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the-odd-shu · 7 months ago

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Sky regrets trying to play wingman

A continuation of lab shenanigans.

Masterlist

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Characters: Viktor, Jayce, Reader, Sky

(Pre-Jayce/Viktor/Reader) (POLYCULEEEE!)

Summary: A sketchbook goes missing, Viktor and Jayce feel soft about it and Sky is fighting for her life.

Note; this takes place during season 1, and the reader is gender neutral with they/them pronouns.

Lab Illustrator!Reader has a secret A5 sketchbook they don't use for assignments. It's a small thing, that they keep tucked beneath all of their other paperwork during the day, and take home with them every night.

It is as non-descript as sketchbooks come, with a plain, black cover and pages brimming with hundreds of sketches and stuck in sheets of paper.

But what makes it different from their professional sketchbook, you ask? And why does it need to be a secret?

Well, because it is a notebook solely dedicated to drawings and doodles of their co-workers. And neither of them know that Reader has been drawing them.

There are hundreds of stolen moments stuffed between these pages. Late night coffee breaks, where the pencil lines are thick and dark to accentuate the dimness of the lab against the stark light leaking out of the kitchenette, where backs are turned and coffee mugs steam, whilst eyes fall to half-mast from the sheer weight of the late hour.

There are a dozen or so slower, more carefully done doodles of Jayce sprawled out across the lab couch in various positions. Several cane studies, because Viktor had a habit of leaving it in more and more odd places when he has had a breakthrough, and sheer determination and spite keep him standing unaided before the whiteboard.

There are pages dedicated to Viktor reading. And pages brimming with Jayce's broad shoulders and winning smile.

There is a double page spread of Viktor stood before the chalkboard, cane in one hand, his other tucked under his chin with a piece of chalk tucked between two of his fingers, his lips pursed in thought as he tried to find a solution to the problem before him. The lines of this sketch are soft and gentle, almost dreamlike, as the image was teased out of the page.

The pages directly after it show a heavy handed pen drawing of Jayce bent over his desk, goggles over his eyes, his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he welds pieces of metal together. A single, loose curl of hair having broken free of its slicked back appearance, and is now sprawled cutely down his forehead.

And that's only the beginning.

Neither of them know that Reader draws them. As far as they know, Reader can't even draw people. And Reader wants to keep it that way. Because if EITHER of them found the sketchbook, they just KNOW they would not let them live it down. Jayce would be embarrassed, no doubt asking stupid questions like, 'is my nose really like that from that angle' or 'why didn't you tell me I had soot on my cheek', which, how dare he, you'd spent hours learning how to draw him and picking out imperfections was just an insult to your skills. Whilst Viktor would make fun of your subject choices, and then make it one hundred times harder to sketch him without him getting suspicious and catching on and deliberately moving around MORE to make it seventeen times more difficult.

Out of everyone in the lab, Sky was the only other person remotely artistically inclined. She'd shown an interest in your work one afternoon, and let slip that she liked to draw in her spare time. And although she insisted her work was nothing like your professional illustrations, they were good! And you told her as such.

Unofficially, the pair of you had begun taking your lunches outside in the academy gardens together to chat and draw. She did not look it, but Sky was a mean gossip, and seemed to know everything that was going on in the science department. Such as who in the academy was currently trying to court who, or the latest experiment that blew up (literally) in a freshman's face, or that Councillor Medarda herself dabbled in painting.

The last one certainly caught your attention more than the drama on campus, which of course Sky was more than happy to provide more details for. Apparently, the Councillor's paintings were bold and striking. Depicting scenes from her childhood lands, and figures dressed in traditional Noxian-style garbs.

"Gorgeous, simply gorgeous." Sky said, tone bordering on wistful. "And large too. Councillor Medarda works on such a large scale, that some of her pieces literally command your attention the moment you step into the room. I'm sure you can talk Jayce into getting you a glimpse of some of her works. He and the Councillor have been growing close lately."

You ignored the suggestive hint to her voice, in favour of humming noncommittally and finishing up your lastest sketch of Sky perched on the wall beside you, waving her sandwich around as she talked animatedly. You were so engrossed in your work that you didn't notice she was watching, when you flipped back towards the front of your sketchbook, only for her to choke on her next bite.

“Wait!" She blurted out between sharp coughing. "Is that Viktor!?” And then suddenly your sketchbook was no longer on your lap and the apprentice of the man you were always drawing was flipping through the pages. The pages that HEAVILY featured Viktor's face.

Your cheeks burned, and lunged for the sketchbook out of sheer panic, as Sky began discovering just how MANY sketches of Viktor you've been hoarding and that he's not the ONLY ONE you've been drawing.

"Jayce too I see." She mused, more to herself than you. And then she snorted. "Why are there so many?”

“Because I get bored sometimes, and they're always just there!" You defend yourself guiltily. "It's good anatomy practice.”

Which wasn't technically a lie. The lines never came as easily as they did when you’re sketching your co-workers. So much so, that now, it had almost become instinct to know when your pencil had drawn a line wrong, even before you glanced back to the reference themselves to check. The pair of them were just so effortlessly beautiful in their own ways. It would a a crime for you <i>not</i> to draw them, and focus solely on the things you're SUPPOSED to be illustrating instead.

Sky hummed along, having paused on a page with a rapid, barely recognisable pen sketch of Jayce ducking away with a cackling laugh as a furious Viktor swung his cane at his head. Her fingers idly slid down the sketchy lines, a fondness to her expression.

"Have you shown them these?" Sky asked, "they're really good. All loose and fun. I can practically hear Jayce laughing in this one with how you captured his expression."

“Of course not!" You were quick to deny as your cheeks heated. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to show someone you’ve drawn them? Jayce will pretend to be all impressed but subconsciously begin to pick out all the things I got wrong. Like the shape of his ears. And Viktor will tell me it's 'lovely' without looking up from his textbook."

You shuddered at the very thought, already seeing Viktor's disinterested frown and Jayce's tight grimace in your mind's eye.

Sky frowned, her eyes jumping between your down turned expression and the sketchbook in her hands. “I dunno about that."

“Can I have it back now?” She shook her head and went back to flipping through the pages, the other half of her sandwich forgotten in her lap. “You know, I think Viktor would be flattered if he knew you paid so much attention to him. And Jayce would probably try to steal a couple of these and frame them for his desk.” You scoffed.

Sky's frown deepened. "Why are you having such a hard time believing they might like these?"

“Because in the end it doesn’t matter how they'd react,” you decided sharply, “because they're not going to find out. Are they, Sky?”

“You’ve even drawn Viktor's canes!”

“Sky, focus!” “I am focused- IS THAT A JAYCE HAND STUDY-?!”

"OKAY ENOUGH OF THAT FROM YOU!" You tackled her, and she went down screeching, drawing the attention of several passing students as the pair of you fell cleaningly off of the wall and landed in the flowerbeds below.

Sky did not keep her promise.

After a week or two of waiting to give the impression she'd forgotten about the whole ordeal, she sprung into action.

It was obvious now that she knew just how much Reader paid attention to their co-workers. It seemed like they were constantly sketching the boys throughout the day, a private, fond smile on their stupidly love-struck expression, as their pencil flew across the page, documenting coffee breaks and break throughs, and verbal spats. Now Sky has noticed that they did it, she couldn't stop seeing it, and it is driving her crazy. All three of them are so oblivious, and watching her superiors pine for one another whilst doing nothing to move things forward, was NOT the working environment she'd been hoping for during this internship.

So she took matters into her own hands.

When the hour was late, and the lights were dim, Jayce passed out at his desk for a quick nap, Viktor's attention on his textbooks at the chalkboard, and Reader in the kitchen cracking open a can of energy, Sky sidled over to the latter's desk. Her eyes immediately clocked the little, black sketchbook, easily overlooked amongst the other papers and opened notebooks with half complete drawings scrawled all over the place. It was a testament to how much they trusted each other in the lab, that no one questioned why she was lingering so close to a desk that was not her own.

It almost made it too easy for her to simply pluck the sketchbook out of the pile, add it to her pile of library books already balanced in one hand, all before loudly calling "good night" to the room and leaving.

Sky planned to be the first person in the next morning to plant the sketchbook, but the lab doors were unlocked when she turned up, and all three of her superiors were already in the room, looking in various states of exhaustion. Did they even go home last night?

Not to mention, half of the lab looked like a hoard of dogs had come tearing through. Come to think of it, Reader's desk was especially messy, with papers strewn everywhere and the drawers hanging on just barely- oh fuck! They had already noticed, hadn't they?

"Ah Sky, good morning." Viktor acknowledged her from where he was calmly sorting through a stack of books. Picking one up, and shaking it out before placing it onto a second stack and picking up the next. "Right on time." "Good morning," Sky greeted calmly, "what's going on here?" She motioned to the war zone that was the lab. To Jayce balanced precariously on a chair, checking a high book shelf, and the frantic shuffling sounds of Reader under their desk. They were out of view, but somehow, Sky could just envision the frenzy in their expression from the sound of their searching alone.

"Ah, well, Y/n appears to have misplaced a rather important sketchbook."

There was a yelp as a skull collided with the underside of a desk, before Reader's head popped up over the edge. "Sky! I can't find it!"

"Oh no." Sky replied, trying to ignore the burning weight of the 'it' in question, currently hiding in her backpack. "Where did you see it last?"

"They insisted it was on their desk." Jayce interjected, hopping down from his chair with a shake of his head.

"But I'm assuming it's grown legs," Sky joked, "judging by that picked over, barely standing, mess of a desk."

"This isn't funny Sky."

"No, you're right." She put down her backpack and began to help in the search. After all, not doing so would immediately out her as guilty, and she'd already come this far, why stop now. "Come on, it can't have gone far."

Of course, Viktor discovered it amongst his books and papers a couple of days later.

It was during one of those rare hours in the lab when he was alone. The hour was late, but the curtains were not yet drawn despite the darkening sky.

He frowned when his fingers brushed the unfamiliar notebook, tucked behind a stack of textbooks and scrunched up balls of notes. Pulling it out of its hiding place, his brows furrowed as his eyes tracked the state it was in. How the edges of the hardback covers were creased from numerous journeys in bags, whilst pencils marks and scuffs from countless hours of being opened and used, marred the covers.

At first, he assumed it was one of Jayce’s notebook. The material was expensive enough. Definitely of high quality. The paper itself was thick when he rubbed his finger along a page. But when he opened it, he quickly realised the pages are not lined, and were once blank before they had been filled in with hundreds of drawings.

The first few pages were illustrations of everything under the sun. Still life drawings. Animals. People. Silhouettes. Isolated body parts with detailed annotations encircling them, such as the names of muscles and tiny corrective comments like ‘fingers too long’ or ‘that muscle doesn’t stretch that far’.

Then he turned a page, and was met with himself. And then Jayce. And then more and more sketches of himself and Jayce. Sometimes together and interacting. Sometimes just existing.

The drawings were skilfully done, as all of Reader's illustrations tended to be. A little rough in the beginning, from rushed pen strokes. But then the artist seemed to understand something. A break through of sorts, and he recognised himself more and more. The sketches held his likeness. From the way he stood, to the slouch of him sitting at his desk, to the way his hand held something as simple as a stick of chalk.

They were always sketches from behind or a side profile. Never head on. And any that did depict him as facing the artist, were drawn when his attention was elsewhere; focused down at a textbook, or fixing something on the table.

It was flattering really. He looked good in the drawings. Confident, with an authoritative aura. Seemingly engrossed in every task he sat down to complete.

And Jayce, Jayce looks good in his drawings too. His sunny personality shining through in drawings where he was animatedly talking or debating with sketched Viktor. There seems to be a whole double page spread trying to figure out the shape of his slicked back hair, and then even more drawings of the gel softening throughout the day, causing strands to fall down around his ears and frame his eyes.

But what really catches Viktor's attention was the way the artist had caught their interactions. The way they have depicted Jayce's softened eyes when looking at Viktor when his attention was elsewhere. The way they caught Viktor's private little smile when Jayce got lost in a muttering spell and stopped including Viktor in the debate. It left him feeling a little raw in truth, like this person had seen something no one else had taken the time to notice before.

No wonder Reader had been so adamant about finding this sketchbook. This must have been hours upon hours of careful work.

Carefully, Viktor closed the sketchbook and sat back in his chair. It felt heavy in his hands, and he almost didn't want to put it down.

The door to the lab swung open then, and Jayce called out a greeting.

"What you got there V?"

And of course, Viktor was contractually obligated to show him. It would simply be criminal if he didn't show his partner just how well their resident illustrator managed to capture his winning smile. A much more accurate depiction of it, compared to the 'man of progress' merchandise the academy sold nowadays.

The sketchbook continued to go unfound.

Reader was growing more and more distraught.

The guilt gnawed at Sky and she confessed.

All hell broke loose.

An hour later, Skye came SPRINTING into the lab, the double doors CRASHING into the walls in her haste to get into the room.

Both Viktor and Jayce jumped in their seats in the kitchenette. Viktor barely managing to keep from spilling his sweetmilk everywhere. And Jayce almost THREW the little black sketchbook across the room, where he had been admiring its pages.

“Woah there, where’s the fire?” Jayce tried to joke, but Sky looked GENUINELY scared.

“Sorry! Sorry! I left something in here, and the owner is NOT happy with me.” Sky scrambled to explain, as she charged towards Viktor’s desk and began pulling apart stacks of paperwork. Sweat beading on her brow.

“Hey, calm down. What is it? Where did you see it last?” “It was a sketchbook. Um, uh, black, hard cover, it was practically bulging with how many pages it had stuck in it.” Sky explained, "I could've sworn I left it on Viktor's desk." Viktor’s brows jump up in realisation. His eyes dart over to the sketchbook in Jayce's hands, before leaping up to meet the man's wide, knowing eyes.

“I take it that Y/n found out you took it then.” Viktor spoke up. Sky winced. “I may have let it slip-” her voice began to backpedal, before the distant stomp of approaching footsteps made her pale. The gait the recognisable, the tempo just a touch faster than its normal pace. “DON’T THINK HIDING BEHIND VIKTOR OR JAYCE WILL SAVE YOU NOW!” A booming voice hollered from down the hallway.

Sky became frantic again. She redoubled her efforts.

Jayce very slowly lowered the sketchbook down to his lap, where the table would conceal it from view if anyone peered into the kitchenette. And Viktor just sighed as he got comfortable.

Heavy footsteps approached the laboratory door, which was then promptly kicked open, so fast that the door smacked into the opposite wall for the second time today. Y/n, brandishing a broom of all things, visibly seethed in the doorway.

“Do you know how much <i>work</i> has gone into that sketchbook?” They demanded, more furious than Viktor had ever seen them before. “How many hours I’ve spent amongst those pages.” Sky looks appropriately guilty. “I know! And I’m so sorry I lost it, I really thought I was doing you a favour!”

Reader’s lip curls up into a furious snarl, eyes narrowing. “And I thought I told you to leave it alone!” They snarled.

“But they’re just so good. I seriously don’t think you should be hiding your talent. What if the right person managed to find it, like Councillor Medarda, imagine the connections-” “And how, pray tell, is Councillor Medarda, supposed to come across my sketchbook in the laboratory of all places.” Skye’s voice lowers. “Well, she does stop by to see Jayce often enough.”

Reader sighed heavily. "Side-stepping that poor excuse, because we both know you were just trying to embarrass me-" "I was not! They're good drawings!"

“Where is it Skye? For the final time.”

They stepped menacingly into the room then, broom clutched tightly in both hands, only to pause when a single sheet of paper slipped out of their pocket and fluttered to the ground. The action clearly held significance, because Sky winced.

Meanwhile, Reader took a deep, steadying breath, before slowly, calmly leaning down to pluck the paper off of the floor. It was only for a second, but Viktor could have sworn he saw yet ANOTHER sketch of him and Jayce, which HOW? They'd been with the pair of them in the lab ALL DAY!

“Now look at me, I’m shedding paper left and right without my sketchbook to keep all my thoughts ORGANISED!” “I’m sorry! I’ll buy you a new one.”

A groan. “Skye, that is NOT the point-!”

“Okay, okay! Time out! Let us all take a breath.” Viktor interjected to which both apprentice and Illustrator startled.

Reader visibly seethed in place, whilst Sky just winced and ducked her head.

It was the former who spoke up first. “Sorry for the interruption.” They said sharply, eyes cutting over to Viktor and Jayce. To which Viktor just inclined his head, whilst Jayce very poorly concealed his guilty wince. Reader was too preoccupied with Sky however to notice as they turned back to her. “May we continue this debate outside? Preferably away from the workshops?” Skye seemed to shrink in on herself more. Eyes darting over to Viktor, then jumping up to Jayce.

“Sky!”

“Only if you promise to stop yelling.” She demanded.

Reader breathed out forcefully through their nostrils. Expression thinning out, shoulders easing, although the tightness to their jaw remained stubbornly present. “Fine.”

"Leave the broom!" Viktor called after them, to which Reader audibly groaned but let the broom in the lab before stepping out into the hall with Sky. The door clicked shut behind them.

Jayce and Viktor shared a look and held their breaths. Waiting. Listening. The conversation that inevitably started up once the door closes was fast paced, but in the promised quieter tone.

"I'm just going to-" Jayce began to say before motioning to the desks out in the main lab. Viktor shrugged, and allowed his partner to stand, sketchbook in hand, only for both of them to freeze when a loose slip of paper fell out.

"Oh no." Jayce said aloud as Viktor quickly pinned the sheet to the floor with the toe of his shoe, before it could drift away. "This is going to be adorable, isn't it?"

Viktor did not reply, as he stooping to pick it up. He turned it over, and he and Jayce collectively sighed as they discovered yet another sketch of the pair of them.

They're stood in front of the chalkboard, which seemed to be Reader's favourite place to draw them without being discovered. And it was clear from the way the pair were facing each other that they were deep in one of their debates. But what really caught the pair's attention, was the way that their drawn selves were looking at one another.

Viktor's with a small, knowing smile and a visible twinkle in his eye - which should have been an impossible thing to capture with merely a pencil. And Jayce's who was staring down at Viktor with an intensity in his eye and a playful lift of his eyebrows that spoke of challenge. They looked happy together. Feeding off one another's energy.

And it was startling that an outside perspective had managed to capture such a moment without either of them noticing.

"We don't get that absorbed in our debates, do we?" Jayce asked tightly, a soft look in his eye now as he gazed down at the sketch with reverence.

Viktor did not bother to deny it, because they both knew that they did. Here was a sketchbook stuffed with the evidence right before them.

Jayce tucked the sketch back between the pages, his expression complicated and yet oh so fond for someone who was no longer in the room with them.

Jayce and Viktor put the sketchbook back on Reader's desk, who later comes back in, visibly more subdued, and Sky nowhere in sight.

Viktor cracks a joke about them having stuffed her in a supply closet somewhere.

To which they reassure him that, "no, she had a meeting," and he would still have an apprentice turning up to work tomorrow.

Jayce looks up from his work, as does Viktor, when they make a beeline for their desk. In time to watch Reader stiffen when they see the little, black sketchbook placed neatly on top of their larger, official lab sketchbook. Then they lunge forward, snatching it up and flipping through the pages, shoulders loosening when all seems to be in order.

"You found it!"

"Viktor found it." Jauce interjected.

To which Viktor just preens and makes another joke about Sky thinking twice about getting between Reader and their belongings. He also throws in a compliment on the penmanship, just to see how Reader reacts.

To both of their surprises, Reader locks up at the compliment. “Please tell me you didn’t look though it.”

“I liked them." He said truthfully, "you certainly captured my likeness.” They groan and drop eye contact.

“Please don’t joke about it.” They plead, “it was just anatomy practice. But I completely understand if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“Uncomfortable?" Viktor parrots back, shooting Jayce a look. "Why would it make us uncomfortable?" "You might feel watched?" Reader offers.

