#no clue why the slightly different covers

[devonjwerkheiser]

devonwerkharder👂🎧🔥 • streaming everywhere • lay around • @goodvlly.music • do me a favor, stream it, save it, add it to playlists, and fall in love with it 🖤 #newmusic #dreampop #explore #discover #newobsession

[omgeto]

☆ WHEN YOU HAVE SEX WITH YOUR PROFESSOR — NANAMI, TOJI, GETO, GOJO.

summary: you have sex with your professor. for many different reasons.

wc: 4.2k (each of these were meant to be 500 words long so idk what happened)

cw: smutty smut afab!reader who's in university, mutual masturbation, spanking, semi public sex, toji is not a professor but a gym coach who rails you in a supply closet, but theres a lot of sex on a lot of desks so mdni.

an: theres actually a smidge of plot in this just a tiny bit if you do a deep squint, but the smut id personally say is my best yet. so give it a chance people, but come for the smut stay for the dialogue. hope you enjoy! not proofread ignore mistakes pls

☆ NANAMI

nanami kento, was the strictest teacher you have ever had. you couldn’t get away with your usual tricks that you did with some of your other professors — strutting past their office during office hours in your skimpiest clothes to get a better grade. it was as if nanami was immune to all your devices.

but with a big exam coming up, you knew you had to make something happen since studying was not your forte. so you were prepared to do anything to get that A.

“come in," his deep voice calls from inside.

as you enter his office, you are met with the sight of your professor, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, reviewing a stack of papers. he glances up at you briefly before returning his attention to his work.

"what can I help you with?" he ask, his tone professional.

“i wanted to see if we could talk about the exam you set for us tomorrow,” you start to say, his eyes still focused on his papers, not sparing you a glance. “i was thinking we could figure out a way for me to get extra credit… sir.” 

you had his attention now. technically you’ve always had his attention — yes nanami was different to all the other professors you’ve ever had but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a man at the end of the day. 

he always noticed the way you’d sit in his classroom, your pouty mouth always gnawing at your pencil as you never had a clue what was going on. nanami always had to hide his dick feeling tight in his trousers whenever you walk into his classroom. little did you know that you actually would’ve failed his class a long time ago, but because he just couldn’t let go of the sight of how your pretty tits bounce everytime you raise your hand, he always made you pass. 

“well what are you willing to do for that extra credit?” he says, his tone slightly amused.

“whatever you want” you respond a bit too eagerly, you were coming onto him hard. but it was working, you could already see the crack in his usual stoic facade. “c’mon professor nanami, i need to pass this class,” you practically beg. 

“oh yeah, you definitely need to pass this exam, you’re one more failed exam to flunking my whole class,” he affirms — lying through his teeth. “so i think you should come sit up here, and show me what you’re willing to do huh.”

suddenly, you start to feel nervous. usually you’d have control of the situation, you’d flaunt your ass, fuck your teacher and get an A, easily. but this time, you could see in nanami’s eyes that from when you entered his office — that he was running the show.

you saunter over his desk, and he pushes his seat back allowing you to have room to perch on his desk in front of him. “take off your shirt,” he commands, and you’re quick to fling off your top — that was barely covering anything anyways, “wow no bra, why am i not surprised.” he stares at your hardened nipples smirking as he continues to say, “you know i see your nipples peeking at me through your shit all the time in class.”

“really?” you question coyly.

“you don’t think i see how you practically fuck yourself in your seat when i’m doing a reading,” he continues, his arms folding as if he was telling you off, “a bit disrespectful, right?”

“no i-it’s just i really like the sound of your voice,” you stammer, embarrassed at him calling you out. you couldn’t deny that your professor was hot, everybody thought so and you hated school the only thing that got you through your classes was your day dreams of him fucking you.

“oh really, well i wanna see you get off to it for real this time.”

