cold, the burn and pain. "I cried it all to you, to all of you, and nobody came. Nobody came for me," you breathe in sharply. "It doesn't matter what you should've done. You didn't do it!"

Johnny's eyes are red, he opens his mouth, closes it and then swallows down whatever chokes him up as he looks at you. "I should've came for you. I wish I did. I wanted to, Bonnie..." he steps forwards, and you recede back away from him, your eyes narrowed with violence. "I'll never forgive myself for not listening to you. For not coming to help you. For laying a hand on you. I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I'm sorry..."

I'll never forgive myself... "That makes two of us," you assured.

Johnny's eyes widen, before they close, his guilt ever consuming. He can't help but understand, to respect your decision, to know things can never be ok again. "(Y/n)...."

Grabbing hold of the nearest thing, a pencil cup, you hurl it at Johnny. He doesn't put his hands up, flinching as it hits him, the metal clinking against his kevlar, eyes closing then opening, he stands still. "I don't forgive. I don't accept your apology. I don't fucking care about it!" with each sentence you throw something else his way, a broken frame, the trash bin, a pillow, the CD player.

His hand has to come up for the knife you unsheathe, a memento from one of your missions, it's rusted, ancient probably. But, you hadn't given it up to a museum or to pawn, you had nearly died on this mission, saving Johnny ironically. You had to keep it.

Seeing the weapon, his defensive position is instinctive but his hands drop just as fast, he understands, you need this. You deserve this. "If you need to..." he speaks. Your eyes flicker up to him, away from the knife. "If you need to, I get it..."

And you need to. You really fucking do.

Your grip on the knife is dangerously hard, it hurts.

Looking at Johnny, he'd been your brother in more than a few ways on and off the field, he had been your comfort, your friend, your family. You had bled with him, held onto him as he carried you from the battlefield, joked, laughed, screamed and cried. You've loved him for years.

He'd had a rough few nights you could see that. He was quieter, reserved. Almost as terrified to see you, as you had been of him.

And you could kill him right now and never bat an eye.

And so, throwing that knife was so fucking easy.

Johnny's eyes close as you do just that, fists clenching and teeth biting down on his tongue to prepare for the pain.

The ancient weapon whiz's through the air, the sound is sharp and he knows it will cut through him like butter.

The thud rings in the room, and Johnny's eyes blow open wide, holding his breath as he collapses to his knees, before turning to you.

You dig into the pile of clothes that had been cast aside, a pair of sneakers and a new shirt. You don't look at him a single time as you take it all, stuffing them in a bag, and leaving the room, passing him completely, a limp in your step.

Johnny releases a pained breath, tears finally leaving him as he looks up, the knife lodged into the frame of the doorway, just barely missing him. The sleeve of his uniform ripped open.

He sits there in the quiet, destroyed room. A testimony to the relationship he's destroyed between you.

Part 4!! OUT NOW

[no-144444]

nothing bad!- o.piastri

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summary: the sprint pisses you off, ted's notebook catches you at a bad time, you say some things, oscar posts some things, and it ends up being one of the most popular ad campaigns in history. oops.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x fem! driver! reader

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You rolled your eyes as you watched the sprint end. Bullshit. Team orders had always left a bad taste in your mouth, but this was just bullshit. You sighed, looking at Mark, and he just rolled his eyes. Oscar was on par with Lando in his second season. Yes, there were some small mistakes or issues, but he was a fucking jet engine, and he deserved a team that treated him like one. He was going to be World Champion next year, you knew it, Mark knew it, everyone knew it. 

“Fucking arseholes,” Mark cursed. “What time is your quali at?” 

“12,” you answered. “I’m going to just go talk to him, see you in a bit.” 

You stood in Parc Fermé and he came up, pressing a kiss to your lips and sighing as his team congratulated him. 

“That was such bullshit,” you sighed, following him to his driver’s room after the media duties. “Wanna fuck to get all that frustration out?” 

He nodded, not even looking at the question like it was a joke. You both knew it wasn’t. “How long until your quali?” 

“An hour,” you shrugged, pulling him into his room with a smirk. 

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When you two finally resurfaced, you made your way over to your car, ready to slot it onto the grid, as you did, you were stopped by Ted Kravitz, the man, the myth, the legend himself. 

“Y/n! How are you feeling about today’s quali and sprint race?” he asked. 

“Good, yeah. Just need to get out and up there,” you nodded. You were the number one driver in F1 Academy, and F2. This weekend was an F1 Academy weekend. You’d won every race since you’d joined the series, a sweep of total domination for 2 years. 13 wins under your belt in F1 Academy, 12 feature race wins in F2, and 12 Sprint wins in F2. And you were only 22. 

“And how did you feel about Oscar’s Sprint race? You didn’t look so happy in Parc Fermé.”

You rolled your eyes. “If Lando really needs Oscar to take a side step like that over one point, maybe he’s not ready to be champion,” you shrugged. “And that’s coming from a friend.” 

You could feel the air shift as Ted smirked, knowing what a headline that would be. 

“Thanks for your time Y/n, we’ll see you on the other side of Quali,” he smiled, allowing you to walk on. 

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Pole position, again. 

It was almost funny how easy it was. 

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You made your way back into your garage and found Oscar looking proud, but slightly guilty…

“What did you do?” you asked, putting your helmet and gloves down. 

“Nothing bad,” he prefaced. “But I may or may not have posted something.”

You looked at him quizzically. “Show me.” 

He turned his phone around and you laughed. 

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oscarpiastri

liked by pierregasly, landonorris, y/nracing, and 839,231 others

oscarpiastri: get yourself a girlfriend who a) is intelligent, gorgeous, and awesome. and b) publicly humiliates your teammate over one point :)

comments

landonorris: low blow... i thanked you -> y/nracing: u forgot to thank beyonce.

user82: WHAT IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS

mclaren: please take this down xxx -> y/nracing: if he takes this down i'll bomb mtc. -> mclaren: OH GREAT HEAVENS.

zbrownceo: we know this diva 💜

lilymhe: hold up im trying to spell gorjus -> y/nracing: OMG I FUCKING LOVE YOU DITCH ALEX FOR ME PLZ

carlossainz: at least you've got a leg up on lando... -> user22: ??? -> carlossainz: he hjas a girlfriend that loves him, lando's dumps him every four days -> landonorris: WHY AM I CATCHING STRAYS RN????

oscarpiastri: who is this gorgeous lady? -> y/nracing: she's taken bucko -> oscarpiastri: not by lando norris 😹😹😹 (even though he asked you out first...) -> y/nracing: who the fuck would pick lando over oscar?

pierregasly: WHO IS THIS DIVA 💜

charlesleclerc: glad to see my daughter in law is still insane

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“Well, I’d better post something myself, shouldn't I?” you smirked. He nodded, a bright blush on his cheeks, knowing exactly what you were going to post. 

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y/nracing

liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri, landonorris and 12,293,942 others

y/nracing: booo ln4. i'm into op81. oh yeah, also our skims collection is out on the 24th xxx

comments

user82: OH MY FUCKING GOD

user29: i have no one to talk to about this.

oscarpiastri: pretty girl -> y/nracing: pretty boy

landonorris: ??? ->oscarpiastri: I will actually gouge your eyes out, unlike this post right now. -> user92: WHAT HAPPENED TO POLITE CAT? -> oscarpiastri: his teammate became a bitch

user92: HOLY SHIT Y/N IS LOOKING GORG

lilymhe: my girl is beautiful

alexandrastmleux: my girl xxx

charlesleclerc: supporting! (with my eyes closed)

pierregasly: 👀 ->oscarpiastri: close them.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[southislandwren]

no im fine its just the way i have 6 free hours a day and i napped for 4 of them so now i dont have time to play totk and the horrors are endless and im not going to make it

[froggiewrites]

Insomnia

Pairing: Zoro x Reader, platonic Strawhats & Reader

SFW

Summary: You find yourself unable to sleep, and all of your friends are determined to help. Unfortunately, nothing seems to work...until you find yourself in the lap of a certain swordsman. Warnings: Just Extreme Fluff! Word Count: ~3k Crossposted from Ao3

You were exhausted.

It had started slowly. You began to take a little longer to fall asleep and wake up just a touch earlier, spending days with your thoughts just a bit fuzzy around the edges, eyes a little unfocused in quieter moments, but nothing severe.

Then you started waking up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep no matter how long you closed your eyes and laid there, praying for relief. You would instead wander around the ship, find ways to make yourself busy, making conversation with whoever was on night watch. You pretended not to notice the quiet concern on the crew’s faces when they all spoke and realized you had been awake to speak with each of them at 4am for the last week.

And now, you have given up on sleeping entirely, staring at the ceiling of your quarters with no sign of sleep’s embrace at all. No matter what you tried, it wouldn’t come. You can already see sunlight begin to shine under the door. Your friends are stirring, and you can already smell the breakfast Sanji’s making this morning. Another night of restlessness. You can barely force yourself out of your cot, but there isn’t a point in staying. It won’t help. You drag yourself to the deck, feet shuffling and face scowling.

“Still can’t sleep?” You don’t notice Usopp until he speaks, and you look up to see him up on the railing, fishing pole in hand, face flooded with pity and concern.

“No.” You try desperately to keep from snapping, knowing it isn’t his fault, isn’t anyone’s, but the best you can do is keep your voice flat and your words short. He winces a little at your tone, but he doesn’t comment. Instead he ponders you quietly, before seemingly coming to a decision.

“Do you want help?”

“Help how?”

“Help falling asleep! From the great Captain Usopp!” He puts on a silly wide and smug smile, but you can still see the worry in his eyes. He probably doesn’t even have any ideas yet, he just wants to help in any way he can.

“I would try almost anything at this point. What’re you thinking?”

He lets out a smug little laugh. “I knew you’d want my help! I don’t know if you know this, but I’m the greatest storyteller in all the seas.” He gives you a conspiratorial grin. “I bet you I can tell you a bedtime story that’ll send you to dreamland before you know it!”

You consider it. Usopp is an amazing storyteller, of course. You’ve never heard him tell a single tale that wouldn’t hook you enough to keep you awake, but maybe he’s just never tried. “Alright. I’ll come get you tonight—”

“Tonight? You’ll probably die by then! We’re gonna do this now, and you can sleep the entire day!” He grabs your hand, dragging you back to the bunks. You pass a few of your other friends on their way out, and while Zoro and Nami give you strange looks, they don’t comment. Just before the door closes, you see Sanji’s head pop out of the kitchen you call everyone in, and his eyes shift to you in confusion.

The door slams with a definitive sounding thunk, and Usopp’s hands push you onto your cot. He tucks you in with surprisingly practiced hands, before saying, “Alright. Get ready for the best sleep of your life!” He clears his throat dramatically. “Once upon a time, the great Captain Usopp—”

“—the end! …Nothing, huh? Not even for a second?” You flick open an eye to see disappointment on poor Usopp’s face. His tale had continued for at least an hour, with several dozen twists and turns as he tried to stretch it out until you finally started snoring, but you were as horribly, devastatingly awake as ever.

“Not even a wink. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, you're not the one who failed.” His shoulders slump a little. “I really thought that would work.”

You sit up to pat this hand comfortingly. “You didn’t fail, Usopp. I’m just…cursed. Probably. By God.” His stomach grumbles, and you suddenly remember he skipped breakfast to help you. “We should probably eat something.”

“Probably.” He looks so dejected it makes your chest ache a little.

“It’s okay, Usopp. Really.”

He doesn’t respond, getting up to head to the kitchen as you trail behind him. Everyone else has finished eating, half of the crew having already left, with only Sanji, Robin, and Nami chatting quietly over the table. There’s a plate set and ready, food growing cold, and you feel a flash of guilt knowing it was for you.

“Oh, my dear, you’re finally here! I was getting worried. I can fix you a new plate—here—” Sanji shoves the cold plate into Usopp’s hands. “I’ll throw something better together, just you wait!” Before you can even respond, he’s back to the kitchen, busying himself with making you something else.

“Are you alright? You look rather…” Robin trails off, clearly looking for and failing to find any words to describe your current state that wouldn’t be horribly offensive. 

“Awful.” Nami finishes for her, firmly but not without pity. “Are you still having trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah. I haven’t slept in at least 48 hours.”

“Oh my god.” Nami’s mouth hangs open a little, having not realized the full scope of your issues. Her face is painted with concern. “Are you…alright?”

“Not really.”

“You still can’t sleep?” Sanji calls out in concern over his shoulder, his knife still chopping away. “Do you want me to make you some tea? It might help.”

“Is it chamomile? I’ve tried that already.”

“It has chamomile in it, but that isn’t the only part. Valerian root, passionflower, and a couple extra things. I can’t guarantee it’ll fix your problem but it might help. I made it for Franky once and he fell asleep right at the table.” There’s no small measure of pride in his voice at that.

“I’m open to anything, at this point. Would you make me a cup?”

“Of course, dear!” His voice gets soft and honeyed the way it always does when he speaks to you, and after a new plate is placed in front of you he rushes off to the pantry to find the ingredients he needs.

Robin looks over you consideringly. “If that doesn’t work, why don’t you try reading? I always find winding down with a book helps.”

“Maybe. Usopp told me a story and it didn’t end up working, but reading it myself could be different.”

Nami taps her chin with her fingers, pondering. “Do you want to use aromatherapy, too? I have some lavender we could spray on your pillow. That might help too.”

“We can throw whatever spaghetti at the wall you want, I just want something to stick. I’m not picky.”

And with that the girls were off to grab their chosen items, while Usopp silently scarfed down cold eggs and tried to bandage his wounded pride. Sanji is humming a song you don’t recognize as the kettle whistles, and he expertly prepares your cup of tea. He’s sneaking glances over at you, probably lost in a daydream where he saves you from your horrible insomnia and you fall madly in love with him in return. Honestly? If he manages, you might. Any hero that saves you from this is worth considering.

As soon as the mug of tea is placed in your hands, Sanji’s fingers seemingly deliberately brushing against yours, you’re ushered back to your cot, where Nami, Robin, Brook, and Franky are waiting. You have no idea when this turned into a group activity, but sure. Why not?

“I thought some soothing music might help. A lullaby, maybe?” Brook’s voice is soothing and soft, like he’s already trying to lull you to sleep.

“And I brought a white noise machine as a backup! Thought you might like it.” Franky’s voice is as gentle as his natural boom can be.

Your eyes flick between them, then back to Nami, who’s unnaturally focused on fluffing your pillows and adding extra blankets to your cot, making it look the most inviting it ever has. “Are you gonna charge me for those?”

“No! …Probably not.” Her grin is mischievous.

“Honestly, if you get me to sleep, I’ll pay whatever you—”

“Woah! Don’t make any promises you can’t keep. She’ll keep you to that.” Franky’s voice is filled with brotherly concern. “Nami, don’t pay attention to that. Anyone that tired has no idea what they’re saying.”

“I wouldn’t actually take payment for this! I’m not a monster.” Her last punch to your pillow has a bit of extra force behind it, her irritation clear.

Before they can continue bantering, Brook begins playing a tune on his violin, bringing the rest of you to silence. Your hands are wrapped around your warm mug of tea, a book chosen by Robin open in front of you while you sip. The smell of lavender is strong enough to have flooded the room. Franky clicks a button on his little machine and the sounds of spring rain washes over all of you. Your shoulders relax, a soft smile slipping onto your face, but your eyes are no closer to closing. Even when Sanji comes in to take your mug away, the warmth long faded, or when Brook’s finger bones grow tired and his song comes to an end, or when the snores of your friends start to fill the room, you do not sleep. You feel no closer than you were an hour ago when this started, no closer than you were this morning when Usopp had tucked you in. You honestly feel like you’ll never sleep again.

It isn’t until noon that you finally give up, having finished half of the book that Robin lent to you. The smell of lavender had started to fade an hour ago. You carefully step over Franky and Brook passed out on the floor, your eyes wandering over to Nami and Robin sleeping peacefully on vacant cots. You try to be glad this worked for somebody, but you can’t help a bitter sort of jealousy brewing in your chest. Why do they get relief when they aren’t even suffering? Why is it only you who has to feel this weight dragging you down?

You try to stalk past Luffy, pouting all the while, but your captain catches you by the wrist with a rubbery hand. “Are you okay?”

You huff. “I’m never going to sleep again.”

“That sucks.”

You blink at him blankly.

He blinks back.

“I’m just having trouble sleeping. Not, like, literally.”

“Oh.”

“It sucks.”

“Yeah.” He hums, pressing his lips together in thought. You can practically see the lightbulb above his head when he has his idea, his eyes brightening and smile widening. “Oh, I’ve got it!” He pulls you along with him, dragging you quickly further onto the deck before you’re unceremoniously shoved forward, stumbling over your legs and landing on something firm and warm.

“Bwuh?” Your eyes flick up to see Zoro bathed in sunlight, his good eye just barely open, a yawn forcing his mouth open wide. “What’s goin’ on?”

“You’re good at sleeping!” He gives a wide grin. “Help ‘em!” And without elaborating he just…runs off to do god knows what, satisfied that he has somehow solved the problem.

Zoro’s eye focuses on you questioningly, but before you can explain, you suddenly become intensely aware of your position. You’re in his lap, face pressed into his thighs, your chest pressed into his lower legs. You both stare at each other, wide-eyed, unsure on what to say or how to say it.

“You comfortable down there?” His voice is even, but he’s betrayed by the hint of pink on his cheeks.

“I—um. I’m…fine.” You wince at the shake in your voice. You can feel heat spreading from the tips of your ears down to your neck, and you hope it isn’t as noticeable as it feels. The smirk on his face shows it probably is.

“Oh yeah?” He gives a quiet laugh. “You’re welcome to stay.” Despite his own embarrassment, he radiates smugness. That’s Zoro for you—ever the strategist, he finds whatever upper hand he can get and uses it to corner his opponent. He’s looking at you like a cat does a mouse, and you really do feel like prey. You instinctively go to hide your face from him, only to find your nose brushing against his thigh. He chuckles. “Oh, getting cozy, that’s good. I guess you’re in for the long haul.”

You flush even further, and with your voice muffled against his leg, you manage to protest. “I’m having a bad enough time without you bullying me, Zoro.”

“This isn’t bullying. C’mon, I’ve seen how you fight, you’re tougher than that. You normally don’t back down that easily.” His hand ruffles your hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “What’s got you so down?”

You whine quietly. “I haven’t slept in days, and I haven’t slept well in weeks. I feel like I’m dying.”

His energy immediately changes, eyes and smile softening into something more genuine. “Doesn’t sound fun. And Luffy thought I could help you with that?”

“I guess.”

“What have you tried?”

“Everything. Counting sheep, bedtime stories, warm drinks, lavender—”

“Bedtime stories?” His voice is teetering on teasing again.

“Usopp’s idea.”

“What, did he tuck you in too?”

You go quiet.

“Wait, really?” He sounds well and truly baffled.

“It was actually kind of nice,” you mumble. 

If you didn’t know better you would think Zoro was pouting. His eye is a bit narrowed, his mouth in a flat line, bottom lip slightly jutted out. “Oh yeah? Well it didn’t work, did it? So you had to come to me for help.”

His hands grab your shoulders, pulling you up so you’re sitting instead of laying on his lap, your face directly pressed into his chest. You can hear his heartbeat below it, not exactly rapid but certainly betraying him, letting you know this situation is affecting him just like it’s affecting you. His arms wrap around you, and when he speaks, you can feel the rumble of his voice radiate through his chest and into you. “And now you’re gonna sit here with me, you’re gonna fall asleep before you know it, and the rest of those fools will have to accept that only I could give you what you need.” He pulls you impossibly closer, snugly tucking you into him and leaning back to pull you down to the deck with him.

“Someone’s a little jealous, huh?”

He scoffs. “Why would I be? Who’re you laying on right now, huh?” His hand grips your hip as if proving a point. “Go to sleep already, you need it.”

“What, you think this is all it takes? Cuddling?” Even as you say it, you break into a yawn, and your eyes begin to droop. His presence is comforting, and between his body heat and the gentle warmth of the sunlight, you can feel yourself beginning to fade. Your vision is too blurry to see his cocky grin, but you know it’s there all the same.

“Yeah, I do. Now get some rest.” You barely hear his response over the calming sound of his heartbeat. Your breathing slows, and before you know it, you’re sleeping for the first time in what feels like years.

After you’ve fallen asleep, he takes his time to observe you. The way your hair shines in the sunlight, the way your mouth parts slightly when you snore, the way your body feels so natural and right against his. His hand rubs a soothing circle into your back while you rest, and you make a soft noise of contentment that he can’t help but smile at. You look so beautiful like this, so small and soft and fragile. Something to care for. Something to protect. It feels right to have you in his arms, right against him, where he can keep you safe. 

He wonders if you’d be willing to do this all the time, though he’d rather die than ask. He has his pride. Maybe you’ll come to him, wide eyed and wanting, next time you struggle to fall asleep. Maybe you’ll ask in that shy little voice if he’d be willing to help you, in the way only he can, and all he’ll have to do is open his arms for you to fall into. Maybe he’ll have more days and nights like these, with the comforting weight of another in his bed. What an idea.

He wonders what you might give him in thanks. One of those breathtaking smiles, surely. A hug, perhaps. It wouldn’t be more than this, pressed together, but the idea of you initiating it, of it being a deliberate choice on your part, makes his heart beat a little faster. He imagines you throwing your arms around him of your own volition, no captain shoving you forward. He imagines those arms moving around his neck instead, pulling him closer so you can press your lips onto his. He imagines how soft they’d be, and how desperate you would be to feel his own. He imagines you wanting him in a dozen different ways, each unique, each better than the last. He imagines calling you his, and you calling him yours in return.

He falls asleep to the idea of a shared life, a shared bed, a shared heart. When the crew finally stumbles out of their naps, they find the two of you on deck, intertwined, a tangle of limbs that seems all but impossible to separate. You’re both snoring softly, smiles on your faces, and they can’t bear to wake you. You seem like you’re having very sweet dreams.

[darnell-la]

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗘 𝗢𝗨𝗧

pairing: dark!project x!wolverine x government employee!reader

warnings: held to work, reader on her period, project x gone wild, killing, hunting/sniffing down, rough sex, oral (fem receiving), creampie, kidnapped, new life, etc.

note: we wish…

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits and memes of the people we write about!

————————————————————————

𝟯𝗥𝗗 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗣𝗢𝗩

Working for the government isn’t how people think. Yes, you get paid a good amount, but you’ll be a slave to them forever or until you mysteriously die.

Y/n tried quitting last year after the government started bringing mutants in. At first, they were locking the bad ones up. She had no problem with that until they started experimenting on and tortuous them. Good and bad. It didn’t matter.

She had no family, so she thought she’d be able to get away with saying she’d tell the world what they do under the white house.

She hasn’t seen home since that day. They have a special room here at her job, just like the rest that tried to leave. They knew she had no family. They only hire people who people wouldn’t question if they don’t show up anymore.

Y/n is currently checking up on Project X, who’s in his cage. She begged her job to never put her with him because of his past actions. Anyone who gets near him dies.

After y/n pulled her stupid stunt to quit, they started making her work down here, being the only one to work alone with him, ever.

They told her how unusually quiet he was when she entered the room. Usually, he groans and growls, making as much noise as he can to break out, but now, he just stands there, watching her for the hours she’s in the room with him.

“Been a long week, project x — Wished you talked to me so you could tell me your name,” y/n sighed as she sat on her working chair, ready to start her long night shift.

Logan who was named Project X after the government had pushed himself onto his feet from an unusual smell. A smell he’d never smelt before.

He couldn’t explain the smell he was smelling, but he knew it smelt good. His pupils grew as his heart rate quickened. He felt hungry all of a sudden. He was just fed…

“Aye, buddy, wassup?” Y/n asked as an alarm went off, telling her his heart rate had risen. Y/n looked through the computer schedule, seeing if anyone had given him any shots today that could’ve raised his heart rate, but there were none. Even if there were, why was his heart beating fast now?

Y/n looked at Logan after hearing him growl for the first time ever. The view made her own heart rate rise. He was looking right at her, hands gripping the metal poles as his teeth pushed together, showing the slightly longer fan teeth.