Jayce shrugs. Viktor waves off their concern.

Jayce, "can we put some up on the pin board?" "No. None of these are remotely good enough to be hung up on display!" Reader is quick to deny.

By the end of the day, there are three new papers pinned to the pin board above Jayce's desk. One drawn by each of them in the lab. A chicken scratch drawing of Jayce, courtesy of Viktor. A carefully, but wonkily drawn Reader, courtesy of Jayce. And a recognisable and remarkably good drawing of Viktor done by Reader.

(Yes, they had a drawing competition and sat in a circle around someone's desk, simultaneously posing for and drawing each other. The boys had to do some major convincing so that Reader didn't assume they were being made fun of. And they all ended up having a great time).

Next part

#arcane #arcane s2 #arcane season 2 spoilers #arcane jayce #arcane viktor #jayce x viktor x reader #jayce x reader #viktor x reader #jayce arcane #viktor arcane #there is NOTHING more terrifying than coming across someone nose deep in your sketchbook #even worse if it's the one you put shitty memes and crack designs into and thought would never curse the vision of another human being #I think Reader's reaction to their sketchbook going mission was completely justified and within reason #Very demure #Very mindful #Sky is gnawing at the bars of her enclosure trying to get these three to understand their feelings are in fact requited #She is beside herself that she has not been successful yet but she WILL be soon #gender neutral reader #jayce talis x gender neutral reader #viktor x gender neutral reader #viktor x y/n #viktor x you #jayce talis #jayce league of legends

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unknownplane · 9 months ago

Text

The Court Jester Part 2

Yandere Batfam x GN Reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5

As Batman questioned his life choices, his other children listened in on the conversation.

"So that's what happened to (Y/N). I thought they had just moved out." Tim stated.

"How did that weak-" Damian started but was cut off by Tim. "You didn't even know them! They were nice and understood how important our work was, so they tried to stay out of the way!"

Dick and Jason just blocked out the arguing as they started to remember all the things (Y/N) did for them. How they tried to help even in the smallest ways. Like how they would always make sure there was a fresh pot of coffee or how they would rotate the types of cookies in the manor so everyone got one they liked.

When (Y/N) first moved out, the first thing the family realized was how much they did. It felt weird the first couple of weeks, but they eventually got used to it. Seeing (Y/N) like this made them worry, even if some of them wouldn't admit it (Damian). This awoken something in each of them.

Dick saw someone who was with him since the beginning. Someone he could always trust to be there for him when he needed it, and now he could see it was gone. The twisted smile on their face showed all the pressure he and his family put on them, and he felt nothing but guilt.

Jason saw someone who went through something similar to him. He saw the torture in their eyes. He heard the manipulation in the words that came out their mouth. He knew that if he could just get to them and talk like they used to, it would all be fine. He was determined to get them back, and this time, they weren't leaving his sight.

Tim saw the calculation that went into this trap. He saw the brain of (Y/N), who even in this state was brilliant. He saw the planning, the research, the trail and error of each detail in this plan, all to catch Batman and have a conversation with him before your "Dad" got there. He wanted to bounce ideas off you. He wanted to talk about plans with you. He even wanted to just hang out and chill with you, but in order to do that, he would need to get you back. And when you came back, he would do all those things with you.

Stephanie saw the abandoned side of you. She realized that she didn't know anything about you. Your age, your favorite color, your birthday, she didn't even know your last name. She knows what it's like to have a distant relationship with a parent figure, and she wants to help. She wants to know all of those things. She wants to know you. And if you let her (you will), she wants to be the closest person to you.

Damian saw a weak follower who needed not only to learn but also needed to be protected. Even though you are older than him, he can see a flame in you that with the right training and teacher could become a full-on blaze. He would be that teacher. He would be the one you look up to. Nobody else. He just needed to get you back to start training.

They all looked at each other as if thinking the same thing,"Let's go get (Y/N)."

Back with (Y/N)...

"Dads gonna be so proud when he sees this! I mean, look at you! You look totally defeated!" (Y/N) said between giggles. They were giddy. They had talked to dad about if they could try something with the Bat, and surprisingly, he agreed. After the Bat was caught, they sent the signal to their father so they could show off their work.

Batman was tied to a chair. His utility belt on the floor as they made him make a choice. Drop your utility belt, or I will kill these two parents and make a boy and a girl orphans. They knew what they were doing. They knew it was wrong. But God did it feel good. To have his eyes looking at them and having him see what they truly are. Not their mother but (Y/N). Even if they look a little different now.

As the Bat was beginning to start a sentence the door busted open.

"Hello Peanut!" The Joker exclaimed as he came in. "Look at all the fine work you've done. My little Jester".

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

Thank you so much for all the support on the first part of this! Everytime I see your guys support I am baffled at how wonderful you all are. Quick question do you want this to be completely platonic or do you want some people from the family to be romantic? Also should I add more people from the DC Universe? Thank you so much for reading!

@asillysimp

#yandere batfam x reader #yandere x reader #yandere batfam #batfam #batfam x reader #gn reader

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bbydoll18xx · 9 months ago

Text

I’ve Got a Wand and a Rabbit (Bonus)

Paige wants to try scissoring, but she’s too shy to tell you.

Paige Bueckers x Reader

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word Count: 1.2k

Themes: smut, humor, fluff if u squint

A/N: one of my beautiful anons suggested this and I just want to thank whoever it was. This shit is too good. To those who enjoy shy, bottom Paige: you are welcome ;)

“Babe,” you say for the third time, trying to catch Paige’s attention, who was deeply engrossed in her cell phone. She had been acting weird all day. She was usually all over you, clinging onto you, trying to get you as close to her as possible. But today, she was glued to her phone, only giving you short answers, and you were starting to get annoyed.

“Madison!” You snap, and her head whips up to meet your furrowed brow with a guilty look on her face.

She smiles sheepishly at you. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, leaving her phone face down on the arm of the couch and coming over to where you were sitting. “Didn’t mean to ignore my pretty girl.”

You look at her suspiciously as she pulls you into her lap, pressing hot, open mouth kisses to your jaw and trailing them down your neck.

You were not an idiot. You had dated multiple conniving liars, and your instincts were never wrong. The situation reeked of something fishy, and you were going to figure it out. You sincerely hoped nothing crazy was going on; you actually really liked Paige.

And because you were a girl with a pulse, you gave into Paige’s mouth, as she drew you in with her unrelenting charm.

God, you were so fucked.

She pulls you into her bedroom to have her way with you, making you forget all about her weird behavior and her abandoned cell phone.

For now at least.

The next day rolls around and you are determined to figure out the source of Paige’s odd behavior. You walk into her apartment quietly, giggling to yourself as you imagine spy music in the background as you creep towards her closed door. There was no noise coming from her room, and you were not actually sure if she was in there or not.

Taking a deep breath, you carefully open the door and step into the room. Paige is laying on her stomach with her large headphones covering her ears. Her back is to you, and she is watching something intently on her iPad.

She was always fucking around on that thing.

‘She’s probably playing Roblox again,’ you snicker inside your head before taking another step forward to see what she was looking at.

Your heart stumbles in your chest as you glance over her shoulder to see two girls scissoring in broad daylight on the screen, and you let out a gasp, giving you away.

Paige whips her head around to see you staring at her with your mouth open in shock. Her cheeks bloom with embarrassment, and she rubs a hand across her neck before sending you a sheepish smile. “I can explain?”

You take a seat on her bed, wringing your sweaty hands together. “You know I don’t care that you’re watching porn right? But, like, why?” You ask, still in shock.

Paige sighs, looking back at the paused screen of her iPad that was haphazardly thrown onto her pillows. “I wanted to try scissoring with you. And I’ve never done that shit. And I was scared to bring it up,” she mumbles.

You giggle, and she whines in protest, pushing at your arm. “Not funny,” she pouts.

“Actually, it’s pretty fucking hilarious!” You cackle, poking at her side. “But why didn’t you just tell me? Who was the one who taught you how to use a vibrator?” You say pointedly. “And that was before we were even dating.”

“I know,” she groans, putting her head in her hands. “I just get kinda shy ‘bout this shit.”

“You poor baby,” you coo. “Now, c’mon, let's go scissor.”

Paige looks at you with a dumbfounded expression. “What?”

“Well don’t you want to try it? I’m horny, and I can see you’re soaked through those flimsy sweatpants,” you add, pointing to her crotch.

Her face turns bright red again.

Her sheepishness was divine, and you were eager to show her the many pleasures of scissoring. You were going to leave her absolutely wrecked.

Paige’s breathless whines cut through the air as you press hot, wet kisses to her inner thighs. She writhes against her bedsheets, and you continue to tease her.

“You look so pretty all spread out f’me,” you simper, overtly pleased with yourself. No one could get a rise out of her like you.

“Such a fuckin’ tease,” she grunts, throwing an arm across her face. Her hips jump up as you swipe your thumb across her swollen clit in retaliation. “Please, baby,” she cries, thrusting her bottom lip out in a ridiculous pout.

Your own pussy was dripping in excitement, and you doubted you’d be able to hold off much longer, so you decided to show her a little mercy.

“C’mere,” you instruct, pulling her closer and slotting her open legs through yours. Loud gasps ring out as your slick pussies connect as you both adjust to the feeling.

Paige leans forward, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss before she rolls her hips experimentally, leaving you to moan into her mouth. It was raw, the sheer magnetism exuding out from between the two of you.

Grabbing onto her long, toned leg, you use it to slide her soaked folds against yours, ensuring your clits aligned perfectly. It was erotic, and as you stared at Paige’s heaving body, you felt another gush trickle down onto the soft skin of your inner thighs.

Her mouth is open, head tilted back, as she inhales sharply. Her grip moves to your ass, and she sends a stinging slap to your sensitive skin.

“Fuck,” you moan out, rolling your hips again and watching as your movement sends shockwaves through Paige’s body. Her thighs tremble and her tits bounce as you pull her in close to you, kissing her deeply as you grind against her.

“S’good,” she mumbles against your mouth before a needy whine leaves her lips with another roll of your hips. “Can’t last much longer,” she pants out.

You stroke her cheek, making her look into your eyes as you speed up your movements. The noises were downright filthy as your pussy slid wetly against hers, the friction quickly bringing you to a glorious edge.

Paige cums with your name on her lips, her body shuddering as the pleasure rips through her. Expletives and moans fill the air as you and Paige come down from your highs together.

As your breathing evens out, you reach to move her blonde hair out of her face, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“That was way better than I expected,” she grins, and you laugh.

“Now what are you going to do the next time you wanna try out something new?” You ask, a teasing tone ringing through your voice.

Paige sighs, looking bashful. “I’m gonna tell you instead of watching it on Pornhub.”

You pull her in for another kiss. “That’s my good girl.”

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think

xoxo katy

Taglist:

@fullladypanda-blog, @omg-imtumbling, @tenaciousglitternerd, @oldcrdigan, @paigebuxkets, @the-other-half , @patscorner @dietcokesmom @ch12334 @double22-k @inthedeathofherreptuation , @authentic-girl03 , @blueredg52 @tndaqlifwy

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#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x you #paige x reader #uconn wbb #ive got a wand and a rabbit #paige bueckers smut

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naihvty · 1 month ago

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kind eyes - part 2 (steve harrington x reader)

part 1 - here

masterlist here

summary: your week carries on, and after what feels like an eternity, Steve returns to your coffee shop. He’s back with his kind eyes, which seem like they have more to say that he’s letting on.

word count: 1.1k

tags: slow burn, used to be a dickhead but now he’s not, no smut in this chapter but there will be eventually, idk what I’m doing I just wrote this all today I haven’t written in ages, not reallyyyyy proof read sorry

a/n: hiiii here’s part 2! feels like a bit of a filler/drabble (as all my writing feels) but hope you like it anyway lolz. hoping to make part 3 slightly longer so something decent actually happens during it !!!

7 days later, you’re at work, just like any other day. You’re working the full shift, opening the shop in the morning. The hum of the coffee machine fills the void of silence that you find quietly comforting on mornings like these.

You drift through the morning, picking up the pace to accommodate the morning rush. You enjoy making small talk with the regulars, whose order you know without even asking, and who always remember your name and ask you about your day.

After lunch, the rush dies down, along with the tiny spark in your belly that Steve might walk through the door. You feel slightly pathetic that even one week on, you’re still holding out hope that he will come back.

But, sure enough, and much to your surprise, there he is, being shuffled through the door by Robin who seems adamant that Steve enters the shop. You drop your head in an attempt to hide the smile that creeps onto your face at Steve’s glare as he stumbles in, quickly glancing around to see who saw their interaction, determining how embarrassed he should feel.

“Good afternoooooon!” Robin sings as she confidently strolls towards you, Steve seemingly dragging his feet a little behind her.

“Afternoon Robin, h-hey Steve. What can I get you guys, same as last time? It was an almond milk latte and a mocha, right? ” You reply, sending a smile in both of your directions, your eyes catching with Steve’s. He reciprocates, holding eye contact for a second longer than feels normal, but then looks away as if to brush off the unspoken sensation.

“Yeah, good memory! Right, Steve?” Robin replies, jabbing an elbow into his ribs and earning a small “oomph” in return.

“Yeah, that’s great, thank you” Steve mumbles as he taps his card, paying for their order.

Have you done something wrong, you thought? Have you upset him? He didn’t seem like the chipper guy who came in last week, and certainly not the same person who was belly laughing away at the table after cracking jokes with Robin.

You watch Steve shuffle away, as his and Robin wander off back to the same window table as last time. You just manage to catch the glare that Steve casts towards her. Now you really wondered if you’d done something wrong. You brush it off and serve the next person while trying to forget about the awkwardness.

The guy who usually runs drinks to tables is, of course, currently on his break, leaving you to trudge on over to Steve’s table, tray in hand.

“Almond latte and a mocha. Sorry to interrupt you guys, enjoy.” You gently state, feeling bad to interrupt the hushed conversation that was going on.

“Hey, thanks. No don’t worry, you weren’t interrupting anything. Actually, I, errr- I was wondering if…” Steve starts, before the trill of your managers voice cuts through the ball of intrigue and excitement rumbling in your belly.

You turn you head swiftly, tearing your eyes away from Steve to see her waving you over. And she is not one who you should keep waiting for long.

“I’m sorry, I have to… I’m sorry.” You tell him, an apology bigger than you can put into words swimming around in your eyes as you turn away, tray tucked under your arm. Curse your manager, CURSE her. Now you’ll never know what Steve was going to tell you. He was wondering… what? Wondering if you could remake his drink? If you could grab him a spoon? Dammit, he probably wanted a spoon. Why would it be anything else?

A couple of hours later, you’ve just about recovered from your embarrassing of cutting Steve off mid conversation. The shop shuts in 15 minutes, so the shop is nearly empty minus Steve, Robin, and Alice, one of your regulars who always comes in near closing time for a last minute caffeine hit.

You run through the closing checklist, which is ingrained in your brain at this point, and being the only member of staff left, you have the joys of closing and locking up.

Alice leaves, shouting goodbye to you as she tucks her book under her arm and pops her cup on the side. You loose a genuine smile, tidying up after her and filling up the dishwasher.

You see Robin and Steve, at last, get up to leave. You say a soft goodbye in their direction, and get smiles in return, though the one from Steve seems tinged with sadness. You shake it off and sigh as they begin to walk down the street.

You flip the sign from open to closed, and just as you’re about to slip the key into the lock of the door, you see a blur of a figure with a mop brown hair run past the window and stop abruptly at the door.

“Steve?” You frown, confused as you look back to the window table to see if he’s left something of his there that he’s come back to retrieve.

He pushes the door open, stepping over the threshold and very much into your personal space. You catch a whiff of his cologne, woodsy and fresh, mixed with a tinge of hairspray. Too close. Toooo close for Steve to be standing next to you. Yet, you don’t make a move to put space between with you.

Steve looks slightly out of breath, and starts to babble, “do you want to go for a coffee sometime? With me? I mean, it doesn’t have to be coffee. I guess that would feel like being at work for you. It can be a drink, or some food or something. If you want? Just to catch up, or something? It was really nice seeing you last week. And today. Only if you want to, obviously. But I would like that. Please?”

Before you have time to process all of that, you hear a firm yes leave your lips. What the hell are you doing? Saying yes to Steve Harrington asking you out. Surely just as friends though, right? As if Steve would want anything more. He just wants to catch up, as friends, even though you were never friends at school and literally don’t know the first thing about each other.

“Really?” He grins. “Okay, give me your number. I’ll call you, okay? This is great!” He opens his phone and hands it to you. As you put your number in, you notice the grin is still plastered to his face and you can’t help but reciprocate.

“Okay”, he repeats, “I’ll call you. Speak to you later, yeah?” You nod back wordlessly, watching him leave and jog back the way he came, you assume to Robin who’d be waiting for him.

Is that what he wanted to say to you earlier when your manager interrupted? He’s gonna call you. Soon. Steve is gonna call you, and take you out. You can’t quite believe what’s just happened and you replay the events in your head as you lock up for real this time and make your way home.

THE Steve Harrington is going to call you. Imagine that.

a/n: banners by @/kodaswrld

#joe keery #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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societyfolklore · 5 months ago

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Plus One – Consequence

Title: Plus One – Consequence

Pairing: Loki x SHEILD Agent!Female Reader

Summary: Loki wants to be 'of use' and is assigned to be your partner on a mission. But that's not the only thing he's focused on. He's done waiting, this time he wants his answer.

Word Count: 6.6k (It got big… but plot though!)

Warnings: /Explicit Content / 18+, Minors DNI, smut, fingering, Unprotected sex, No beta read.

A/N: Part 1 and Part 2 (this is the finally.. I think.. maybe..probably) BIG thank you to @angelremnants for helping me out with this

You had been left alone since the incident in the library, no sign of Loki, and for once, you told yourself it was for the best. You were fine- better off, even. It wasn’t as if you had been waiting for him to reappear, looking over your shoulder at every flicker of green light, or catching yourself searching rooms as if expecting him to be there. No, you weren’t missing him. Not at all.

Still, suspicion gnawed at you over his absence. Loki wasn’t the type to simply disappear without a reason, and while you should have been relieved, something about it felt... wrong. Like he had been deliberately keeping his distance. Was he playing some new game? Or had he simply grown bored of you?

You forced the thoughts away, refusing to entertain them further. You had more important things to focus on. At least, that was what you kept telling yourself-until you were suddenly called in for a meeting.

Thor and Fury. That was an unusual combination. Your missions rarely overlapped with Thor, and the fact that he was involved at all made your stomach twist with unease. You had told yourself you didn’t miss Loki. That you weren’t waiting for him. But now, sitting here, the realization hit you harder than you wanted to admit.

Maybe it was just... wishful thinking?

Thor sat forward, his massive frame somehow managing to take up more space than the chair should allow, his expression a mixture of determination and pride. “Loki has expressed a desire to be more ‘of use,’” he began, his tone firm yet encouraging. “And after speaking with the Director, it has been decided that Loki shall be joining you on your next mission. You know a trail run of things."

"Excuse me?" You looked between the God and your Director. "Tell me he's joking.."

Fury leaned back in his chair, ignoring your clear objections, his single eye fixed on Thor with a skeptical intensity. “He’s your brother Thor and I respect that, Loki appears to want to make amends but that doesn't mean he gets to just 'jump in' he has to prove we can see him as an ally ” Fury said, his voice calm but edged with steel. “His is guy who tried to level New York.”

Thor’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t falter. “Loki is a proven warrior and strategist,” he said. “He has fought beside me countless times and, while his methods may be unorthodox, his results are undeniable. He is motivated to prove himself.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the weight of Thor’s words settling in. Motivated was one way to describe Loki, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was for the right reasons. Still, you kept your thoughts to yourself, waiting for Fury’s response.

Fury tapped his fingers against the table thoughtfully before turning his attention to you. “And what’s your take on this? You’ll be working closest with him. You comfortable with that?”