“wha—”

“touch yourself,” he demands with a grin, “fuck yourself on your fingers, put on a show for me,” he loosens his tie, and unbuttons his cuffs, ready to watch you perform for him, “and if you do well, then we could talk about your extra credit.”

you take off your pants, your hands moving directly to your throbbing pussy — since of course you had no panties on. you press your thumb down on your clit as your fingers work their way into your cunt. you were already soaked, just from hearing your professor speak to you, so it was easy to slide your digits in and out of you. 

nanami’s grin grows wider, loving the way your work your pussy,  “you not gonna play with your tits?” and you take his hint, your other hand sliding up to cup one of your boobs, your fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. “good girl,” he praises.

you add another finger inside of you, writhing down hard on his desk against your digits. you quicken your pace, rubbing your thumb vigorously against your clit. his gaze on you served as an encouragement, your ultimate goal was shifted, at this point you didn’t care whether he passed or failed you — you just wanted to put on a good show for him.

“you gonna cum for me?” he taunts, the sound of your pussy squelching around your fingers as you drive them in is like music to his ears. you barely even noticed him fisting his dick, stroking it hard — matching the pace of your fingers hammers your cunt.  “you gonna make a big mess for me all over my desk?”

“professor i-” you whine, wanting more than just your own fingers inside of you, “please i need—”

“professor? what was it that you called me earlier?” he teases, “remind me of that and then maybe i’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

“s-sir please,” you sputter, barely being able to string a sentence together. you could feel you were about to cum hard. your fingers were still drilling into your pussy, and your hands were still suctioned on your tit and nanami's dick was taunting you. “i need you.”

“you need me hmm?” he mocks, his eyebrow tilting as he stares at your fucked out face.

“yeah p-please i need your dick,” you beg, your pussy was gushing all over your fingers, as your strokes got sloppier, “i need you i-in me.”

“oh really?” he asks with a smirk, a slight chuckle as you nod eagerly, “well too bad.”

“wha—”

“you really thought i’d put my dick in a slutty student that’s not even smart enough to even pass my class?” he lectures, he tuts his teeth, shaking his head, “now finish off for me and leave office hours end in a few minutes.”

“f-fuck,” you moan out, you could barely even process his words, too busy focused on cumming all over your fingers to think about how he just denied you of what you really wanted, your hand falls off your tit, your head jerking back as your release over his desk. he’s quick to cum too, biting down on his fist to surpress the loud moan threatening to come out

“you really made a mess for me huh,” he observes, swiping his fingers across the pool of cum you left on his desk and bringing it into his mouth, “sweet.” you were at a loss for words, you were just coached through one of the best orgasms you ever had from your professor — and he didn’t even touch you — yet you still don’t know whether he’s gonna pass you or not.

“so about that exam…?” you voice trails, as you put back on your shirt, hopping of his desk.

“i’ll think about it, sit the exam first and i’ll see what i can do,” his voice turns serious, and he nods his head in the direction for you to leave indicating for you to get up out of his office. but just before you're about to leave the room he calls out to you, “oi.”

“thanks for the live show.” 

☆ TOJI 

“why do we always have to fuck in such awkward spaces,” you complain nearly tripping on a basketball as toji holds you upright.

“you know you love it baby,” he smirks, pressing a kiss to your cheek, thrusting up into you further. 

you were in the gym supply closet, having your weekly sex with your university's gym teacher. you don’t even know how your little routine came about but once he started to hammer into you every friday after basketball practice, you’ve never missed a meet up.

“don’t call me that,” you groan out at the use of his pet name.

“why not?” he grumbles, cupping your tits with his hands as he stands behind you, “aren’t you students s’pposed to listen to your teachers and all that.”

you take a sharp inhale as his large hands smother your boobs, his thick things toy with your nipples, “but y-you aren’t a real teacher, in case you forgot.”

“am too,” he mutters like a child.

“a-are not,” you spit back just as childishly.

“am, too,” he persists, thrusting into you hard. pushing you down by your nape, forcing your hands to grip onto some random gym apparatus. he uses his foot to spread your legs apart wider so he can fit right behind you. fucking into you with something to prove.