“Woah — Relax, buddy,” Y/n said as she stepped towards the cage to see if he had hurt himself somehow. As soon as her foot passed the yellow line that had “don’t cross” written big on it, a hand reached for her.

Y/n backed up with a scream. She’s never been attacked by any mutants. Ever.

Logan tried reaching further, trying to squeeze through the bars, but he couldn’t. He grew angry when he couldn’t. He knew the smell was coming from her once she got close.

He’s never felt like this in his life. It’s like his body took over and began acting like the animal he was.

Logan shouted as he forced his claws out, now scratching at the metal bars. Y/n’s body was overcome with fear. She was stuck for. A few seconds until she saw the metal on the cage, move. They’re not supposed to move.

Y/n quickly ran over to her desk and pressed the big red button that was there just in case Project X had broken out. She didn’t care if he wasn’t out. He was getting there.

“Help! Help!” Y/n screamed as she ran over to the door, pressed the button to leave. They usually have to let her out. “What’s wrong, Ms. Y/n? Your shift isn’t over yet,” a guard said.

“He’s breaking out! Project x is breaking out!” She yelled into the speaker. The guards had looked at each other, never having this happen to them on their shift. They didn’t know what to do at first.

“Please, let me out! Let me out!” She yelled again, snapping them out of their slow thoughts. One of the guards pushed a button to let her out and the other pressed an alarm, alarming every guard that Project X was breaking out.

After hearing the alarm “Project X” alarm, y/n knew he was more dangerous than she thought.

Logan fought for a while, getting wilder after y/n escaped him until one of the bars broke. He kicked the bar, causing it to fly across the room, allowing him to squeeze through and escape.

The wild man shouted before walking out of the room he’d been in for who knows how long.

He heard footsteps come around the corner. He was ready to get through anyone who tried to get in his way.

“Hands and knees, Project X! Hands and knees!” A guard yelled. Logan smirked before running at the group of guards, killing every single one.

Y/n ran faster after hearing the guard and then yelled right after. She knew Project X had killed them. She was scared she was next.

As Logan was fighting, he was fixated on sniffing y/n out. He knew which way she ran, but had to track her down from the way she smelt.

Every second that passed, she smelt better. He’s never smelt that smell in his life, yet, he needed it like he’s had it every day of his life.

Y/n finally made it to her room, closing and locking her door. She hoped he didn’t know where she slept. He shouldn’t. He’s never been outside of that room.

As time went by, it got quiet. The guards yelling at least. The alarms were still going off, but at least the yelling was gone, right? That means they got him. Right?

Y/n said on her bed, looking at the door to be prepared, but nothing happened. No one was near, she thought.

The young lady sighed as she turned her head. As soon as her eyes left the door, it was kicked open. Y/n screamed as she jumped further onto her bed, head turning towards the door.

“Augh,” he growled low with a smirk as he fixed his posture and walked into y/n’s room slowly. How did he know where she was? The man closed the girl's door, locking it, which she thought was going to be impossible by the way he kicked it open.

She thought kicking it open was impossible, but forgot, the door was light metal. Metal he would definitely be able to get through.

“P-Please don’t hurt me. Please! I-I’ll do anything! I’ll break you out. I swear!” Y/n said as her back hit the wall as she stayed on her bed. He ignored her offer, still grinning at her as he stepped closer.

“Please — What do you want from me!?” She yelled at him, pissed off that he won’t speak. Why is he coming after her? How did he find her?

Without answering her, Logan lunged at her. She screamed in the most horrific scream she’s ever screamed. She thought her life was over until he heard the man laugh.

Y/n’z eyes opened looking at what he was laughing at. He was laughing at her. Was he going to laugh while he shredded her body?

“What are you laughing at? Just get it over it!” She yelled in his face. He liked how feisty she got. Actually, he loved how feisty she was. Even though he hated how he got, it looked hot on her. Watching her yell, turned him on even more.

Logan ignored her again as he slowly moved down her body. She watched him, looking directly into his eyes, not knowing what he was going to do.

That was until he sniffed and groaned with his eyes shut tightly. “That’s where it’s comin’ from,” his raspy voice spoke before he ripped at y/n’s work jeans. They were thick, but no match for him.

Y/n screamed, shook at his actions and even his sentence became he’s never spoken around her. She was convinced he couldn’t speak.

Y/n thought she couldn’t be more surprised until the muscular and sweaty man ripped her panties off. She went to yell at him, but her voice got trapped in her mouth after he buried his face in between her thighs.

Y/n’s back arched, not able to speak for the first few seconds until she finally let out a loud moan, eyes rolling back to the point it slightly hurt.

“F-Fuck!” She screamed, head finally popping up to look down and in between her legs. “Fuck — No! No, please!” She kept screaming, but her voice sounded more cracked.

The man growled on her heat, slurping and slobbering all over cunt.

He didn’t know what came to him. He didn’t know why he loved the smell and taste of her. Years ago, he’d get icky when women said they were on their period, but something about being locked up for years and his mutant abilities being boosted made it impossible for him not to have a taste.

“N-No,” y/n’s back arched again, trying to close her legs, but the man used his huge hands to keep her legs separated. He knew she was close. He needed that smell over on his and in his mouth.

The man mumbled on her cunt, praising her but she couldn’t hear him. Her head went blank as she came undone all over his face.

If this was a normal human, he for sure would’ve drowned, but not Logan. He wished he could drown in her sweet juice.

“Fuuck, bub,” the man groaned as he leaned up, now moving over her until he was face to face with her. Her head was laid back on her sheets. He knew he drained her, but he needed more.

“Don’t pass out on me, princess. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten my cock wet, and you’re gonna be the first to drench it,” he said as he leaned back and off of her bed.

He was covered in blood. All of the guards and y/n’s. He thought it would be mindful to wet a towel in her room and wash his face off. He wanted her to faint from the good fuck he was about to give her. Nothing else.

“You know, baby? I always wanted to break outta here — But after I saw you? Fuck — I saw no need,” Logan said as he crawled back over y/n, sniffing up her body. “Not at all,”

“P-Please,” y/n’s low voice spoke. She was tired and needed to rest. It’s been a long week, and the way he just ate her out, made it longer. She’s on the line of passing out. “D-Don’t hurt me,”

“Ian gonna hurt you, bub. Gonna fill you up then get us outta here,” Logan said as he pulled his jeans down, freeing his cock. She had no idea what was going on or what he was saying. She was out of it.

“You’ve been comin’ in my little room for a month. You talk a lot, but I never mind. I find it shitty how these people could keep a pretty thing like you trapped in here with an animal like me,”

“Maybe it’s my luck — Just know, Ian, leavin’ heat without you. You belong to me now,” the man said. What was he talking about? Y/n was so confused that she felt pressure in between her legs.

The man let pour a shaky groan, feeling the young woman squeeze him tighter than he thought she could. It’s been a year, but he worse if it hadn’t, she’d still feel this amazing to him.

“Fuckin’ hell, y/n,” Logan spoke, triggering her slow-thinking mind. How did he know her name? “Have you been restricted from sex for decades too? You’re so fucking tight, fuck,” Logan was surprised.

“T-Too much — Too much!” Y/n gained some energy back to cry out and slap at his upper body. “Ah huh? Really? Can’t take a cock, baby? Can’t take my cock, baby?” Logan sounded more aggressive by the second.

“Been locked up for so long, I don’t give a fuck if I break you. I’ll put you back together, don’t worry. But you wouldn’t stay fixed for long,” he chuckled as y/n struggled to hold her moans.

“Cryin’ on my cock — Might be my new favorite thing, bub,” he said as he looked at her face. She looked so pretty. He wondered how she’d look with his huge cock in his mouth.

Ever since she stepped into his experimental room with one of her dress uniforms, he’s been feeling something for her. She was pretty, and after hearing her speak to him for weeks without him saying anything back, he fell in love with how smart she was.

Now that’s a woman he’s wanted for years…

“F-Fuck,” y/n gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin. He loved the slight pain she gave him. “Names Logan, baby. Moan my name,” Logan said in a desperate voice.

She was confused. His quick switches confused her. “Moan my fuckin’ name before I stuck your ass neck,” he threatened. The man looked down, looking at the way his cock was coated in her blood and cum. She was a squirted and creamer.

“L-Logan,” she cried out, scared he was going to fuck her ass like he threatened. As much of a monster he seemed like now, he didn’t want to hurt her. He knew anal was something he’d have to get her comfortable with one day.

“Logan,” she moaned again, even if he didn’t ask for it. She was so close. Again. “That’s it, bub — Got me so fuckin’ close,” he snapped his hips, building the perfect rhythm to fuck her in.

Watching her mouth part and eyes cross as they rolled back was the last straw. The man’s hips stuttered, wanting y/n he was going to cum in her.

She wanted to freak out, but she couldn’t. She just laid there, moaning his name as she released on him again.

“Oh, fuck!” The man shouted as he spilled in her. Cumming at the same time wasn’t something he was expecting, but that was it for him. He was officially tied to her.

Logan wanted to speak to y/n. Ask her if she felt good, but he noticed she had passed out. “Once you wake up, you’ll be home,” he said, knowing exactly where he was heading.

Logan had slipped one of y/n’s nightgowns on her before picking her up and carrying her through the halls, avoiding the guards who were looking for him. They had cameras everywhere, yet the guards on duty tonight were fucking idiots.

Once they made it out, he ran through the street, trying to find a bus that would leave the city. After running around for too long, he decided to break into a drunk, placing y/n in the back and then driving off before anyone stopped him.

“We’re here, bub,” Logan spoke, hours away from Washington. His parents owned a cabin in the woods next to a highway in Oklahoma.

He knew it would be hard, but he was keeping y/n. He couldn’t let anyone else get what he smelled off of her. He was wild for her.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ғᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ sᴏᴏɴ...

[bluecollarmcandtf]

F*** the Police

These assholes have no idea what's coming. They couldn't have known that every station in the city was recently bugged with subliminals. All their precincts have been hacked and now broadcast some very specific orders into the clueless minds of every working cop. No one knows it yet, but the police force is now an army of sleeper agents, ready to obey their conditioning with one simple trigger phrase...

"Fuck the police."

That's all you have to tell them.

Isn't it clever? Hundreds of people already hurl that phrase at pigs in uniform everyday. Just imagine an officer starting his shift, hearing the same insulting words he's heard a million times; only this time, the sound of it knocks the will right out of his body. Suddenly, his self-important personality is replaced with a new one that was specifically designed to humiliate and degrade him.

Think about our boys in blue swaggering around the city right now, intimidating us with their very existence. One "Fuck the police," and that law enforcer is at the whim of the protestor spitting in his face.

You're probably wondering what subliminal messages have been stuffed away inside their heads. Maybe you want to know what'll happen when you find a pig and say the magic words. Or maybe you're a filthy pig yourself, quivering in your state-issued, uniform boots.

Let's find out what New York's finest will do...

Officer Mikos was chasing down some teens after catching them spray painting near city hall. He'd almost hauled them into his cruiser when one shouted, "Man, fuck the police!"

The cop felt his feeble mind snap.

He started breathing heavily through a gaping mouth, looking at the 18 year-olds with a desperation that was not very becoming of a policeman. Drool poured out of his mouth and onto his uniform as he licked his lips suggestively. The cop was no longer bothered with laying down the law. Instead, he wanted, he needed these boys to fuck him up the ass.

His whole body craved to feel these vandals immasculate him publicly.

Of course, it was all in his head. Officer Mikos had spent plenty of hours working late at the precinct, so the conditioning had soaked deep into his skull. He was normally a straight-laced conservative man of the law, but that didn't stop him from rubbing his junk through his pants and slobbering all over himself.

"Fuck me," he moaned, "Please boys, fuck me."

The teenagers howled laughing, but even they were disgusted by the police officer's sudden flip in behavior. They didn't take him up on his request, preferring to run free. Officer Mikos was left to stagger off, shamelessly begging any passerby for sex. He needed someone, anyone to humiliate and fuck him.

Officer Bailey didn't get off so easy...

He was in the middle of breaking up a pub fight when one of the drunks slurred, "Fuck thuhplee..the police!" before puking.

The rookie cop might've been getting a handle on the two brawlers, but any control he'd had quickly dissipated. His eyes lost their focus and the baby pig lost all restraint, coming onto the inebriates like a back-alley whore. "Fuck me!" he begged, as one continued barfing and the other blindly stumbled into it.

Officer Bailey was suddenly filled with the knowledge that these two men, drunk off their asses, needed to screw him. It was the best way for him to disgrace himself, his uniform, and his department; which is exactly what the subliminal programming wanted him to do.

Barely able to think, one drunk said, "Warm ussup with that slobb'ry mouth of yers."

The policeman couldn't wait to get started.

Officer Bailey bobbed his wet lips on each of their sweaty dicks; he ripped his pants open and skewered his ass on their poles; but the real mission came after they grew bored of his sex. He couldn't let the opportunity to humiliate himself further just walk away, so he came up with new ideas! The cop offered to lick up their cum from the dirty asphalt, to let their piss air-dry on his face, to roll around in their vomit; anything to satisfy the voice in his head ordering him to degrade himself.

Eventually, the alcoholics tossed him aside, jokingly ordering him to throw himself away since they were finished. "Thaz where youz belongs, you pisa trashh!" the satisfied drunks garbled as they wobbled off.

Disgraced Officer Bailey couldn't keep the dumb smile off his face. He felt like he'd succeeded. He felt like, as a policeman, this garbage bin was where he belonged. He wouldn't be feeling that way forever.

In the harsh light of morning, the only comfort he had was knowledge that his humiliation was solely between him and the two drunks.

These next two weren't so lucky...

Dan and Frank were partners: police partners. As they would say, they weren't into any of that "gay crap." The two had actually bonded over their ideals of traditional masculinity and hatred of homosexuals. On any given day, you could find them camped on the highway, scowling about the last "fag" they had to interact with.

They couldn't think of anything more awful than being gay, so of course, when they heard "Fuck the police," their first inclination was to do the gayest shit ever.

"Fuck me," Officer Frank moaned to his partner as effeminately as his low voice could manage.

"No, fuck me!" Officer Dan whined, "You're so much bigger than me, so I should be the girl here."

Officer Frank couldn't wait any longer. He pulled Dan in and sucked his partner's face with the sloppiest kiss he'd ever given. They both created as many noises as possible, drawing a ton of attention to themselves. When they finally pulled apart, he said, "Let's go to that gay club down the street. I bet I can suck more cocks than you! I need to be the bigger police queer!"

"No way! I need to be the biggest faggot!"

With that, Officer Frank turned and marched down to the gay club, a place he normally pretended didn't exist. He was imagining crawling in on his hands and knees, putting his open mouth on the first crotch he saw.

Officer Dan hesitated. Normally he and Frank would stick together, but Dan was afraid Frank would steal all the gays away from him.

Licking his lips, the smaller policeman came up with a brilliant plan. He marched in the opposite direction, down towards the bridge. He knew there were dozens of homeless men down there who would gladly line up for his mouth. He was determined to suck more dick than Frank, and he was glad he was the one doing it with filthy hobos in public!

You think those two homophobes deserved it? There's no doubt about the next officer...

Bill Duncan is a long-time cop who comes from a family of law enforcers, but Bill is the only one that hasn't risen past the rank of petty officer. It probably has something to do with his history of aggression or his repeated DUIs. Still, Officer Duncan never got disciplined. His blue blood made sure of that.

It's a good thing he heard that "hoodlum" say "Fuck you, pig!"

The experienced cop had just been tailing a guy in a hoodie because he looked suspicious. In reality, Bill was just bored at work. That all changed after he heard those words.

His face brightened as a toothy smile spread into his round cheeks. "You're right. I am a pig," his scratchy voice sounded more animated.

"The fuck did you just say?"

"Come on!" Officer Duncan cried, leaning his thick frame towards his suspect "Give my lardy gut a good shake or kick me in the nuts! Anything to make this cop look like the fat ugly swine he is."

"Uh..."

"Oink," the policeman licked his lips playfully, "Are you still intimidated by me? How scary can a cop be if he shits his pants!"

With that, Bill groans, pushing a load out into his uniform pants, all while maintaining eye contact with the stranger. It's sticky, hot, and uncomfortable, but that only brings his twisted mind joy. That feeling is doubled when he sees his perp gasp in disbelief. He just can't help but humiliate himself in front of this guy.

"You like that?" he gasps, "Let me get a couple dozen donuts. You can see just how full of shit us cops are!"

Officer Duncan spent the rest of the night stuffing donuts into his face. The guy he'd been following tagged along, streaming the mess on social media. Bill's mindfucked brain was only too happy to be the butt of the joke. He made fun of law enforcement in every way he could think, while occasionally oinking at the camera.

So imagine the next time you get pulled over...

Are you going to exercise your right to bring those arrogant cops down a peg? All you have to do is say three simple words to trigger the conditioning etched in their brains. Just like that, Mr. Goody-two-shoes will be frothing at the mouth for a chance to degrade himself in front of you.

How are you going to make him do it?

[vroom--vrooming]

Max Verstappen x Reader

Max crashes his ex's wedding but will he get the bride?

You never expected to see Max Verstappen again. Not like this. Not today. Not on your wedding day. Yet here he is, standing in the middle of the aisle, hair disheveled, still in his Red Bull Racing suit, looking like he just won the championship...again.

Because, of course, he had to make an entrance.

***

A couple of years ago, you and Max had been inseparable. The kind of couple that people whispered about in the paddock, that journalists wrote about, and fans shipped relentlessly. But it ended when Max, with a heavy heart, told you he wasn’t ready for marriage.

"I'm not that guy yet," he’d said one quiet evening in Monaco, his hands in his hair as if trying to figure out a way to keep you without breaking your heart. "You deserve someone who can give you everything you want, and I can't be that person right now."

You’d cried for weeks, tried to move on, but your heart stayed bruised for far longer than you cared to admit.

***

Now, two years later, you were marrying someone else—someone stable, predictable, and safe. Someone who wouldn’t put your heart in a spin with every career decision. Someone who wasn’t Max Verstappen.

But Max had been keeping tabs on you. Not obsessively, no. Just… occasionally checking your fan accounts (he definitely didn’t follow them under a burner account named SuperMax33). He told himself he was happy for you when he saw the proposal photos. He even congratulated himself on being mature when he heard about your wedding.

Then, on a random Thursday, he scrolled past a photo of you in your wedding dress on a fan account.

You. In white.

His heart stopped.

Max tried to ignore it, brushing it off as pre-race jitters. But it didn’t go away. Not during practice sessions. Not during qualifying. Not even after winning pole. He’d spent years convincing himself he made the right decision by letting you go. But now, staring at that photo, it hit him like a wall at Eau Rouge, he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

***

Race day came. Max was laser-focused on winning, though not for the reasons everyone thought. The lights went out, and he drove like a man possessed. Every lap, every corner, every pit stop—it was flawless. When he crossed the finish line, the roar of the crowd barely registered.

“Max Verstappen takes the win!” the commentator screamed, but Max was already planning his next move.

***

Three hours later, your ceremony was in full swing. You stood at the altar, your groom beaming at you, your heart pounding—though not entirely from joy. There was an ache, a nagging little voice that you couldn’t quiet.

"Do you, Y/N, take this man—"

The doors of the church slammed open with a deafening bang.

Every head turned.

You froze.

Max Verstappen strode in, sweaty, breathless, and still in his racing suit.

“Stop the wedding!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls.

Gasps filled the room. Your fiancé blinked at him in stunned disbelief. The priest clutched his book like Max was there to steal it.

"Max?!" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of shock and disbelief.

He held up a finger, panting. "One sec. Had to run from the car and all those stairs."

You stared at him, speechless.

"I know this is crazy," Max began, catching his breath. "I know I'm insane for showing up like this. But I can’t let you do this. I can’t let you marry him."

Your fiancé shifted uncomfortably. “Who the hell are you?”

Max ignored him, his eyes fixed on you. “You look breathtaking, by the way. Absolutely stunning. But you already knew that.”

Your cheeks burned. The audacity.

“I screwed up, Y/N,” Max continued, stepping closer. “I was stupid, immature, scared—whatever you want to call it. I wasn’t ready back then. But I am now. And I can’t let you marry someone else knowing that I still love you.”

“Max—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted, raising a hand. “I’ve thought about this every day since we broke up. I’ve thought about how stupid I was to let you go. I’ve thought about the house we’d live in, the trips we’d take, the little Verstappens we’d raise—if they’re anything like me, I’m sorry in advance.”

Someone in the crowd snorted.

Your lips twitched. Damn him. Damn him for making you laugh at your own wedding.

“Do you know what I see when I think about the future?” Max asked, his voice softer now. “I see you. Always you. At every race, at every finish line. I see us, building a life together. And yeah, I might come home sweaty and exhausted half the time, but I’ll always come home to you.”

The silence was deafening.

“Don’t marry him,” Max said, his voice cracking. “Marry me. Right now. I mean, I’m already dressed for it.” He gestured at his racing suit.

You blinked at him, your heart hammering.

“Y/N,” your fiancé said, his voice tight, “is this a joke?”

You turned to Max, who looked at you with so much raw emotion it nearly broke you.

It wasn’t even a choice.

You dropped your bouquet and ran down the aisle, straight into his arms.

The room erupted in chaos—your mother fainted, your fiancé cursed, and Max just grinned like he’d won the championship all over again.

***

Twenty minutes later, you stood in front of the priest again, this time with Max by your side. He was still in his racing suit, grease smudges on his hands, but his eyes shone with unfiltered joy.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he whispered as the priest declared you husband and wife.

When he kissed you, the room erupted in cheers, but somewhere the Red Bull PR department is having a heart attack.

But none of that mattered. You were finally where you were meant to be—with Max Verstappen, your husband, your champion.

[owlcomics101]

task force 141 x fox hybrid!Reader head cannons

Warnings: bit of blood, mentions of animal abuse/hunting (I do NOT condone), SFW (I am a minor), wholesome fox cuddles, reader is an Arctic fox hybrid

Context/backstory:

Soap was the one that found you originally. You were caught in a snare. A nose tied around your neck attached to a pole in the ground. Panting and running around in circles aimlessly. Blood drew from your poor already raw and red neck from the tight nose digging into your neck fur. Soap couldn’t just leave you there. He couldn’t leave you to become just another victim to a Man’s trap. Cut to the task force getting ready to leave in the chopper when they see Soap entering with you curled up in his arms. Trembling as you buried yourself as deep as you could into his chest in hopes of hiding away from the cruel world.

Soap:

Soap sometimes spooks you despite him being your savior, he can get very loud from time to time and it often causes you to go run and hide. It always breaks his heart seeing you run away from him. He tries his best to lower and soften his voice for you, but sometimes he forgets. You often only come to him for affection in private because that is when he is the calmest to your liking. You prefer to lay and sit right by Soap’s legs in his bunk. Not because you don’t trust him but…he tends to shift around a lot in his sleep…Soap tends to get a lot of nightmares about you. When he found you in the snare. Your frail and sickly face and body. His nightmares would alway consist of someone chasing your down and skinning you as some sick trophy. Soap would wake up in a cold sweat, always checking to see if you were by his legs or in anyone’s bunk. He would scoop you up and give you kisses as tears filled his eyes thinking of what could’ve happened to you if he’d had never found you. A lot of times he cried himself to sleep thinking about it, but whenever he cried you were there to give him kisses and cuddles.

Ghost:

Ghost took the longest to warm up to you, and you took the longest to warm up to him. His mask always frightened you and it didn’t help that he was always towering over you just to add more intimidation. His mask reminded you of the masked hunters you’d always face in the bitter tundra and all those near death experiences always left you with a bitter snarl when Ghost was in the same room as you. Price would have Ghost start feeding you so you would at least feel comfortable with him being in the same room as you, which worked. You would still watch his every move in case he tried to pull something when he fed you. And you would always check the food to see if it was safe to eat before eating it. One time, when you were busy eating Ghost was watching you out of the corner of your eye. Ghost looked around to check if anyone was around before slowly walking over to you and crouching next to you while you ate. He watched you for an awhile before putting his head out to stroke your head, he hesitated for a moment though. Thinking of how you would react but he had already had his hand on your head. He gently stroke your head while you ate and scratched behind your ears. When you finished eating you hadn’t even realized ghost was there and touching you. You immediately pulled away, tilting your head to the side at him before quickly running out of the room.