You hesitated, feeling both pairs of eyes on you.

“Comfortable might be too strong a word,” you admitted, keeping your tone professional. “But I trust Thor’s judgment, and if Loki’s abilities can give us an edge on this mission, I’ll make it work, better it just be me he scre-" You couldn't even bring yourself to say it. "Better it's me he stabs in the back then have the whole team go down with him."

Thor gave you a small nod of gratitude, clearly deciding not hear your backhanded comments about his brother, all while Fury studied you for a moment longer before speaking.

“Fine. But let’s be clear about something: if he so much as hints at going off-script, it’s on you to rein him in. Understood?”

“Understood,” you said firmly, though the thought sent a flicker of doubt through you. Reining Loki in was a task easier said than done.

Thor exhaled, a faint smile breaking through his serious demeanor.

“You will not regret this decision,” he said confidently. “Loki will not disappoint us.”

Fury didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking between you and Thor before he finally stood. “Let’s hope not. Because if he does, I’ll make sure we’re not having this conversation again. I'll order him off world and back to Asgard.” With that, he strode out of the room, leaving the two of you alone with the gravity of the situation.

Thor turned to you, his expression softening. “Thank you for your faith in this, even if it’s tentative. Loki’s journey will not be easy, but I believe he is capable of great things.”

You nodded, though the knot in your stomach remained. “Let’s hope he believes that too,” you said quietly, already bracing yourself for the challenges ahead.

“Oh, don’t look so glum, Darling,” a familiar voice drawled, cutting through the charged silence like a blade. You turned your head sharply, catching the faint shimmer of green light in the corner of the room. Loki stepped forward from the shadows, his sharp features illuminated by the glow of the monitors. His smirk was as maddening as ever, exuding a confidence that bordered on outright arrogance. “It will be... enlightening.”

Thor’s posture stiffened, his voice immediately dropping into a warning tone. “Loki, I told you to wait outside.”

Loki waved a dismissive hand, the motion languid and unconcerned. “Oh, come now, brother. I was merely curious to hear the verdict of my fate. Surely you can’t fault me for wanting to be... informed.”

Thor’s expression darkened, a rare flicker of frustration slipping past his usual composure. “If Fury finds out-”

“He didn't even notice.” Loki interrupted smoothly, his icy blue gaze flicking to you, lingering just long enough to make your pulse quicken uncomfortably. “I doubt anything I say now would surprise him. Besides,” he added, his tone softening into something almost thoughtful, “I suspect our dear Agent here prefers knowing exactly what they’re getting into.”

Your eyes narrowed, but you refused to take the bait.

“What I’d prefer,” you said evenly, keeping your tone professional despite the simmering irritation, “is for you to follow orders. Starting now.”

Loki chuckled, the sound low and rich, like velvet wrapped around steel.

“Oh, I fully intend to follow orders, I do enjoy making sure your satisfied with my performance” he said, his smirk widening slightly. “But forgive me if I indulge in a little... curiosity. It’s not every day one gets the chance to prove their worth under such delightful scrutiny.”

Thor stepped between you and his brother, his towering frame blocking Loki’s view as his voice dropped into something firmer. “Enough, Loki. Prove your worth through action, not theatrics.”

Loki raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk never wavering. “As you wish, dear brother,” he said lightly, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. He stepped back but didn’t leave entirely, lingering just long enough to cast one last glance your way.

“I’ll see you at the jet then Agent,” Loki murmured, the promise in his voice unmistakable, before disappearing in a swirl of green light. "Don’t be late..”

Thor sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This will be... a challenge.”

You couldn’t help but agree, though a part of you suspected Loki’s presence was about to make things more than just challenging-it was going to make them impossible to forget.

The HYDRA facility loomed ahead, its sleek lines cutting through the forest like a blade. The metallic sheen of its exterior caught the moonlight, giving it an eerie, otherworldly aura. Loki walked beside you, his presence both magnetic and maddening. Despite the weight of the mission, he seemed utterly at ease, his movements fluid, his expression one of quiet amusement.

“Try not to get us caught,” you muttered, scanning the perimeter through your scope. The darkened forest was alive with distant sounds-rustling leaves, faint chirps, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot.

“Darling, please,” Loki replied, his tone dripping with mock hurt. “I am the very definition of discretion.” He smirked, tilting his head to regard you with those piercing blue eyes. “Although, if you’d rather admire my talents from afar, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Your talents aren’t exactly why I’m here,” you retorted sharply, though you couldn’t entirely suppress the warmth rising in your cheeks.

“Oh? And here I thought I was your favourite Asgardian,” he quipped, falling into step just behind you. “You do seem rather fixated on me lately.”

You ignored him, motioning for him to follow. Loki’s illusions cloaked your approach, turning you into shifting shadows that passed unnoticed by the guards patrolling the perimeter. His magic hummed faintly in the air, a reminder of the power he wielded with infuriating ease. Every so often, you caught the faintest flicker of light from his hands, the only sign of the enchantments he was weaving.

Inside, the server room was sterile and cold, lined with blinking terminals and an unsettling hum of machinery. Loki conjured a shimmering barrier at the door, sealing you inside and masking your presence. The faint green glow of his magic illuminated his sharp features, making him look almost otherworldly.

“Efficient,” you admitted grudgingly as you began downloading the data. The whir of the transfer filled the room, the only sound aside from Loki’s deliberate footsteps.

“Praise from you? How unexpected,” he murmured, leaning casually against a terminal. His voice was quieter now, almost reflective. “You’ve been remarkably tense, Agent. Shall we discuss it?”

“No.”

“Ah, deflection.” He crossed his arms, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “You can’t hide it forever, you know. That… spark between us.”

You turned sharply, glaring at him. “This isn’t the time.”

“But there will be a time,” he countered smoothly, his eyes gleaming with unspoken intent. “Admit it, darling. You find me… intriguing.”

Before you could respond, alarms blared. Loki’s barrier flickered as HYDRA’s countermeasures overloaded it. Red lights bathed the room in an ominous glow as the door burst open, and armed agents poured in, their weapons trained on you.

“Ah, and here I thought we might avoid theatrics,” Loki said dryly, his hands already glowing with magic as he stepped in front of you. “Shall we?”

Things had been going well. You and Loki had managed to sneak into the HYDRA facility undetected, extracted the necessary files, and were making your way out. It had almost seemed too easy. But then, chaos erupted. Loki moved with lethal grace, his illusions scattering the agents as he cast bolts of searing magic. His movements were fluid, a dance of power and precision, and for a moment, it seemed as though he thrived in the chaos. You fired with equal determination, covering his blind spots with sharp efficiency. It was almost seamless-until one guard managed to fire a well-aimed blast directly at Loki.

The energy struck him square in the chest, sending him reeling backward. He staggered, his illusions flickering and his magic faltering visibly. "Go," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice tinged with both pain and frustration as his hand glowed faintly in an attempt to hold the illusions together.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you snapped, catching his arm as you fired another shot with your free hand. You needed cover-fast.

“This is hardly the time to argue,” Loki grunted, his weight pressing into you as you pulled him behind a crumbling support beam. “But you do seem to enjoy things happening in public places..”

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, breathless, scanning the space for an exit. “You could have just let me take the hit.”

Loki scoffed, despite the pain evident in his stance. “Yes, well, call me sentimental.”

You huffed, pushing him down against the wall as you checked his wound. “Sentimental, my ass. You’re just trying to prove a point.” "And pray tell? What point might that be?" Loki hand was still pressed into where he'd taken the hit though it seemed not to effect his sharp wit in anyway. "That I need you." You were glowered, but a slow, dangerous glint flicked in his eyes.

“Darling, if I wanted to prove that point, you’d be on your knees by now,” he murmured with a pained smirk.

You glared at him, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. “Shut up.”. He staggered, his illusions flickering and his magic faltering visibly. “Go,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice tinged with both discomfort and frustration as his hand glowed faintly in an attempt to hold the illusions together.

“Not without you,” you snapped, the words coming out harsher than you intended as adrenaline coursed through you. You grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet as you fired at the remaining guards with one hand. His weight leaned heavily against you, and you could feel the tremor in his body as he struggled to regain his composure. Guilt gnawed at you with every step; he had shielded you without hesitation, and now he was paying the price.

You practically dragged Loki into the nearest hiding spot-a disused stairwell, the walls damp and cold from years of neglect. It wasn’t much, but it would give his magic time to work, to let his body stitch itself back together while you caught your breath.

He leaned heavily against the wall, his usual cocky grace slightly dulled, but his smirk remained infuriatingly intact. The dim lighting of the stairwell cast sharp shadows across his features, making the blue of his eyes stand out even more vividly. You knelt beside him, pressing your hand against the wound to gauge how bad it was, but before you could fully assess it, his fingers curled around your wrist, halting your movements with a surprising gentleness.

His grip was firm but not forceful, his thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist in a way that sent an unexpected shiver through you. "Why is it that you recoil at the idea of needing me?" he asked, his voice lower now, almost contemplative. "Be it in battle or in your bed, you seem to find the notion unbearable."

You swallowed hard, refusing to meet his gaze. "This isn't about that. You took a hit, and I need to make sure you don't bleed out before your magic kicks in."

"Ah, deflection," Loki mused, his grip tightening slightly, forcing you to meet his eyes. "It's a fascinating thing to watch. You insist I mean nothing, yet here you are, hands trembling as you touch me. Tell me, darling-what are you so afraid of?"

Your pulse hammered in your throat, but you yanked your hand free, glaring at him. "We are not having these conversations now, and why are you talking like I'm the problem? The library happened, and you've been MIA since..." Your voice trailed off, frustration tightening in your chest. You weren’t sure why it stung-why it felt like a betrayal that he had disappeared after that afternoon.

Loki’s smirk faltered just slightly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing across his face. He held your gaze for a long moment, searching, and then, with a slow exhale, that insufferable confidence slid back into place.

"And yet, here we are," he murmured, tilting his head, voice like silk and steel. "Tell me, darling-why does it sound like you mind? Miss me did you?"

Loki only smirked, though there was something softer behind his usual arrogance, something dangerously close to hope. “Dogs don't miss fleas,” you snapped, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

Loki’s smirk wavered. Just for a second, so quickly you almost missed it. Then, something colder took its place, an expression you hadn’t seen before. Not irritation, not amusement-hurt.

“Oh,” he said, his voice losing some of its playfulness, a dangerous undercurrent forming beneath. “I see, so you do want to be a bitch then.” "What's that supposed to mean?" You looked at him hurt feeling stabbing at her chest, he didn't get to call you names. His arms crossed over his chest, and his gaze darkened as he took a slow step back. “You let me touch you, taste you, fuck you-and now I’m just something to be discarded? A game you can play when it suits you, but when the pieces stop falling in your favor, I’m nothing more than a parasite?”

Your breath hitched, stunned at the venom in his voice. “Loki-”

He scoffed. “No, please. Enlighten me.” His tone was sharp now, edged with something almost bitter. “What am I to you, exactly? Because you seem to enjoy having me when no one’s watching. But the moment we step into the light, I become inconvenient, don’t I?”

His words cut deeper than you wanted to admit. Because there was truth to them. You had pushed him away, compartmentalized your moments together, told yourself they didn’t mean anything. But standing here now, faced with the rawness in his voice, you realized-

It mattered to him.

The memory of his words in the library resurfaced, unbidden: A chance to be what you need. You hadn’t given it the weight it deserved at the time, hadn’t let yourself. But now, with his piercing gaze locked on yours, demanding an answer you weren’t ready to give, it was impossible to ignore.

Loki exhaled sharply, shaking his head, as if disgusted with himself for letting this moment happen. His next words came quieter, but with even more weight.

“You think I don’t want you? That each of our encounters hasn't left me wanting, haunted, in need of you?” His voice dropped lower, edged with frustration, but there was something else beneath it now, something raw. "You doubt me? Yet here I am injured on your behalf. Playing hero, trying to be better, all so you might be willing to take what I can offer out of the shadows."

The intensity in his voice sent a tremor down your spine. He stepped forward, his presence overwhelming, his tone shifting to something almost desperate. “You think I toy with you?” he murmured, voice a quiet rasp. “Do you know how insufferable it is-to crave something I cannot have?”

And then he kissed you. Push in against you, his body pushing you into the floor. Mission almost entirely forgotten in this moment. The dirt of the stairwell scrapping at the leather of your suit.

It was nothing like the teasing, taunting brushes of lips you'd had before. This was different. Fierce. Possessive. A demand and a question all at once. And you-

You didn’t stop him.

Your fingers curled into the leather of his suit, pulling him closer, because this time, there was no use pretending you didn’t want this too. Didn’t want him.

His hands slid down to your waist, gripping hard enough to bruise as he pressed you back against the wall. The tension, the heat, the hunger-it all snapped, unraveling in a desperate collision of mouths and hands.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. “I won’t be your secret anymore,” he whispered, the words more declaration than threat. “Not after this.”

Your heart pounded, the weight of what he was saying crashing over you. But before you could respond, the distant sound of approaching footsteps shattered the moment. You were on your feet, your rifle already raised. It was time to get out of this hell hole. They’re finish this conversation later, right now both had to get out, making sure Loki could stay on his feet, you started down the stairs.

Waiting at the extraction point for the quinjet to collect the pair of you. The safehouse was barely more than a disused, abandoned guard station. Neither of you had really spoken since the hall, unless it was to bark instructions or warnings at the other. No witty jabs, none of Loki’s usual sharp, flirty comments. Just silence that filled up the space-it felt suffocating.

Loki sat against the cold wall, one knee bent, arms resting loosely, but his gaze never left you. His silence was not his usual brooding arrogance-it was something else. Something more calculated, restrained.

“Do you regret it?” he finally asked, breaking the quiet with a voice almost too soft to be his. A whisper, but one that carried weight, making your chest tighten.

“Regret what?” you asked cautiously, though you knew exactly what he meant. Your voice was quieter now, the usual edge replaced by uncertainty.

“This. Us,” Loki said, his gaze locking onto yours with disarming intensity. “Every time you let me closer, you pull away twice as hard. Why?”

You tensed, your body stiffening instinctively as if preparing for a fight, but the words wouldn’t come. How could they? How could you put into words the war raging in your mind? The sheer impossibility of what you felt for him?

Loki exhaled, shaking his head as if he was already resigned to your silence. Then, something shifted in his expression-something darker, edged with frustration. His voice turned sharp, his patience worn thin.

“Why is it so hard for you to accept this?” he asked, his voice rougher now. “That I want you. That you want me.”

You stiffened, shaking your head as you tried to step back, but he followed. “It’s not that simple.”

Loki scoffed. “Oh, but it is. You just refuse to admit it.” He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin. “You act as though I have no hold over you, yet you let me in. Over and over again. You let me touch you, you crave it, and then you run the moment it becomes too real.”

“That’s not true.”

“Liar.” His voice cracked slightly, his frustration barely contained. “God of Lies remember? You think I don’t see it? The way you hesitate, yet you still reach for me?”

His words struck deep, rattling you more than you cared to admit. You didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction-but then his hands were on you, dragging you into another kiss, this one more desperate, more forceful.

You shoved at him, breathless, but he barely moved. “Loki-”

“Stop pretending,” he bit out, his grip tightening. “You want this. You don’t tell me no. Stop acting like this isn’t everything you think about.”

Something inside you snapped. With a growl of frustration, you pushed him back, eyes burning with defiance. “You don’t get to tell me what I think.”

Loki’s smirk returned, but it was different now, something darker curling at the edges of his lips. “Oh, but I do.”

And then he kissed you again, all heat and frustration and something dangerous. This time, you didn’t pull away.. Then, something shifted in his expression-something darker, edged with frustration.

“You fight me at every turn,” he murmured, leaning forward just slightly. “You let me in-your body, your mind-and then you pretend none of it matters. That I don’t matter.”

“That’s not-”

“Oh, isn’t it?” His voice sharpened, and for the first time tonight, the intensity in his gaze turned molten, heated with something far too raw. “Stop pretending. You want this. You don’t tell me no. Stop acting like this isn’t everything you think about.”

His words struck deep, reverberating through you like a blow, because they weren’t entirely wrong.

“I don’t-”

“You don’t what?” Loki cut in, moving fluidly to his feet, stepping into your space. “You don’t want me? You don’t crave me, even now?” His voice dropped lower, barely a breath between you. “Liar.”

Your breath hitched, your pulse hammering as his fingers brushed against your wrist. A touch so simple, yet it burned like a brand.

“Why are you so resistant to this?” he demanded, voice a rough whisper. “To me? To us?”

Because it was dangerous. Because it was Loki. Because you weren’t sure who you were when he was around.

But the words never left your lips.

Loki scoffed, shaking his head as if he finally understood something you didn’t. And then-

Then he kissed you.

It was the same as before. His pure frustration, desperation, and need colliding all at once. A battle neither of you had the will to fight anymore. His hands gripped your arms, pushing you back until you felt the cold wall at your back, caging you in without escape.

And the worst part? You didn’t want to escape.

Your hands came up his chest onto his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer, like you needed to drown in him just to survive this.

Then, just as suddenly, you shoved him back.

Breathing hard, your hands still curled into his clothes, you stared at him-at the mess he had made of you.

Loki’s chest rose and fell in sharp movements, his pupils blown wide. And then, his lips curled, but there was no arrogance in his expression. Just something deeper.

“You can keep running,” he murmured, voice dark and knowing. “But we both know how this ends.” Loki took steps towards you.

“You’re insufferable,” you managed, though your voice trembled more than you’d like.

“And you’re irresistible,” he shot back smoothly, his tone teasing but heavy with intent.

The moment stretched taut, and though you knew you should push him away, the pull of his proximity was overwhelming. His fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his.

“Just say the word,” Loki murmured, his voice a silken promise as his lips hovered achingly close to yours. "I can be what you need." His voice sounded more like a plea than a promise as his hand brushed over your cheek, pushing stray hairs away. "Imagine it, everything I could give you..." His breath on your cheeks as he whispered made your heart race. "You've only just sampled the things I can do, for you, with you."

His fingers traced lightly along the column of your throat, lingering just beneath your chin as if daring you to pull away. His touch was slow, deliberate, the cool press of his fingertips sending a shiver skittering down your spine.

"Are you worried your friends will judge?" he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. His other hand moved to the zipper of your suit, teasingly dragging it down just enough to expose the sensitive skin at your collarbone. "None of them have perfect pasts. Why do they get the chance to make amends, yet you dismiss me?"

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "It's not the same, Loki."

"Isn't it?" He pressed, his fingers toying with the buckle of your utility belt slowly undoing it. You barely registered it hitting the floor. "You think me irremediable-is that it? Or do you just like the idea of walking on the darker side but refuse to admit it?"

Your pulse thundered against your ribs. His words cut too close, slipping through the cracks of your defenses like tendrils of smoke. You should stop him, but instead, you stood entranced, helpless against the way his touch made your body burn.

Loki's smirk softened into something more knowing, more dangerous. His lips brushed the corner of your mouth, teasing, testing. "You're not as pure or righteous as you like to pretend," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. His finger pulling the zipper down to your stomach. "We all dwell in the grey."

His hand slid down, fingers grazing the curve of your waist before settling on your hip. With agonizing patience, he traced the seam of your suit, slipping beneath the fabric just enough to make your breath hitch. "You make this idea of heroism not seem like such a folly. Can't you see I need you too?" His voice dipped lower, dark with something deeper than seduction-something raw. "You make me want to be better, and that terrifies me more than anything."

Your breath caught, your fingers trembling where they rested against his chest. Still, you didn't push him away. His words, the weight behind them, left you teetering on the edge of something you couldn't name.

Loki’s smirk deepened as he slid his hand lower, slipping past the half-unzipped fabric of your suit. His fingers trailed over your stomach, teasing, deliberate. Then, lower still. A wicked chuckle rumbled in his throat as his palm pressed against your core, his breath hot against your cheek.