Gaz:

Gaz loves taking you for walks! Every time you see him get up your ears immediately perk up thinking he was about to take you on a walk. You couldn’t help but go berserk when he mentions going ‘outside’ or ‘walkies’. Whenever Gaz took you on a walk, you would always walk in front of him. When he manages to get in front of you, you would always race him to be in front. Because in your mind you’re walking him. Not the other way around. Sometimes when you walk by other soldiers or even military dogs you’d always run behind Gaz or want him to pick you up so you’d be out of the dog’s reach. Gaz didn’t mind, you weren’t that much of a hassle to carry. In the colder months, his favorite thing is to watch you go dive head first into the snow. It makes him laugh every time. Though one time…you came back to him with a dead mouse. Plopped it in front of him for him to see your work. You were so proud of yourself. Gaz was….disgusted a bit but still thought it was sweet when you brought stuff to him. (He does throw it away because it stinks up the base)

Price:

Price was your favorite. You always waited for him to come back every mission. Your tail would wag like crazy when you see him downstairs from the window. When you heard him walking close to the door you’d start running around the barracks excitedly as your ‘zoomies’ kick in. Cuddle time is EVERYTIME! It doesn’t matter what Price is doing, you will butt your head into whatever he is doing and made it a point to sit in his lap while he worked. You would snarl or bark at him whenever he tried getting up. And you would not let him wake up early in the mornings. Price didn’t want you at first. Telling Soap you should be at a shelter or back in the wild. Soldiers can’t have pets. Let alone a fox hybrid like you! But he quickly grew a soft spot for you. He made sure you got the best food and spoiled you when he could. Whenever Gaz took you on your walks Price would interrogate Gaz when he was out with you for too long. Even by a second too long. He was the one to always remind Soap to quiet down. Especially when you were sleeping. He’d always give you kisses on the head and hold you whenever he could. Even during briefings or meetings you were always there in his arms or in his lap.

[killmeprettypleasee]

𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓒𝓵𝓾𝓫𝓼

✁___________________________________

Warning: Loving sex, nipple play, Stripper reader, age gap! Reader is 23 price is mentioned to be around his late 30's.

It was a normal work shift at the strip club, you were at the back getting ready for your show while your other colleagues were keeping their clients busy.

Only 5 minutes left before your show starts... You wore light and natural make up aswell as a revealing bunny suit with a big diamond opening at the back and a small one by your tummy, white thigh high stockings matched to the outfit.

You looked in the mirror to see your wear and it looks so cute, the fluffy ear bounced at the top of your head as you turned around to get a better look of yourself.

You then got out of your studio and went on the stage, where men and women glanced at you, they were in awe to what they saw.

Especially the man with a bucket hat.

As you began to dance, you body gracefully moved while you pole danced, all eyes are captivated by the mix of your cuteness and sexyness.

The music played was a slowly beat, matching your movements as you danced.

Then a crowed began to throw money on the stsge, showing how entertained they are to have you danced on the said stage.

While looking in the crowed you saw a poor looking old man man maybe around his late 30's with a bucket, drinking whiskey while watching you, he noticed that your eyes were on him and gave you a flirty wink causing you to turn away in embarrassment..

The old man was attractive, yeah? He's really attractive.. you never knew you were into old men before.. but damn...

----------------

After your show, you were back at your studio to rest until someone knocked on your door, you opened it and saw it wad your manager.

"you're free right now, kid?.."

He spoke out, he looks clearly in a hurry.

"why's that Daniel?"

You replied.

"You goy a bew client and he seemed to want you now?.. he literally payed a fortune for you there"

Daniel shot you a smirk.

It shocked you that someone would really pay alot just to have you..

"how much?"

"Around 10k"

Your jaw dropped when you heard that, normally people would pay around 300-500 each round but damn! You thought you're gonna faint at the amount.. but you were also curious on who this man was.

"Lets go.. we should not keep him waiting."

"Y-yeh.. okay?.."

----------------

After changing-- you are now wearing a pair of cropped tops and shorts that has an opening to your ass.

You followed Daniel to the back, and opened a room to see the same man tha winked at you during your performance..

"Ive been waiting pretty boy..~"

The man spoke out and called you to walk in, you already done this before but you felt so shy around him, there's totally something about him that makes you weak to your knees.. and you couldn't quite identify it.

You walked up to him and.sat on his lap, you could feel his hard on press against your thigh.. you could tell how bug it was.. then soon he pulled you closer to him grind his hardon against your thigh, making you let out soft moans.

"Call me Price, I'd love it when you scream my name, sweetheart"

He spoked out, kissing your forehead lovingly.

His movements we're so loving and gently, you couldn't help but whimpered softly.

Slowly his hands spread your trembling legs as his finger's played with your tight ass hole, You moan against him, clinging close to him.

"Such a pretty boy hm?.. you feel so tight.."

Price chuckled softly as he fingered you, feeling how tight you'd gotten.

Then he laid you down on the bed, lifting your cropped tops up and began to play with your nipples.

To Price, The sight was so cute! Having you beneath him and being all cute and submissive for him.. he knew the moment both of you locked eyes, he knew the he had to have you.

Soon his lips wrapped around one of your nipple and began to suckle on it making you whine out softly.

Then Price took out his cock, stroking while pre cum slowly began to drip down his base,and slowly pushed in.

"A-ah.. s-so big"

You whined out, letting out soft sobs of pleasure.

He let you adjust to his size around a minute and when he felt you loosing up he began to gently and carefully thrust into you.

The way he did it was so gentle and almost so loving.

Praises slip down his lips as he thrust into your warm core, he felt like he was in heaven having to be inside of you.

It was the perfect feeling to be inside a cute boy like you.

His fingers kept on groping your skin, making sure you were really really as his thrust began to slowly increase.

His lips got back, wrapping up around  your puffy nipples as this action made you feel so blished out.

Having some man use you was the norm, but this was different..

"Such a good boy aye?.. be a good boy for me baby boy.."

Price grunted.

"N-ngh.. a-hah! G-gonna cum.. P-price.. f-fuh.. fuck--"

You whimpered submissively as you clung unto his broad shoulders as you legs began to tremble.

Price's gips pistoned abit faster as he whispered little praises of encouragement in your ear as his lips kissed a trail on your neck oh so lovingly.

Finally he slammed his hips into you both cumming at the same time, his lips soon met with yours in a loving kiss, you kissed back.

You felt so loved for once doing your job, other's treated you like the cheap whore you are but this man? Price?.. oh god you felt like you don't wanna leave him..

"Fuck.. my little price looks so cute, just wanna have you all to myself my cute boy.."

Price chuckled, holding you close in his embrace, you cuddled up close against him.. breath getting heavy as you cuddled up against his form.

"P-please.. im yours please"

You begged softly, wanting to stay with him so badly making him let out a soft laugh.

"Dont worry.. I'll keep you and make you feel the love you deserve pretty boy.."

----------------

After that encounter Price became you regular, always wanting to be with you, sometimes he paid just to make love with you and sometimes just to cuddle up with you on bed and do nothing but feel each others embrace.

You end up quitting your job and went on to have a date with your new boyfriend, he would spoil you all the time and even pamper you like a baby, he just thinks your so damn cute!!.

He so happy he have you now.. he felt so blessed winning your heart, now that you're his, he only wished to love you and to be loved back by you, he woukd never love another because he has you in his life now.

✁___________________________________

A/n: I just noticed military captains get paid alot! So yeh... And ive been craving for loving sex lately with older men 😞

[whitehotforeva]

taken - coriolanus snow

summary - you drank a little and the next thing you know is that you wake up dazed and confused, captured and handcuffed by none other than coriolanus snow. the peacekeeper who was ready to claim you now.

warnings - 18+, NON-CON, stalking/abduction, degradation, victim blaming, smut.

word count - 3,132

a/n - okay this is pure filth. i was just thinking of peacekeeper coryo and just how rough and unhinged he is and yeah <3 this is my second fic so i am very sorry if its bad and if there’s any errors. but anyways enjoy <3

your eyes fluttered open tiredly as a overwhelming pounding took over your head. you blinked a few times, brows furrowing as you still saw black. as you regained consciousness, you felt the sensation of a tight fabric wrapped across your eyes. a confused sound left your lips as you attempted to touch your face but you whimpered out as your wrists clanged, feeling tight as you realised that they were tied too.

what the fuck?

you roughly yanked your arms away, attempting to free your wrists and groaned out loud as the repetitive clanging sound filled your ears, growing more aggressive and aggressive as you tried to pull the cuffs away from whatever pole they were attached too. panicked breaths left your lips as you grew hot. your head pounded as tears filled your visionless eyes as you desperately tried to piece together what had led you here. you couldn’t remember anything prior to this.

you flailed your arms again, tears streaming down your face as you began to sob out for help, and the pounding in your heart intensified as you felt the sound of heavy footsteps walking towards you.

“please help!” you exclaimed out before flinching as you felt a touch, pulling off your blindfold to reveal what was in front of you.

your eyes squinted, you tried to blink away your tears to clear your vision as you furrowed your brows in an attempt to make out the figure in front of you.

your heart dropped.

standing firm with a smug grin on his face, a peacekeeper you had seen around a few times was stood ahead of you.

coriolanus snow.

“what?” you whispered out as you tried to make sense. you were unnerved by the glint in his cold orbs. you couldn’t make out what it was and you felt sick.

“please help me.” you croaked out with a pleading look to him. he was a peacekeeper. he was here to help you, right? to help you make sense of this situation? to save you?

it was a peacekeepers job to keep people safe. to keep things in order. he would help you figure how you got into this mess and who put you into it.

he simply raised a brow, an amused look on his face as he dropped the blindfold from his hands to the floor.

“you want me to help you.” he drawled out, his eyes taking you in, in a way that had the goosebumps on your skin sticking up. he relished in the sight of the way that your dress had been riding up from your aggressive movements, something you hadn’t really noticed until you saw how his gaze was locked onto your bare thighs.

you felt slightly embarrassed, but that wasn’t important right now. you needed his help. you desperately nodded to him, a whimper leaving your lips that had his pants tightening.

coriolanus snow. him and sejanus were the two peacekeepers that you felt more comfortable with being around. whilst you didn’t exactly know them, you knew that they were more respectful and politer than their peers, from all your interactions you had with them in passing, sejanus in particular. he would always offer a warm smile and even offer to walk you home in the evening from your shift at the bakery, something you’d always politely decline as you’d make your way back to the comfort of your home.

but coriolanus? he seemed respectful and polite too, however he was more reserved than his friend. you didn’t really understand what it was, but whatever it was, you didn’t bother dwelling. you didn’t really know him and that was that. now it was time for you to.

“please. i-i don’t know why i’m here. i don’t know what happened i don’t remember.” you rushed out as more tears streamed down your face as you tugged at your arms again, the clanking sound filling up the room.

“you’re here.” he spoke, taking a step towards as he unbuckled his belt.

“for me.” he made his way to the bed you were laid out on, sitting down as his strong hands pushed your legs apart , gripping them as you instinctively tried to close them, panicking more.

“to use you.” he finished out as you let out a cry, unsure on what he was even doing as his hands roughly made their way up to your inner thighs as you squirmed your body, crying out. you felt his digits wrap around the waistband of your panties as he pulled them down and off your legs whilst you tried to thrash them.

a loud slap echoed throughout the room, and you whimpered through your tears as your blurry vision made out some redness onto your thigh.

you couldn’t even process his words, only the act of him pulling down your panties. your head throbbed and fear travelled down to your stomach as your scared doe eyes looked up at him.

“p-please! i don’t understand.” you sobbed out, the sight of him taking off his trousers and boxers making the pit of dread in your body even bigger, your eyes widening as he became bare. you didn’t want to face it.

your face reddened and you scrunched your eyes shut. you had never seen that before. you had never seen a man like that before. it felt shameful to open your eyes, despite the situation you were put in.

you had heard of sleazy peacekeepers harassing some of the girls in the district, taking advantage of them after they drunk a little too much at the hob, but you had never ever expected to be tied up, almost hyperventilating as coriolanus snow stood in front of you in all his glory.

you didn’t know how he could rape you. you didn’t know if he could fit. you had never done this before. your heart rate erupted as your sobs filled the room.

he simply chuckled as you closed your eyes, enjoying your naivety. it had the blood rushing to the head of his cock, how devastated you were in front of him. how naive and stupid you were. a part of him wanted to slap you, to teach you a lesson.

didn’t you know that silly little girls weren’t supposed to drink moonshine then stumble back home all on their own?

you should be grateful, he thought. that he had you here and not any of the other perverted peacekeepers. his breathing became heavy as he grew angry at the thought of anyone else having you like this.

you were lucky.

coriolanus snow knew from the moments his blues had locked onto you, that you’d be his. he first had seen you at the hanging tree, your head lowered in the crowd as you looked away, tears brimming in your eyes as you cringed at the sound of the mockingjays echoing screams. he lazily followed you from a distance with sejanus as they patrolled, thankfully in the direction you were heading in.

he knew where your home was and had slowly began to learn the routes you’d take and things you’d do on the daily. he was captivated by you. your face full of life and summers generosity blessing your skin as he adored the flush and freckles that the sun would bring you. he never would talk to you though. he had a few interactions here and there, simply casual. he couldn’t imagine making you his without first taking you.

without claiming you. without showing you his power. to teach you. you needed to be taught. he needed to show you how dangerous he was. how he’d do anything for you. he needed to take you first, so it would be engraved in your mind forever. something you could never forget.

so it was a stain on a pretty dress of yours that you could never get out.

that way, your thoughts would always belong to him. your mind belonged to him. every part of you belonged to him. he owned you.

he was on the bed now and your eyes flashed open at the feeling of the bed sinking as he climbed over you. you kicked and he instantly gripped down onto your thighs so tightly that you hissed, an amused chuckle leaving his throat.

“c’mon doll. gotta do better than that to stop me.”

you lifted your leg up aggressively out of his grip to kick at him and he simply let out a low whistle, his firm hand pulling your leg down again and now apart.

“don’t make me ruin that pretty face.” he spoke out sternly, his warning sending you shivers as he roughly pulled up your dress even higher so it was bunched up around your hips, exposing your bare pussy.

you blushed brightly, embarrassed. nobody had seen your body like this before and quick breaths escaped your chest as you sunk in what was going to happen, not daring to fight in fear of him hurting you. well, hurting you more.

you never knew he’d be capable of this.

his eyes softened as they glanced up at you again, sighing out as he moved his hand to cup your face.

“shhh. shh. hey don’t cry? okay baby? poor baby.”

his voice feigned sympathy and you couldn’t help but sniffle stupidly as he reassured you.

“please.” you croaked out again.

a wicked grin grew on his lips as one hand stayed stroking your cheek, and the other made its way down to your bare pussy, beginning to gently rub at it as he cooed into your ear.

“shhh. fuck your pussy is wet. you want this baby i know you do.” he tried to speak softly yet there was a hint of amusement in his voice, pride swelling in his chest at the feeling of your wet folds.

you felt shame. little whimpers left your lips as you shook your head, trying to ignore the sensation growing down there in your most intimate parts, but as his fingers began to rub at your small clit, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips.

his fingers massaged your bundle of nerves faster as involuntary whimper left your mouth that had him sure that his precum dribbling down the tip of his cock.

he laughed out loud, tutting at you as he shook his head, his fingers slowing down as he looked at you with furrowed brows.

“fuck. you really are a slut, huh?”

his fingers resumed their invasion on your most intimate spot. you felt disgusted in yourself and didn’t want to admit it, but the way he rubbed at your clit brought you pleasure in ways that you could never replicate in your own bedroom at night when you’d sneak your hand under the covers and under your nightgown.

he leaned down more to roughly lick at your tears, groaning against your cheek as he did, relishing in the way your slick was coating his long fingers and the sounds you were making. your body was betraying you, it was cruel and it made him harder than he had ever been.

“no no no! please don’t!” you spoke, your voice becoming a pitch higher. you needed him to stop. your climax was approaching and the rush of pleasure alongside with your shame was sitting together in your stomach too disgustingly perfect.

“you want this. you wanted this. look at you. pathetic little girl. you knew what would happen if you walked alone drunk late at night. fuckin stupid baby.”

his words had you shaking your head as you yanked your arms in attempt to get the handcuffs off, but you couldn’t help but stop the arousal flooding from your pussy as a wretched sob left your mouth. little pants increasing in pitch quickly left your soft lips as your faced scrunched up, contorting in pleasure as tears leaked down your face, shaking your head as if that would even help.

as if that would stop you from cumming all over his fingers.

your body shook as you threw your head back, a loud sob leaving your lips as your high hit. your eyes fluttered as pleasure engulfed you, your legs thrashing now as if you could reverse your orgasm hitting you, but you couldn’t. your body shook and coriolanus instantly pumped his hard cock a few times before intruding in your untouched hole, your eyes widening as you were still processing your orgasm, and now the tight feeling of his large member entering your little hole.

you began to thrash your legs, head shaking as the pain of his intrusion in your virgin hole clashed with the high of your orgasm.

“n-no! no!”

coriolanus hissed at how tight you were around him, his long member welcoming the feeling of the warmth of your wet hole. you were wet, but it was nowhere near enough to help the largeness of coriolanus’s cock beginning to ruin you.

he slid himself fully in, ignoring your protests as he simply chuckled down at you, groaning at the feeling of you wrapped around him.

“so fuckin tight. gonna pound your little pussy. gonna ruin you.”

the river that ran down your face didn’t stop streaming. you didn’t know how you were capable of all these tears, but the stinging sensation that filled you as his long cock stretched you out had kept your waterworks going.

the blonde bit down on his lips as he furrowed his brows, slowly pulling out and letting out a low groan as he witnessed a bit of red on his cock.

you were tainted now.

by him.

he slid back in, ignoring your protests as he created a rhythm, a grin growing on his face as it became easier and easier to thrust into you, your body beginning to betray you as you became wet enough to take him.

a loud whine escaped your lips as his cock hit a special spot in you that felt electric, your eyes fluttering at the unknown feeling.

you whined again, feeling your body betray yourself as a part of you wanted more of that sensation.

coriolanus would always give you what you wanted.

his pace became brutal once he noticed the way your eyes fluttered at him hitting your g spot, so he began to pound you, gripping your face tightly as the sound of your whimpers filled the room alongside with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass.

he laughed out, his fiery blues locking down onto your teary orbs.

“can’t even rape a little whore like you. you like it too much. you want this, don’t ya?”

you shook your head roughly, but truth be told, you couldn’t even think right. your mind was hazy as pleasure shot through your body. all you could focus on was the way coriolanus’s cock was so easily pounding your little pussy, the lewd sounds growing louder as your slick coated him.

his hands aggressively pulled at the neckline of your dress, ripping it open to reveal your bare tits as he roughly tweaked your nipples. your face was flushed red as you whined at the sudden sting.

his face was damp too as he continued his relentless assault, his fingers going down to your little button as he rubbed it fast.

you gasped out, lifting your hips and throwing your head back at the overwhelming sensations he was giving you.

“gonna cum baby? cum for me. knew you’d be the perfect whore for me.” he hissed out as he felt his own high coming too. you let out a wretched sob as he hit your special spot again and as he rubbed your clit, something in you exploded and your vision blurred.

you looked so pathetic. it was almost disgusting. the way you whined out loudly as tears spilled out your eyes, your eyes fluttering dumbly as hot pleasure seeped through your veins and ripped through your stomach. wetness coated his cock as he moaned out loudly before spilling his hot cum into your weeping pussy.

you clenched tight around him and he hissed as he groped at your tits, spilling himself in you as he rode out his high with you, pleasure engulfing him as he leaned down to roughly capture your lips into a sloppy passionate kiss. the feeling of his hot cum pouring into you had you whining as you could barely respond to his kiss, your mind spinning as it stopped working.

he pulled away after a few moments and you gasped out for air as you closed your eyes in an attempt to stop your blurry vision.

coriolanus groaned and sucked down on your jaw, littering kisses along it as he then moved down to your neck, smiling against it at the sound of your quick breaths and the way your chest moved up and down.

he pulled out, creating a mental picture of your blood and slick coated all over his cock, and the way his cum dribbled out of your little pussy so perfectly. he’d revisit this memory in his head a million times over. he knew it.

“fuck.” he whispered out as he slipped two fingers back into you, pushing his cum deeper into your hole.

“fucked you dumb didn’t i baby? knew you’d want this. such a pathetic little girl.”

his tone was condescending and disgustingly sweet. you could do nothing but whine out. you felt disgusted in yourself. how could you have done that? how could you have came around his cock?

he leaned down to kiss your hot forehead.

“be grateful it was me, okay?”

he then let out a heavy breath as he left the bed and the room. you took in his words as you dumbly gazed at the lamp illuminating the room.

it was better that it was him, right?

a sob left your lips. of course it wasn’t better. but maybe he wouldn’t have targeted you if he didn’t know how easily you’d give in. how easily your body had betrayed you. didn’t that mean you wanted it? you were lucky that it was him who found you drunk, right? you cringed at the thought of the other peacekeepers. maybe it was good that it was coriolanus, rather than the rough crude men he had worked with.

but wasn’t he that? but wasn’t he worse? his power was a toxin that had now flown through your veins, something addictive that he knew he could control. at least he could give you what your body wanted.

you sniffled, silently cursing yourself. you didn’t even know what you were thinking. you weren’t thinking straight. your body throbbed and your arms ached. everything ached. you wanted to sink and drown. to never reappear again. your entire being needed it.

your eyes felt heavy as exhaustion immediately sank in, slowly fluttering shut as the last sight you saw was a familiar earring sat next to the lamp.

[mariclerc]

Student's secret | cl16

Summary: what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas... or in a pole dance club.

Warnings: mental health issues, toxic work environment, mentions of drugs and sex, uni student reader, denigrating comments, angst and a little fluff at the end.

Living or spending a few days in the city of sin is a dream come true for many people, it is the place where everything is possible, where anything can happen: Luxuries and eccentricities are the order of the day throughout the year and rules and formalities are something banal and outdated for many.

For you it is like being in a cage, many people are forced to lead a double life, one where during the day they do their routine things but at night they try to do something to survive... Just like your case... Being a uni student, it is a bit difficult to bear the expenses of tutors, food, clothes, rent and other things, especially being exposed to the city of luxuries at such a young age, most of the time you find it difficult to make ends meet, so you decided to look for a job during the holidays to, at least, have enough money to make it to the end of the year without any problems... But you didn't think that what started as a temporary job would become a permanent job.

That's why you find yourself touching up your makeup backstage at a pole dance club, this has been your night life for 4 months straight, today is different because you have to work an extra day due to a special show.

Lila, your boss, enters backstage, drawing everyone's attention. “Listen up ladies, tonight we will have a special show because the F1 action in Las Vegas starts on Wednesday, so we will only be open today - Tuesday night, and tomorrow.” she said with a cocky smile on her face. “Plus we have some special people in the audience tonight, so get your shit together or else... You'll be dealing with me.” she said.

Most of the time when there is a big event that paralyzes the city you work only 3 days and the other days you use to rest, but this is enough because you assume from what Lila says, that the drivers will be making an appearance at the club tonight. Plus your shift is only supposed to be Thursday through Sunday, not Tuesday.

You sighed. “I don't want to do this Lila...” you say softly.

She stops and turns her gaze to you. “What do you mean? You know you have a contract, right?” she spats.

“But this is not my shift and I feel too uncomfortable and exposed.” you say. “This was supposed to be a summer-only job, and...” you were going to continue but she interrupted you.

“But anyway, you signed the contract and besides, you need money for your stupid shit, right?” she said and you blinked multiple times. “So you're gonna put on a good show tonight or else I'll make you spend the night with one of the patrons, was it clear to you?”

The patrons are the ones who keep the club afloat, they invest a lot of money in you and in drinks, drugs and so on. In the few months you've been there you've witnessed some pretty... nasty stuff, drugged up coworkers forced to have sex with one of these guys so they can give them some extra money. Luckily for you, you haven't been forced to do anything similar, you just dance and do the occasional VIP service, extra tip and that's it, but seeing the consequences of not wanting to work today, you have to put up with it.

“Okay miss...” you murmured shyly.

Lila smiled. “Everyone, be ready for our customers tonight.” she said and continued walking, you sighed.

You take a deep breath, wiping away a tear that came out of your eyes, smudging lightly your mascara, before stepping into the spotlight. You and your other companions go out on stage, you notice how the patrons are sitting up front with their drinks and cigarettes, as usual, but you notice new faces; most of the drivers are sitting in the VIP booth, each one sitting alone or with his colleagues. The music starts, and you begin your routine, trying to mask your emotions with your performance. As you dance, you catch glimpses of a driver who's watching you intently, his expression shifting from amusement to concern.

After finishing your routine, you watch as your boss motions for you to go the VIP booth number 16, you walk over there, your heart pounding in your chest. The driver is smiling, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes.

He's smiles gently. “Hey there, that was an incredible performance up there.” he says softly.

“Thanks, I... I appreciate it.” you say while forcing a smile.

You notice the way he studies you, his gaze lingering on the redness in your eyes and the light smudge under it. He hesitates for a moment before speaking again... “Are you okay? You seem… a bit upset.” he asks you softly.

You sighed. “It’s just been a long night... Nothing to worry about.” you whispered as you lied.

He nodded. “I can imagine, this place looks so intense.”

You look around the club, feeling the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on you.

“It can be... Overwhelming at times.” you say quietly.

The music shifts to a slower tempo, creating a more intimate atmosphere around your conversation. You stand before Charles and you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Charles watches you with a mix of excitement, care and curiosity, his coloured eyes sparkling under the dim lights.

He smiles gently. “So, what do you say, little star? Just a little private dance to lighten the mood?” he says softly while calling you by your stage name.

“I mean... If that's what you want...” you say a little hesitant.

He nods reassuringly. “Trust me, it’ll be fun... Just be yourself.”

You feel a rush of adrenaline at his words. You’ve performed many times before, you've even done private dances several times with not so nice customers, but this feels different—more personal and somewhat intimate. You nod slowly, trying to shake off your nerves.

“Okay... I'll do it.” you say softly.

Charles grins, and you can see the excitement in his eyes. You step back slightly to create some space, allowing yourself to get into the right headspace... The music shifts to a sultry tune, and you begin to move to the rhythm.

As you dance, you focus on Charles, letting the music guide your movements. You sway your hips and let your body flow with the beat, feeling the tension ease away with each step. Charles leans back against the plush booth, watching you intently.

“You're incredible...” he whispers.

His words send a thrill through you, and you find yourself getting lost in the moment... You let go of any lingering doubts and worries and you just embrace the performance. You glide closer to him, allowing your body to move in sync with his gaze.

You continue your dance, incorporating playful movements that make him laugh and smile. The connection between you feels electric, and you find yourself enjoying this more than you anticipated.

“How's this for a private dance?” you asked him playfully, using your confident facade.

He grins. “It's perfect... More than I expected...”

You lock eyes with him, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. The laughter and chatter from other tables become a distant hum as you focus solely on him. As you move closer again, you notice how he leans forward, captivated by your performance. You playfully run your fingers along his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. You continue dancing, letting your body express what words cannot. You swirl around him, feeling free and alive as you lose yourself in the rhythm. The music pulses through your veins, and you can see the admiration in Charles' eyes as he watches you.

“You're amazing... This is better than I imagined.” he says with a low voice.

You smile at his compliment, feeling a rush of confidence surge through you, customers rarely compliment you or the girls. You step closer again, brushing against him as you dance, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

As the last notes of the song fade away, you take a deep breath and step back, allowing yourself to bask in the moment.

He clapped softly to you. “That was incredible! You really know how to put on a show.”

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. The energy between you is palpable as he leans forward slightly.

“I think that deserves a special tip...” he says while grinning. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crisp stack of bills, holding them up with a playful glint in his eye. “What do you think? Is this enough? Or do you need more than that?” he says softly.

Your heart races as he counts out a hefty amount of cash that was wrapped in a paper before handing it to you with an appreciative smile. You wouldn't believe it, it was a big tip.

“Wow! Are... Are you serious?” you said surprised. “I can't take it, I'm...” you were about to say but he gently stopped you.

He smiled. “Don't say that, you deserve it! You deserve every bit of it for that amazing performance.”

You take the money from him, feeling a mix of gratitude and disbelief. It’s more than you expected for just one dance. “Tha... Thank you so much! This really means a lot to me.” you say softly.

“You earned it. And I hope this helps with whatever you're working towards.” He said sweetly and that made you stop.

“How... How do you know that...” you said in a low voice.

He looked around the club and then looked at you before slowly approaching you.

“There's no need to say anything, little star... Your gaze, those lost little eyes told me everything I need to know.” he said softly in a whisper. “Sometimes a look is enough to know a little bit about a person.” he said softly and you were shocked, you never thought that an F1 driver would be so empathetic and deeper.

“Wow, that was... Yeah...” you murmured. “Thank you again...” you say and pause, you still don't know his name.

“Oh, I'm Charles Leclerc.” he said formally. “But just call me Charles.” he smiled.

“Y/n” You answered him by giving him your name. You were going to tell him something else, but the bell indicating that you and the girls had to go backstage ruined the moment.

He smiled. “Well, I think they need you in there.” he said softly. “I really enjoyed this evening, the dancing was spectacular.” he said and you blushed.

“Y/n! Get your fucking slutty ass here!” your boss yelled harshly and you shook your head.

“I have to go, but thanks again Charles.” you said softly.

“It was nothing. Take care y/n, I hope to see you soon.” he said softly and you walked backstage.

As you entered your small dressing room you looked at the amount of money Charles had given you and a tear ran down your cheeks. You had never received such good treatment from a customer, the warmth and security of his person contrasting with the coldness and toxicity of the place. You sighed and put the money in your briefcase, thankful that someone had noticed your tearful gaze despite not saying anything about the anxiety and fear that constantly fill your life.

***

The weeks following your encounter with Charles unfold in a blur of routine and reflection. You find yourself back in the familiar rhythm of your daily life, but the vibrant energy of that night lingers in your mind like a bittersweet memory. The club’s atmosphere has shifted, and the pressures of your job weigh heavily on you.

You're sitting on your bed, surrounded by textbooks and notes from your psychology classes. The sunlight filters through the window, but it feels dimmer than usual, you flip through your notes absentmindedly, thoughts drifting back to that night.

“It was just one night… why can’t I stop thinking about it?” you say to yourself, while flipping through your notebook.

You recall Charles’s laughter, the way he looked at you with genuine interest and care, and the way he made you feel seen. But as days turn into weeks, that memory becomes a painful reminder of what you’re missing in your life.

You shake your head, trying to focus on your studies. But the thoughts keep creeping back in—what if you had exchanged numbers? What if you opened up to him and told him what you were going through at that very moment it didn't matter if he was a complete stranger? The “what ifs” swirl around like a storm in your mind... You couldn't fall in love with a stranger, much less an F1 driver, you're not supposed to let anyone into your life.

A few nights later, you’re back at work, but the energy feels different. The once vibrant atmosphere has turned toxic—patrons are more aggressive, and the laughter that used to fill the air is replaced with tension and judgment.

You stand behind the bar, pouring drinks for a group of rowdy customers who seem to take pleasure in belittling the staff. You try to brush off their nasty comments, but each jab feels like a weight added to your already heavy heart.

One of the customers spoke. “Hey you, why don’t you dance for us? We paid good money for this place! You little bratty bitch.” he said in a slurring way.

You force a smile, but inside, you feel a surge of anxiety, you want to disappear. The memory of Charles’s encouragement clashes with the reality of your current situation. You glance around, noticing how other staff members are also feeling the pressure from the patrons, they're demanding lately.

“May... Maybe later! Right now, let me get you another round of drinks.” you say while you attempt to light the mood.

As you turn away, you catch a glimpse of a co-worker, Sarah, who looks equally drained. She gives you a sympathetic nod, and you can tell she’s feeling the strain too. It is causing a lot of damage to all the girls, especially mentally, you have already seen several of them taking drugs in the bathrooms and backstage.

Sarah approaches you. “It’s getting worse here girl… I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” she says quietly while taking a cigarette out of her pocket.

You sigh, knowing exactly what she means. The club that once felt like an escape is now suffocating. Every night drags on, filled with rude customers and an overwhelming sense of dread. Your mental health begins to deteriorate as the pressure mounts.

Days turn into weeks, and you find yourself dealing with the weight of your job and studies because it feels unbearable. You spend more nights lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling as thoughts spiral out of control. Obviously, in the midst of all the chaos, you became a bit of a F1 fan, especially keeping an eye on the green-eyed boy who had been so nice to you that night at the club, somehow, even though he was a complete stranger to you at the time, you felt so happy to see him shine in what he likes — something you wish would happen to you too.

One particularly rough night at work, a big fight breaks out between two patrons. The chaos erupts around you as glasses shatter and voices rise in anger, you feel frozen in place, overwhelmed by your anxiety and nerves.

Weeks pass, and the club continues to drain you. But you find solace in small moments—watching sunsets, reading books—but they’re fleeting against the backdrop of your reality. Your mental health spirals further as feelings of isolation creep in.

Tears well up in your eyes as frustration boils over. You wipe them away angrily, feeling trapped between the joy of the memory shared that night with Charles and the pain of your current life. And it shouldn't be affecting you so much, he was just a costumer...

***

The atmosphere is electric as the club transforms for the Christmas season, twinkling lights adorn the bar, and festive decorations create a warm ambiance amidst the usual chaos. You stand in the backstage, heart racing, preparing for one last performance before your well deserved break from the club and your classes. The familiar sounds of laughter and chatter filter through the curtains, but today, they feel different.

You are in the backstage, pacing nervously as you go over your routine in your mind. The stage is set, and the crowd buzzes with excitement. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

You take a deep breath. “Just one last performance… You can do this.” you say in a whisper to you.

As the music starts and the spotlight shines on you, you step onto the stage. The audience erupts in applause, but your eyes scan the crowd anxiously. You catch glimpses of familiar faces—some co-workers, and regular patrons, nothing new—but then your heart skips a beat. There he is—Charles, standing near the front, his smile bright against the dim lighting.

Your breath hitches in your throat as a flood of emotions washes over you. Memories of that night come rushing back—the laughter, the slight connection, the promise of something more. But doubt creeps in, and you feel a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach...

“Why is he here? Is this just a fleeting visit? Or is it for something else?” you think, you can't help but wonder that.

You force yourself to focus on the performance, pouring your heart into every movement. As you dance, you try to ignore the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind... But each time you glance at Charles, you feel an overwhelming mix of hope and fear.

The performance reaches its climax, and the crowd cheers enthusiastically. You finish with a flourish, feeling a rush of adrenaline as you take your final bow. The applause reverberates in your ears, but your gaze remains fixed on Charles.

As you step offstage, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you navigate through the backstage area toward the bar. You can feel Charles’s presence behind you, and a mix of excitement and dread builds within you.

“Whoa! That was incredible! I’ve missed seeing you perform, little star.” he says as he approaches you with a smile on his face.

His voice sends a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you’re speechless. You take a moment to absorb his presence—his familiar warmth, his genuine admiration.

“Tha... Thanks... It's been a while since I felt that good on stage.” you say shyly.

You glance around nervously as other staff members and Sarah pass by, some offering nods of recognition to Charles. You can’t help but feel exposed under their scrutiny.

“Do you want to talk somewhere quieter?” he says softly while noticing your discomfort.

You hesitate for a bit. “Yeah... I guess that would be nice.”

You lead him to a small break room at the back of the club—a space filled with mismatched furniture and remnants of holiday treats. The atmosphere feels intimate compared to the bustling club outside.

Once inside, the door closes behind you, muffling the noise from the main area. You lean against the counter, arms crossed defensively as you try to gauge his intentions.

“So, ehm... What brings you back to Vegas? I thought you were busy with racing and all that stuff...” you asked him cautiously.

“Yeah, well, I was busy... but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to see how you’re doing—like, really doing.” he sighed and smiled at you.

His sincerity strikes a chord within you, but doubt still lingers. You remember how hard it is to open up before and how vulnerable it made you feel.

“Well... Things have been tough lately… work has been overwhelming...” you say while biting your lip.

Suddenly everything you have experienced in the last few months comes to your head, the humiliation, the mockery, the objectification, anxiety, the sacrifices you make to make ends meet and have enough money for everything you need and, without expecting it, your eyes fill with tears. A part of you longs for validation and support, but another part fears being let down again.

“Oh, don't cry little star, it's okay...” he says while he holds you in his arms and caresses your hair. “It's so okay, let it out.”

You sniffled. “It’s just that… I don’t know if I can trust anyone right now... Everything feels so chaotic; my life feels so chaotic and messier.”

Charles looks down at you, his expression earnest and understanding. “I get that... Trust takes time, but I’m here for you if you want to talk about it, I want to help.” he wipes a tear form your cheek.

You feel a flicker of hope ignite within you at his words. The vulnerability in his voice reminds you of that connection you shared—the one that felt so real yet so distant now.

“It’s hard for me to open up…” you say in a whisper.

“You don’t have to share everything all at once with me. Just know that I’m here to listen whenever you're ready, okay?” he says softly.

His patience reassures you, but fear still grips your heart. You remember how easily things can change—how quickly trust can be broken.

“I’ve been feeling lost… like I’m stuck in this cycle that I can’t escape.” you say while looking down.

He nodded. “And it’s so okay to feel that way, we all go through rough patches. What matters is that we can still find a way out... together.” he smiles at you.

You meet his gaze again, searching for sincerity in his eyes. There’s no judgment there—only care, understanding and compassion... Something you've been needing to find for a long time and now a stranger is giving it to you.

***

As the days rolled on, the festive spirit of Las Vegas enveloped you both. The city transformed into a dazzling wonderland, with sparkling lights adorning every corner and the joyous sounds of holiday celebrations filling the air. You and Charles made the most of your time together, exploring the vibrant culture and indulging in the culinary delights that the city had to offer.

On Christmas Eve, you found yourselves in a cozy café nestled within one of the extravagant hotels. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of baked goods, creating an inviting atmosphere. You sat across from each other, warm mugs cradled in your hands, and the soft glow of fairy lights twinkling around you.

As you sipped your drink, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in his presence... Charles had a way of making everything feel lighter, as if the burdens you carried were shared between you. But there was still a part of you that hesitated to delve deeper into your past, to reveal the struggles that lay beneath your cheerful façade.

“So, do you have any special traditions for Christmas?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

You smiled softly, feeling a pang of nostalgia. “Ehm... Not really, to be honest.” you admitted, looking down at your mug. “My family doesn’t celebrate much anymore... It’s just… complicated.”

He leaned in slightly, his expression encouraging. “Complicated how? If I may know.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. “Well, my family never really supported my choice to study psychology.” you began hesitantly. “They always thought it was a waste of time, they wanted me to pursue something more… practical.”

Charles nodded, his face reflecting understanding. “That must have been hard for you.” he said gently.

“It was.” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve always wanted to help people, to understand their emotions and struggles. But when the people closest to you don’t believe in your dreams… it’s hard not to feel like you’re on the wrong path.” you say softly.

He reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours in a reassuring gesture. “You’re not on the wrong path, little star. You’re doing something incredibly important.”

You appreciated his support, but the doubt still lingered in your mind. “It’s just… I didn’t have their financial support either.” you confessed, feeling vulnerable. “I’ve had to work multiple jobs to pay for school, including the job at the pole dance club... It’s so exhausting.”

Charles listened intently, his brow furrowing slightly as he absorbed your words. “That sounds really tough, I can’t imagine how isolating that must feel.”

You nodded, grateful for his empathy. “It is isolating.” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve lost touch with friends who didn’t understand my commitment to my studies. It’s like I’m in this bubble where no one else really gets what I’m going through.”

He squeezed your hand gently, grounding you in that moment. “You’re not alone now.” he reassured you. “I’m here for you, and I want to understand what you’re experiencing.”

His sincerity washed over you like a warm wave, encouraging you to share more.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in this cycle of loneliness.” you confessed, tears welling up in your eyes. “I want to connect with others, but it’s hard when I feel so different from everyone else.”

Charles leaned closer, his voice soft and steady. “You’re not different in a bad way; you’re pursuing something meaningful. And those who truly care about you will see that...”

You looked into his eyes, searching for reassurance. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so.” he replied firmly. “You have so much passion and drive. That’s something to be proud of.”

As the conversation continued, you found yourself opening up more than you had anticipated. You shared stories of late nights spent studying, the moments of self-doubt that crept in during exams, and the fleeting joy of helping others during your internships.

His belief in you sparked something deep within—a flicker of hope that perhaps you weren’t as alone as you had felt for so long... The more you talked, the more liberated you felt from the weight of isolation that had clung to you for years.

***

The week leading up to New Year’s was always a time of reflection, a time when the world seemed to pause and take stock of the year gone by. The air was crisp, and the city sparkled with festive lights, but inside your cozy apartment, it was just the two of you—Charles and you—wrapped in a bubble of warmth and anticipation.

You had decided to spend the week together, a decision that felt both thrilling and terrifying. You could feel the chemistry bubbling between you—an electric charge that seemed to hum in the air whenever he was near, but with that chemistry came the fear of what it would mean if you let yourself fall for him.

As the sun began to set on the last day of the year, you and Charles found yourselves sprawled on the couch, surrounded by snacks and half-watched Christmas movies. The soft glow of fairy lights twinkled around the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that made your heart race, you glanced sideways at him, his profile illuminated by the flickering light from the TV. He looked so relaxed, his hair slightly tousled and a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he focused on the screen.

“Do you ever think about New Year’s resolutions?” Charles asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You turned your head to look at him fully. “Sometimes.” you admitted. “But I’m not very good at keeping them.” you giggled.

He chuckled softly. “Same here, I usually start strong, but by February, I’ve forgotten all about them.”

“What do you think this year’s should be?” you asked playfully, trying to keep the conversation light.

He pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing adorably. “Maybe something like… be more spontaneous? Or try to embrace change?”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Embrace change? That sounds deep!”

“Yeah, well.” he said with a shrug. “I think it’s important to be open to new experiences, you never know what could happen.”

His words struck a chord within you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was hinting at something more—something between the two of you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

“What about you?” he asked, turning the question back to you. “What do you want for this coming year?”

You hesitated, your heart racing as you considered your answer. Part of you wanted to say something lighthearted, but another part yearned for honesty.

“I guess… I want to be braver.” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Braver?” he echoed, his gaze intense as he studied your face. “In what way?”

You swallowed hard, feeling exposed under his scrutiny. “In life… in love.” you admitted, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve always been scared of getting hurt, so I hold back.”

He nodded slowly, understanding washing over his features. “That makes sense.” he said softly. “It’s hard to let someone in when you’re afraid of what might happen.”

You felt a connection deepen between you in that moment—a shared understanding of vulnerability that made your heart ache with longing.

“Exactly.” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “But I think… maybe I want to try.”

Charles’s expression softened as he leaned closer to you, his eyes searching yours for something unspoken. “Try what?” he asked gently.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your words hang in the air between you. “Try to let myself feel more… to let someone in.” Your heart raced as you said it, the truth spilling from your lips before you could stop yourself.

He held your gaze steadily, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded away until it was just the two of you—two souls intertwined in a moment of raw honesty.

“I’d like that.” he said finally, his voice low and sincere. “I’d like to be that person for you.”

A rush of warmth flooded through you at his words, but with it came a wave of fear... What if this was too much? What if falling for him meant risking everything? You pulled back slightly, breaking eye contact as uncertainty clouded your mind.

“Charles…” you started, but he interrupted gently.

“Hey.” he said softly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sent sparks through your skin, and you shivered involuntarily at his closeness. “We don’t have to rush into anything, I just want you to know that I’m here.”

His sincerity made your heart swell and ache all at once. You wanted so desperately to lean into him—to let yourself fall into this beautiful connection—but fear held you back like an anchor.

“Can we just… take it slow?” you asked quietly, your voice trembling with vulnerability.

“Of course we can do that.” he replied without hesitation. “I’d never want to push you into something you’re not ready for.”

You smiled gratefully at him, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Maybe this was enough for now—just being here together, exploring this slow burn without any pressure or expectations.

As the evening wore on and the clock ticked closer to midnight, you found yourselves lost in conversation—sharing stories about childhood dreams and future aspirations, laughter punctuating each moment as the bond between you deepened.

At one point, Charles reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his touch sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and for a moment, all your fears faded away.

As midnight approached, the anticipation in the air grew thick with excitement. You settled back against the couch, feeling giddy as Charles pulled out his phone to check the time.

“Just a few minutes left!” he exclaimed with a grin.

You couldn’t help but smile back at him; his enthusiasm was infectious. He glanced at you then, his expression softening as he leaned closer again.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly, his eyes locked onto yours.

“For what?” you asked teasingly.

“For whatever comes next.” he replied earnestly.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words—so simple yet so profound. In that moment, everything felt possible. You nodded slowly, feeling a rush of courage wash over you.

“Yes...” you whispered.

As the countdown began on TV, excitement bubbled between you like champagne ready to overflow. With each passing second, your heart raced faster until finally…

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The room erupted in cheers from the television as confetti fell on-screen and fireworks lit up the sky outside your window. But all that mattered was Charles—his eyes sparkling with joy as he turned to face you.

And then it happened: he leaned in closer and pressed his lips against yours—a soft yet electrifying kiss that sent shivers down your spine. It was tentative yet filled with promise; a beautiful beginning wrapped in hope and possibility.

Time seemed to stand still as you kissed him back, savoring the sweet taste of new beginnings and uncharted territory. In that moment, all your fears melted away as if they had never existed at all.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, Charles smiled at you—a smile that lit up his entire face and made your heart soar.

“Happy New Year, petite étoile.” he murmured softly. (little star)

“Happy New Year charlie.” you echoed, feeling lighter than air as hope blossomed within you—a hope for what this year might bring and for the journey ahead with him by your side.

And as fireworks exploded outside your window, illuminating the night sky with vibrant colors, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe—just maybe—you were ready to embrace whatever came next together.

***

The days turned into weeks, and your bond with Charles deepened in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Each moment spent together felt like a new adventure, filled with laughter, shared secrets, and the warmth of companionship.

One evening, after a delightful dinner at a cozy restaurant, you found yourselves walking along the waterfront, the moonlight shimmering on the water's surface. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of blooming jasmine, you felt a sense of peace wash over you as you strolled side by side, your fingers intertwined.

As you walked, Charles suddenly stopped, turning to face you with a serious expression that caught you off guard. “Can we talk about something?” he asked, his voice low and earnest.

Your heart raced slightly as you nodded. “Of course babe! What’s on your mind?”

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us—about how much I care for you. You mean more to me than I can express.” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I want to take care of you in every way possible.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, unsure where this conversation was leading but intrigued nonetheless. “What do you mean?” you asked softly.

Charles stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “I want to be your sugar daddy.” he said, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. “And I know it sounds weird, but it's not in a bad way, I mean, I want to support you while you study psychology, to help you leave behind all the stress and worries that weigh you down.”

Your mind raced as you processed his words. The idea of having someone like Charles in your life—someone who wanted to provide for you, who believed in your dreams and aspirations—was both exhilarating and daunting.

“Are you serious?” you managed to ask, your heart pounding.

“Absolutely!” he replied without hesitation. “I want us to build a life together. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I believe we could be so much more than what we are now.” He paused, gauging your reaction before continuing. “I want you to move out of Las Vegas and come with me to Monaco.”

The mention of Monaco sent a thrill through you. The thought of leaving behind the familiar chaos of city life for a place known for its beauty and luxury was intoxicating, but it also brought a wave of uncertainty.

“Monaco? That’s such a big step, Charles.” you said, trying to process everything. “But... What about my studies?” you asked softly.

Charles smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course you can continue your studies there! They have excellent universities, and I’ll make sure you have everything you need to succeed.” he said softly at you.