"No underwear?" he murmured, voice dripping with amusement and something darker, something possessive. "How delightfully scandalous. Like you were expecting something, or just wishful thinking?"

A flush crept up your neck, but before you could muster a retort, he pressed his fingers more firmly against you, feeling the heat, the undeniable evidence of your arousal. A pleased hum vibrated from him, his lips ghosting along delicate of your throat.

"Don’t fight it," he purred, his mouth leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. The scrape of his teeth followed, nipping just enough to make you gasp.

Then, you felt it-long, skilled fingers slipping between your folds, teasing before one breached your entrance. A sharp gasp left you, your head tilting back against the wall as he worked you open with excruciating slowness.

"That's it, darling," Loki whispered, his voice a silk-covered blade. "Let me in."

His fingers curled, pressing deeper, slow and deliberate, savoring the way your breath hitched, the way your thighs trembled beneath his touch. His mouth trailed down the side of your throat, the scrape of his teeth sending shivers down your spine as his other hand splayed against your lower back, keeping you pinned where he wanted you.

"So conflicted." he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Going to keep pretending you don’t want this?"

A ragged gasp escaped you as he added another finger, stretching you, working you open with agonizing patience. His thumb circled your clit with infuriating slowness, teasing, coaxing, drawing out every reaction like he was savoring a masterpiece only he could create.

"You can deny it all you like," Loki purred, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "But your body knows the truth. It has always known."

Heat coiled in your stomach, the pressure building too fast, too much, and still, Loki took his time, dragging out every moment, every sensation until you were gasping against him, clinging to the leather of his suit as your body betrayed you.

"Let go, darling," he coaxed, his fingers pressing deeper, his pace quickening just enough to push you closer to the edge. "Let me hear you say my name. Before I ruin you properly."

But just as the pleasure coiled unbearably tight in your core, his movements slowed-then stopped entirely. A desperate whimper escaped you before you could stop it, frustration knotting in your stomach as your body trembled on the precipice of release.

Loki chuckled darkly, his breath warm against your ear. "Not yet," he murmured, withdrawing his fingers just enough to leave you aching. "Admit it, and I'll give you everything, darling. Just three words. 'I need you.' just give me the words."

Your body burned, every nerve alight with the cruel denial of release. You clenched your jaw, trying to resist, but Loki's fingers traced lazy circles against your sensitive flesh, teasing, never giving enough to push you over the edge. His other hand slid up, cupping your throat gently, his thumb tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Say it," he coaxed, his voice smooth as silk, but beneath it, there was something deeper-something raw. "You need me. Say it, and I'll make you come so hard you'll forget your own name."

Your breath hitched, your hands fisting in his leather as your body warred with your pride. The ache between your legs was unbearable, his teasing touch driving you to madness. Your lips parted, a shuddering breath escaping, but still, you held back, even as your resolve wavered dangerously.

Loki's smirk softened into something almost reverent, his fingers ghosting over your pulse. "You can keep pretending, darling. Keep fighting me. But we both know how this ends. We both know what you need."

Another flick of his fingers, another pulse of pleasure, and a strangled moan tore from your lips. Your resolve cracked, splintered under the weight of your desire. You squeezed your eyes shut, barely above a whisper as the words finally slipped free.

"I... need you."

Loki exhaled sharply, something triumphant gleaming in his gaze before his mouth crashed against yours. This time, there was nothing measured, nothing teasing. It was raw, hungry, desperate. His fingers didn’t work at your suit with the same slow deliberation as before-instead, he all but tore it from your body, the fabric peeling away under his forceful touch.

With a firm grip, he spun you, shoving you down onto the desk behind you, your palms hitting the cool surface as his body caged you in. The sound of leather and metal followed as his own clothing vanished in a shimmer of green. He pressed against you, his heat searing, his strength undeniable. His hands roamed freely now, greedy, possessive, mapping every inch of you like he was memorizing it for eternity.

“You have no idea,” he growled against your ear, his breath hot, “what you do to me.”

His teeth scraped along your shoulder before he bit down, sharp and claiming, his body pressing harder against yours as his hand gripped your hip, anchoring you in place

Loki groaned, the sound deep and unrestrained, his fingers digging into your skin as he finally sank into you, filling you with a stretch that was almost too much-but god, it felt right. The noise you made was something guttural, something you hadn’t even realized you were capable of.

“Mine now,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction as he pulled back, only to slam into you again, rougher this time, dragging a strangled cry from your lips.

Loki wasn’t measured now-wasn’t teasing. There was no more patience, no more waiting. He drove into you with a force that left you breathless, your nails digging into the hard surface of the desk as your body rocked beneath him.

He growled against your ear, the sound primal, raw, vibrating through your entire body. "And to think, you fought me so hard," he mused, his tone dark, nearly mocking. "Tell me, darling, was it worth resisting?"

You tried to respond, but all that came out was a gasp as he snapped his hips again, filling you to the hilt, stretching you, making you feel every inch of him.

Your body betrayed you, clenching around him, desperate for more. He felt it too, a pleased chuckle escaping him as his fingers curled tighter around your hips, holding you in place as he set a relentless pace.

“You take me so well," he praised, his lips brushing against your shoulder before his teeth sank into the sensitive skin. You gasped, your back arching, the sharp pain blending into the overwhelming pleasure. "This was how it was supposed to be. Only mine."

A wanton moan tore from both of you, the intensity of the moment swallowing everything else. Loki was everywhere-his hands gripping, his mouth marking, his body claiming you in ways you could no longer deny.

“You’re mine,” Loki growled, his voice rough with something unrestrained, something dangerous. His hands, strong and possessive, guided your hips against him, holding you exactly where he wanted you. He moved without hesitation, without restraint, his frustration from before bleeding into every punishing thrust.

“Say it,” he commanded, his voice dark and demanding. “Say you want this.”

Your breath hitched, the pleasure clouding your mind, leaving you unable to think past the way he felt, the way he filled you, stretched you. You knew what he wanted. He wanted the words. He wanted you to say what he already knew. But pride still warred within you, even as your body betrayed you, clenching around him, pulling him deeper.

Loki’s smirk returned, but it wasn’t playful-it was predatory. “Say it,” he demanded again, punctuating his words with a hard thrust that sent a broken moan tumbling from your lips.

You bit down on your lip, refusing, even as your body trembled beneath him. But he wasn’t going to let you win. His fingers found your jaw, tilting your face up, forcing your eyes to meet his. His pupils were blown wide, his expression twisted in pleasure, but beneath it was something else-something raw.

“Louder,” he growled, his movements turning desperate, relentless. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”

Your resolve cracked like shattered glass. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as a cry escaped you. “I want you.”

Loki groaned, the sound primal, his pace never faltering. “Again,” he ordered, his voice rough, breathless. His fingers curled around the back of your neck, holding you in place as he thrust harder, deeper. “Say it again.”

Your head fell back, pleasure surging through you, consuming you whole. “I want you, Loki,” you gasped, the words breaking free before you could stop them.

His mouth was on you in an instant, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, his desperation matching your own. “That’s it,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction, with possession. “Let go, darling. Let me have you.”

Your climax slammed into you, tearing through you with a force that left you breathless. Your body arched into his, your fingers tightening their grip as you shattered against him. Loki followed seconds after, his name a rasped groan against your skin as he claimed you completely, utterly.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, your bodies pressed together, the heat between you still lingering, still pulsing.

Loki’s hands moved to cradle your face, his touch suddenly tender, reverent. “Mine,” he whispered again, but this time, there was something softer beneath the claim, something deeper.

Your chest still heaved, the aftershocks of pleasure humming through you as you met his gaze, seeing something you weren’t sure you were ready to name. This was it-your last surrender. And yet, you were still panting, still trembling, and the look in Loki’s eyes had softened, the hunger tempered with something more, something yearning.

"...Yours," you whispered, the admission slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

Loki inhaled sharply, his grip on you tightening for just a moment before his features melted into something smug, but there was warmth behind it, true satisfaction. "Good girl," he murmured, brushing stray strands of hair from your face with an uncharacteristic gentleness, his fingers lingering along your jaw.

The moment was intimate, raw-until the coms crackled to life, shattering the quiet between you.

"ETA five minutes."

Loki sighed, his smirk returning as he tilted his head. "Better get you dressed, darling. Can't have anyone seeing what's mine now, can I?"

You felt the loss of him immediately as he pulled away, the absence of his warmth making you shiver despite the heat still simmering beneath your skin. Your limbs were heavy, still trembling as he helped you back into your suit, his touch lingering longer than necessary, almost reverent. His own attire reappeared in a flash of green, his expression shifting back into something unreadable, though you caught the satisfied gleam in his eyes.

As you both collected yourselves, he moved toward the door of the abandoned guard shed, holding it open for you. The night air was crisp as you stepped through, Loki falling into stride beside you with an ease that felt... natural.

As the quinjet descended, kicking up dust around you, you hesitated for just a moment. Then, before you could think better of it, you reached out, slowly taking his hand in yours. Loki stilled, his fingers tightening around yours just slightly, an unspoken acknowledgment passing between you.

As the rear of the jet opened, you walked in together.

TAGs @mischiefmaker615

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki x reader smut #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x yn #loki odinson #loki marvel #loki fluff and smut #loki fluff #marvel smut #avengers smut

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yapperblog · 5 months ago

Text

Part 2 of cafe worker!Joost x fem!reader

Part 1

Tags: smut, making out, semi-public, handjob, blowjob.

Explicit RPF below, don't interact if you are not comfortable with that; +18

You feel nervous walking down the same path you always take. Why are you nervous? There was usually a feeling of excitement to unwind, to see the sexy Internet Cafe employee – stifling your giggles who will he scold for breathing too loud this time. But now your palms are sweaty the closer you get to that familiar door.

After your first hookup with Joost, you haven't talked much. You got busy with work, and when you were able to visit the Internet Cafe, he seemed to be busier than usual, new customers keep flooding in. You would catch him for a couple of minutes of casual conversation by his desk, like he hasn't rearranged your guts in this same place. He would also come up to you ask about your day, the first time he did it, it made you blush furiously not having expected it from him. Other than that, you were short with each other and the timing wasn't right. Plus it has been almost a week since your last visit, probably the longest you haven't been in that place. So, all those thoughts piled on top of each other, you were feeling extra anxious to see him.

Today however you were determined to have a proper conversation. You are down to keep it casual, if he doesn't want anything serious, but you need clarity – it has been driving you crazy not knowing what he thinks about that night, does he regret it, does he want anything more?

Once again, you open the door, familiar sounds and smell greeting you, as well as a pair of blue eyes lingering in your direction. Joost smiles at you, as you come over to his desk.

"Hi you." he says, still smiling.

"Hi." It throws you off how cheerful he is, the usual scowl nowhere to be found.

"Haven't seen you in a while." his attention is still fully on you, on a normal fay by that time he was already back to typing on the computer. "Thought you went to the competitors. Maybe some other Internet Cafe has opened up." he tries to joke.

You stare at him silently and burst out laughing, the previous tension and anxiety simmering down. Maybe he is in the same mood to figure things out between you finally.

"I wouldn't dare." you lean in closer over the desk.

"That's right." he doesn't look away, matching your eye contact.

You reach for your purse to get the cash for the computer, but he stops you. "It's on the house today. Loyal customer and all that."

You look shocked at him, "You don't have to do that, but thank you." you mumble, a blush creeping up your cheeks again. He seems really happy to see you again. "All I had to do was the bang the employee? Should have done that sooner." you whisper to him making sure it is only for his ears.

"Shut up." he barks a laugh. "First computer on the second row is yours." he points in the direction of it.

"Wait, how does she get to use it for free?" a customer who just walked in behind you asks.

"None of your business." Joost is back to his usual demeanour, his eyes a reflection of being bored of the customer. "How can I help you?" he asks the guy.

You have finished the most important work you needed to do, looking up at the clock, you notice it is past midnight already, most of the customers went home, there is only you, Joost and a couple sharing a computer on the opposite side.

"Sir?" you call out in Joost's direction. "There is something wrong with this computer, can you check?"

His head immediately turns in your direction. "Um, sure." he walks up to you.

You point at the error which popped up. You know how to fix it yourself, and from the look he gives you, you are sure he knows that too. But plays along, catching up to your game. "Yes, let me check." he moves from standing next to you to reaching over behind you for the mouse and keyboard. His hand is covering the mouse over your hand, his skin feels starching hot on yours. His breath close to your ear, your stomach tightens over the simple close proximity to him.

"You are so good at this." you tell him, your voice innocent.

"Am I?"

"Yeah." you turn to face him, but he already fixed it and straightens up, leaving you so lonely.

"Thank you." your voice is quiet.

You finish the rest of your work and notice the couple has left. After waiting a couple more minutes to check if no one else comes in, you stand up and head towards Joost's desk. He is busy typing away, you linger next to him, when he finally looks up.

"Can we talk?" you ask tentatively.

He looks around the room, noticing it's just you left.

"Sure." he gives you his full attention now. "What happened?"

"Well. Nothing really, but that is the problem." you say not looking at him yet, mindlessly moving the things around at the top of his desk. "I know we don't each other yet, maybe the hookup meant nothing to you." you continue, he tries to interrupt, but you motion for him to wait. "But I would like to get to know you, move things forward. I do care about you more than just random sex, but I can't tell if you feel the same about me. You are kind of hard to read." you finally look up at him. He is looking at you intently, listening carefully to your confession.

The silence falls heavily between you, it weighs on you. Did you read this situation completely wrong, does have want nothing to do with you, before you can spiral any further, you hear his voice. "I also want to get to know you. Sorry if I left you in the unknown, I didn't mean that. I also didn't know if you want anything more. I was also so busy here, I am sorry." he says. "When you didn't come on your usual day, your usual hours-"

"You notice when I usually come here?"

"Ofcourse." he meets your eyes.

"I would love to ask you out on a date." he confesses. "Would- Would you go on a date with me?" he is also nervous, like you. It makes your heart melt.

"Yes."

Joost's gaze softened, his eyes roaming over your face with a mix of tenderness and barely concealed desire. You walk around the desk, his eyes following your every move, he starts to stand up, but you push on his shoulder to keep him sitting down. You stand in between his legs and reach out to fix his hair, brushing the fallen out of place strands. You notice the dark circles under his eyes, he works so much. Your hand slips lower, tracing his cheekbone, his skin warm under your palm. He nuzzles closer to you, his eyes darken, not used to such tender touches, but unable to tear himself away from the way you looked at him.

"Is this okay?" you ask him. So careful, the time feels like it has slowed down between you two. A contrast between how the first time went. "Yes."

You move to sit on his lap, he lets you, wrapping his hand around your waist, settling you in more comfortable, as he shifts under you.

"I really thought I might never see you again." he confesses, his voice barely audible, but you hear him.

Reaching up, you let your fingers graze the stubble on his jaw, caressing his cheek as you hold his gaze. “Kiss me, Joost,” you whisper, your voice a soft, desperate invitation.

Without another word, he closes the distance, his lips finding yours in a gentle, unhurried kiss. There is no urgency, only a steady, deliberate affection that conveys every unspoken emotion he’d held back. His kiss is soft and careful, full of warmth, he is tentative, but you lead him, showing you want him as much.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and you both share a quiet, contented breath, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment. But the tenderness only fuels the lingering desire that had simmered between you both, and with a sudden burst of confidence, you grasp the collar of his shirt, pulling him back to you.

This time, the kiss deepened, your lips moving in sync as the restraint melted away, giving way to something more fervent, the Joost who likes to take control shining again. His hands grab your waist even harder, pulling you closer, his fingers splaying against your back. The gentle intimacy turns heated, your mouths exploring, you open your mouth, letting his tongue tease yours. You can feel his breath hitch as your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, he groans against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

You try to pull away, but he chases you leaning in, not ready to separate yet, "Come here" his voice is low, breathless too, as he catches your lips in a kiss again. His hands slid down to the small of your back, then lower, gripping your thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His hands roam over your body, sliding along your curves, his touch sends shivers down your spine, like it's the first time being alone in this room again. However this time you are sure he wants you as much as you want him. You gasp against his mouth, a sound that turns into a soft moan, each sound coming from you pushing him closer to the edge of his composure. His tongue slips past your lips, exploring, tasting. Every brush of his tongue against yours sent a surge of heat pooling between your legs, each movement building the need that pulsed through you.

Joost shifts under you, and you feel his hardness pressing against you, undeniable. Your lips begin to wander, trailing a path from his mouth to his jaw, where you lingered, pressing soft, teasing kisses that made him shudder under your touch. You can feel the subtle stubble against your lips, the warmth radiating from his skin as you move lower, planting slow, lingering kisses along his neck, tasting the faint hint of his cologne mixed with his natural scent. Paying extra attention to the Lola Bunny tattoo on his neck, you hope to become friends with her and see her more often.

Each kiss seems to draw a deeper, ragged breath from him, his chest rising and falling as he leans into every touch, unable to hold back the quiet sounds of pleasure escaping his lips. You find it intoxicating, the sound you are able to pull from him. You let your hands roam freely, exploring the strong lines of his shoulders, fingers tracing down the curves of his chest. His pulse beats beneath your touch, quickening with each passing second. He swallows hard, his breathing growing heavier as you continued, savoring every inch of him.

"You are driving me crazy." he says, as you continue to kiss along his sensitive spot.

"You look so good like this." your words go straight to his dick. "I can't believe I finally get to have you like this."

"Fuck, baby. Don't say shit like this, I might just cum in my pants." he confesses tilting his head back, giving you even more access, closing his eyes, clearly enjoying your actions.

"Maybe I would like that." you let your fingers slide down his torso, tracing every line and curve of his body with deliberate, teasing slowness.

"What? Me cuming my pants?" his opens his eyes to look at you. You look up at him grinning, your hand finally reaches the waistband of his boxers, and you press your palm against him. "You are evil."

"You don't like that?" you remove your hand from him.

"Nonono." he repeats, putting your hand back right where it was. "I do." his breath hitches, a deep, guttural sound escaping his throat as he instinctively pushes into your touch, his fingers digging into your waist.

"I am enjoying myself too." you murmur, palming him gently, feeling his arousal grow beneath your hand, hardening with each brush of your fingers. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Joost. I wanted to know how you’d feel like this,” you admit, voice a mix of admiration and desire.

His hands roam your back, pulling you closer, his breathing growing heavier as he looses himself in every touch, every word you murmur against him. "More, please." he pleads, looking in the direction of the door. The cafe is still open to the public. It has been a quieter night than usual, but there is still a possibility someone might stumble in, but he is ready for the gamble, knowing you are too.

"God… that feels so good,” he gasps, as he looks, his expression a mixture of awe and arousal. His hands roam up and down your back, and you can feel the effect of every touch, every word, as his breathing grows heavier. "You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice rough as he presses a kiss to your temple, his words urge you to move your hand around his cock faster, encouraging every word. “Been wanting this… wanting you… for so damn long.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin as he speaks, his voice shaky, every word spilling out in a way that only fueled the fire between you.

"Seeing that guy ask you out,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear, “it drove me crazy. Couldn’t stand it. I wanted to kill him for touching you” He pauses, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his gaze raw, vulnerable, every wall he’d built around himself now shattered. “I’ve wanted you like this… needed you like this… for so long.”

Hearing him say it out loud, the desire intertwined in every syllable, makes your head spin. Feeling he is fully hard under you now, you slowly sink to your knees in front of him, his mouth falling open slightly at the realisation what you are doing for him. You maintain eye contact with him, as you feel the carpet dig into your knees, but you don't care, not when he looks at you like this.

"Fuck... you don't have to." he says, putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I want to." you say, and reach for his belt. "Do you want to?"

"Yes." he says it way too quick and it makes you giggle. He helps you undo the belt, lifting his hips to take off his pants.