His words resonated deep within you, igniting a spark of hope and excitement that had long been dormant. The idea of pursuing your passion for psychology without the burden of financial stress felt like a dream come true.

“But what if it doesn’t work out?” you asked, vulnerability creeping into your voice. “What if I can’t adjust?”

Charles cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady and reassuring. “Life is about taking risks, isn't it? And I believe in us—more than anything else in this world! I promise to be there every step of the way, you won’t be alone; we’ll figure it out together.”

His sincerity washed over you like a warm wave, and for the first time, you felt the weight of your worries begin to lift. The thought of embarking on this journey with him filled you with a sense of possibility.

“Okay.” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m willing to try.”

A radiant smile broke across Charles’s face as he pulled you into his arms, enveloping you in warmth and safety. “You won’t regret this, mon amour.” he whispered against your hair. (my love)

In that moment, everything felt so right to you... The world around you faded away as he held you close, and all that mattered was the connection between the two of you—a bond that had grown from two strangers into something deeper and more profound...

As the stars twinkled above like diamonds scattered across the night sky, you knew that this was just the beginning of an incredible journey together—one filled with love, adventure, and the promise of a brighter future.

***

The soft hum of the city outside your window filled the room as the moonlight spilled in, casting a silvery glow over your study room. You had been immersed in your psychology textbooks, determined to master the material before your upcoming class. However, fatigue had crept in, and before you knew it, you had succumbed to sleep, your head resting on your notes, surrounded by the comforting chaos of your studies.

Charles had just returned from a long day of meetings with sponsors, his mind still buzzing with the events of the day. He was looking forward to spending time with you, but as he stepped into your study room, he was met with a scene that made his heart swell... There you were, curled up on the desk, your little stuffed bear nestled beside you, as if it were standing guard while you slept.

A soft smile spread across his face at the sight. “Well, well, if it isn’t my little Sleepy Scholar.” he whispered affectionately, approaching you with quiet steps. He couldn’t help but chuckle softly as he began to pick up the scattered books, papers and highlighters on the table. “You really should consider changing your name to ‘Overworked Wonder.'” he teased gently, glancing down at your peaceful expression.

As he organized your notes, he found himself admiring how well you had adapted to life in Monaco. You had embraced the city with open arms, exploring its beauty and charm while pursuing your studies with unwavering determination. It filled him with pride and love to see you thriving after everything you had faced back in Vegas.

His fingers brushed against the plush bear, and he couldn’t resist giving it a gentle squeeze. “And look who’s here to protect my precious girl, hm?” he said with a playful grin. “You’re doing a fantastic job, Mr. Bear!”

With everything neatly arranged, he turned his attention back to you. The sight of you sleeping so soundly tugged at his heartstrings. He knew how hard you had been working and how much this new chapter meant to you, he wanted nothing more than to take care of you, to ensure that you felt safe and loved in this new place.

Gently, he slipped his arms under your body, lifting you effortlessly from the desk. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake as he cradled you against him. “Time for bed, my little scholar.” he murmured softly, the warmth of your body against his bringing him a sense of peace. “You need a deserved rest in a comfy bed.”

He carried you to the bedroom, the soft sound of his footsteps barely audible over the gentle lapping of waves outside. As he laid you down on the bed, he carefully tucked the covers around you, ensuring that you were warm and comfortable. The plush bear found its place beside you once more, as if it were keeping watch over you in your dreams.

Charles took a moment to admire you—your features relaxed in sleep, a serene expression gracing your face. The love he felt for you swelled within him as he brushed a stray hair away from your forehead. “Sweet dreams, my love.” he whispered softly before slipping into bed beside you.

As he settled in next to you, the day’s exhaustion caught up with him. He turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand and watching you sleep for a moment longer. The way you breathed peacefully filled him with an overwhelming sense of contentment, It felt like everything was right in the world.

But soon enough, the weight of fatigue pulled at him too. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink into the warmth of the bed and the comfort of your presence. As sleep enveloped him, dreams began to weave their way into his mind—visions of laughter-filled days exploring Monaco’s stunning coastline together, quiet evenings spent sharing stories under starlit skies, and a future filled with love and promise.

In that shared moment of tranquility, two hearts beat as one—connected by love and trust, embracing the beauty of their journey together. The world outside faded away as they drifted into a peaceful slumber, knowing that they would face whatever challenges lay ahead side by side.

As the night wore on, Charles found himself wrapped in dreams filled with laughter and light—a reflection of the joy you brought into his life. And in that serene space, both of you slept soundly, cocooned in warmth and love in your new home in Monaco.

[thelovehypothesis]

Part 2.2 : Between the Pit Walls and the Heartbreak - 43

part 1

Franco Colapinto x fem-engineer!reader x friend!Max Verstappen

+2k words

a/n’s: lastly! full credit to @afterglowsainz go read their fic “don't smile” its amazing, and this is the long awaited part 2 on my take of their fic! BUT here is and alternate ending... Part 2.1, I really enjoyed wiriting this, hope you like it!

warnings: angst-fluff

Summary: Two hearts, one racetrack, and a love that no team can control. When love collides with ambition, can they find a way back to each and if they can, can they learn to forgive?

Start line, finish line, at the end it's the same 

It had been nearly four since you walked away from Franco, since you’d chosen your career and dreams over the love you once thought would last forever. Life had changed in ways you could never have imagined. The moment you accepted the position at Red Bull, everything shifted. The high-intensity world of being Max Verstappen’s race engineer consumed you, leaving little room for reflection, which was how you preferred it.

You were good at your job—great, even. From the very first race weekend with Max, you felt the rush of adrenaline, the electric tension of every decision you made behind the mic, and the weight of contributing to a world championship. It was thrilling, everything you’d ever worked for, and yet, there were quiet moments when your mind drifted back to what you had left behind.

But you didn’t have time for what-ifs. You stood in the garage, headphones around your neck, watching the pit crew scramble as they prepared the car for qualifying. Max was a machine—focused, relentless—and the two of you had developed an easy rapport. He trusted you with critical decisions, and you trusted him to deliver on the track. It was a partnership built on mutual respect and shared ambition.

As you stood there, watching the screens, you felt a familiar tug of emotion—memories of race weekends with Franco, late-night strategy talks, and the way he used to smile when he nailed a lap. But you pushed those thoughts away. That chapter of your life was over.

“Y/N, we’re ready,” Max’s voice crackled through your headset, pulling you back to the present.

“Copy that,” you replied, all business again. “Let’s nail this one, Max.”

The next few minutes were a blur of data, radio calls, and fast decisions. Max was flying, setting the fastest times in each sector. By the time the session ended, he had secured pole position, and the garage erupted in cheers. You smiled, proud of the work you’d done and of what the team had achieved together. This was where you belonged now—at the heart of the action, right on the edge of greatness.

But as the celebration in the garage began to die down, you caught sight of a familiar figure across the paddock—Franco. He was there, leaning against the railing, watching you. His eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, everything around you seemed to blur, the noise of the team fading into the background.

He looked different—older, somehow, more serious. But that same magnetic energy was still there, the pull between you undeniable, even from a distance.

Franco was back in the paddock as a reset driver for Williams and Mercedes in the 2025 season. It was bittersweet seeing him there, a constant reminder of the past and what you had left behind. His presence felt heavy, especially for him when he started to believe Max had feelings for you. Franco noticed every subtle interaction—the way Max’s eyes would linger on you during quick debriefs or the soft smirk on his lips after a race. Franco was convinced there was something more, but you didn’t see it. To you, Max was just being friendly, and you never thought to question it. Yet, Franco couldn’t shake the feeling, and each time you were near, the tension seemed to grow.

You quickly looked away, your heart pounding in your chest. It had been so long since you’d seen him. You didn’t know what to feel—anger, sadness, or relief. You had moved on—or at least, you convinced yourself you had. But seeing him here, now, was like reopening a wound that hadn’t fully healed.

Later, after the garage had emptied out and the team had retreated to prepare for the race, you found yourself wandering the paddock, lost in thought. You didn’t expect to bump into Franco, but as fate would have it, there he was, standing by the entrance to the hospitality suite, waiting for you.

Y/N," he called out, his voice soft but urgent.

You froze, torn between walking away and confronting the emotions you had buried. Slowly, you turned to face him.

"Franco," you said, your voice steady though your heart was racing.

He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "I wasn’t expecting to see you here."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain your composure. "I work here now. This is my job."

"I know," he said quietly. "I’ve been following you this season. You’re doing incredible things."

There was a brief silence, filled with unsaid words and memories. Finally, Franco spoke again, his tone softer, less guarded. “I’ve thought about you a lot. About us.”

You swallowed hard but kept your emotions in check. "Franco, that part of my life is over. I made my choice."

"I know you did," he said, his voice strained. "I’ve made mine too. But I don’t want us to keep being strangers. We shared too much to walk away from each other like this."

You hesitated, not expecting this direction. "What are you saying?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration mixed with something softer. “I don’t want us to end on bad terms. We were friends once, Y/N. I don’t want to lose that, too.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of the past heavy on your shoulders, but his words reached you. "You hurt me, Franco. We can't just pretend like none of that happened."

"I know," he said, his voice thick with regret. "And I’ll carry that. But maybe we could start again. Not like before, but as friends. You’ve moved on, and I need to accept that."

You studied him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was the boy you had once cared for, now standing before you, trying to make amends.

"Friends," you repeated, testing the word.

He nodded, hopeful but cautious. "Yeah, friends."

A small, tentative smile tugged at your lips. "I think I’d like that."

Franco’s shoulders relaxed as if a weight had been lifted. "I’d like that too."

For the first time in a long while, the air between you felt lighter. You knew it wouldn’t erase the past, but maybe it was a step toward healing it.

"I’ll see you around, then?" you asked, taking a step back toward the paddock.

He smiled softly, nodding. "Yeah, I’ll see you around."

As you turned and walked away, the knot in your chest loosened. Maybe this wasn’t about choosing the past or the present—it was about allowing both to coexist in their own space.

Heading back toward the Red Bull hospitality, you felt a sense of closure. You were ready to move forward, and for the first time, it didn’t feel like you were leaving something behind.

For the next few races, something began to shift between you and Franco. Slowly but surely, your interactions felt less heavy, less tied to the past. You started to talk more during race weekends, sharing little jokes or catching up between sessions. It wasn’t forced, and for the first time in a long while, it felt easy.

As the weeks went on, your friendship began to mend. The conversations that were once filled with tension now carried a lightness, and the lingering pain of what had happened between you both faded. You found yourself laughing with him again, and before long, you were falling back into the familiar rhythm of being really good friends—just friends this time you promised yourself. There was no pressure, no unspoken feelings. It was just you and Franco, rebuilding something new.

The next  race,  you once again crossed paths with Franco again. 

“Hey,” he called out, taking a step closer. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. “What’s up?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. “I think Max likes you,” he teased, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “I mean, have you seen the way he looks at you? It’s like you’ve got him all flustered.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Oh, come on, Franco. Max and I? It’s nothing like that.”

Franco crossed his arms, still smirking. “Sure, sure. But I’m telling you, he’s definitely interested. You just don’t see it.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling at his playful tone. “Trust me, it’s all professional. Max and I work well together, but that’s as far as it goes.”

He raised an eyebrow, not quite convinced. “Really? Because he seems to hang around a lot when you’re around.”

You nudged him lightly, amused by his teasing. “Don’t worry, Franco. I’d never see Max that way. He’s my driver. That’s it.”

Franco chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “Alright, alright. Just don’t be surprised if he starts asking you out for coffee or something.”

You laughed again, feeling the tension between you both ease with each joke. “I’ll keep that in mind, but seriously, it’s nothing to worry about.”

He smiled, and for the first time in a while, it felt light between you two. “Good to know. Just looking out for you.”

You nodded, grateful for the lighter moment. “Thanks, Franco. I appreciate it.”

As you turned to leave, Franco called after you, still with that teasing tone. “But if he does ask you out, you owe me an update!”

You laughed over your shoulder. “Deal!”

After the race, as you and Max walked toward the team hospitality, he glanced at you with a grin. “Hey,at this point I just need to tell someone, when I head back to Monaco, I’ve got a date lined up,” he said, his tone casual but playful.

You blinked in surprise, then smiled. “A date, huh? Good for you,” you replied, nudging him lightly. “I hope it goes well.”

“Thanks,” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but feel relieved. Whatever tension had been there between you two, it seemed Max was focusing elsewhere. It was a reminder that everything between you was purely professional.

Later that night, back at the hotel, you found yourself thinking about the past few weeks and Franco’s teasing remarks about Max. Pulling out your phone, you shot Franco a quick text: "You were wrong. I was right 😏 Max has a date, so nothing to worry about!"

Moments later, your phone buzzed with his reply: "Told you I wasn’t worried 😉 Wanna grab ice cream and celebrate your victory?"

You hesitated for only a moment before responding with a quick, "Sure, see you in a bit"

It didn't take long for the two of you to find a cosy, well-known ice cream shop nestled in the heart of town, far enough from the hustle of the paddock to feel peaceful. The shop had a retro charm, with colourful decor and the scent of freshly made waffle cones filling the air. You both grabbed your favourite flavours and found a quiet corner by the window, the soft hum of chatter around you.

Sitting across from each other, you fell into easy conversation—old memories, upcoming races, and life outside the paddock. The laughter came naturally, and it was as if the tension of the past had melted away. The familiarity between you felt comforting, like slipping back into something that had never really been lost.

As you looked over at Franco, you realised something you hadn’t expected. Despite everything, despite moving on, there was still a part of you that loved him. It was buried deep, hidden beneath layers of time and distance, but it was there, undeniable and real.

The finish line?

A week later, when the F1 circus rolled into the summer break, you found yourself spending a few days together with Franco. It wasn’t planned, but it felt natural, falling back into a familiar rhythm. You wandered through small towns, shared meals at local cafes, and simply enjoyed each other’s company. The past no longer felt like an anchor, pulling you back; instead, it was something you both acknowledged but didn’t dwell on.

The moment you sat down during one of those quiet afternoons, Franco reached over and took your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. There was no pressure, no unspoken expectations—just the comfort of being together.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice calm, yet filled with concern.

You nodded, squeezing his hand in return. “Yeah. Everything’s fine now.” And for the first time in a long time, you truly believed it.

The weight of the past no longer held you down. You were moving forward, and maybe, just maybe, there was still something between you and Franco worth exploring.

(abu dhabi grand prix)

The Grand Prix was electric,charged with tension, adrenaline, and the weight of the championship. Max was on the verge of winning his fifth world title, and every decision you made felt like it could either secure or break the season. The pressure was immense, and everyone in the paddock knew what was at stake. The intensity of it all was almost overwhelming, but you were laser-focused, guiding Max through the race.

On the final lap, a risky opportunity appeared—one that could win both the drivers' and constructors' championships in one brilliant stroke. You had mere seconds to make the call. Your heart raced as you pushed the radio button, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Box, box, Max. Trust me on this.”

There was a heartbeat of silence before Max’s calm voice responded, “Copy. I trust you.”

And that trust was everything. As Max executed the strategy perfectly, crossing the finish line first, the Red Bull garage erupted in celebration. The screams of the team echoed around you, but for a second, you were frozen—still processing the magnitude of what had just happened. Max had done it. You had done it. Together, you had clinched the championship, securing not just his fifth world title but the Constructors’ Championship for Red Bull as well.

The team started racing toward the barricade to greet Max as he pulled into the pit lane, his car surrounded by a sea of red and blue. As you ran alongside your teammates, you were suddenly jostled in the rush of bodies. The next thing you knew, you bumped into Franco—completely by accident—but before you could even apologise, his arms were around you.

He caught you easily, lifting you up, and in one fluid motion, he kissed you. The world seemed to stop, the noise around you fading into nothing as his lips met yours. Franco pulled back just slightly, his voice filled with emotion as he whispered, “Congratulations. That call was amazing.”

You were stunned, the whirlwind of emotions overwhelming you, but you smiled through the tears that suddenly welled up in your eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered, before leaning in to kiss him again. This time, it was slower, more intentional, as if you were both grounding yourselves in the reality of the moment. The past, the pain, all of it seemed to fade away.

When you finally parted, Franco set you down gently, his hands lingering at your waist, and you gave him a soft smile. "I guess you owe me some ice cream later,” you joked, trying to lighten the charged atmosphere.

He chuckled, his eyes softening as he gazed at you. “Definitely."

With a quick glance at the roaring celebrations ahead, you squeezed his hand and ran toward the podium area, where the ceremony was about to begin. Max was already there, grinning ear to ear, waving to the ecstatic crowd. You stood beside him, watching as he was crowned world champion again, but all the while, your mind drifted to Franco.

From your place on the podium, you spotted Franco standing quietly off to the side, watching you with a look of pride and something deeper. And in that moment, as the confetti rained down and the world celebrated around you, you realised the truth that had been tugging at your heart all along—you still loved Franco.

You found yourself falling in love with him all over again.

---The end---

I'am really happy with the outcome! hope you are too.

Once again my request are open for all your request!

-lots of love, Em.

[shurisgf]

ECSTASY — A. ARETAS ✩ (1)

ೃ⁀➷ SUMMARY; in which , armando can’t keep his eyes off of his favorite dancer. So he takes matters into his own hands. | FEAT. Armando Aretas x BLACK!fem!reader | TROPE situationship ish? | FORMAT series | WARNINGS strip club, cursing, use of the n word | NOTES AYE WE IN THE STRIP CLUB YAWLLL 😜 thank you to the sweet soul who requested this!! literally had the time of my life writing this

🎧 for an enhanced experience , listen to the playlist selected below ;

` The Motto — Drake

` Truffle Butter —Nicki Minaj

` My n***a — YG

` What We Doin’ — City Girls

` Run Away — Chris Brown

` Pressurelicious — Megan Thee Stallion

` Throw Sum Mo — Rae Sremmurd

` FTCU — Latto

` Thooties — Dee Bills & Jenn Carter

` Ride — YK Osiris

` Cut ‘Em Off — Femme It Forward & Kiana Ledé

` No Frauds — Nicki Minaj

` Point Me 2 — FendiDa Rappa & Cardi B

` FTCU — Nicki Minaj

11:30 PM

“It’s packed tonight y’all. Make sure to keep it cute,” You announced, walking into the back room where everyone was getting ready. Your friends laughed at your statement as they continued their last minute touches, “Listen to her please. Last time it was packed Mercedes tripped and knocked over like 6 bottles of Casamigos.” Jade side eyed Mercedes from where she was standing. Earning a chuckle from you, who was now sitting at your station, finishing up last minute makeup, and making sure you had on the right heels. The loud music blaring through the club vibrated the walls, creating a muffled sound inside of the room.

Finally satisfied with how you looked, you walked over to the table with the other girls, while Jade came in with a round of shots, “It’s showtime bitches!” She smiled brightly as everyone took a shot from the tray. You threw your head back and drank the shot fast, feeling the alcohol hitting the back of your throat. Shaking off the feeling, you took one last glance in the mirror and began to walk out of the room with the rest of the girls.

The lights were a mix of purple and punk hues, music blaring through the speakers as you walked over to the stage and signaled to the dj that you were ready for your set.

“Aight now, we got one of our most fabulous girls ready to get on stage,” the dj announced whilst still controlling the music. “Show ‘em what you got Star!” He shouted, hyping you up as you entered the stage. You decided to dance to Run Away by Chris Brown, swaying your hips effortlessly as you walked towards the pole. That’s where you noticed the fine ass man you’d never seen in the club before. It looked like he was paying close attention to your movements as you mounted the pole gracefully, doing a couple turns, and making sure to keep your movements loose and fluid. Your neon pink bralet and matching thong glowed in the led lights, highlighting your body’s movements on the pole. You swirled down the pole in a hypnotizing motion and slapped your ass once you got to the bottom, looking out at the crowd. The man was still there, biting his lips as he eyed you up and down. You were used to men looking at you that way, but something about the way he stared made you feel like he was staring into your soul. Men were throwing 20’s and 50’s at you, so you made an effort to bend down and pick up the money in a seductive manner. A sweet lesbian couple also gave you a couple 100’s, which always made your day, because they were regulars. When you turned your attention back to the crowd, the man was gone. So you shrugged it off and continued to dance.

Finishing your set, you swayed your hips and walked off of stage so that the next dancer could do her set. Before you could make it to the back, your shift manager told you that a guy paid for a private 30-minute session with you, and to do what you do best, make him come back. You told her that you would head over there after counting the tips you made on stage and putting it away. To which she nodded, and told you to hurry and don’t keep him waiting.

You thought that it was just a random man, maybe a regular that bought private sessions with you before. Walking into the room, you could obviously tell that you were wrong. It was that fine ass man that was sitting in the crowd earlier. He sipped his drink as you walked into the room, closing the door behind you. He was manspreading on the couch, the tent in his pants telling you all you needed to know. You made him hard while you were on stage earlier, which is why he wanted a private session. Men were too easy to figure out. “Ven aquí, sexy.” He spoke up, wanting you to come over to him. So you did as he said, swaying your hips as you walked to him, knowing exactly what he wanted. When you reached him, you straddled him on the couch, beginning to give him a lap dance. Rocking your hips against his, he groaned out, clearly enjoying himself, throwing his head back in pleasure before speaking up. He gently held your hips, causing you to stop your motions. Looking up at you with those sexy ass eyes of his. “Let me see that pretty ass, mama.” He spoke in a calm, but weirdly menacing tone that made you feel flustered on the inside. You stood up and twerked in front of him, moving your ass in all the right ways, as you bent down and continued your motions. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful mama, why haven’t I come here sooner.” He scoffed, his comment making you laugh a bit. You turned around and bent down to his knees, looking up at him in his eyes. Rubbing on his thighs as you continued to move your body sensually. “I don’t know, but I’d love to see your face in the crowd more often.” You playfully flirted with him, as he smirked at your comment. “C’mere pretty girl,” he spoke in that same tone. Taking a hold of your hips and gently turning you around, pulling you back against him, where he wanted you to be. You can’t lie, it was hot as fuck. So you complied and passionately moved your ass against his lap once again, earning yet another satisfied groan from his lips. You were enjoying yourself, before your security knocked and opened the door, telling you that your 30 minutes were over. A part of you was disappointed, but you were on the clock and had no time to play games. So you got up and made sure to look back at him, whispering “Sorry handsome,” before leaving the room.

2:23 AM

By the end of the night, you and the other girls were in the back, counting money, when you saw a paper tucked into your thong band. Taking it out, you opened it to find a note from the man you had a private session with. It read; “Let me return the favor.” along with his name and number at the bottom. You smiled and chuckled to yourself before tucking the note away in your belongings, he must’ve slipped the note there when he grabbed your hips. “Y’all know that fine ass nigga that was sitting in section 5?” You questioned your friends who were still busy counting cash. “You talkin’ bout the one with the fresh haircut and that sexy ass goatee?” Mercedes questioned you. Everyone laughing at her comment. “Yeah, him.” You continued to count the rest of your money, “What about him?” Coco chimed in, wanting to know the tea. “His name is Armando.” You spoke out, your simple reply confusing everyone in the room. “And how the fuck do you know that?” Mercedes protested, confused as to how you managed to get the dude’s name. “The slick bitch got a private session with him, that’s how.” Jade aired out all your business, the room erupting in shock. You smiled to yourself, continuing to count your cash from the rest of the night. “What the fuck?,” Mercedes walked over to your station, eyeing you down, waiting for you to tell her what happened. But when she saw you still focused on counting your money, she spoke up again. “Well what the hell happened?”

“Just a lap dance, that’s all.” You lied straight through your teeth, not bothering to tell the girls that he was hard as a rock while you danced on him.

“You gave that fine mothafucka’ a lap dance?” Mercedes’s questioned, looking back at the other girls, making sure they heard the same damn thing she just heard.

“You lucky bitch”, “I been plotting on that nigga all night,” Coco added. Everyone turning to glare at her. “What?” She said in a shocked tone, placing her hand on her chest as if she felt offended.

“We all know you wanted that nigga, you a hoe,” Jade damn near spit out her drink as Mercedes rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to you after making her comment.

“She got a point though, last time you had a private session, the security said you was tryna’ do more than dance.” You spoke up, counting the last of your cash and putting it away.

“Girl fuck the security guard, he won’t talkin’ bout nothing.” Coco expressed, rolling her eyes at the both of you.

“Aight, I’m finna go, I don’t got time to play with y’all.” You spoke, grabbing your jacket and bag, getting ready to leave for the night. Before you walked out the door, Mercedes added, “Let us know if he come back.”

“I will.” You laughed, walking out the door saying bye to everyone.

As you walked out, you could still hear Mercedes’s loud voice, “Can’t believe she got to give that nigga a lap dance.” Laughing to yourself as you walked out of the front door.

What a fucking night.

GLOSSARY !

Ven aquí — Come here.

©2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — SHURI'S GF. Do not modify, repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any work posted on this blog without my permission !

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part 2

reblogs are greatly appreciated !

[persevereforahappyending]

This isn't Your Fault (Revenge)

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: She turned back to the display case, after contemplating it for a moment she lifted the lid, reaching down and grabbing the knife.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Death, Murder, Torture (I guess?)

Word Count: 7.5k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

“Enough!” Tara snapped. “We’re kind of on a time limit.” She glared at her sister, Chad, and Mindy. “Come. Don’t come,” she directed at the twins. “I don’t care, but we’re leaving. Now,” she turned to Sam and then began walking towards the door.

She heard footsteps stumbling to catch up to her. She didn’t need to turn around to know all three of them were following her. “We need to meet Gale,” Tara said, still not bothering to glance back at the others.

“Where are we meeting her?” Mindy asked. Sam pulled up her phone showing the location. Mindy’s eyes widened. “Why would we want to meet there?”

“Because it’s the perfect spot to set a trap,” Sam started to explain.

“Who cares!” Tara snapped again. “Let’s take the subway, it’ll be quicker.”

She finally glanced back at the others to see all 3 of them sharing a concerned look. She narrowed her eyes at them, making all three of them, even Sam, drop their gaze to the ground. Her girlfriend was lying injured in the hospital after almost being brutally murdered, they would have to forgive her for being a little impatient, and they needed to hurry the fuck up or Ghostface wasn’t going to be the only one suffering this night.

They made their way to the subway, all of them barely shoving themselves on. Once the doors closed all four of them tensed up when they got a good look at their surroundings. Tara had almost forgot it was Halloween. Nearly everyone was dressed in costume, a majority of them wearing a Ghostface costume specifically.

“How many stops?” Tara asked, glancing around at the Ghostface’s that surrounded them.

“Ten,” Sam answered, shifting closer to Tara as she watched the movements of every Ghostface.

Chad shifted, putting his body in front of Mindy and partially in front of Tara and Sam. Tara could see the fear in his eyes and the way his jaw was locked in place. His hand held onto the pole so tight his knuckles were turning white, but he stared down any Ghostface that so much as glanced their way. Sam moved behind Tara, resting her hand on the pole so her arm was resting around Tara’s shoulder. Mindy and Tara stood there, eyes darting all around the subway, squished between Chad and Sam.

With each stop a Ghostface moved, inching closer and closer to the group. All four of them watched and waited, ready to make a move. Attacking someone on a crowded subway would be a bold move, even for Ghostface, but Tara wouldn’t put it past him. Knowing Ghostface, and their luck, Ghostface would stab at least two of them and be off at the next stop before anyone were to realize what had happened.

Luckily their stop finally came, and they all piled out, lucky to escape without an incident. The four of them quickly made their way down the street to the location they were to meet Gale. They slowed their pace as they approached the alley, it wasn’t dark yet, but the sun had just begun to set.

“Good, you made it,” Gale said, popping out from the alleyway.

All four of them jumped, Chad even pushing Mindy in front of himself. Mindy turned around, slapping her brother hard on the shoulder. Tara glared at Gale, she didn’t have time to almost have a heart attack, she needed to find Ghostface, kill him, and then go back to you and spend the rest of the night apologizing. Tara would spend the rest of her life groveling for your forgiveness as long as she got to tell you Ghostface was dead.

“Are you ready for this?” Gale asked, looking at Sam before settling her gaze on Tara.

Tara nodded. “Let’s make this bastard pay,” She growled out.

Gale nodded, leading them down the alley and through the first set of doors. “Okay, I got everything all setup.” They followed her to the cage where she swiped the keycard, unlocking the metal door, they all piled into the room, waiting for Gale to flip the switch.

When the lights came on Tara’s breath caught in her throat. Gale had found the theater with a shrine to Ghostface and all the killings a couple months prior. She contacted them and they all came to see it. She had discovered it after two boys from Tara’s class had killed their teacher, only to end up murdered themselves. Sam was freaking out that it was Ghostface related but after Tara’s relentless begging and giving the police time to investigate nothing ever happened. No phone calls were made, no other killings happened, there was just silence. Sam was still one edge but without Ghostface coming after them it was hard to believe it was a real Ghostface attacked, it was chalked up to a copycat.

Tara had only been to the theater once and once was enough. She walked the display cases, seeing every gruesome detail of all the past killings. She even saw photos of her own attack, the shirt she had been wearing proudly on display with her blood still staining it. Tara hated the theater and wanted everything in it to burn, but if Ghost had a headquarters this was the most logical spot. It was also the spot they could most likely surprise him, setting up their own trap and catching him off guard.

“What’s the plan?” Chad asked, running his fingers across the glass display cases.

“We lure Ghostface here and then we kill him,” Tara said bluntly.

“We created a kill box,” Sam explained, looking at Tara with concern. “Once he steps foot in here, the doors close, and no one can come in or go out.”

“So, we’re bait?” Mindy said slowly.

“You didn’t have to come,” Tara snapped. She knew her friends didn’t deserve her attitude, but she couldn’t help it. She just needed Ghostface to arrive trying to kill them so they could turn the tables and kill him instead.

“So, what do we do now?” Chad asked, trying to diffuse the tension.

“We wait,” Gale said.

Everyone nodded, moving to separate corners of the theater. They all had visual of each other, but they didn’t want to be next to each other, they knew it wasn’t time to talk. Sam made her way up the stage where the case with Billy Loomis’s cloak hung. Tara watched her for a moment before her eyes drifted down to the display case in front of her. It was her attack, crime scene photos of her kitchen and hallway decorated with blood. Tara tapped the glass, flashing back to that night.

Tara ran a hand down her face even though she hadn’t begun to cry. She shook her head, getting back into the right mindset, she couldn’t focus on the past, the only thing that mattered in the moment was avenging you. She glanced back up at Sam when a ring broke out making everyone jump as it echoed through the room. Everyone followed the sound, their eyes all landing on Mindy.

She slowly pulled out her phone, looking at the screen. “It’s Anika,” she sighed in relief. Tara held her breath though, waiting for Mindy to answer. When she had been attacked, she thought she had been talking to Amber, but it was Ghostface, who turned out to be Amber but that was beside the point. Until Mindy heard Anika’s voice there was no telling who was on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” Mindy asked. “Hello?” she scrunched her eyebrows. “Babe, I can’t hear you.” She took the phone away from her ear looking at the others. “I don’t have signal, let me take this outside.”

“Wait,” Sam said, taking a step forward.

“It could be important,” Mindy argued.

“I’ll go with her,” Chad said.

That ended the discussion. The twins wandered back out of the room, hoping to get a better signal. Tara looked to Sam who stood in the middle of the stage. Something didn’t feel right but she couldn’t place her finger on it. She turned back to the display case, after contemplating it for a moment she lifted the lid, reaching down and grabbing the knife. Tara’s hand shook as she gripped the handle before tucking it into her pants, it was the same knife Amber had used to stab her and it was going to be the same knife she used to kill Ghostface.

The second Tara closed the lid of the display case the lights went out. “Tara?” Sam called. Tara stumbled making her way in the direction she knew the stage to be. The lights flipped back on and her and Sam ran to each other, gripping on to each other’s arm as they stood in the middle of the stage. They spun around in a circle looking for who had turned the lights off.

Gale started to make her way up the steps towards them when a Ghostface appeared behind her. “Watch out!” Sam screamed, pushing Tara behind her. It was too late, Gale barely had time to turn before the blade was imbedded into her shoulder. Gale stumbled back down the steps, putting a hand to her wound to stop the bleeding. She turned, facing Ghostface but they quickly kneed her in the stomach, grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head into the side of the stage.

Tara gripped Sam’s arm, and Sam gripped her hand back just as tight. They backed up, neither of their eyes leaving Ghostface who stood at the bottom of the steps, his head tilted, staring at them. The lights went out again and the only thing Tara could hear was her and Sam’s breathing. Then there was loud banging from the outside door and what sounded like Chad screaming. That’s when Tara realized it, they didn’t set up a trap for Ghostface, he set up a trap for them. Tara and Sam were locked in the theater with Ghostface while Gale was unconscious and bleeding out, and Chad and Mindy were locked out on the other side of the door.

Tara’s eyes darted all around the room, it was pitch black, any light that had been on was now out. She couldn’t make out anything, she couldn’t even hear the shuffling of feet. When the lights came back on Ghostface was standing right in front of her, head tilted, staring into her with those empty black eyes.

Tara jumped, letting out a gasp, as she gripped Sam’s arm, pulling her back. Sam spun around to see Ghostface in front of Tara, she let go of Tara’s hand, giving Ghostface a hard shove. They stumbled back, dropping their knife in the process. Sam quickly scooped it up, holding out towards Ghostface as he was left kneeling on the ground.

“Girls!” came a voice.

Tara and Sam turned, searching for the voice, Sam making sure to keep the knife pointed at Ghostface. They saw Quinn’s dad, detective Bailey entering through the gated door. He had his gun drawn and his head was looking from side to side as if he was checking the place out.

“How did you know where we were?” Sam asked. Tara moved closer to her sister, eyeing Bailey suspiciously.

“Kirby called,” he said, still moving his gun as he eyed his surrounding, slowly making his way to the girls.

“Kirby?” Sam furrowed her brow. Tara glanced at Sam, having the same look, they never told Kirby where they were going.

Before they could question him further another Ghostface appeared, knife raised and running up behind Bailey. “Look out!” Sam shouted. It was just the distraction the Ghostface kneeling before them needed, he reached up, ripping the knife back out of Sam’s hand.

Sam moved, elbowing Ghostface in the mask, causing him to drop the knife again. They both dove for the knife, their fingers nearly grazing it when Bailey fired, his bullet flying into the floorboard next to the knife. Sam jumped, looking back up at Baily. Ghostface grabbed the knife, turning around to point it at her, just as she had been doing to him. The Ghostface backed up slowly, joining Bailey at his side, as the one that had been running towards Bailey stood on his other side.

“You?” Sam asked, the shock evident in her voice.

“Yeah, me,” Bailey said, shrugging with a grin. “You’ve probably put together the rest,” he slapped the shoulder of the Ghostface on his left.

The Ghostface reached up, lifting off his mask to reveal Ethan. Both girls’ eyes widened. Tara shouldn’t be surprised. You had been attacked, she knew it wasn’t her sister, Mindy, Chad, or Gale. The options of who Ghostface could be were pretty limited and if Anika was still at the hospital with you that only left… Tara’s gaze shifted to the still masked Ghostface on Bailey’s right.

“Hey, roomies,” Quinn said with a smile as she revealed herself as the final Ghostface.

“What the fuck!” Sam said, looking between the three of them.

“You think you can mess with our family and just get away with it!” Quinn snapped, waving her knife around.

“Family?”

“They’re still not getting it,” Ethan said, rolling his eyes. “My name isn’t Ethan Landry! Isn’t that right dad?” he looked towards Bailey. The three of them breaking out into a laugh.

“Dad?” Tara questioned, out of everything, that surprised her the most.

“It was easy to dupe the roommate lottery and get Chad.”

“It was just as easy finding your roommate ad,” Quinn added. “I mean who wouldn’t trust a girl whose daddy is a police detective.”

“Look, whatever you think I did, I didn’t!” Sam shouted, as if she was trying to reason with them. Tara was sure Sam was just processing all this new information though. “I don’t know what you read about me online but I’m not a murderer!”

“Yes! Yes, you are!” Quinn shouted, her movements quick as she stood before Tara and Sam, angling her knife down at them. “You killed our brother.”

“Your brother?” Tara questioned.

“You stupid girl,” Ethan groaned, glaring at her as if the fact that Tara couldn’t figure out their motive was the most irritating thing in the world.

“You’re Richie’s family,” Sam said, her eyes widening with the realization.

Bailey nodded, tears filling his eyes. “Yeah, and you took him from me.”

“He was psychotic,” Tara spat out, barely dodging the knife Quinn swung at her.

“He was incredibly passionate about the things he loved,” Bailey said. “And maybe I indulged him a little too much. But I helped him build all this,” he raised his hands at their surroundings.

“This was all his?” Sam asked.

“His legacy,” Bailey sighed, admiring the memorabilia that reminded him of his son, even though all the items belonged to serial killers or their victims. “Which is why you have to die here, surrounded by what he loved the most.”

“What even is your grand plan?” Sam held up her arms, confusion written all over her face.

“It’s not enough to just kill someone anymore,” Ethan said. “You have to assassinate their character.”

“It’s as simple as posting a few conspiracies on reddit,” Quinn smirked. “Re-writing the story.”

“That was you?” Sam couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice.

“It was too easy,” Quinn giggled. “The rest just fell right into place.”

“Those two film nerds even helped out,” Bailey said. “We had to kill you before them, so we kill them, make it look like Ghostface is back but don’t do anything after to get you to let your guard down.”

“Which you did,” Ethan said, pointing his knife at the girls.

“Then we go after what you care about most,” Bailey snarled.

Tara’s eyes widened, instantly filling with tears again. “Y/N,” she whispered.

Ethan broke out into a devilish grin. “I have to say, I’ve never had so much fun,” he said, giving a little jump of excitement.

“It was you?” Tara looked at Ethan, though her eyes were filled with tears a darkness lingered underneath, all her anger slowly bubbling back to the surface.

Ethan shrugged with a smirk. “I volunteered.” He fiddled with the knife, spinning it around with his fingers. “Nearly begged for it actually.”

“Why? What did she ever do to you? How did you even find out about us?”

“Because you’re not as smart as you think you are!” he shouted, shaking his head to regain some of his composure. “It was an accident at first, I was at the library late and caught the two of you leaving all cuddled up,” he wrinkled his nose at the memory. “You don’t get to be happy,” he shook his head. “You don’t get the girl when my brother is dead!” he gritted his teeth, staring at her with a wild look in his eye.

Tara clenched her jaw, glaring at Ethan. Tara and Sam ended up standing back-to-back as Bailey, Quinn, and Ethan began to circle them. Sam kept her eyes locked with Bailey’s while Tara’s sole focus was on Ethan. Quinn stood in the middle, smiling from ear to ear, she’d occasionally swiped her knife, barely missing Tara, and Sam.

“You know, I was meant to give her the whole experience,” Ethan taunted. “The phone call, all of it,” he wiggled his knife. “You were on the phone with her. I was disappointed, thinking it would be too easy. She put a up a fight though.” He pointed his knife, as if he approved in your survival skills. “She still screamed like a little bitch when I beat her though,” he said with a maniacal laugh.

“Fuck you!” Tara screamed, making her move, she rushed forward, shoving him into one of the display cases, shattering the glass and sending the memorabilia to the floor.

Sam went for Bailey, grabbing his wrist as he fired three more shots. They struggled, pushing each other back and forth into display cases and mannequins.

Quinn gripped her knife, swinging wildly, getting a lucky shot and slicing Sam across the arm. Quinn went to stab Sam, aiming for her heart when Tara grabbed a brick randomly lying on the ground, swinging it right against Quinn’s jaw. Tara could swear she heard a crack, she didn’t stop to look at Quinn though, she grabbed her sister’s hand and took off, ducking through a door as Bailey began firing at them again.

“What’s the plan?” Sam asked, breathing heavy.

“We kill this fucking family once and for all,” Tara said, shooting a glare at Sam so her sister knew she meant it.

“Split them up,” Sam said, nodding along. “We’ll pick them off one by one.”

“Ethan’s mine,” Tara practically growled out.

“Find them!” they heard Bailey shout.

Tara and Sam quickly jumped behind the counter of the old snack bar, getting into position. The second the door they had come through swung open they pushed the popcorn machine over, sending it crashing into Ethan. Sam jumped over the side of the counter, grabbing the old glass gumball machine. As Ethan shook out the stale popcorn from his hair, slowly pulling himself to his feet, Sam used both hands to swing the gumball machine down onto his head, shattering the glass as it came into contact with his skull. Ethan crumbled to the floor knocked out cold.

Sam or Tara didn’t have time to finish him off before Bailey and Quinn were rushing through the door after hearing the commotion. Tara gave Sam one final nod before taking off down the hallway behind her while Sam ran down the other hallway in the opposite direction. Tara slammed her body into the walls as she took the turns to sharp, she glanced back to see Quinn following her. There was no sign of Bailey, meaning he most likely went after Sam.

Tara got to a staircase, taking the steps two at a time she made her way up to the second floor. She pushed through a set of double doors, stumbling out onto the balcony seating. Tara turned facing the door she had just come through, she watched the doors, ready for Quinn to come through them. She heard a slight creak to her side though, turning just in time to see a flash of silver, she dropped to the floor, rolling away.

Quinn had come up using the other stairs, on the opposite side of the balcony. Tara moved with caution, keeping her eyes on Quinn and the knife in her hand as she slowly backed away, stepping up the short set of stairs that led to the seats. Tara could see the blood dripping from Quinn’s mouth from when she smacked her with a brick, Tara couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Quinn gave her a toothy smile, showing that Tara had knocked out a couple teeth.

“You know I wanted to kill Y/N,” Quinn said with a bloody smile. “But dad thought Ethan could use the confidence boost.” She rolled her eyes “I might have had a bit more fun with her before her demise though,” Quinn wiggled her eyebrows.

Tara stood before Quinn, gritting her teeth, and snarling like a caged animal. Quinn swiped her knife back and forth, aiming for Tara’s stomach but Tara moved, dodging each swipe with ease. When Quinn swung her knife, bringing it back the other direction Tara reach down, gripping her wrist and then rushed forward. She pushed Quinn back until they both tumbled over the railing, crashing down onto another display case.

Quinn scrambled around, searching for the knife she dropped. When Quinn got ahold of her knife, she brought it up, ready to stab Tara. Tara grabbed a broken shard of glass, ignoring the way it ripped into her palm as she impaled it deep into the side of Quinn’s neck. Tara’s eyes held no emotion as she stared into Quinn’s wide eyes, her face falling slack. Quinn dropped her knife, bringing both hands to her neck. She tried to stand but quickly crumbled back to her knees, then collapsed the rest of the way onto her side, eyes lifeless and a shard of glass sticking out of her neck.

“No!” Bailey screamed, firing his gun at Tara but the clip was empty. Sam came out from the shadows, tackling Bailey back, crashing through the movie screen.

A door creaked and Tara crawled away from Quinn’s body, making sure not to be seen. She made her way over to the electric panel, being just out of sight but having a clear view of Ethan stumbling back into the theater, a large gash on his head from where Sam had hit him with the gumball machine. Ethan had his knife up, ready for a fight, but slowly brought his arm down as he saw his sisters body lying in a bloody mess.

“Tara!” Ethan screamed. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” he spun around, looking everywhere. A phone rang cutting through the silence, making Ethan jump. He pulled out his phone, rolling his eyes when he saw the screen before he brought the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Ethan,” Tara said, using the Ghostface voice changer she had swiped from the broken display case.

“Cute trick,” Ethan said, kicking at some of the broken glass on the ground. “Too scared to fight me yourself?”

“Aww, don’t whine,” Tara taunted. “I thought you liked playing games. I just want to play a game with you.”

“You know the whole point of the Ghostface call is to scare the person, let them know there’s someone watching them, but not letting them know who it is or where they are.” Ethan spun around the middle of the room, waving his knife around. “I know who you are Tara,” he raised his hands in the air.

“But do you know where I am?” she asked then killed the lights, all except the, what would be emergency lights, around the perimeter of the room.

“Come on!” Ethan shouted, spinning around in circles.

Pulling out the knife she tucked in her jeans, Tara tightened her grip around the handle, quickly darting towards Ethan, shoving the knife into his side, underneath where the bullet proof vest she knew he was wearing ended. Ethan howled in pain, slashing his knife blindly but Tara had already disappeared, ducking, and weaving her way around the few display cases and mannequins that remained.

“You’re such a coward, hiding in the shadows,” Ethan said, putting pressure on his side with the hand that held the knife, while the other hand kept the phone near his ear. “What will your girlfriend think?”

“A coward?” Tara repeated. “Like dressing up in a costume, making scary phone calls, hiding every part of yourself from your victim?”

“Come out and face me you bitch!”

“With pleasure,” Tara said, the Ghostface voice not coming from the phone anymore but right beside Ethan. He turned to stab her, but she ducked, driving the knife into the opposite side she had before.

Ethan hissed in pain, gritting his teeth, his grip slowly loosening on the knife until it clattered to the floor. Tara walked around to finally stand face to face with him. Ethan held both arms to his sides, trying to put pressure on both wounds. “Aww, not enjoying the game?” she asked, holding the voice changer up to her mouth. Ethan stumbled forward, reaching out for her with a bloody hand but she easily side stepped him. She dropped the voice changer as she walked closer, digging her thumb into his wound, making him open his mouth wide as he screamed in pain.

“Who’s the one choking on their blood now?” Tara said as she brought the knife down into Ethan’s mouth, giving it a final twist before ripping it out.

He coughed up blood, spraying it across her face, she didn’t care about that though. As Ethan stepped back, stumbling to the floor, Tara followed. She tilted her head, watching him like the prey he was. She got down on her knees, straddling him, so she had a better position as she lifted him up by his cloak. She watched as tears filled with the realization as to what was about to happen. Tara tilted her head to the other side, watching as he struggled, gasping for breath, only for his throat to be filled with blood.

She spun the knife in her hand before getting a firm grip again. A darkness took over her eyes as she stared down at Ethan, before shoving the knife through one cheek and out the other. His body jolted against hers, she had to put her free hand on his shoulder, keeping him pinned to the floor, as the tears finally started falling from his eyes. She just as quickly ripped the knife back out, smirking down at him as he gurgled on the blood, just like he had said you were going to do. She watched as he cried, dying in the same way his brother had, the brother he had been so adamant about getting revenge for.

She looked to the side when she heard some commotion. Detective Bailey had stumbled back into the room, he gripped his shoulder, as he spun around with his gun in his injured arm, waving it around all directions. A few seconds later Sam pushed through the curtain, approaching him slowly, with an unreadable expression. Bailey aimed his gun, pulling the trigger multiple times, but the clip was still empty. Sam walked up to him, swinging her knife and slashing Bailey’s hand, causing him to drop the gun.

“You’ll never get away with this!” Bailey shouted.

Sam tilted her head, she glanced towards Tara. If Sam was surprised by the position Tara was in, she certainly didn’t show it. She glanced down at Ethan underneath Tara, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips.

“I think we already have,” Sam said. Bailey turned, seeing Ethan bleeding out on the floor with Tara on top of him. Two of his children were dead, one was dying, and he was about to die himself.

Bailey stepped forward, as if he was going to come for Ethan, as if he thought he could actually help his son. Sam stalked up behind Bailey, wrapping her arm around the front of him and lightly dragging the knife across his throat. It wasn’t deep enough to kill him instantly. He reached for his throat with his bleeding hand Sam hand sliced. Blood slowly started to gush through his fingers, running down his arm. He turned, looking back to Sam in shock. He stumbled past her, and she looked on, flipping the knife around in her hand, as if she was a cat playing with a toy. Sam gave Tara one last look before she followed after Bailey, impaling the knife in the side of his back, watching him crumble to the floor.

Tara let out a small sigh before turning her attention back to Ethan. “First your brother,” she said with a light smirk. “Then your sister and now your dad.” She shook her head, clicking her tongue. “Don’t worry,” she said with sweet smile, “you’ll be reunited with them soon.”