You palm him through his underwear again, enjoying the delicious moan from him. You motion for him to take them off and he does. "Good boy." you purr and you swear you can see an actual sparkle in his eyes. Who would have thought the mean Internet Cafe employee, who everyone is so scared of, would be melting under your palm at a few words of praise. His cock jumps free from the confines of his boxers, but you don't give it the attention it craves so much. Not yet. Your hands drift up, playing with the hem of his shirt, your nails grazing his stomach lightly, sending a wave of heat coursing through his veins. A sharp exhale escapes him before he can stop it, his muscles tensing under your touch.

After feeling that you've teased him enough, you take his dick in your hands, the tip an angry shade of red, pre-cum spilling from the anticipation. Mixing it with your spit, you start to stroke him. You pay attention to alternating in pressure, swiping your thumb over his tip every time you passed it. Then you nuzzle against it, pressing soft, lingering kisses along the side, your warm breath sending another shudder through him. You are savoring every inch before you begin. Only then your lips part, and you finally take him in. The first flick of your tongue sends a sharp jolt of pleasure up his spine. He has to grip the desk, not to push his hips. Your lips wrap around him, slow and firm, dragging along his length with precision.

"Feels so good." he borderline whines looking down at you. "Keep going please." his hands find the back of your head, not pushing, just wanting to feel you.

Your tongue glides firmly along the underside, tracing every vein, your movements deliberate as you circle the tip before taking him in your mouth again, your lips stretching around his girth. The lewd sound of your lips smacking around you loud in the empty room, making his stomach tighten. You look up at him innocently, as you take more and more of him, your warm and wet mouth mixed with the view makes him almost lose his mind and cum on the spot. He has to lean his head back and concentrate not to end it too soon.

You are however relentless—taking him deeper each time, your spit slicking every inch of him. You bob your head with a slow, steady rhythm, a mix of suction and slippery, messy tongue work that makes his breath stutter.

Suddenly there is a noise of a door opening. His hand on your head gripping your hair, motioning for you to stop. You do, still with his cock in your mouth, you feel him sit up straighter, fixing his hair. There are footsteps coming closer, but luckily they can't see you from your position under the desk.

"Hello, can I print out a few things? Is there a working printer?" an unfamiliar voice asks.

Joost clears his throat. "Hello, yes. It's over there. How many copies?" his voice trying to hide the fact that your soft mouth is still wrapped around his length cockwarming him. The customer goes on a long tangent telling a story how the past few places had trouble with printing and he is walking all around town trying to make a copy of a document. Joost hums in approval listening to his story, one of his hands still wrapped tightly on your hair, making sure you don't get an idea of teasing him.

The customer walks over to the printer. "Call if you need any help." Joost tells him. You hope the customer can do it on his own.

As the footsteps grow quieter and further away, Joost releases his hand from your hair. You move away from him as quietly as possible, leaning your head on his thigh. He looks down at you, pressing a finger to his slips motioning for you to stay quiet and you nod.

You can hear the printer beeping and the customer settling in behind the computer. After awhile you start to get bored, as Joost got back to typing on the keyboard, probably pretending to work not to give away what was happening before. You start to press soft kisses along his thigh. He doesn't stop you, so you continue doing it almost with no sound, the buzz of the printer also helping to hide any noise. You get bolder and bite him, although not hard enough to produce the noise that comes out of him – too loud for how light the bite was. You lick over the spot, he looks down at you with raised eyebrows and you smile apologetically.

"Everything ok?" the customer asks.

"Oh. Yeah, all good." Joost replies. His voice shaky. "Just, um, you know, looking at prices. They seem to bite for real nowadays." the customer laughs at that and agrees. The printing noise continues.

You have to cover your mouth not to laugh at him too. After giving him a few minutes to recover, you continue pressing kisses along his thigh, inching closer to his neglected cock. He stiffens in his seat, but doesn't stop you, so you go further. You ghost your lips over the sensitive skin along his shaft, licking at the tip. His grip tightens over the mouse. You take him in your mouth, building a slow rhythm, not swallowing him too deep to avoid the noise, but enough to tease him. His breathing grows heavier and his big hand finds the back of your head again, his fingers weaving through your hair.

"Fuck. Stop stop." you hear him whisper quietly.

"All done?" you hear Joost say.

"Yep. Thank you so much." the customer replies. "Are you...alright?" he asks tentatively after a pause.

"Yes, I am totally fine. Tired probably. A long shift." he says with no waver in his voice, which makes the guy believe it, not wanting to ask any more questions.

The customer pays and you hear him leave.

"Shit." Joost exhales, his body relaxing. You are also glad he is finally gone. "You little devil." he looks down at you again. He brings you up from under the table and leans down to meet you halfway for a kiss. He groans still tasting himself on your mouth, he tilts your head to deepen the kiss, his cock twitching when you reach out to touch it. You break the kiss, "So sensitive." you whisper against his mouth.

"Get back to work." he leaves one last kiss on your lips and you take your place between his legs. There is a sense of urgency in the air, hoping no one else comes in.

You spit on his tip again, slow and deliberate, watching the saliva trail down before you gather it with your tongue and take him in your mouth once more. You deepen the rhythm, your mouth molding around him, your cheeks hollowing as you suck with more urgency, a wet, obscene symphony filling the space beneath the desk. The slick sounds grow louder, more obscene, as spit pools and dribbles from the corners of your mouth, coating his length in a messy sheen.

You take him to the base, your throat clenching around him, a loud moan leaving his lips, before you pull back, eyes fluttering your breath labored. You let another thick strand of spit fall, your fingers smoothing it down as you stroke him with both hands, your grip greedy, insatiable. Then go back in, your nails digging lightly into his thigh, steadying yourself, like you're getting lost in it. You feel yourself get wet, your clit pulsing steadily, listening to his moans, watching his face scrunch up in pleasure, his heavy hand on the back of your head.

"You like it, huh?" he asks, his chest heaving up and down. You hum around him, the vibrations sending an additional wave of pleasure for him. "So pretty on your knees for me." he brushes away a tear, which falls down your cheek.

He presses you down just a little more. "Can I do this?" he asks and you moan in approval, nodding. Your throat tightens as he pushes you deeper, the tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag around him. He keeps you there for a moment, his eyes closing in pleasure, "Fuck.." he exhales and lets go off you.

You wrap your hand around his slick length. Your strokes are slow, loud, your fingers working him with a deliberate pace. Looking up at him from under the desk, you look utterly wrecked—lips swollen and slick, spit trailing down your chin, eyes glassy and dark with hunger. He thinks you look like a dream, he is already planning the date in the back of his head, he wants to wake up next to you, he even imagines growing old with you, which he never did before. You pant softly, your breath shaky, as both hands work him with slow, messy strokes, your fingers coated in the evidence of your own devotion.

His thighs tremble as you keep stroking, your grip firm, fingers gliding over his slick length with a slow, almost lazy confidence. His breath is uneven, hot, moans slipping past his lips, same as your own, as if you are lost in the act itself, dazed by the sensation of having him in your hands. Your palm twists just right as you drag it up and down. Your eyes stay locked on his, a smirk on your pretty face. You lick over his tip and wrap your lips around him, sucking, bobbing your head up and down.

His body tenses as your throat tightens around him, your free hand rolling his balls in your palm as you move up and down with an unrelenting pace. Your movements are fast, ruthless, each descent pushing him deeper into your throat. His moans turn breathier, more frantic. Your tongue presses against the underside, rubbing against that sensitive spot as your lips stretch around his girth. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, spit dripping from your chin, but you don't stop determined to take him to completion.

His head tips back, mouth falling open in a loud moan as his hips jerk forward involuntarily. Pleasure crashes over him like a tidal wave, blinding, unstoppable. His muscles go taut, as he cums deep inside you, and you moan around him, swallowing greedily as if you're desperate for every last drop. The thick warmth shoots down your throat, and you take it all effortlessly, your lips sealed tight, sucking him through every wave.

You take your mouth off of him, your own breathing heavy. You leave a few more kisses on his thigh, helping him come back to his senses.

"That was... incredible. You are incredible." he says, pulling you back onto his lap. He takes a tissue from his desk and wipes gently at your lips.

You lay your head on his shoulder, as he puts his pants back on and wraps his hands around you. "Can I take you home? My shift ends soon." he asks carefully, nervously.

You lift your head looking up at him. "Yes."

He did take you home and fucked you until you couldn't take his touch anymore, his attention fixated on your pleasure alone. And you kept coming back to his place, months later it becoming a part of you, as much as it is for him. Your lives gradually intertwining more and more, learning how to be the best for each other.

You hear your alarm clock go off, reaching out to turn it off. Joost groans beside you, he only recently came back home after his shift, but it is already time for you to start getting ready for work. You feel his arm wrap tighter around you, his chest pressed tight around your back, as if he could be any closer to you.

"I need to get up, Joost." you try to peal yourself off of him.

"Just 5 more minutes, please." he feels like he hasn't gotten enough of you yet. He always feels so cold without you in his bed. He can't even remember how his life was without you in it. Your warmth seems to have fix everything.

He nuzzles closer to you, burying his head into your neck. You turn in his embrace, kissing him slowly, he immediately reacts and returns the kiss.

"How soon do you have to leave at the latest?" he asks.

"We have like.. 10 minutes max." you say. You really can't be late again. It is always the same with him when it is a night shift for him – he comes back late, you have to leave early. He wants to cuddle for 5 more minutes, which turns into something more, but you don't complain, you can't get enough of him too.

"Perfect." you feel him smile against your neck.

#joost klein #joost klein rpf #joost klein x reader #joost klein smut #yapperwrites

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its-avalon-08 · 9 months ago

Note

what about franco x reader: reader wants to breakup with him cause she thinks their relationship might not survive his f1 career and she gets insecure about all the girls he’s going to meet and stuff but he reassures her he actually needs her by his side? 🙏

why me? (fc43)

✦ pairing - franco colapinto x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, break up, insecurity, fluff

Y/N's heart pounded as she stared at the news notification on her phone. Franco had finally done it—he had secured a seat with Williams in Formula 1. The moment she should’ve been ecstatic for him, proud of all his hard work and determination, instead left her feeling hollow. It wasn’t that she wasn’t proud of him; she was, more than words could express. But the overwhelming wave of uncertainty crushed her, drowning out the joy she wanted to feel.

This is it. This is the beginning of the end.

She could already see the cracks forming, fractures in their relationship that hadn’t even happened yet. Franco, with his charm and talent, was bound to be surrounded by so many new people—drivers, celebrities, and worst of all, beautiful women who’d be drawn to him like moths to a flame. He would be traveling constantly, pulled in a thousand directions by his career. Where did that leave her?

It’s better to end things now, she reasoned with herself, as painful as the thought was. She didn’t want to be the clingy girlfriend sitting on the sidelines, wondering if he’d forget about her. What if she wasn’t enough for him anymore? What if, in the chaos of fame, he realized he wanted more than what they had?

Tears burned her eyes as she stared blankly at the screen. I can’t do this. I have to let him go before he lets me go.

time skip

Y/N felt a strange mix of pride and unease as she walked into the paddock with Franco. The energy here was electric, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Franco, in his Williams gear, looked like he belonged—every inch the rising F1 star. But that only heightened her anxiety.

As soon as they stepped further in, a small crowd began to gather around them, particularly around Franco. Models, influencers, and PR representatives, all with perfectly polished smiles, swarmed him, vying for his attention. Their bright laughter and easy charm grated on Y/N’s nerves, even though she tried her best not to show it. This was part of his life now, and she had to accept it.

But do I really?

One of the models leaned in a little too close, her hand brushing Franco’s arm as she laughed at something he said. Franco, ever polite, smiled and responded, clearly uncomfortable but not wanting to be rude. Y/N stood off to the side, suddenly feeling like an outsider in his world. The women around him were stunning—tall, glamorous, and effortlessly confident. How could she compete with that?

Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she absentmindedly unlocked it, scrolling through Instagram as a distraction. Her heart sank when she stumbled upon the latest post of Franco—one from his PR team, showing him posing by his car, looking effortlessly cool in his racing gear.

The comments were flooded with compliments.

“OMG, Franco is so hot. 😍” “Imagine being his girlfriend… I would die for that smile!” “Ugh, how is he single? I need him in my life.” “He could have any girl he wants tbh.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted, her fingers tightening around her phone as she scrolled through more of the comments. Each one felt like a knife digging deeper into her insecurities. These girls didn’t even know him, but they spoke as if he was already theirs.

She glanced up, catching Franco laughing politely at something one of the models said. The sight stung. He was just being his usual kind, respectful self, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch. Her mind raced with doubts. Would it always be like this? Her, standing on the sidelines, while he was surrounded by people who seemed to fit into his new world far better than she ever could?

Maybe this is how it starts, she thought, her throat tightening. Maybe one day he’ll realize he deserves someone like them—someone more glamorous, more confident, more… everything.

The thought hit her like a tidal wave. She could barely breathe as her fingers hovered over her phone screen. Should she say something? Should she pull him aside and tell him what was going through her mind? But then, would he even understand? Or would he just brush off her feelings as irrational?

She took a step back, trying to create space between herself and the scene unfolding in front of her. Her phone buzzed again, and she instinctively checked it, only to see more comments flooding in under Franco’s post.

“I can’t believe he’s still single… lucky girls at the paddock.” “Franco, when are you going to date someone? 😏”

Her heart dropped. I’m right here, but no one even knows that I exist. Y/N closed the app, shoving her phone into her pocket as she tried to fight off the suffocating wave of insecurity building inside her.

Franco finally broke free from the crowd, excusing himself from the models with a gracious smile before turning back to Y/N. He frowned when he noticed her distant expression, walking over and taking her hand. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft with concern.

She forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Yeah, I’m fine."

Franco didn’t seem convinced, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. "You sure? You’ve been quiet all morning."

Y/N glanced around at the women still lingering nearby, their gazes lingering on Franco even as he stood by her side. The weight of everything—the comments, the models, the reality of his new life—crushed her. I can’t do this.

"Yeah," she said, pulling her hand from his grasp. "I just need a moment alone." Before Franco could protest, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, confused, as her heart raced with the decision she had already made.

She couldn’t let this continue. She couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

Y/N had barely spoken since Franco got back from his meetings with Williams. He immediately sensed something was wrong, her usually bright demeanor muted, her smiles forced.

"Y/N, what’s going on? You’ve been distant all day," Franco asked, concern etched in his face as he sat down beside her. His hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

She pulled away slightly, feeling the weight of her decision crashing over her again. "Franco, I… I’ve been thinking. About us."

His brow furrowed, the confusion clear in his eyes. "What do you mean? What’s there to think about? Everything’s fine, isn’t it?"

Everything’s not fine.

She drew in a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. "You’re going to be a Formula 1 driver, Franco. This is huge—bigger than anything. Your life is going to change completely, and I don’t… I don’t think our relationship is going to survive that."

He blinked, stunned. "What? Why would you even say that? Y/N, we’ve been through so much together, why would you think this would break us?"

"Because you’re going to be away all the time," she burst out, her voice trembling. "You’re going to meet all these new people, and—Franco, you’re going to be surrounded by girls who are way more interesting, more beautiful, more… everything than me. And I can’t compete with that. I’m scared that you’ll realize you don’t need me anymore."

He looked at her like she had just said the most absurd thing in the world. "Y/N, stop. You really think I care about any of that? About some random people I’m going to meet? That’s not what matters to me."

"You say that now," she muttered, crossing her arms as if to shield herself from the pain of her own words. "But what if it changes? You’ll be busy all the time, caught up in your career, and I’ll just be… here. Waiting."

Franco’s jaw clenched as he grabbed her hand, his eyes intense and unwavering. "I need you by my side, Y/N. Not some random person. You." He brought her hand to his chest, his heartbeat strong beneath her palm. "You’ve been with me through everything—the hard times, the wins, the losses. Do you really think I could go through this without you?"

She bit her lip, tears threatening to spill. "But what if—"

"No." Franco’s voice was firm, cutting off her doubts before they could take hold. "No more ‘what ifs.’ I love you, Y/N. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t care about the attention, the fans, or any of that. It’s you who grounds me. You’re what keeps me going, even when things get hard. I need you to believe that."

Y/N’s heart twisted, torn between the fear that had been eating away at her and the raw sincerity in his words. "But what if I hold you back? What if you need to focus on your career?"

"Then we figure it out together," he said softly, his hand cupping her cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. Not because of fear, not because of this career. I want you with me, every step of the way. You’re the only person who knows the real me. And I need that more than ever now."

Her resolve crumbled as she looked into his eyes, the weight of her fears slowly lifting. "I’m just scared, Franco," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I’m scared of losing you."

"You won’t," he promised, pulling her into his arms. "You’re not going to lose me. I need you with me, Y/N. We’re in this together. Always."

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #logan sargeant #williams #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto x yn #williams f1 #williams racing #williams formula 1

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muwapsturniolo · 7 months ago

Text

Cyber Sex 💿 M. Sturniolo

"W-was it good?"

✘ sub!matt, loser!matt, domish!reader, riding, hand jobs, titty sucking, one use of mommy.

PT 1 PT2 PT3

Decided to give yall an early xmas gift!!! enjoy the last part to cyber sex!!!!

Weeks.

It's been weeks since she had seen Matt and given him a blowjob. He had accepted his reward of taking her out on a date, but now it seemed like he was avoiding her.

Which was partially true.

As always, he was focused on his studies, especially with finals coming up. He stayed cooped up in his room or in the library, taking notes on top of notes. Passing all his tests was one of the only things on his mind, the other being her.

He wasn't trying to avoid her on purpose, but he will admit he's been milking the studying excuse.

It wasn't that he didn't like her, he was infatuated with her. It was just the fact the she was...well, her.

Everything about her was intimidating to him, the way she carried herself, the way she smiled, the way she squinted her eyes when she was up to no good.

She was a force to be reckoned with, and she knew it too.

So here she was, gathering the bags of takeout and other things, leaving her apartment with one thing on her mind.

Matt.

She doesn't take the elevator, knowing that the stairs would be quicker, and she's right.

Soon, she's standing in front of Matt's door, a determined look on her face. She knocks twice and waits impatiently for the door to open.

Unfortunately for her, it doesn't. She huffs and knocks again, but this time louder, the impatience she's feeling only getting stronger. Soon, she hears the muffled sound of cursing and some movement before the door opens.

" Hell-" Matt's breath catches in his throat as he sees her in all her glory. His eyes widen, and he fixes his glasses, looking off to the side.

"H-Hey what are you-" She ignores him and pushes her way into the apartment, looking around for a few seconds before setting her items down on the coffee table.

"Alright Matthew, let's talk." The tone of her voice makes him look down at the floor.

"You have been avoiding me, I don't know why, but you have, and to be honest, I don't like it. So what's your issue?"

He scoffs softly and crosses his arms, looking like a scolded child.

"M'not avoiding you..." He trails off, knowing good and well that he's lying. She stands in front of him and tilts her head, not believing him for a second. " Oh really? You're not avoiding me? Fine then, guess I'll go tell someone else that they wo-No!" He shouts unexpectedly. A small smirk makes its way onto her face as he watches him fidget anxiously.

"I-I'm sorry ok? I just....Like I said, you make me nervous, and then finals are starting, so I've just been everywhere... I-I didn't mean to make you feel bad o-or anything." Her smirk drops as she realizes this runs deeper than him simply avoiding her.

He truly was scared and nervous; this was all new to him, and he didn't know how to navigate it, and finals coming up wasn't helping him at all.

She softens her demeanor as he continues on, rambling in an attempt to clear the air. "I-I do want to take you on a date...I just don't want to disappoint you o-or embarrass myself..." She wasn't dumb, she could read between the lines.

He didn't want to disappoint her sexually.

"Matt....You don't have to worry about th-"

"Ok but it is something to worry about! I'm 21, and I've never done anything remotely sexual! All I do is stay to myself and study! I might as well be called a loser! hell, maybe even an incel!"

She stares at him with a straight face, "Matt-"

"And then here you are, the most experienced person I've met, the most prettiest girl, and yet I'm being a pussy and won't even take you out on a date! I'm fumbling! Hard! If this were a test, I'd fail!"

She finds herself smiling softly at his academic analogies.

"Are you done?" She asks him once he finally stops talking. He huffs and adjusts his glasses, running a hand through his hair. "Good. Now shut up and listen to me." She takes a step closer to him, his breath hitching.

"I don't care about any of that, ok? I don't care that you're a virgin and that I was the first girl to hear you moan." His cheeks flush a soft pink, his palms getting sweaty.

"What I care about is a boy that I find cute, sexual feelings aside, won't take me out on a date.....Now, I got takeout and a Lego set I'm not building alone. Do you want to join, take a break from studying?"

So there they were in Matt's living room, giggling and building a Lego set, the empty boxes of takeout discarded on the coffee table. The tension once in Matt's shoulder had disappeared, now knowing nothing was expected of him, and she wasn't worried about any of that.

He was able to relax, slowly coming out of his shell. She enjoyed his company, his witty remarks, his dad jokes, and the way he laughed. She was getting to know more about him and his life.

He was a good person to be around.

"I don't know where the piece goes!" He grunts in frustration as he tries to shove the Lego piece against another. She chuckles and snatches the instructions off the floor and holds them up. "This is why we have instructions, but no, you're too good for instructions.'' she teases.

He looks at her with a face of mock annoyance, "I'll have you know I've built multiple Lego sets with no instructions!" He points towards the various sets displayed around his apartment.

"Ok well, clearly your no instructions streak is over." Matt huffs and snatches the instruction from her grasp, shooting her a sharp look when he hears her snickering. He looks down at the small words and begins to read them, his eyes darting across the page as his tongue pokes out in concentration. As he does so, she takes the time to really examine him.

He had on a white thermal along with some grey sweatpants, his hair was a bit messy from how many times he ran his fingers through it, and he just looked

good.

"I think I got it!" His shouts of excitement brought her out of her daze, her eyes trailing down to the paper pamphlet falling to the floor. She sits on her knees and moves closer, their faces side by side as he puts the Lego piece in its correct spot. His hands moved quickly as he put the other parts together, his body bouncing in excitement.

It doesn't take long for the display to be finished, Matt's head whipping towards her.

"Done! Told you I didn't need the-" His words trail off once he realizes how close she is. She feels his body tense and his breath hitch, his eyes darting between her lips and eyes.

She quickly takes notice, the corners of her mouth twitching gently.

"Do you wanna kiss me?"

Her voice comes out in a teasing whisper, her eyes taunting him. He gives a slight nod, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips.

"Y-yeah...."

"Then kiss me."

It's cute to her how scared he was, the way he slowly leaned forward and softly placed his lips against hers. She hums and stops him from pulling away, deepening the kiss and taking full control, allowing her tongue to enter his mouth. She pushes him back against the bottom of the couch and climbs into his lap, pressing her chest against his.

She giggles softly feeling his cock begin to harden underneath her, the tent growing bigger and bigger. She grinds against him, enjoying the way he whimpers softly.

She goes to pull his pants down, but he quickly grabs her hands, stopping it from going further.

"W-wait wait! I-I'm sorry, I umm-" He clears his throat as he pulls away from the kiss, his breathing ragged.

"Hey hey-" She caresses his face and chest gently, trying to calm him down. "What are you saying sorry for? We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I-I want to I just...." His face turns beet red as he thinks about him being a virgin. He knew that she already knows this information, but having to say it out loud, the thought, It was just embarrassing for him.

"I know, that doesn't bother me Matt."

"I-It doesn't?" He was confused, why would it not bother her? Why isn't it bothering her? Don't girls want a guy who knows what he's doing in the bedroom?

She smiles and plants her lips against his once more, " Nope-" she trails a few kisses up to his ear before whispering,

"- It's the perfect way to teach you what I like."

He can't help the groan that leaves his mouth, the thought of her morphing him into her perfect plaything, her teaching him how to please her....He loved it.

He slowly lets go of her wrists and allows her to pull his sweatpants off along with his boxers. She wastes no time, wrapping her hand around him and slowly jerking him off. He sighs out, the stress and tension in his body fading away with every stroke.

Her thumb swipes over his tip, his lips parting slightly. Her hand felt better than his, it was so soft, smaller than his own.

He's embarrassed with how quick his balls tighten, his dick twitching in her grasp. He was close to cuming, and that's not what she wanted.

She pulls her hand away and moves back, pulling her own pants and underwear off. She settles back down in his lap, grinding their bodies together. Her bare and wet cunt only provide him with more pleasure, his breathing speeding up rapidly.

"Gonna let me ride you?" She asks breathlessly, her own pleasure rising due to his tip nudging her cunt repeatedly. He finds himself nodding eagerly, too excited and lost in pleasure to form a complete sentence.

She smiles and crashes their lips together once more. She situates herself on top of him, lining his tip up with her entrance before sinking down.

It's always the slip-in that gets her.

Her head falls onto his shoulder as his head tilts back onto to couch cushions, her thighs quivering at the stretch.

He was perfect, just as she had thought. He stretched her out just right, filling her up to the point where she found it hard to breathe.

This was a new and exciting feeling for him, it took everything in him not to cum on the spot. Her spongy, wet, and warm walls felt different from the ones inside her mouth, and he didn't know which ones he liked better.

She begins to move back and forth, grinding against him before starting to bounce up and down. Her soft and pretty moans flow through the apartment, making it harder for Matt to think straight. She was like a siren, clouding his mind with her sweet melodic songs, luring him to the ocean for his death.

His hands stay limp at his sides, his fingers twitching as they itch to touch her.

But he was scared, scared that if he did touch her, she'd disappear, and he'd wake up thinking this was all a dream.

"Fffuck Matt, s-so big!" She pants in his ear, her arms wrapped around his neck as she continues to bounce on him.

Her thighs and calves quickly become tired, a pout forming on her face as she looks at him, begging him to help and touch her.

"T-touch me Matt - Shit!- P-please!"

He couldn't say no to that face, he'd be dumb if he did.

So he finally caves, wrapping his arms around her like a bear and helping her keep up with her own movements. He adjusts his legs so they are propped up, and gently begins to buck his hips, meeting her every time she lands on his lap.

She gasps as he hits that special spot deep inside of her, her orgasm getting closer and closer. Their lips connect once more, their tongues messily fighting and their teeth clashing.

He holds her tightly, his fingernails digging into her skin, leaving small indents.

He needed to be closer.

Without a second thought, he removes her shirt, her breast falling free and bouncing in his face. He doesn't know what came over him, but neither of them was complaining.

She throws her head back as he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, and fondles the other. He sucks gently, using his teeth to gently nibble on the skin.

He moans in delight, his eyes closing, his glasses lopsided as he finally gets to experience all that he's been waiting for.

"Shi-it! S-so close, please please please, don't stop!" She begs, urging him to push her over the edge. He follows her directions, not changing anything he's doing, and continuing to pleasure her.

He feels his own orgasm approaching, his whimpers turning into loud and deep moans.

"Fuck, pl-Oh god! M-mommy!" He didn't even realize he said it, but she heard it loud and clear, and it was just enough to push her over the edge.

She moans loudly and falls against his chest, her juices trickling out and down his shaft. The feeling of her walls clamping down on him repeatedly was enough to make him follow her lead, hot spurts of cum painting her insides.

They lay against the couch, the both of them panting softly, still wrapped in each other's embrace. She slowly peels her body away from his and smiles at his flushed cheeks and dazed expression.

"W-was it good?" He asks in between labored breaths, his nerves clear as day. It was obvious he was eager to please her, wanting to hear her praises and words of reassurance.

"You were perfect pretty boy......Can you handle another round?"

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #emo!matt #matthew sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #loser!matt #loser!matt sturniolo

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paraseleneg1rl · 14 days ago

Text

Pet

A Coriolanus Snow x Reader fanfiction.

Summary: In a moment of weakness, Coriolanus finally gives in to temptation and decides to save you from Dr. Gaul's laboratory.

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow being Coriolanus Snow, Obsession, Obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, misogyny, captivity.

Prologue

Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

Coriolanus Snow is a meticulous man. He has been for all his life. There is something rather pleasing, he muses, about careful planning and calculations and organisation.

After all, without all these particular measures, how much control could he have over anything? Too little, no doubt. It would slip right through his fingers.

Life would be unpredictable. And if there is anything that Coriolanus despises most in the world, it would be all things unpredictable.

He'd learnt this the hard way in his ugly past; from the Dark Days, to the 10th Annual Hunger Games.

Even Lucy Gray.

Now, Coriolanus is determined to no longer yield to drunken illusions and fleeting romances. No matter how fun and all-consuming they can be. They're merely illusions after all. All the unpredictable things in this world are dressed in wonderful bright colours. It's the perfect way to lure one into a sense of love and comfort.

To fall for such a trap again would be to fail himself once more. It would signify a lack of strength.

This reminder resurfaces with every glance in your direction. And it comes much harsher when he catches his gaze lingering a tad longer than it should.

But no. This isn't weakness. Weakness has nothing to do with this fixation. Its only natural. Biological. All men have penchants for beautiful women, especially ones like you, with your sweet fawn-eyes and your girlish innocence.

Why should he be exempt from having such inclinations? Surely he could indulge every once in a while. And denying himself of a slight, lovely girl like you is more often than not an onerous task. What would be the harm in admiring from afar?

The pen in his fingers halts halfway through his scribbling and he takes another look at you from the corner of the lab. Dr. Gaul has one gloved hand pressing on your neck for a pulse as you lay unclothed and motionless on the operating table.

His own heart begins to thud louder than usual. With a clenched jaw Coriolanus looks away and attempts to concentrate on the report in front of him.

It shouldn't matter how pleasing you are to the eye. How delightfully sweet you appear, especially now, as you rest unconscious. It is none of his business if you live or die. At the end of the day, you are Dr. Gaul's little lab rat. Not his pet to touch and admire.

“Alive," says Dr. Gaul, her bored voice echoing across the cold room. His grip on his pen loosens slightly. For a moment he pauses his scribbling to watch the strange woman lift both your eyelids open. She then shines a light in each. "Rather strong for such a docile little thing. Pupils have returned to normal. No sign of scale growth."

Coriolanus jots the information down in your report. Dr. Gaul's dissatisfaction is palpable even from a distance. He's adapted to it by now; her fickle moods often radiate throughout the entire Citadel, keeping every employee on their toes.

At the sight of Dr. Gaul approaching his table Coriolanus straightens up and sets your report aside. She snaps the rubber gloves off of her hands. Here comes the storm, he thinks bitterly.

"This project has been a complete waste of time," she scowls. "Perfecting the formula for this serum is proving to be much more of a challenge than I had thought it would be. Two of our subjects have been completely immune and four have suffered scarcely any significant effects besides minor changes in the iris and pupils. There was, of course, that runt from 12 who showed all the signs. But even those changes lasted no longer than a mere 5 days."

A part of him feels glad about the turn of events. Besides evoking a series of bad memories, this experiment has done little else.

Clemensia Dovecote's strange 'flu' often comes to mind; flashes of her high pitched shriek and the vibrant snakes slithering in the tank appear as vivid now as the very day it happened. He doubts the memory would ever fade.

Dr. Gaul had always been rather proud of that incident. With Coriolanus as her apprentice, they worked hand in hand alongside her fellow scientists at the Citadel to formulate a new serum; one that would result in similar effects, from scale growth to other grotesque reptilian features.

This time, however, the aim is to bring about life-long consequences. Where Clemensia only endured those unsightly side effects for a few weeks, the new serum is intended to permanently transform its user.

It's taken 3 whole months of unproductive testing for Dr. Gaul to finally throw in the towel and admit defeat. What a mess, mocked the voice in his mind. They were lucky all her experiments hadn't started another Mockingjay catastrophe.

If only he could skip to the future, a future free of Dr. Gaul and her loose screws...

No matter. All he has to do is stick to the plan.

There are only a few months to graduation; that's the time Coriolanus has left before he can claim the official title of Game-maker. Once the position is solidified, perhaps after a year or two, he will no longer have to be bound to this awful laboratory.

Coriolanus will finally be able to carve his way through politics, and move on to bigger and better things. Oh how perfect it would be; how nice to work someplace without the hideousness of cold bodies and blood and needles. Someplace that never reeks of rubber gloves or strange chemicals.

"Perhaps," Coriolanus begins, treading carefully. "It would be a good idea to allocate our resources towards other projects."

"Don't tell me what I already know, child," she snaps with a glare. Right, Coriolanus thought to himself. Of course you know it all, now that you've wasted 3 precious months of our lives.

It is the sound of your faint coughing in the background that distracts her from her dour mood. Coriolanus's eyes dart towards you, heart pumping at an uncomfortable speed. He finds it rather unsettling, the way his shoulders immediately feel lighter at the sight of you awake and stirring on the operation table.

"Another lab rat that needs putting down," mutters Dr. Gaul, eyeing you from afar with a bored look. "I have no more use for the thing. Make sure she's out of my sight by the end of the day."

Coriolanus's stomach twists into a knot. This is it. He will have to do to you what he has done to the others.

He glances over to the corner of the laboratory once more, where you shifted in place without as much as a squeak. It reminds him of the first thing that struck him when you first arrived at the Citadel.

How strangely quiet you were, despite your trembling. As opposed to the other test subjects, all of whom made sure to give him a hard time with their screaming and kicking and cursing prior to sedation, you seemed quite docile indeed.

And yet deep inside you were terribly afraid. He could tell; it wasn't hard to. In the early mornings he could see you shaking like a leaf at the mere sight of him stepping into the lab. Sometimes he would catch you blinking back tears from your glossy eyes.

Doing his job felt most challenging in those moments, when you would peer up at him through damp lashes and that half lidded gaze. Pliant but afraid as you awaited your slaughter.

The look of the lamb.

The skin that covered his palm would burn and tingle as it curved over your outstretched arm, preparing you for another round of injections. And you allowed him to, every time, without a single sound of protest.

A bunny trotting into the bloody jaws of a wolf.

And now at last he has to chew you down and spit you out.

"On second thought," Dr. Gaul pauses in her trail and turns to look at him with a smirk. "It would be quite a shame, wouldn't it, to let go of such a pretty face? Capitol men do love their District whores. I know one or two who would pay me good money for your little pet."

His heart beat begins to thump so loud it sounds queer to his own ears. Suddenly inhaling and exhaling feels rather arduous.

He thinks of those men in their crisp tailored suits putting a price on you. Coriolanus swallows the lump in his throat, fingers curling tighter and tighter around his pen.

From afar he can see glimpses of your bare chest and exposed legs. It is far from an unfamiliar sight, though no less pleasant; like every other one of their test subjects, he's seen you naked a few times.

And when you were, which was quite often, Coriolanus did his best not to let himself stare for a second too long. Especially when he had to sit so near to observe your progress and collect data. He allowed himself brief glimpses at best. Anything besides only forced all his blood down south, something he learned the hard way.

On occasions where his mind and body refused to cooperate Coriolanus would feel his cock twitching and aching in his pants. Begging for a release only you could bring.

It was quite strange; you had a little more meat on your bones than one would expect of a district girl. In all the right places too, places he sometimes longed to touch. You were a pleasure any man would wish to hold and admire and indulge in. Coriolanus wanted to learn for himself how soft your body truly is — if it's as heavenly to the hand as it is to the eye.

The sight of your puckered lips, your rounded breasts and the plush flesh of your thighs — shivering and pinned close at times when the dry air in the laboratory grew unbearably cold — was often so potent it left him lightheaded. But a quick trip to the bathroom usually straightened him out.

Capitol men do love their District whores. I know one or two who would pay me good money for your little pet.

They would, they really would, he's certain of it. The idea of their grimy paws pouncing on your innocence makes his stomach coil. Would you cry? Would you tremble and quiver in fear the way you did around him?

At the thought alone his breakfast threatens to make a reappearance.

The sound of the door clicking shut plucks him out of his trance. Dr. Gaul appears to be long gone now, no doubt off to the pantry for her milk and crackers.

A plan. Coriolanus needs one before the mad woman returns.

His fingers hover over your report, hesitating to flip the last page. He's never read the background information on any of the test subjects before, afraid it might stir up sentimental feelings that would only interfere with his work.

What did their past life matter anyway? Their fates were already sealed. What good would his curiosity do?

But in desperation to choreograph your escape, Coriolanus finds that his hands had already made quick work of the documents containing your information. He scans the pages hastily, reading top to bottom.

You come from a small family of bakers in District 9, he discovers. You had volunteered to be apart of these experiments in place of some pickpocket named Mary.

It's beginning to make sense now — why you yielded to every procedure, always so docile and pliant. Volunteering meant you had long accepted that there was no other choice, that this was to be your fate.

You must have known it would have been the other girl's unless you interfered. Which you did. You saved her from a harsh sentence, a cruel ending you did not wish her to endure.

That could only mean you had long embraced your own demise in place of her suffering. Even the possibility of death.

His heart expands with a painful stretch. Why had you offered to bear another person's sin? You were an angel of salvation. Who is this Mary to you, he wonders.

Tigris comes to mind. Coriolanus ponders over how brave she had been for him during the war. How her frail, bony frame shielded his whenever bombs rained down from the sky. How she never once put herself first before him & their Grandma'am.

A strange tight knot forms in his gut. All this time hidden behind your frailty was a selfless valour. A rare gem he was yet to find in anyone else besides his cousin. Most people are rather self-concerned.

Not that he is one to judge. He doesn't care much for kindness. No, not in the way he used to. Who could afford being kind anymore in such a cruel world?

He had risked everything to save Lucy Grey and what did she do? The little songbird betrayed him at the first opportunity.

Had he not retaliated against her tricks Coriolanus was sure he too would have died and rotted amongst those trees in 12. Silly, treacherous girl, thinking she could hurt him with her ugly snakes and menacing riddles.

Yes, Coriolanus mused bitterly, the good are cursed to be punished. This wicked world only hurts them and batters them and spits on their kindness.

Look where you ended up.

How evil does this make him, then? Now that he has, at last, found an angel among heathens, but then sentences her to imminent corruption? To be cruelly debased and degraded and dishonoured by the grimy hands of the lustful. Hands of the men that will strip this angel of all semblance of goodness.

To release you would be watching a sinless litte kitten get clawed and de gloved by starving dogs.

His chest rises and falls with every heavy breath. Perhaps now it is far too late to protect Tigris from the lengths she had gone to save their family.

But it isn't too late to save you.

Well i'm not made out of sugar.

No. With a shake of his head Coriolanus banishes the voice from his consciousness. He's now a great distance from the evils of District 12, from Lucy Gray. He is safe and this is different. There are no wild snakes slithering in the dark. Only mutts. And even those beasts are trapped here in the lab, all within his control.

Here in the Capitol, the power is in his hands. And yours? Well, as long as you're here under his surveillance, your hands are, and forever will be, shackled to him. Yes, Coriolanus will make sure of it.

He can save you.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coryo snow #hunger games #tbosas #fanfic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #x reader

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mediocre-shark-tales · 5 months ago

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Racing Hearts, Fractured Bonds

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

The garage was eerily quiet as I lingered near the entrance. Above, the TV displayed the times from today’s FP1, and my stomach twisted as I saw that name paired with that time. Sure, I’d done decently again, but Jack—he was struggling. Alpine hadn’t been treating him the greatest, and with his contract situation hanging over him, I could only imagine the pressure that had to be weighing on him.