Tara used the tip of the knife to tap Ethan’s chin, making him tilt his head back. She ran the knife down his neck, making sure to only graze him and not break the skin, yet. She dragged the knife down until she got to the cloak. Then she dragged the knife over the cloak and down his chest. She could feel the bullet proof vest underneath his cloak. She tapped the knife against his chest, right underneath where the vest stopped.

Ethan coughed, spitting up more blood. Tara grabbed Ethan by the hair, yanking his head up hard. She inched the knife up higher, so it was now above the bullet proof vest, she pushed it down, knowing it was piercing his skin when he gritted his teeth. Tears fell from his eyes, he tried to look at her with hatred as he gritted his teeth, pretending to be strong. He couldn’t mask the pain though, as the knife dug deeper into his chest he winced, blood dribbling out of his mouth.

“How’s it feel,” she whispered, leaning closer so she was staring into his eyes, “being so helpless?” her eyes raked over his body in disgust. “Knowing no one is coming to save you?”

She let go of Ethan’s hair with an aggressive fling, letting it drop back to the ground with a hard thud. Ethan coughed, his whole body shaking with the struggle. His head flopped to the side, looking in the direction Bailey and Sam had been. Tara didn’t look, she knew Sam had it handled and based on the sob that racked through Ethan’s body she could make an educated guess as to how their fight turned out.

She tilted her head with an almost bored expression. After giving an Ethan a second to see his dead father she rolled her eyes, removing the knife she had been pressing into his chest. A hiss broke out through another sob. He turned back to Tara, looking up at her with his broken expression. She tilted her head to the other side. She wondered if this is how you looked up at him as he chased you around your house, as he tried to kill you, as he took a baseball bat to your ribs. Tara clenched her jaw, tilting her head down as she gripped the knife tighter despite the blood coating the handle making it slippery.

Tara gently ran the knife from Ethan’s chest back up to his neck before stopping. She gave the knife a few light taps on his neck before slowly sinking it in. Ethan’s eyes widened, his head jerked forward as he gasped for breath, only managing to gurgle up more blood. Tara tightened her grip on Ethan’s cloak, pushing down harder on his shoulder as he struggled against her. His arms flailed, one of them weakly coming up to grab at her arm but she just shrugs him off. When the knife was fully in Ethan’s neck he opened and closed his mouth a few times, the blood pooling in the back of his mouth before the struggle finally ended. His arm loosely fell back to the ground, his mouth left open, blood still trickling out of it, and his eyes wide open as Tara watched the light finally leave them.

Tara ripped the knife back out of Ethan’s neck, pushing her hand off his lifeless body to stand back up on her own two feet. She stood over him, looking down at her work, she didn’t necessarily feel happy, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t satisfied at having got her vengeance for you. Ethan had hurt you; he had attacked you; he had almost killed you. Tara had no mercy for him or the rest of his family. They deserved everything that had happened. Ethan deserved it. He would never hurt you again, Tara made sure of that.

Tara stepped over Ethan’s body, looking over to her sister who was in a similar position, standing over Bailey’s body. Tara looked down, the knife and her hand both coated in blood. She dropped the knife, letting it fall to the floor with a small clang and made her way to her sister. She stood behind Sam, looking past her to see Bailey dead, a knife sticking out of his eye. Sam turned to face Tara, they stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before giving each other an approving nod.

“You, okay?” Sam asked softly, her tone not matching what the both of them had just gone through.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Tara said tiredly with a humorless chuckle.

*********************************

As soon as they got back to the hospital Tara made her way to your room. After the fight, Chad and Mindy broke down the door, pouring in with a team of cops. Tara and Sam had been taken out of the theater, immediately being given medical treatment, both ended up needing stitches, Tara for her hand and Sam for her arm. They watched as the medics carried Gale out on a backboard, she had a pulse, but they were rushing her to surgery. While Tara was going to see you, Sam was going to be at Gale’s bedside, waiting for her to wake up.

Tara made her way through the hospital; she had run into Anika at a vending machine while she was getting a bag of chips for you. Tara sent Anika back down to the lobby to be with Mindy, telling her she’d bring you the chips. Anika had handed her the chips, mumbling a, good luck, before making her way to the elevator. Tara sighed once she was outside your room, rubbing her hands on her pants. She had made sure to clean up before coming back to the hospital, but she could still feel Ethan’s blood soaking into her hands.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before pushing down on the handle, opening the door to your hospital room. Tara’s eyes flicked up, her mouth open, an apology at the ready when she froze. You were out of bed. You were standing right beside the hospital bed with one hand lightly grazing the edge for balance. But you were out of bed. You were standing. Tara couldn’t be happy at seeing you standing on your own feet again because her eyes were too busy raking over your body.

You were in the process of putting on a shirt, you had your arm with a cast and your head in but were clearly struggling with the other arm. Tara’s eyes stopped, focusing on your stomach and your ribs. For once she wasn’t checking you out, she couldn’t take her eyes off the bruising. Both sides of your ribs and your stomach were painted black and blue. Tara brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears, she had seen the baseball bat on the floor, she knew you had broken ribs, but she never imagined what lay under the hospital gown.

She must have let out a gasp or a sob, she wasn’t sure, but she did something that drew your attention. Your head quickly snapped to her. You clenched and unclenched your jaw, your eyes flicking from her face to the floor, you were mad at her. Tara knew you would be mad at her when she left, she knew you’d worry, she deserved your anger, but she didn’t regret her choice because it meant avenging you, it meant you were safe, and more importantly it meant making sure the person who did that to you would never do it again.

“Would you mind?” You asked softly, clenching your jaw, and looking at the floor as if you hated having to ask for her help.

Tara nodded quickly walking over to your side, tossing the bag of chips onto the table next to the bed. When she stood next to you, she got a better look at the injuries, some of the bruising was more purple and a dark red, wrapping around ribs towards your back. The front part of your body was a darker purple, dark shades of blue, looking almost black. Where the bruising ended, she could see the faintest impression of the bat. Her hand reached up, subconsciously wanting to touch the injury, wanting to hold and bring you comfort. She didn’t though, she kept her hand moving until it reached up, grabbing your shirt. She lifted your shirt, allowing you to maneuver, not without wincing, and get your other arm through the sleeve. Tara helped pull your shirt down, making sure not to touch the bruising that was now covered.

You gripped the sheet of the bed tighter, your eyes pinched shut as you let out slow breaths, wincing with each one. Tara held her hands up, ready to catch you if you started to fall but making sure not to touch you. She couldn’t take her eyes off your abdomen, now knowing what lied underneath your shirt. Out of the corner of her eye she saw you loosen your grip on the blanket, your body stretching as you stood taller. You slowly let go of the bed all together, making sure not to move to far from it, as you turned to fully face Tara. You didn’t say anything, Tara could feel your gaze burning into her until she slowly lifted her eyes to meet yours.

“I’m mad at you,” you whispered.

“I know,” she whispered back.

“Do you have any idea,” your voice cracked, your eyes filling with tears. “Any idea how worried I was?”

Tara nodded, a few of her own tears starting to fall. “I’m sorry,” it was her turn for her voice to crack. “I needed to make sure they’d never come after you again.”

“You could have gotten hurt. You could have gotten killed,” your voice went higher, making you quickly wince in pain.

“I know.” Tara looked into your eyes, seeing all the worry and love you held for her. She watched as your eyes scanned up and down her body, darting all around her face for any potential injuries. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled.

Y/N reached down, taking Tara’s bandaged hand into her own. “You did get hurt,” you whispered.

“Technically I did this one to myself,” Tara said with small smile, trying to lighten the mood, it didn’t work.

You continued to hold her hand, gently running her fingers over the bandage. Considering how her last Ghostface encounter went Tara would argue she came out above everyone this time. Sam got a slash on her arm from Quinn that she needed stiches for but that was it. Tara on the other hand only got a gash on her hand because she grabbed onto a piece of broken glass to kill Quinn with. If Tara had just used the knife she had, she wouldn’t have had any injuries, but in the moment, she was feeling quite theatrical, and the shard of glass just felt more dramatic.

You reached up, gently turning her head to the side to brush some hair behind her ear. “Are you okay?” you asked. She nodded, wiping at her eyes and nose. “Don’t ever do that again, okay?” You stared her down, until she nodded. “Not without me,” you whispered.

Tara let out a shaky breath, nodding again. “You weren’t exactly in a position to come with me,” she tried to joke, letting out a chuckle that turned into more of a sob.

She heard you let out a small laugh then a louder groan. “I told you, no laughing.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again through more laughter.

“Did you get them?” you asked, your voice getting quieter, almost hesitant.

“Yes,” she said seriously, making sure there was no questioning, that she knew for sure they were dead. “We got them all.”

“Who?” you whispered, if Tara wasn’t standing right next to you, she would have missed it.

“Detective Bailey, Quinn-”

“Shit,” you breathed out, cutting her off.

“And Ethan.”

Your eyes widened at that, first in shock, then scrunching up in confusion. “Ethan? Why?”

Tara ran a hand through her hair, letting out a long breath. “Apparently Ethan is Bailey’s son and Quinn’s brother.”

“Holy shit.”

“That’s not all.” Your eyes widened at that. “They were Richie’s family.” Tara dropped her gaze to the floor, ashamed that you really were attacked for knowing her. Tara and Sam killed Richie and Amber and then Richie’s family came after them as revenge. It was all Tara’s fault, if it wasn’t for her, you never would have been attacked.

“Hey,” you said softly, tilting her chin back up to make her look in your eyes again. “Come here.”

Tara wanted nothing more than to come closer to you, to hug you and never let you go but she didn’t. She stayed where she was, she didn’t want to hurt you. She didn’t want to cause you any more pain than she already had.

“Please come here,” you said again. “You can hug me, I want you to hug me, you just need to be gentle.” You looked at her with those puppy dog eyes that always made her cave. “Please, I could really use a hug.”

Tara slowly inched forward. She knew you really wanted to hug her, to comfort her. She knew that you were only saying you needed the hug because you knew she could never turn you down if you asked, saying you needed it, even if she knew it was a lie. That’s why Tara caved, making her way closer to you until she was standing close enough for you to wrap an arm around her. She stood still, letting her arms rest at her side as you wrapped your injured arm around her neck as well.

“A hug is meant to be a two-way thing,” you mumbled.

She slowly lifted her arms, bringing them around you, trying to make sure they were positioned high enough, so she didn’t hit any of your injuries. She felt you tense up and suck in a breath, it made her freeze. She was about to pull away, clearly giving you a hug was a bad idea, your ribs were all kind of messed up, you could barely put on a t-shirt, the last thing you needed was someone hugging you. Before she could pull away though you relaxed into her, your shoulders sagging with relief. The hug was a little awkward since Tara couldn’t press herself against you, she made sure her body wasn’t actually touching yours, keeping a couple inches between the two of you in case someone shifted slightly, she didn’t want any accidental touching, she didn’t want you in any more pain. Despite the awkwardness, Tara had to admit it felt nice. It was exactly what she needed.

You didn’t seem content with the distance though because you pulled her closer, burying her head in your shoulder. You let out a hiss as her body brushed against yours, but you quickly melted into her embrace again. Tara finally gave in, burrowing her head further into you as she clung to your shirt, afraid that if she stepped away, you’d disappear.

Tara wasn’t sure where it came from, but she let out a sob. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed into your shoulder, staining your freshly clean shirt with tears. You shushed her, starting to run your fingers through her hair. “I thought I lost you,” she rasped out.

“I’m here,” you whispered into her hair, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. “I’m right here. I’m okay.”

“I love you.” Tara gripped you tighter, inching her feet so they were touching yours. She was pushing herself as close to you as she could get without putting more pressure on your wounds. You made a mistake in asking for a hug from her because now she was never going to let you go.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @fanboy7794 @noooodlessstuff @tatumrileyslover @alexkolax @canvascoloredin

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Most Wanted (Mafia Boss!Toji x Spy!Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

"I’m gonna make sure you remember tonight and what happens when you fuck with a guy like me."

*IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: THIS WORK CONTAINS R*PE & NONCON SEXUAL ACTS. PLEASE MIND THE TAGS AND READ LIGHTLY.

Pairing: Toji Fushigiro x Self-Insert!Reader (Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You’re a highly skilled hitwoman. You’ve been doing this for years–getting paid to take hits on the wealthy and corrupt at your agency’s order. You figure taking a hit on the renowned Tokyo mafia boss Toji Fushigiro won’t be any different. However, things take a terrifying turn for you, and your skills are put to the test when you go undercover as a dancer at his favorite club and give him a private dance. But instead of killing you, Toji takes it upon himself to punish you and show you what happens when you fuck with him.

Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+; Porn with Plot; Physical Fighting; Gun Play; Knife Play; Noncon/R*pe; Forced Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Forced Orgasm; Lap Dancing/Pole Dancing; Doggystyle; Spit Play; Degradation + Praise; Rough Sex; Choking; Hair Pulling; Unprotected PIV Sex; Creampie; Some Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Here you go lovely!! @curiouscutie143 I hope you & everyone other toji lovers enjoy this. I had so much fun writing this & I tried to make it as nasty as I could lol. I may write another mafia!toji thing in the future just cuz this shit was soooo fun. Enjoy! -Jazz

*********

“Peaches, you’re needed in the backrooms.” 

You resist the urge to smile as you turn around from your seat at the bar, sipping on some water after your dance and sweet-talking a middle-aged bank broker into his pockets. It’s important to keep up the facade.

“Comin’,” you tell your coworker and turn to the broker who looks ready to dive into your cleavage. 

“Sorry, but I’ve gotta run,” you sigh, acting apologetic. He frowns at you, making the wrinkles and lines in his face more evident. “But this shouldn’t take too long. Find me afterward?”

The broker puts his hand on yours, accidentally using the hand his gold marriage band sits on. “You’ve got it, baby,” he purrs. “I’ve got some dollars just waitin’ on ya.” 

He gives you a wink before polishing off his whiskey and walking away from the bar, leaving you to breathe and collect your thoughts. You turn to the bottle girl, waving her down. “One shot of Patron, please!” you yell above the music blaring from the overhead speakers. She nods, scurrying to fetch you a much-needed shot. It will be the first alcoholic drink you’ve had since your shift started. 

You suddenly hear a buzz from your right ear and instantly put your hand up against it under your hair. “V,” a gruff voice says into your earpiece. “Come in, V. It’s been 20 minutes since we last talked. Did you get him yet?” 

You scan the upscale strip club pulsing with purple and red strobe lights and booming with activity: businessmen and regular-degular customers tossing money at the dancers on stage who spin around poles and do splits in their thongs and heels.

“Target was sighted five minutes earlier, sir,” you whisper into the earpiece given to you by your agency. “He is currently in the backrooms waiting for me. He came alone. He made eye contact with me ten minutes ago, so he may be asking for me.” 

More like you made eye contact with him and had been since he walked in. He is impossible to miss with how tall and buff he is. His black V-neck tee stuck to his pectorals and abs while his jeans hung low on his hips.

You had expected he’d be flashier with his wealth by wearing obvious designer clothing, but you figured that he had to keep a low profile as well. Beneath the V-neck that hung from his neck, you could see the tattoos that roped over his chest just like his arms. The healed scar at the corner of his smirk as his green eyes scanned the place over told you that this was, indeed, your target. 

He stood between two bodyguards in suits half his size, giving off an intimidating aura, especially with the guns at their hips. But you’d expect nothing less from Toji Fushigiro, Tokyo’s most notorious mafia boss. 

He is powerful. He is wealthy. He is known throughout Tokyo and Japan for being the head of Tokyo’s infamous mafia gang, the spot being passed down by his father. He is also a criminal. White-collar crime, organized crime, drug trafficking––you name it, Toji does it. 

He is also known for his scare tactics on those who owe him a debt. He’s held man over bridges, threatening to drop them in the murky waters below. He’s pistol-whipped. He’s choked. He’s stomped. He’s jumped guys in alleyways and left them for dead. He is a man of his word. If he tells you he’ll fuck you up if you don’t give him his money in a certain amount of time, he’ll do it. 

He is the number one man current on your hitlist…and your agency’s. They knew it was a good idea to employ you, their top hitwoman, to Toji’s favorite club to take him out for good. Though he didn’t show up when you started at the club a couple of weeks ago, you knew it was only a matter of time until he showed up. 

And now, he is. As soon as he was in the club, everyone’s eyes were on him. Dancers scurried to the pole and backstage to change into their best outfits to milk him out of his pockets. Bartenders and bottle girls quickly wiped down counters and took care of customers as quickly as possible so they could tend to him. Your manager barreled toward him with complimentary champagne and a spot in the VIP section. 

As Toji walked with your manager, your eyes met across the room. They met again while he sat in the VIP section when he should’ve been watching a dancer twirl around the pole in front of him. Both times were fleeting, but they affected you completely. His green eyes, like mirrors to a forest, sent chills down your spine and made your stomach flip. His gaze was intense. Intimate. His eyes made it hard to relax or act like a normal dancer working her shift at the club. 

He seemed to know what he was doing to you or he was sizing you up because he would simply smirk and sip on his whiskey on the rocks and puff on his cigar, his soft lips forming Os and blowing the smoke into the strobe-lit air. You can understand why so many women fell for him, but you aren’t one of them. The tiny gun strapped to your hip proves it. 

Your real boss sighs in relief. “Excellent work,” he praises. “Unfortunately, we can’t see what you’re doing from over at headquarters and we’re still working on connecting the audio to hear what’s happening around you, so just fill us in on what you do next until then. All you have to do now is walk back there and complete the mission as we discussed.” 

You toss an arm over the bar, stretching your coffin-shaped nails along the polished bar. “Of course,” you reply with a smirk. “Don’t I always?”

The bartender returns with your shot and you down it at once, relishing the burn and the way it loosened you right up. “I’ll keep you informed,” you say. “Just stay near the phone.” 

“Be careful,” your boss says before the line cuts. You check your makeup in the bar before you get up from the bar and strut over to your beautiful, blonde coworker in her red lingerie and heels. “Hey, Yuki,” you greet her. 

She smiles at you and guides you to the backrooms where the wealthier customers usually take the girls to get a dance…or something more. Sexual exchanges aren’t allowed, but the manager never complains if they bring in more money. You and Yuki peer down the hallway to the double doors of a private room where Toji’s bodyguards stand. 

“Why the guards?” you ask, pretending to be confused. “Is the President here or somethin’?” Yuki turns you to face her, her eyes wide. “Even bigger,” she replies. “He’s the hot guy with the scar who comes in here often. He’s a mafia boss, apparently. Super hot, but very powerful. The bossman gave him his pick of any girl he wanted and he picked you.” 

You do your best to hide your smirk. You knew you had him. “Me?” you ask breathlessly. “Why me?” Yuki shrugs, just as clueless. “Don’t know, but I was sent out to fetch you. He’s willin’ to pay double the amount of a regular lapdance, but he didn’t say if he wanted it topless, naked or not.” She gives you a worried look, furrowing her blonde brows. “You sure you up for it, hon?” she asks. “I know you’ve taken high rollers before, but he ain’t even a high roller! He’s beyond that!” 

To sell it even more, you bite your lip, acting nervous but intrigued. “I can do it,” you reply. “Just hold my hand when you walk me in there.” Yuki obliges and squeezes your hand as you begin to walk toward the guards, heels clicking across the floor. 

“Target is in sight,” you whisper into your earpiece, turning away from Yuki and putting your mouth in your arm to muffle your voice. “I’m walkin’ to the backrooms now where he’s located.” 

“Excellent, V!” your boss says. “Just do it as we discussed. Don’t falter, don’t yield, and don’t lose focus.” The three rules of being a spy. You never forgot them. Finally, you come to the guards and Yuki smiles up at them. “I’m here with Peaches,” Yuki announces. “The girl Mr. Fushigiro asked for.” 

You plaster a bright, charming smile on your face. It must work because the guards budge and step out of the way for you. One of them opens the door for you and Yuki, holding it. “Step in,” he orders. You thank him and scurry inside the dimly lit room with an included mini-bar, a single stripper pole, and leather lounging couches. Toji currently sits in one of them, legs spread and eyes hooded as he puffs on a blunt and sips on his drink. 

His green eyes pierce into your very soul when he eyes you in the doorway. “Here she is, sir,” Yuki says. “Just as you requested. And she’s just as pretty as I told you she is.” She moves your hair out of your face, exposing your pretty false flashes, Fenty Beauty gloss, and accentuated features to the boss. 

Toji hums, liking what he sees. “Yes, she is,” he agrees. “Tell your boss thanks. He can expect some good business out of me once the night is through.” Yuki nods and gives your arm a squeeze. “Good luck,” she whispers before heading off. The doors close and you are left alone with your hit. 

Neither one of you moves toward the other, staying posted to your spots. Toji takes a puff on his blunt and lights taps it above the ashtray next to him. “Y’know, you’re mighty pretty up close,” he purrs. “I’ve been wonderin’ what you’d look like up close instead of across the room.” 

You finally look at him, noticing how big he is even sitting down. “So you’ve been watchin’ me tonight?” you ask. He nods, his eyes trailing down your form. “I knew I hadn’t seen ya before,” he continues. “I come here often and I would’ve remembered seein’ a face and a rack like that.” 

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Charmer, aren’t you?” you sarcastically question. 

He smirks at your wittiness. He likes that bite in a woman. “When I wanna be, but you’ll have to forgive me; the liquor makes me bolder than I already am.” His tongue jets out to lick his lips. “But you’ve gotta give a guy credit for bein’ honest and that lil’ outfit don’t leave much to the imagination.” 

You go to wrap your arms around yourself but then stop. You need to sell this and if you’re forced to stand here in a mini dress that barely covers your ass or titties with heels that could crush a bitch in front of your hit who also happens with me enticingly sexy, then so be it. Toji’s gaze softens somewhat, noticing your discomfort. “You are very beautiful, Peaches,” he genuinely says. “Is it okay if I use your name?” 

“Thank you, Mr. Fushigiro,” you softly reply. “And no, it’s fine. It’s what I’m known as around here anyway. I started here five weeks ago.” He nods, sipping on his whiskey. “Call me Toji.” 

“Toji,” you parrot, slowly striding towards the pole in the middle of the room, an overhead speaker playing soft R&B overhead. “You’re quite the man. The entire club seems to be in a frenzy over you.” 

His smirk widens, proud and cocky. “They always are,” he chuckles. “Don’t know why. This place gets plenty of people bigger than me all the time, especially international celebs. I heard Drake was here not too long ago.” You give a dry “mm-hmm” as you grasp the pole. Toji takes that answer another way. “What, you don’t like Drake?” he snorts. 

“He’s okay,” you reply, short and impatient. “So what are you here for? To talk or to watch me dance?” You wrap a hand around the pole and pop your hip out, waiting for him to give you an order. 

“Depends.” He sits up, leaning forward to get a better look at you. “What are you willin’ to do tonight for me? ‘Cause we can just sit here and talk. I wouldn’t mind hearin’ that pretty voice all night.” His green eyes gleam with mirth and a small hint of lust.

“Definitely a charmer,” you chuckle. “That’s fine if you’re willin’ to pay, though we don’t have a rate for conversation.” 

He laughs at this, the sound deep and raspy yet pleasant to the ear. He takes another puff on his blunt before he lowers it down onto the ashtray. “Then let’s cut to the chase,” he sniggers. “It’s $500 for a 10-minute dance, right? I want 20 minutes, so that would make…”

He begins to count on his fingers but then stops. “A lot,” he chuckles. “I’ll probably ask for you to strip though. Are you okay with that, Peaches?” 

You feel something flip inside of you at the mention of all of that money and how passive he is about it. Any girl working here would do whatever he wanted for 20 minutes! “I’m a stripper,” you reply passively. “What else am I gonna do?” 

Toji tsks, grimacing at you. “Damn, what kinda attitude is that?” he laughs. “A beauty like you should be more adamant about showin’ off her body. Can I offer you a drink to get you in the mood?” He nods at the mini bar overflowing with bottles of tequila, vodka, and liquor.

“I don’t drink on the job,” you reply. “Music helps.” You suddenly hear a buzz in your ear and then your boss’ gruff voice: “Give me the rundown, V,” he demands. 