It was the third race of the season, and Jack hadn’t scored any points yet. The closest he’d come was 13th, and it was painful to watch from the sidelines. A few days ago, he called me, needing to vent, desperate for the support of his younger sister. I had to lie—pretend I was clueless about what was happening in F1. I spun some story about how my job was stressful, how I was so busy that I barely had time to catch my breath. He needed something to distract him, some reminder that he wasn’t alone in dealing with pressure, and I gave it to him.

I tried to weave in a little of what I dealt with in the garage, but twisted the details enough so he couldn’t catch on. He couldn’t know the truth—not yet. He couldn’t know that I was Ghost. This season wasn’t about me; it was about Jack, about what he could achieve. I couldn’t risk stealing his spotlight. It was too late to share my accomplishments with him anyway. The family had no idea that for the last five years, I’d been secretly racing. Thanks to my uncle, I had the chance to continue karting when our parents couldn’t afford to support both of our careers.

I had taken the fall back then for Jack. I played the part of the dutiful sister, stepping aside to make sure his dreams came first. So why not continue to do that now? He loved this sport, and I was determined not to let our family’s drama overshadow his passion. He deserved this chance, and I would help him get it. I could put my dreams on hold until I earned my own sponsorships.

My uncle had seen the favoritism, saw how my talent was being buried beneath it, and quickly stepped in to help me race in secret. With his guidance and support, I proved myself and managed to secure a sponsor in just one year of karting. It was my time to shine, but not yet. Not until Jack had his moment.

During the last race weekend, Jack had been asked about the growing friendship between him and Ghost. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched his quick, genuinely happy response on the screen. “I don’t know who he is behind that helmet, but he’s one hell of a driver. I’m just really happy to have this growing friendship between us. At first, I thought I was just going to learn that all the rumors about him were true, but after the first few minutes of talking to him? Ghost is someone worth the time and effort. He’s more than just racing talent behind that visor—he gives incredible advice and offers such a fresh perspective.”

Hearing Jack’s words felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders. Even though my real identity couldn’t be there for him in the way I wanted, at least my secret persona could offer him something—the support, the advice, the genuine connection that I couldn’t show as myself. It was bittersweet, but it was something.

Suddenly, the TV cut to the Alpine garage. I watched as Jack’s car was rolled into his pit, and he got out, helmet still on, but his face was already etched with frustration. The expression on his face was unmistakable—he was angry, likely at himself. I knew how hard he could be on himself, but in this moment, I also knew that the harshest voice in his head wasn’t coming from anyone else—it was coming from within.

I turned away from the screen, my heart aching for him, and walked toward my driver's room. Once inside, I locked the door and turned on my TV. I grabbed a couple of towels to plug up the cracks in the door, trying to soundproof the room as much as I could. It wasn’t a perfect setup, but it would have to do. I needed to call Jack, to find a way to lift his spirits, and maybe, just maybe, if he asked, I could offer him the real advice I knew he needed.

The memories of seeing his face change from disheartened to energized—his expression lighting up with that newfound motivation whenever I gave him advice in the past—pushed me into action. I couldn’t waste time. He needed something now, and I needed to figure out how to help him find his way back to the confidence that made him the talented driver he was.

I took a deep breath and dialed Jack’s number, my heart pounding a little faster than usual. The phone rang a few times before his voice crackled through the line, sounding more strained than I’d ever heard.

“Hey, you okay? I’m watching the Practice Session right now. ” I asked softly, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tightness in my chest.

Jack let out a heavy sigh on the other end. “I don’t know, honestly. Just… struggling. The car’s not right, the team’s on me, and I feel like I’m falling short. Every time I think I’m getting close, something goes wrong, and I don’t know how much more I can take of this."

His frustration was clear, and it made my stomach twist. I’d always known he had a tendency to be hard on himself, but hearing him speak like this… It was like hearing a piece of my heart crack.

“Jack,” I said, my voice more firm than I felt. “You’re not letting anyone down. Trust me, I know it feels like it’s all piling up right now, but this is just part of the journey. You can’t rush the process. It’s gonna be tough, but you have to keep pushing.”

There was a long pause, and I could almost feel him processing what I was saying. I knew he didn’t want to hear clichés, but I wasn’t going to let him spiral.

“I don’t know, y/n,” he muttered, sounding defeated. “The pressure just keeps getting to me, and it’s hard to stay focused when the results just aren’t there.”

I bit my lip, choosing my next words carefully. “Look, I get it. It’s easy to get caught up in the frustration, especially when you’re putting in everything you have and not seeing the results. But the setbacks? They’re just lessons. They’re gonna make you better. You’ve got to use them to push yourself forward, not let them hold you back."

He was quiet for a moment, and I heard the faint sound of a chuckle. It was a small sound, but it was enough to make me feel a little lighter.

“Yeah… I guess you’re right,” he said, his tone softening. “I’ve been letting everything get to me more than I should. I needed someone to remind me of that.”

I felt a small smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “Anytime, Jack. You don’t have to do this alone. You’ve got more people rooting for you than you realize.”

He was quiet again, and I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. “Thanks, Y/n,” he finally said, sounding a little more like himself. “I’m gonna take a break, reset a bit. I’ll get back at it tomorrow. I’ll figure it out.”

I let out a quiet breath, feeling a weight lift off me. “You’ve got this. Just take it one step at a time. Don’t let the pressure eat at you. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” he said again, his voice lighter. “Talk soon, alright?”

“Yeah, talk soon,” I replied softly, a warm feeling settling in my chest.

I ended the call, staring at the screen for a moment, letting the relief wash over me. Jack was going to be fine. I knew he would be. He just needed time to sort things out in his own way.

I glanced around the small drivers room I’d been staying in and grabbed my bag, the weight of everything still pressing down on me. The call had gone well. I’d said what he needed to hear. But now it was time to move on, to get ready for the next race, the next step in all of this. I couldn’t dwell too long on this moment.

I threw my comfy clothes on and headed toward the door, the familiar sense of purpose settling back into my chest. I wasn’t just Ghost in the car. I could be someone Jack needed, too. Even if he didn’t know it yet. With my helmet pulled back over my head, I walked out of the room.

Returning to the track the next day, I felt a surge of energy running through me. It was a fresh day, and I was determined to finish FP3 strong and carry that momentum straight into Qualifying. As I walked through the entrance of the paddock, I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander, scanning the familiar surroundings. The excitement of race weekend always felt like a breath of fresh air.

My gaze quickly locked onto the unmistakable bright orange of McLaren team gear near their garage. And just like that, I spotted the one person I couldn’t help but feel a bit more drawn to than most. Oscar.

I quietly jogged over, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips beneath my helmet. Oscar spotted me almost instantly and without missing a beat, he made his way toward me, his own grin widening as our gaze met.

“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” Oscar teased, his voice light but his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

I gave a mock, dramatic sigh as I stopped in front of him, adjusting my gloves as if I were trying to appear serious. “I had to make sure you weren’t getting too cocky after all the hype from yesterday.”

He laughed, leaning in slightly as if to whisper a secret. “You’re just jealous. I’m the one people are talking about now. You’re just... mysterious."

I raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Mysterious? Oh please, you just wish you had my level of intrigue.”

Oscar chuckled and shook his head, clearly enjoying the banter. “I mean, it does give you a certain… allure, I’ll admit. But I think people would be more interested if you started hinting at who you were.”

I rolled my eyes beneath the visor but couldn’t hide the grin. “You know I’ve got my own idea of when that's happening. Besides, someone’s gotta keep the mystery alive, right?”

“Fair enough,” he said, giving a dramatic shrug. “I’ll just have to settle for the occasional secret chat when no one’s watching.”

We both laughed, and I felt the familiar warmth of friendship and camaraderie wash over me. Sure, we were competitors on the track, but off it, it felt easy. It was moments like this that reminded me why I loved being part of this world.

“Alright, alright,” I said, raising a gloved hand in mock surrender. “I’ll let you have your fun, but only because you’ve been so charming this morning.”

Oscar’s eyes twinkled, clearly enjoying the friendly banter as he patted me on the shoulder. “Just wait until you see me on the grid. I’ll be the one turning heads this time.”

I raised an eyebrow in challenge. “We’ll see about that. But good luck, anyway.”

“Luck? Who needs luck when you've got talent?” Oscar shot back with a grin, giving me a wink before turning to head toward the McLaren garage.

I stood there for a moment, watching him go, feeling lighter than I had in a while. Racing was intense, no doubt, but moments like these reminded me that it wasn’t all about the pressure—it was about the people you shared the track with.

I turned away from the McLaren garage, still feeling the lingering warmth of my conversation with Oscar. It was moments like those that reminded me I wasn’t entirely alone in this sport. But as I walked toward my own garage, that light feeling slowly faded, replaced by the usual tension that came with being in this space.

Stepping inside, I immediately noticed Franco standing near one of the engineers, engaged in a discussion about setup changes for FP3. Normally, I would have ignored it, heading straight to my driver’s room without a second thought. But something about him caught my attention today.

His expression.

It wasn’t sharp, wasn’t full of frustration or disdain like it usually was when our eyes happened to meet. Instead, there was… nothing. No irritation, no biting remarks waiting on the tip of his tongue. His face was calm—indifferent, even. It was such a stark contrast to what I had grown used to that it almost made me stop in my tracks.

For a brief second, I wondered if I should say something. A passing comment, a joke, maybe even a simple nod of acknowledgment. But just as quickly as the thought appeared, I shoved it away. Whatever had shifted in him, it wasn’t my concern.

Without a word, I walked past him, heading straight toward my driver’s room. I swore I felt his eyes on me as I passed, but I didn’t turn back to check.

Once inside, I shut the door behind me and exhaled. The quiet hum of the room wrapped around me, offering a brief sense of isolation from everything outside. I moved toward my locker, taking a moment to center myself before I started gearing up for FP3.

Whatever’s going on with Franco, it’s not my problem.

I had bigger things to focus on.

—

FP3 had been exactly what I needed—a confidence boost. The car felt dialed in, my times were consistent, and for the first time this weekend, I felt like I was fully in control. Every sector clicked, every adjustment I made felt natural, and by the end of the session, the data confirmed what I already knew.

I was fast.

Faster than I had been all weekend. Fast enough to believe that making it into Q3 wasn’t just a hope, but an expectation. My engineers were optimistic, the team was behind me, and even Diego had radioed in after the session, sounding genuinely excited about my pace.

"Keep this up, and you’ll be right in the fight today."

That was the goal. I was determined to deliver.

Now, sitting in my car during Q1, the world around me had faded into tunnel vision. My focus was razor-sharp, locked in on the track ahead as I pushed through my first flying lap. The tires were warming up well, grip levels felt solid, and every input I made was instinctual. The car responded exactly how I wanted, allowing me to carry more speed through the corners without hesitation.

This was it. The kind of feeling every driver chased—the harmony between man and machine.

But just as I was settling into that rhythm, my wandering thoughts were abruptly cut off.

Jack.

I spotted him in my mirrors first, then again just ahead as he threw his car aggressively into a corner. Too aggressively. His Alpine twitched under braking, barely catching itself before he powered out of the turn.

I frowned. That wasn’t like him.

Lap after lap, he was reckless, pushing way too hard, taking risks that didn’t make sense this early in qualifying. It wasn’t just a normal push for pace—there was an edge to it, a desperation woven into his driving. He wasn’t being smart about it, and that sent alarm bells ringing in my head.

And he wasn’t just fighting the track—he was fighting me.

I could see it in the way he defended, in the way he positioned his car in places that forced me to either back off or take the risk alongside him. Even when I wasn’t on a hot lap, he was making it difficult for me, as if he had something to prove.

To himself. To Alpine. To the entire grid.

And suddenly, I understood.

He was still chasing those first points. Three races in, and he hadn’t been able to put himself in a position to fight for them. Alpine had been struggling, his contract was in the air, and the pressure was mounting with each passing weekend.

He needed a result today, no matter what it took.

But if he kept this up? He was going to get himself into trouble.

Or worse—drag me into it with him.

"Diego, what’s Doohan doing? He’s driving like his life depends on this lap." My voice was calm, but there was an underlying concern I couldn’t shake.

There was a short pause before my engineer responded, his voice even. "We see it too. Just stay smart, you’re on a good time. Don’t get caught up in his mess."

Easier said than done.

I gritted my teeth as Jack lunged into the next turn, right as I was about to commit to the racing line. I had to adjust mid-corner, costing me a couple of tenths, and frustration flared in my chest.

"Come on, Jack…" I muttered under my breath.

I knew he was better than this. He didn’t need to drive like a man on the edge. He had the talent, the control—I’d seen it firsthand. But right now, that wasn’t what was driving him. It was something deeper, something clawing at him from inside.

I needed to be careful. If he kept up this aggressive approach, something was bound to go wrong.

And I couldn’t afford to be collateral damage.

Q1 wrapped up with a sigh of relief as my name remained above the cutoff line. I had made it through to Q2—barely. Jack had scraped through as well, his last-minute lap just quick enough to put him through. But the way he had fought for it? It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t calculated.

And it wasn’t over.

As Q2 began, I focused on my out lap, taking deep breaths to steady my mind. Jack had been reckless in Q1, but maybe now, with fewer cars on track and the pressure slightly eased, he would dial it back.

I was wrong.

The aggression was still there—worse, even.

Jack was everywhere. Blocking unnecessarily, moving unpredictably, throwing his car into corners as if I wasn’t even there. It was dangerous. He wasn’t just fighting for track position; he was fighting everything—the car, the circumstances, himself.

I was setting up for my push lap, giving myself space before the final sector when I saw him in my mirrors again. Too close. Too erratic.

"Ghost, be mindful of Doohan—he’s on a push lap." Diego’s voice was steady, but I could hear the edge of concern.

"Yeah, I know," I gritted out. "But he’s being a fucking menace right now."

I was about to back off slightly, let him go, when I saw the move coming—too late.

Jack dove down the inside at a speed that was never going to stick.

My heart jumped as my instincts took over. I tried to avoid him, turning wider to give space, but his rear snapped mid-corner. There was a split second of helplessness—nothing I could do, nowhere I could go.

The impact was violent.

The back of his Alpine clipped the front of my car, unsettling me at the worst possible moment. My tires lost all grip, and suddenly, I was a passenger. My car spun wildly, the world turning into a blur of colors and motion as I fought to regain control—but the speed was too high, and the barriers were too close.

I braced.

The moment of impact rattled my entire body. The left side of my car slammed into the Tecpro barrier, the force jarring through me. My head snapped forward against the restraints, my hands gripping the wheel instinctively even as the shock reverberated through my arms. Sparks flew, debris scattered, and the car jolted to a stop, leaving me pressed against the side of the cockpit, my heart pounding.

For a moment, all I could hear was my own breathing, harsh and uneven.

Then, Diego’s voice cut through. "Ghost, talk to me."

I pressed my head back against the seat, letting out a shaky breath.

I felt… okay. Nothing immediately hurt. Whether that was the adrenaline talking, I wasn’t sure, but I could move, I could think, and my vision wasn’t spinning. But I couldn’t speak—not yet. Not without risking the voice changer.

Instead, I used the failsafe we had set up.

My fingers found the pit confirm button on my steering wheel—two quick taps, a pause, then one more tap.

All okay.

There was a beat of silence before Diego responded. "Copy. Marshals are coming. Just sit tight."

I exhaled, trying to process everything. The replay was already playing on the big screens, and as I glanced up, I saw exactly what had happened.

Jack.

That fucking idiot.

He had completely ruined both of our laps. His car was limping in the runoff area, his best time now meaningless as yellow flags had been thrown in the final sector. My crash had messed up the track conditions, ensuring nobody else could improve before the session ended.

I was out. He was out.

And I was going to kill him.

I unclipped my harness as the marshals arrived, waving them off as they tried to help. I climbed out of the car myself, ignoring the stiffness in my muscles, and threw my arms up in frustration before stomping toward the escape road.

This was my chance. My first real shot at making it to Q3. And Jack had taken it from me.

I had sacrificed so much for him—so many years spent in the shadows so he could have the spotlight. And this was what I got in return?

By the time I reached the medical car, my hands were shaking—not from the crash, but from anger.

I didn’t care what bullshit excuse Jack had.

The moment I got back to the pit lane, I was going to let him have it.

The ride back to the pit lane was quiet.

I stared out the window, my arms folded across my chest, feeling the adrenaline slowly ebb away. The anger had dulled, no longer the white-hot fire it had been when I first climbed out of the wreckage. Now, all that remained was exhaustion and something else—something I hadn't noticed at first.

Pain.

At first, I thought it was just the stiffness that followed every big hit, but as I shifted in my seat, a sharp, pulsing ache spread through my side. Not just soreness. Something deeper.

Great.

Diego’s voice had already crackled over the radio, telling me to check in with the medical team the second I got back. I hadn't argued. I could walk fine, and I hadn't blacked out, but something definitely wasn’t right.

As soon as the car pulled into the paddock, I unbuckled and climbed out, biting down the wince as I straightened up. I took a deep breath and turned toward the medical tent, ignoring the curious looks from team members and journalists nearby.

I just needed to get through the checkup. Then I could deal with everything else.

But apparently, the universe had other plans.

I barely made it five steps before Jack Doohan was in front of me.

He wasn’t just walking toward me—he was storming.

His eyes were blazing, his jaw tight, and before I could brace for impact, he was right in my space.

"What the hell was that?!" he snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through the murmurs around us. "You completely ruined my lap! I had one shot to get through, and you—"

I closed my eyes for half a second, inhaling deeply.

"Jack." My voice was calm. Too calm. I wasn’t about to do this here, not when we were both still full of adrenaline and frustration. "We should talk later, when we’re actually thinking straight."

I tried to move past him, but he stepped in my way.

"Oh, so now you want to be rational?" he scoffed, arms thrown up. "After you wrecked and took me out with you? I needed that lap, Ghost!"

I clenched my jaw, rolling my shoulders in an attempt to keep myself from snapping.

"And you think I didn’t?" I asked, voice still steady. "Jack, I was on for Q3 today. This was my best shot at a points start, and now I’m out. But I’m not standing here blaming you, because—"

"Maybe you should." His voice was bitter. "Because I guarantee you, this was your fault. If you had just held your line, I—"

I let out a sharp laugh—one that wasn’t amused in the slightest.

"If I had held my line?" My calm shattered, fury creeping back in. I took a step forward, forcing him to meet my visor. "Jack, I saw what you were doing. I knew you were being reckless, and I gave you space because I didn’t want to crash. More than I didn’t want to ruin your lap, I didn’t want us both to end up in the wall. But guess what? You still managed to make that happen."

Jack’s mouth opened, but I didn’t let him speak.

"You think I don’t know what you’re going through?" My voice rose, frustration bubbling over. "You think I don’t understand what it’s like to fight for a seat, to feel the pressure of proving you deserve to be here? I do, Jack. More than you fucking know."

His expression flickered, something breaking through the anger for just a second. But I wasn’t done.

"I get it," I continued, shaking my head. "I get that Alpine has been screwing you over. I get that every race feels like a fight for survival. But this?" I gestured back toward the track. "This is not the way to prove yourself. Being reckless, making desperate moves—this isn’t going to convince anyone you deserve that seat. It’s only going to prove them right if they think you’re not ready."

Jack’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his anger still simmering, but there was doubt creeping into his eyes now.

"You don’t—"

"Yes, I do," I interrupted, my voice softer now, but no less intense. "You’re a damn good driver, Jack. But if you keep driving like this, you won’t just lose your seat—you’ll lose the respect of the people watching. You’ll lose the people who believe in you."

I took a steadying breath, my grip tightening at my sides.

"You think I don’t understand what it’s like to have people doubt you? I started in Formula E and IndyCar when I was barely more than a kid. Nobody thought I deserved those seats. They called me a risk, said I was too young, too inexperienced, that I was only there because of politics or sponsorships. But I didn’t prove them wrong by throwing myself into reckless moves. I didn’t try to force my way into respect—I earned it. I showed them that I belonged, that I had the skill to back up my place on the grid."

Jack’s expression wavered, the fire in his eyes dimming just slightly as my words sank in.

"That’s what you need to do," I continued, my voice unwavering. "Not by desperate lunges or risky blocks, but by proving to everyone—your team, the other drivers, the fans—that you deserve to be here. And you can’t do that if you’re too busy fighting the wrong battles."

For the first time since this argument started, he didn’t have a response.

He just stood there, staring at me, his chest rising and falling quickly.

I exhaled, the last of my fight leaving me, replaced once again by exhaustion. I adjusted my suit slightly, trying to ease the growing discomfort in my side.

"Look," I said, voice lower now. "I need to go get checked out. We can talk later, when we’re both thinking clearly."

Jack swallowed, still tense, but he gave a slow nod.

I didn’t wait for anything else. I turned and continued toward the medical tent, each step reminding me that something was definitely wrong.

But I had said what I needed to say.

And judging by the look on Jack’s face as I walked away, I knew it had hit exactly where it needed to.

The medical tent was colder than I expected, the harsh white lights overhead making everything feel too clinical, too still—like a place I shouldn’t be. I sat stiffly on the exam table, fingers gripping the edge as Nico stood at the entrance, arms crossed, his sharp gaze scanning for any unwanted intrusions. He had already made sure only one doctor would see me, someone willing to sign an NDA, ensuring that my identity remained a secret.

It wasn’t long before a nurse stepped in, clipboard in hand, a calm but no-nonsense expression on her face. “I’ll be your designated medical contact for the season,” she said, voice even, eyes flicking between me and Nico. “I’ve been briefed on the situation, and I’ve signed what’s needed. Now, let’s get this done.”

I gave a curt nod and let her do her job, staying silent as she pressed carefully along my ribs. Each touch sent sharp, burning pain through my side, and I had to fight to keep my expression neutral. When she reached the worst of it, I inhaled sharply through clenched teeth.

She sighed, setting down her clipboard. “Cracked ribs,” she confirmed, shaking her head. “Not the worst I’ve seen, but bad enough. I highly recommend you don’t drive for the rest of the weekend.”

I stiffened at that, already shaking my head before she could finish. “No.”

Her brows furrowed. “Ghost, be serious—”

“I am serious.” I met her gaze with unshakable resolve. “I can’t risk sitting out this early in the season. If it gets worse, I’ll deal with it then, but for now? Say nothing. Clear me.”

The nurse let out a long breath, clearly not thrilled with my stubbornness. But then she glanced at Nico, who remained silent, his expression unreadable, before looking back at me.

“Fine,” she relented. “But only under one condition.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Which is?”

“You follow a set of rules any time you’re off-track. No unnecessary movement, no overexertion, no lifting anything heavy. If I see you wincing or struggling outside of the car, we’re done. I will pull you.” She paused, voice softening just slightly. “I’m giving you a chance here, Ghost. Don’t make me regret it.”

I exhaled, biting back the protest that sat on my tongue. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a compromise I could live with.

“Alright,” I agreed. “Deal.”

The nurse nodded, scribbling something on the clipboard before stepping back. “Then you’re cleared. But don’t push your luck.”

Nico finally spoke up from his post by the door. “She’ll be careful,” he said, though there was an unmistakable edge to his voice that told me he wasn’t convinced.

I hopped off the table with only a slight wince, rolling my shoulders as I looked at him. “Come on, Rosberg. Let’s get out of here before someone starts asking too many questions.”

He gave me one last assessing look before nodding. “Let’s go.”

As Nico and I walked through the paddock, my thoughts drifted to Jack. What would he be like if he knew the truth? If he knew the driver he had just crashed into, the one he had stormed at in a rage, was actually his little sister?

I could picture it too easily—the hesitation, the guilt. Jack had always been protective, even when we were younger, even when he tried to act like he wasn’t. If he knew he was racing against me, he’d be too careful, too cautious. He’d hold back in battles, refuse to take risks, and in this sport, that was a death sentence. His chances at proving himself, at keeping his seat, would slip away. I couldn’t let that happen.

This was why he couldn’t know. Not yet.

When we finally made it back to my garage, I let myself wince as I moved, knowing that with my helmet still on, no one could see the pained grimace crossing my face. The adrenaline was fading now, and the ache in my ribs was creeping in, reminding me of the damage done.

One of the engineers came over, relaying what I already knew. “The crash put both you and Doohan in P14 and P15 for tomorrow. As long as nothing on your car needs replacing that would earn a penalty, that’s where you’ll start.”

I gave a small nod, unfazed. I had seen the aftermath on the screens before heading to medical—I knew where I was starting.

The garage buzzed with activity as people came and went, but eventually, I was left alone for a moment. I exhaled, letting my body relax ever so slightly, shutting my eyes behind the visor as I let the pain settle into something I could compartmentalize.

Then, the soft sound of something being placed in front of me pulled me out of it.

I opened my eyes and looked down. A small snack and a bottle of water sat on the table in front of me.

I frowned slightly and looked up, following the movement of the person who had left it there. Franco.

He was already turning away, walking off before I could say anything. But just before he disappeared from view, I caught the smallest shift in his expression—the slightest crease in his brows, the hint of something lingering in his eyes. Worry.

And then, just like that, he was gone. Not a word spoken.

I stared after him for a moment before shifting my gaze back to the water and snack, something unreadable settling in my chest. Then, without a word, I reached forward and picked them up.

Masterlist

Taglist: @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp

#x reader #driver!reader #f1 #f1 angst #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 grid x reader #f1 imagine #f1 driver!reader

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harpsinfinity · 7 months ago

Text

If needs must

part 1 part 2

I like the idea of sex pollen/fuck or die too much. So I decided to write it. Dinner is served Carlos enjoyers

Afab!fem!reader X Carlos Oliveira

Genre: smut smut and more smut (in part 2)

Warnings/tags: unprotected piv, sex pollen, slight dubcon (?), Carlos makes me feral.

Word count: 0.7k

@lolitaj

Credit to @cafekitsune for banner

Who knew what the, now abandoned, labs of umbrella had in store for the two of you. The kinds of experiments they carried out that were sick and twisted enough to make the toughest of people's stomach churn in horror.

The wretched company was the source of the horrific outbreak that had clutched raccoon city in its sharp claws, and the undead moping around. You were more than determined to put an end to this and return the city to its former glory, this place was home. You were going to keep it that way.

The darkened laboratory was laced with shattered glass and an array of used, broken science equipment, as if a hurricane was hurdled though it.

Looks like they left in a hurry. You thought.

What made everyone leave so suddenly? The question was gnawing at you in the back of your head, you had pushed it deep, deep down. Wanting to get what you needed and get the hell out of the building before possibly encountering any of the hellish creatures that could've been produced here.

Testing tubes rolled and clinked together from the push of your boot against them. The desks were covered in various DNA samples and files, which were quickly swiped to take back for thorough testing.

The flickering lights were aiding the eerie atmosphere that was created. Who knew what umbrella had been up to ? What kind of creatures or chemicals they could have stored away, kept until needed to wreck havoc on raccoon city.

"find anything ?" A deep, timbre voice spoke from behind you. It was your partner, Carlos. The dark-haired man had been assigned to explore this abandoned shit hole with you.

With a nod you reply "just some files, we'll find some more and see what these bastards have been up to when we review them."

Carlos hums in response "alright, good. Stay sharp, no telling what these fuckers have waiting for us" he spits his words out with venom at the talk of the company he had worked for.

As you two were nearly done with clearing out and practically looting the room, a sweet aroma catches your attention. Peculiar for a place like this, unexpected even.

You followed the scent as if it was calling to you, step after step in a trance-like state. Something was calling out to you, and you couldn't help but follow. Even though you didn't know what or who it was. You didn't respond when Carlos called out to you for help retrieving a sample of something.

That's when you found it, a plant. A plant ? That was even more strange. That's what was creating such an enticing smell. It was odd, but you were sure of it.

The plants cerise coloured petals had a bioluminescence radiating from them, standing tall and proud from it's stem. It had other, smaller little buds sticking out of it. They were just as radiant. It was beautiful, although it was clear this wasn't a product or mother nature. It was likely the piece of greenery was a mutation or experiment of some kind that was created for whichever theories the scientists were carrying out.

You'd never seen anything like it, but at the same time it looks all too familiar. You couldn't put your finger on it though.

The syrupy sweet fragrance filled your lungs again. The last thing you remember was the plant spraying some sort of pink mist, clouding over your head in a fluffy, cotton candy colour.

That was when you shortly collided with the floor. Everything going blurry, moving in slow motion, the faint echo is Carlos calling out to you in a surprised, shocked tone feels like he was far away. Get he was right by you, shaking your shoulders.

Everything went dark

#harpy speaks #carlos oliveira smut #carlos oliveira re3 #carlos oliveira x you #carlos oliveira x reader #re3 carlos #carlos oliveira #resident evil 3 #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil smut #resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil 3 remake

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sp4ceboo · 1 year ago

Note

NO NEED FOR ME TO HIDE🙏🏾🙏🏾

Bestie, are you going to continue Atonement universe?🥺 I am very curious on how their interactions could look like in the future, now that they have an accurate understanding of their intents

A/N: U ASKED JUST THE RIGHT QUESTION MY FAVOURITE BUNNY, but bc im evil i've made this into a bunch of feyd headcanons even tho no one asked

tw: 18+, smut headcanons (switch feyd ladies and gents), cannibalism (by the harpies), i dropkick everyone with feyd's trauma, therefore mentions of sa and pedophilia (fuck you vladimir), 'who did this to you' because man if that's not one of the yummiest things ever, nightmares, children and pregnancy, also sterility, swearing somewhere probably,

wc: 2.3k

part 1 (this can be read as a stand alone, it's just feyd headcanons)

feyd does everything he can to make up for how he treated you in the first months of your marriage

you assure him that it's fine, that he doesn't have to beat himself up over what he has done, but you still notice the pain in his eyes when he looks at you

he hovers close to you at all times, keeping a hand at the small of your back or pulling you close into his side

it's a strange process, only getting to know your husband in the fourth month of your marriage, but it's a process that you treasure

you'll ask him silly things from his favourite food to his opinions on the carvings on the table over there whenever the questions occur to you

it's late at night, while he's gently cleaning you up after sex or holding you tightly in his arms, your head tucked under his chin, when he tells you the deeper, more painful things

the grief in his voice is so raw as he describes to you how his uncle pitted him and rabban against each other from a young age, how his childhood was stolen from him - you ache for him, for the things that were taken from him before he could even fight for them

you find out about his nightmares soon after that - not because he tells you, but because one happens

you suspect there was something he wasn't quite ready to tell you, but you didn't press; no hands have handled feyd's heart the way he lets you, and you're determined to honour that privilege

a storm howls outside, and you think that the rumbles of thunder were what woke you

you turn over and realise it's feyd, his features contorted with fear even in his sleep, eyes rolling under the lids as he trembles, broken pleas leaving his lips

all you catch is a 'don't' and a 'please, uncle'

something cold slithers down your spine

touching his face, you grab his shoulder, shaking him, whispering his name, trying to wake him gently

a tear leaks down his cheek, and a meek sound leaves him, ripping your heart in two - you need to wake him up, free him from this dream

'feyd.'

his eyes snap open, and in them, you clearly see the expression of a trapped, cornered animal

you say his name again, and he looks at you sharply, unseeing

he's awake and yet somehow he's still trapped in the nightmare; he wraps his hands around your throat, and you gasp, nails digging into his forearms in an effort to wake him up

with precious air, you rasp out his name again, and he blinks, slowly gaining consciousness

his face crumples when he finds his hands around your neck

distress limns his features as he backs away from you, shaking his head, horrified by his own doing

your head spins with lack of air but you reach out to him, refusing to let him slip away - you snare him in your arms, hold him tightly, kiss his face

he doesn't move, afraid to hurt you

you pull back to stare him in the eyes

'i'm okay. i am okay. you hear me, feyd? i'm fine. i'm not hurt.'

he buries his face in your shoulder and when you feel hot tears on your skin, rage simmers and seethes, wrathful in your chest

'who did this to you?'

your voice is dripping with fury; he shakes with a sob, and you run your hands up and down his back, trying to soothe him and the anger inside you

eventually, he calms, and you tilt his face up, gently wiping the tears off his cheeks, waiting

he holds out his arms again, and you oblige him, letting him hide his face in your shoulder as he tells you the substances of his nightmares - memories of the baron, eyes rabid, hands reaching, and it makes you tremble with rage

you crush feyd in your grip, and he clings onto you, his eyes wet, letting you anchor his drowning spirit

the two of you fall asleep twined together, feyd cradled in your embrace

in the morning, you cup his face in your hands and tell him that you will protect him, fight for him, love him until your blood stills in your veins

one of the first thing feyd does is dismiss his harpies from their duties

originally, he was going to get rid of them permanently, but you convinced him not to, telling him you wanted to meet them

to be honest, feyd didn't really understand (he thought you wanted to 'use' them for a bit and was kind of taken aback until you reassured him you just wanted to talk to them)

he stayed in the room anyways, knowing that his harpies could be jealous, but he had nothing to fear

all you do is chat to them, and in the same way you charmed him, you charm them

feyd marvels at the way you reach out to them and connect with them with so much ease, laughing and joking with them, complimenting their pretty eyes and tattoos as if they are your long time friends

from then on, they are no longer feyd's harpies, but yours

they accompany you around the palace and sometimes to court

the latter causes quite a stir; none of the nobles can make sense of why the na-baron's feral cannibal troupe are now dressed in fine clothing and following the na-baronness around

you enjoy their company - they brighten your day considerably, and are not afraid to make remarks a little too loudly in front of nobles

you have to hide your laughter when one of them comments on the scruffy facial hair of the duke addressing feyd, even more so when he stares at them wide eyed, a little fearful of them

in a way, they protect you and you protect them

if a noble approaches you with disrespect, they'll joke loudly among themselves about the taste of his flesh

in the same way, if someone makes a snide remark of their presence, you're quick to challenge it

the perplexed look on feyd's face amuses you to no end when he realises they prefer you now

feyd and the harpies teach you about harkonnen culture

feyd especially tells you stories about how he hunted on forests long cut down when he was a boy, and you love to listen to him, watching his face and drinking in the softer, nostalgic tone in his voice

he shows himself to you in little ways

feyd complains to you about the nobles in the court, how he hates their decorum and their entitlement

he talks to you for hours about different fighting forms, occasionally getting up to demonstrate them to you, and you marvel at the accuracy and fluidity of his movements

he takes you to his favourite parts of giedi prime, shows you the volcanoes and the less polluted parts of the capital city

he tells you the story of every scar on his body, and you find yourself captivated by the look in his eyes as he recalls a good fight

he whispers on your skin promises - promises of love, sweet on his tongue but never cloying, always true

in turn he asks you about your old life, about your home planet and your family

you answer happily, loving the way his eyes follow you, their blue tone becoming your favourite colour

you tell him about the time you visited to see him fight, how you saw the fire within him even then, and he chuckles, enthralled by the idea that even when the two of you were too young to really comprehend what your arranged marriage meant, you were still drawn to each other

he tells you how when he raised his knife, victorious, he spotted you in the crowd - a small girl, her back ram rod straight - and thought you were the sweetest thing he'd ever laid his eyes on

not that you seemed breakable to him; no, he thought you were formidable, too, not even bothering to hide your frown in an arena of cheering, happy faces

it felt right that he would marry a woman who wasn't afraid of him

feyd teaches you how to fight

he delights in the way you grow so bold with him, delivering snarky remarks if he teases you, rising to meet everything he throws at you

you're a good fighter - unpredictable in your moves - and he's immeasurably proud that he was the one who taught you

sometimes, once you're good enough to duel, you'll end up staggering to the nearest somewhat secluded area to fuck

now that you know you're not alone, you're so confident of yourself, confident in the electrifying look in your eyes and confident in the way you make him beg

feyd never thought he'd like to give up control, but with you it's addicting

he trusts you

he lets you ravage him, lets you use him until he's spent, panting, thighs shaking, knowing that you would let him do the same - knowing that you do let him do the same

there's something so raw about letting himself go in your touch

his head spins when you tie him up, your deft fingers checking the knots and tightening the bindings across his torso, making art with his skin as the canvas

feyd is addicted to you in every aspect

he can't get enough of your pussy; he'd spend hours between your legs, pulling sounds out of you that you didn't know you could make

he thinks that the closest he's ever come to heaven is when he's buried balls deep in your cunt while you beg him harder, faster

A/N: i couldn't choose between these two scenarios so have both

EITHER after almost a year, you begin to wonder why you haven't pregnant

especially with the way feyd fucks you

so you seek the help of a doctor - the test results come back a week after, accusatory, damning

you're sterile

your first reaction is to tell feyd, but once you find yourself face to face with him, his gaze concerned as he holds your waist, you can't tell him

you just fall into his arms, staying your tears, doubts crawling into your skull and gnawing at the edges of your mind

you can't give him an heir

there's no way around it

what if he takes a concubine? what if he realises you serve no purpose to him? what if he stops loving you?

feyd doesn't pry about the tests results until the next day when he finds you in the shower, hands trembling and head bowed

he tips your chin up so he can look you in the eye

'tell me what troubles you, my love.'

so you do, with his fingers curled around your waist, the shower water running over your skin

he kisses you once you finish, and it tears at his heart the way you're looking up at him, trying to hide the worry in your eyes as you wait for his reply

feyd doesn't mince his words when he tells you that he doesn't care if you cannot give him an heir, that all he asks of you is to let him love you - it's then that the tears fall, and he kisses them away, holding you close to him

you grieve for the children you can never have, but feyd remains by you, almost supernatural with the way he senses your pain

your gaze might fall upon one of the servant's children, causing an ache in your heart, and within a few seconds his fingers will twine with yours and he'll tuck you into his side, kissing your hair

OR you have twins: one girl, one boy

the girl is three minutes older than the boy

feyd is obssessed with your pregnant body; he always has his hands on you in some way

he gets more protective, if that's possible

sometimes he lies between your thighs, his palms spread over your stomach as he talks to the two of them, and the softness and wonder in his eyes brings a warmth to your chest

feyd is with you when you feel the first contraction and promptly carries you to the midwives

he lets you crush his hand in your grip as you give birth to the lives you've made together, wiping the sweat off your forehead and quietly encouraging you

the first time you hand them to him to hold, he's hesitant, hands fluttering over you as he figures out what to do, but he's a fast learner

there's a fierce protective glint in his eyes when he cradles them in his arms, one that you glimpse when he looks at you too, and within it there's a deep, pure joy

he teaches them how to fight, and yet he's still so gentle with them, laughing as they giggle and cling to him, one latched onto each leg

the girl is how you'd imagine feyd was as a boy: half feral, yet charming when she wants to be, while the boy is a little calmer, more unflappable, and happy to entertain his sister's mischievous endeavours

both love the harpies, and there have been multiple times when you walk in on the twins gaping wide eyed at the harpies as they regale them with old tales

sometimes, feyd will scoop them up, one in each arm, so they can reach up and give you a little kiss on the cheek before he pecks your lips

you think it's beautiful, the family that you've made with him

feyd loves the way you look at him, with that mischief in your eyes, as if you're sharing a secret with him

he loves your sweet laughter, the softness in your hands when you touch him and how you don't shy away from protecting him, defiant even in his uncle's presence

he knows he would kill for you, die for you - he'd do anything for you

you would do the same: it makes feyd's head fuzzy, when you get so fiercely protective over him, placing your hand on his shoulder as you glare at the baron, lacing your words with venom when you address him

you'd stop at nothing, just to protect his honour

when you're after something, nothing stands in your way, and yet you can handle him with such soft, gentle hands, banishing his nightmares with the light tracing of your fingertips on his back

feyd heals in your presence, and you grow in his

your love is eternal

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