You want another drink?” you ask. You nod at Toji’s empty glass and he agrees, so you walk over to the bar. To him, you’re seemingly looking for a bottle of whiskey, bent down to look through the racks. “With the target now,” you whisper. “Just waiting for the right time to attack. Give me a second.” 

Once the line goes dead, you walk back over to Toji and pour him a bottle. As you bend down, you give him an ample view of your titties much to his enjoyment. As you do, you slip the gun out of your dress and place it under the couch where only you can find it. Once done, you leave the bottle with him, and step back, hands on your hips. He sits back against the couch, preparing for the show. “Whenever you’re ready, darlin’,” he purrs, his eyes filled with obvious lust and attraction. 

With a slow song playing above and the lights dipping into an almost ominous red shade, you begin to move to the beat. You roll your hips, swaying them side to side and front to back, almost as if you’re grinding on Toji despite him being several feet away from you. You let the music take control of you as you grasp the pole and begin to grind against it, dipping low to wind your ass in his face. 

You do a few tricks on the pole for him–jumping and spinning around it, your thighs wrapped tight around the metal pole; squatting and lifting up your dress to bounce your ass, etc.–before you turn to look at him over your shoulder, flipping your hair. Toji’s eyes are hooded and lustful, all from the weed, the whiskey, and the effect you’re having on him. Despite the situation, it feels good to have an attractive man ogle at your plump frame. 

“Take off the dress,” he demands, a slight growl in his voice. You don’t turn to face him, instead still facing the wall as you carefully unzip the back of your dress. The thin piece of clothing falls off of your body, revealing all of your rolls, curves, and the matching glittery bra and thong set. 

“Shit!” Toji hisses, ogling at your asscheeks in your glittery thong. “Your back don’t hurt carryin’ that around?” 

You finally turn around and find him leaning forward, his hands clenching his thighs. “You don’t look like you’re ready,” you giggle, winding your hips and toying with your titties in their cups. “Did you talk too much big game, Toji?”

The boss looks like he can’t even speak, his scarred lips parted as he stares you down. “Goddamn,” he hisses. “How some horny fuck didn’t propose to you and steal you out of here yet is beyond me.” 

You give a light, tittering laugh, smiling down at him. “Well, if someone did that, I wouldn’t be here with you.” He looks happy with that response. You then twist around and bend over for him, giving him a full view of your full, round, perfect ass. “Can you handle it, baby?” you purr. “Can you handle me?” 

You quickly pop up and turn around, finding him shifting in his seat and gritting his jaw. “I should be askin’ you that,” he growls. “Come the fuck here.” Deciding not to tease him any longer, you strut over to him, feeling sexy and irresistible. It’s strange that the same man you were sent to kill is doing this to you. 

His eyes have grown several shades darker, reminding you of the deepest, darkest parts of a jungle. “Dance for me,” he demands. “Not on the pole; on me.” He opens his legs wider for you and pats his lap, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Though clients often get handsy when dancers give them lapdances here, you decide that it’s best to do as he says. 

Plus, you’d be lying if you said that you aren’t curious to feel him for yourself. So you place your hands on his thick, muscular highs and begin to roll your body before squatting down, popping up between his legs. You reach up to drag your palms and long nails down his chest, feeling up his abs and toned stomach. He allows it, staring down at you with a look that would make a nun blush. 

You then stand up between his legs before turning around and lowering yourself down into his lap. “Shit,” he whispers, watching the way you work your ass along his lap and the jean-clad bulge that has begun to make an appearance. You twerk and bounce on top of him before he takes a drag of his blunt, blowing the air away from you. “You ever shotgun before?” he asks, his lips close to your ear now. 

Your body grows hot from him being so close, the attraction ironically magnetic. Slowly, you shake your head and Toji chuckles, adoring your mix of cute and sexy. “C’mere.” You lean back and tilt your head up while he takes another puff of his blunt. He holds the marijuana smoke before puckering his lips up and leaning down as if to kiss you. Slowly, the smoke travels from his lips to yours in an indirect kiss that leaves you breathless and your head dizzy. 

You can’t deny it: you’re wet. Your pussy has never been this wet for any man before…and he’s the enemy! Toji seems to feel it too judging by the hard-on you can feel pressing into your thigh. You shift onto his knee and begin grinding your ass back, doing your best to not grind your pussy against his thigh. 

“So you got a name other than that stripper shit?” he randomly asks you. You are immediately taken out of your lustful haze, remembering why you’re here. “I don’t remember us talkin’ about personal shit,” you dryly reply. “I don’t give my real name out to men I don’t know.” 

Then, for the first time tonight, Toji touches you. His big hand lowers onto your thigh and squeezes. You don’t try to move it but you are alarmed. “Oh, but you do know me, darlin’,” he replies, digging his fingers into your flesh. “And I know you, V.” 

At the mention of your real name, you freeze. The world freezes with you, everything seeming to cease their existence including the music that continues to play overhead. But you don’t hear it. All you can hear is your own blood pumping loudly in your eardrums. Toji releases you and you quickly jump off of him, turning toward him. 

He just sits there staring at you, a humorous smirk playing on his lips. The smile is no longer attractive to you anymore. Suddenly, you feel disoriented. You feel like you may vomit or drop to the floor in your heels. Your earpiece buzzes to life again in your ear. “V!” your boss calls. “We just got the audio working again. What’s happening?” He sounds panicked, just as much as you are. 

Toji bares his pearly whites at you as he calmly reaches for his whiskey. “Ah, now them wheels are turnin’ in that pretty little head,” he chuckles. “You know, you dance almost as good as you lie. I can see why you were put here to go undercover.” He takes a sip and licks the remnants away from his top lip, still staring you down. 

“Ain’t that right?” he asks and it feels like a snake has just silvered up your back and sunk its teeth in you, paralyzing you. 

“Y/N, he knows!” your boss hisses. “Stand down! Don’t do anything stupid!” He continues to yell and scream at you about aborting the mission and telling you that someone will be there soon, but you can’t quite hear him. It’s like you’re underwater and he’s standing above ground, his voice muffled and murky. 

For a few seconds that seem like a lifetime, you and Toji stare each other down, waiting for the other to make the first move. Your body kicks into fight or flight, the freeze stage having already been awakened. Inisctively, you shift into fight mode. Quickly, you take the bottle of whiskey and bring it down towards Toji’s head, but he catches your wrist like it’s nothing. 

You grunt, wincing at the pain of his grip. “Oh, you wanna play, huh?” he cackles. “Goin’ against your boss’ little rules just to take me out? How cute.”

With a wail of effort, you swing your other hand at his head but he catches that too. Counting on this, you bring your leg up and kick him hard in the groin. He immediately releases you and lurches forward, holding his junk, giving you a chance to grab your gun from under the couch.

“Don’t move,” you growl, cocking the gun at him. “You move and I’ll shoot.” 

Toji, red in the face and panting, glares up at you. “Please,” he scoffs. “You act like you’re the first bitch that’s put a gun to my head.” Before you can blink, he is swinging the bottle at you. You duck which is a mistake because Toji uses that opening to tackle you to the ground. You struggle and growl, turning into an animal as he wrestles with you for your gun. 

He ends up winning, flipping you over and pinning you down to the floor with his body. “Get off!” you scream, still wriggling around. “Get off me!” Click. The barrel of your gun presses to your temple. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll make you regret it,” he growls. 

His fingers move your hair back away from your ear and pry the earpiece out of your ear. He snarls at it as if it’s nothing but a bug. “God, they made these things so much smaller now.” He stands up, keeping the gun on you, and stomps on the earpiece, breaking it. “Whoops!” he mockingly says. “They should still be able to find ya though. I don’t plan on movin’ ya to another location…if you don’t piss me off.” 

The gun clicks again. “Turn around slowly,” he demands. Despite your reluctance to do so, you slowly turn around and face him, lying on your back with your own shit pointed at you as Toji stands above you. “How did you know?” you whisper. 

He smirks, appearing like the Devil in your eyes. “It wasn’t hard, darlin’,” he chuckles. “Dancers don’t eye me up the way you were. You looked like you were out for blood, not dollars. Not to mention the gun I saw at your hip.” You flush, cursing yourself. You should’ve been smarter. Of course, he would know. He spends his days having people hunt him down. 

His smirk fades, his expression darkening. “Who sent you?” he demands. “And don’t lie. You don’t wanna know what I do with liars.” The gun cocks, his finger trained on the trigger. You glare at him, hating his guts even more than you had before you met him. So you weakly confess. He guffaws, shaking his head in disbelief. “Damn, those guys? They’ve been after me for years!” 

“You’re a criminal,” you hiss despite the gun in your face. “You only got this far because of you dippin’ your hands in crime and gettin’ blood on your fists. I’m here to stop you.”

Toji’s brows raise in shock though he’s intrigued by your stubbornness. He squats down in front of you, still pointing the gun at your head. “And how are you gonna do that, huh, little girl?” he asks. 

Not even thinking, you hollow your lips and wallop a glob of spit in Toji’s handsome face before quickly turning over and scrambling to the door. However, Toji is just as fast and has his big, tatted arms wrapped around you, squeezing you tight. You can’t elbow him anywhere because your arms are stuck in his, leaving you to kick and wriggle.

“Oooh, I love a feisty bitch,” he chuckles. “Makes it a lot more fun to break ‘em.” 

He begins to walk with you over to a nearby wall and slams you against it, knocking the air out of your lungs. You find yourself pressed against the wall and him who is equally as hard and unmoving as the solid wall against your front.

He shoves the side of your face into the wall while he pins your arms behind your back, causing your muscles to explode with pain at being stretched back too far. “Get off!” you cry. “O-Ow, that hurts!” 

Toji tugs on your arms again, emitting a weak whine of pain from you. “That’s what you get for fuckin’ with me,” he growls. “Now what should I do with you? Kill you? Leave your agency to find you here?” The gun once again presses against your temple, cold and unrelenting. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, tears pushing back the ducks. You can’t beat this. You can’t fight this. “Do it,” you sob. “Just do it!” You go limp against him, waiting to feel that bullet penetrating your skull and for the void to come to collect you…but instead, Toji takes the gun away from you, leaving an indent on your temple. “No,” he says. “I’ve got a better idea.” 

You open your eyes, confused but also scared. What else is he planning to do with you? Before you can answer, you hear the undeniable sounds of his zipper coming down and the clinking of his metal belt buckle. Your body instant seizes, fear flooding your insides.

“I’m gonna make sure you remember tonight and what happens when you fuck with a guy like me. Tonight, babydoll, you’re mine. You don’t have a choice. You’re mine and I’m gonna show you what that means.” 

With his belt finally in his hands, he trains the gun on you. “Put your hands against the wall and stick that ass out,” he demands, his voice void of all emotion. “Do it now.” Outnumbered and out of tricks, you do as he says, trembling as you do so. 

“Bad girls like you need to be punished,” he says before the belt comes down hard onto your right asscheek. WHACK! The sharp sound of the leather hitting the soft, jiggly flesh of your ass penetrates the air. It feels like fire has licked your skin and your knees buckle at the pain. “Ow!” you cry out. 

Toji cackles at your agony, finding enjoyment and cuteness in it. “What, that hurt?” he laughs. “You don’t like the pain? I’m sure a girl like you has taken plenty of worse things before.” He raises his arm and whips the same cheek twice.

WHACK! WHACK! You flinch at each sharp hit, each one becoming more painful than the last. “Hurts, don’t it?” he snickers. “Don’t you regret pullin’ that shit with me now, babydoll, hm?” 

He then proceeds to whip your left cheek, not allowing you any time to recover or breathe. 

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! You bite your lip so hard that you nearly draw blood, the burning of your backside too much to bear. “S-Stop!” you whine. “Please stop!” 

Toji’s big hands wrap around your mouth, covering it. “Don’t speak,” he whispers into your ear, his breath the scent of whiskey and mint. “You don’t get to speak. Just take it.” You have no choice but to do so as he wails on your ass again and again, the leather cracking like fire against your jiggly ass. “God, that recoil,” he groans. “I’m gonna enjoy my time with you, baby doll.” 

You don’t answer, too busy holding back tears that have begun to push at your eye sockets. Toji finally stops and tosses his head back to laugh. “Are you cryin’?” he laughs in disbelief. “Damn, and all from some spankings? And here I thought you were this tough bitch.” 

You burn with resentment and humiliation, but all of that is pushed aside when he forces you to stand up straight and tugs your arms behind your back. You begin to panic but don’t say anything as he tightens his belt around your wrists and locks the belt buckle around them. “Turn around,” he finally says. 

Despite your tiny sobs, you do so and face him. His eyes are hooded and dark with obvious lust for you. He uses one big hand to force you onto your knees, right in front of his open fly and hard cock that you can see pressing against his designer briefs. “I’ll give you somethin’ to cry about,” he growls. He points the gun at your face, specifically at your lips. “Open your mouth and suck on it.” 

His expression, dark and chilling you to the bone, makes you feel as if you don’t have a choice..and not the loaded gun pressing to your lips. Swallowing hard, you shakily open your mouth and he slides the pistol in. The metal feels cold and hard in your mouth, making you cringe. “That’s it,” Toji chuckles. “Take that shit, baby. C’mon, don’t you wanna please me?” 

Slowly, you begin to suck, hollowing your lips out against the gun. Though you tremble and shake, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to imagine the gun as a hard, warm, throbbing cock instead. Toji moans as if you’re sucking on him, watching your tongue swirl along the barrel and your head bob. 

“Fuck, baby doll,” he groans. “You’ve got such a mouth on ya.” He slides it in further, the metal scraping against your teeth, until he reaches your throat. You gag and try to pull away, but Toji grips the back of your head.

“Uh-uh, mama,” he snickers. “You don’t get to get outta this. C’mon, just open your throat and breathe through your nose. You can do it.” He continues to push and pull, the gun sliding in and out of your mouth, while you struggle to breathe. You can feel sweat pool under your pits and between your cleavage all from your fear. Toji’s finger isn’t on the trigger anymore, but it doesn’t matter. He could change that in a second. 

So you suck and you slurp and you bob your head up and down like a good little slut, staring him into his eyes while spit drips from your lips. Finally satisfied, Toji pulls the gun out of your lips now coated in your saliva. “You fuckin’ slut,” he pants. “Now I need to try ya out for myself.” 

He pockets the gun and, with one hand, pulls down his briefs. His big, long, throbbing, veiny, perfect-looking dick springs to life. It damn near hits you in the face, making you gasp. “Sorry, mama,” he chuckles. “He just likes you.”

He wraps a hand around his 12-inch dick, pumping it lewdly in your face. “So you finna stare at it or suck it?” he deadpans, but he doesn’t wait for you to answer or recover. 

“W-Wait,” you stammer.

That’s all you get to say before his cock is pushing between your lips and into your mouth. He releases a moan when he first slides into your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your wet mouth, soft lips, and tongue wrapping around him. Meanwhile, you’re struggling to take him. His girthy dick stretches out your jaw and your throat as he pushes himself in deep. 

“C’mon, babydoll,” he chuckles. “That can’t be all you can take of me.” He continues to push, filling your tongue and nostrils with the scent and taste of him. The walls of your throat have no choice but to accommodate his size though it burns and you gag as he begins to slowly yet roughly thrust into your mouth. “Maybe this will help ya out,” he says. Suddenly, he retrieves a pocket knife from his pocket and flicks it open. 

Fear flares into your stomach, making you want to jump away, but his large hand keeps you locked down on his cock. He presses the knife to your throat, chuckling as he does. “Careful now,” he warns. “You lean too close and that pretty neck might get sliced. I just wanna encourage you to do a good job.” He grips your hair and wrenches it up to look at him. “And you will do a good job for me, won’t you?” he asks. 

His tone makes it so you can’t refuse, so you say yes and allow him to force your head back down onto his cock before pulling it back. He does that for a while––pushing and pulling your head down onto his dick like you’re his toy while he uses your sloppy, wet mouth like it’s a fleshlight. “Fuck!” he shouts to the ceiling. “This fuckin’ mouth is heaven, baby. I hope your pussy is just as tight as your tight ass throat.” 

You gargle and mumble on his cock, causing pleasurable vibrations to travel throughout his body and his heavy balls that drip with your saliva. He continues to fuck your face and ruin your makeup, marveling at how beautiful you look choking on his cock. “Look at you, you little slut,” he dreamily sighs. “Makeup all fucked up. Hair ruined. You’re just a little mess for me, aren’t ya?” 

He slides his cock out of your throat and you take a grateful gulp of air, strands of your hair stuck to your wet lips and chin. He takes the knife and slides it along your chin, smirking down at you. “Now it’s my turn to taste you,” he murmurs. Before you can protest, he is picking you up, tossing you over his shoulder, and placing you on your stomach with your arms still tied behind you. 

“Please!” you sob, beginning to cry again. Toji straddles your ass, one hand massaging the globes of fat in your thong while the other holds his knife. “Please what, baby?” he mockingly coos. “I ain’t even touch you yet.” You then feel the cool metal of the knife dragging up your spine, sending shivers down your spine. “Time to get your sexy ass out of these fuckin’ clothes,” he growls. 

You flinch when you feel the knife drag up to your left shoulder where it cuts the bra strap. He does the same to your left one before positioning you onto your knees with your wrists slung over the couch arm. Your tits are now exposed, hanging like ripe, juicy fruit beneath you. Then off comes your thong with two swipes of the knife cutting through the thin straps. You sob helplessly as the cool air touches your sodden, wet pussy. 

“Damn, baby!” Toji cackles. “Are you wet from all this? You naughty little girl.” His middle and forefingers gently probe your entrance and slide up and down your slit, dragging unwanted moans out of you. “I’m gonna have some fun with you,” he chuckles. “Make sure you never forget about me.” 

He then bends you over the couch and proceeds to put his hot, wet, experienced mouth on your pussy while the knife stays pressed against your thigh. You whine at the feeling of his soft lips and tongue swirling along your clit and every sensitive part of you, opening your pussy up to more of him. He drowns in your pussy, pushing his face into it as far as he can and letting his tongue do all of the talking. 

You can’t stop the moans and gasps that escape you. The pleasure is just too much and too good! What a shame that a man who is so good at eating kitty is the same man you were sent here to kill. “Toji,” you moan, using his name for the first time ever. “Please…please!” 

Toji’s one hand massages and smacks your ass, becoming aoslutely obessed with it. “What do you need, babydoll?” he coos against your clit. “You need somethin’?” You nod helplessly though you have no clue what you need at this point. “Tell me you’re mine then,” he growls. “Say it and fuckin’ mean it. Say you’re my good little slut.” 

You keep your lips clamped tight, not wanting to swallow your pride or give up that tiny part of you that hates him still. SPANK! Your ass stings from his assault on your ass, his hand no doubt leaving a handprint. “Say it!” he bellows. 

At the blinding pain, pleasure, and delirium, you break. “I’m yours!” you sob. “I’m your good girl! Your good little slut! I’m everything you want me to be!”

Toji, pleased, presses soothing kisses to your burning asscheek. “Good girl,” he praises. “See how easy that was? Now you get your reward.” Suddenly, you feel his thick cock smack against your pussy once, twice, three times and then he is sliding home inside of you. 

Your mouth goes slack and your eyes grow wide as he begins to rocks his hips into, allowing you to get used to him. He is big. You can feel him stretching out every part of your cunt as he sinks deeper into your velvety, wet walls. “Fuck,” he sighs, one hand clutching your hip. “Not bad, babydoll. Your pussy is definitely the best one I’ve fucked…so far.” 

He begins to fuck you harder, faster, railing you as if this will be his last time doing so. Your moans and huffs of breath become louder and more intense the harder and deeper his cock plunges inside of you. “W-Wait!” you gasp. “Slow down! I can’t…can’t!”

Toji chuckles, watching your ass bounce against his pelvis as he fucks you. “Sorry, honey,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “I couldn’t help it. You just sound so cute.” 

Your thighs clench and your body writhes as he rails you, unable to take this deep dicking into the couch. You try to move away but the knife suddenly sliding against your throat stops you. “Uh-uh, babydoll,” he growls. “Don’t run from me. I wouldn’t try it if I were you.” He then pops his knee up, his foot up on the couch, and reaches a part inside of you that makes you feel unimaginable pleasure. 

“Just take me like a good girl, okay?” he whispers. “You can do that for me if you wanna live.” You don’t have a choice in the matter, mostly because of the hold he has on your arms, pulling you back as drives himself forward again and again. The sound of your moans, his grunts, and the lewd plap, plap, plap as his balls swing against your overly-sensitive clit and his hips slam into your ass fill the air, drowned out by the music playing outside. 

“Who would’ve thought,” Toji pants into your ear. “C.O.D.E.’s good little spy gettin’ her brains fucked out on a mission, huh? I bet they’d love to see this.” His free hand releases your arms and yanks on a handful of your hair. “I bet they’d love to see you full of me,” he growls. “Full of this dick and my cum.”

He presses the knife deeper into your throat, just enough for you to feel the sharp, jagged edge of the blade. “You wanna cum for me, baby?” he asks. “You gonna be a good slut and take all my cum too?” 

“Please!” you whimper, losing your mind and all of your pride. “Please just make me cum! I’ll do whatever you want, Toji!” He takes the knife from your throat and replaces it with his hand, choking you as he fucks you stupid. “Then do it,” he demands. “Fuckin’ cum on this cock while I fill you up. Cum with me now!” 

“Ah, ah, fuck, I-I’m gonna cum!” you deliriously sob as he continues to pound into you. “I’m gonna…gonna–!”

You don’t get a chance to finish because your pussy has finally reached its limit and explodes all over him, your walls squeezing around him and your clit shuddering. You reaching your peak triggers Toji and he grips your throat and ass as he comes to a still, his entire body tensing. “Fuck!” he bellows, cumming deep, deep, deep inside of you. 

You gasp as you feel a rush of warm liquid flood into your pussy while you gush all over his cock, dripping down his balls. He fills you to the brim, giving you so much that it has no choice but to trickle down your thighs. He doesn’t immediately pull out though––he continues to fuck you, albeit slowly and sloppily, before giving your tit one feeble squeeze and finally pulling out of you. 

You weakly moan at the feeling of being empty yet used, your pussy twitching and aching. “Mmm, now look at that,” he sighs dreamily, staring at your cum-soaked cunt. “Now that’s a properly fucked pussy if I do say so myself.” He takes a handful of your chin, squeezing your cheeks together, and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Not bad, babydoll.” 

You don’t respond, too weak and too tired to do so. You’re too tired to even feel any amount of disgust for him and shame in yourself for failing the mission and enjoying the sex. “Let’s get this off of you,” Toji says, his hands unbuckling the belt from your wrists. “I’m gon’ need it for myself, anyway.” He releases your wrists and lets you lay on the couch, panting and coated in sweat. 

Your makeup and hair are ruined. Your underwear is in tatters. You feel used and fucked-out. You can only stare at Toji as he quickly gets dressed and straightens out his clothes, his cock still covered in you. “I’m sorry, baby, but I’ve gotta go before your people get here.” He gives you an apologetic smile. “But gimme a call since I’m sure you can find that out. Maybe we can do this again.” 

He then moves to the extra bathroom behind the couch and retrieves a robe which he covers you with. “See?” he chuckles. “I ain’t that big of an asshole.” He presses a kiss to your lips before bending down to pick up your thong. “Thanks for this,” he says, dangling it in front of you. “And the dance. I’ll cherish both forever.” 

You don’t say anything, even as you watch him leave, taking your thong and your dignity with you.

Then you are alone. At some point, you find the strength to stand up and wobble to the bathroom where you take a hot shower, washing the scent of sex and cum off of you. When you return, dressed in your robe, the door busts in, and your boss and fellow spies enter the room, guns drawn and masks on their faces. 

“V!” your boss shouts, instantly dropping his weapon and running to you. His eyes widen at your state, looking for any bruises or scars. There are none…that are physical, anyway. “V, what happened?” he asks. 

And as the events of tonight come flooding back to you at full speed, you muster up the most believable lie you can, clutching your robe closed: 

“He overpowered me.”