“you teach gym to a bunch of brain dead j-jocks, wouldn’t say that classifies as being an actual professor toji.” you continue riling him up, biting your lip as his hammers into you harder. “you’re more like a glorified personal trainer than a teacher.”

he drives into you deeper, “oh and your just an uppity bitch, who still ended up fucking this ‘personal teacher,’ in a gym closet,” his mouth moves close to your ear, as he whispers, “so what does that say about you baby?” he presses a kiss underneath your ear lobe, before lightly sucking on it.

his words go straight to your core, him calling you an ‘uppity bitch’ had the exact effect he intended them to have — you throwing  your ass on his dick, fucking him back as hard as he was fucking you. 

he sends a smack to your ass, biting his lip as it ripples at the contact of his palm. his slaps were merciless, having you scream out every time he hits your cheek. “how’s this for a glorified personal trainer huh?” he coos in your ear, feeling dignified as you rut against him more feigning for more of his dick in your throbbing pussy. 

“ah you f-fill me up s-so so good,” you mewl out, as his dick pumps in and out of you stuffing you with every thrust. his mouth latches onto the nape of your neck, sucking on it as he ploughs into you deeper, hitting your spot with pinpoint accuracy.

“i know i do baby, i always stuff you good don’t i?” he groans out, your pussy was a vice grip on his dick, had him suppressing his moans whenever you clenched around him, “don’t know why you fuck around with these lame ass boys in your classes, they can’t fuck you like i do. do they?”

“well…” you voice trails in a teasing tone.

“dont f-fucking play with me,” he sputters, feeling himself about to bust all inside of you, “i’m the only one you fucking right,” when he doesn’t hear an immediate answer, he shoves himself into you his hips pushing right against your ass, “right?”

“y-yes fuck, right,” you sigh rolling your eyes at his act of possessiveness — ignoring how you pussy got even wetter at his words. “you’re the b-best i ever had, toji.”

“you’re damn right i am,” he scoffs out giving your ass one final slap as he says, “you going finish all over my dick, c’mon baby coat my dick with your sweet sweet,” and you do just that. you cum with a cry, releasing all over toji, as he shoots into you a loud groan leaving his mouth.

“aww i forgot how loud you get for me,” you tease him as he pulls out of you, turning to look at him with a grin, which he huffs out, “anyways what did i tell you about cumming in me, i'm not one of those cheerleaders you run around with,” you fuss swatting at his chest.

“yeah you aren’t one of the cheerleaders i run around with,” he repeats, “hence why i can cum in you, you know you’re my favourite fuck out of all my students”

“ugh you’re so gross.”

“you say that with my cum running down your legs,” he says, giving you a pointed look, his eyes staring down at your thighs, “i do have another hour till my next class i gotta teach, so i could clean it up for you?” he offers, already going down to his knees, knowing that was a suggestion you would not deny.

“if you insist.”

he starts to suck against your thighs as you lean against the wall, sandwiched between a goal post and a hockey stick, but just before his lips latch onto your pussy, he looks up to you with a pout, “do you really think gym coaches aren’t teachers?”

“oh shut up toji,” you mutter, pushing his head to your cunt.

☆ GETO

you storm into your professors office, pissed off. professor geto was the worst teacher you’ve ever had. he was cocky, arrogant and most of the time he didn’t have a clue what he was teaching. 

“ah miss know it all,” he muses, his personal nickname he created for you during his first semester of being your professor, “to what do i owe the pleasure this time.” you were no stranger to geto’s office, you were practically the only student that actually used his office hours. geto didn’t mind it though. the unplanned visits, your impoliteness — he was amused by it. 

“could you explain why you gave me a B, on my last paper?” you interrogate, waving said essay in his face furiously, “when we both know that this is easily worth an A.”

“i just think you could do better,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “i just think you haven’t harnessed your true potential, that’s all.” geto knew you were smart, the smartest person he’s ever taught. he just needed to get you in his office. and he knew a below average grade on an essay, that didn’t even matter, was the way to do that.

“and what do you know about potential?” you mutter, more to yourself than anything, “i don’t even know how you managed to get this job.”

he rolls his eyes at your comments, “do you really want this A?” 

"of course i want the stupid A," you reply, your tone determined. "i've put in the effort, and i've met all the requirements for this paper. there's no reason for you to give me a B except for your own personal bias against me."

“personal bias? some may argue that you’re actually my favourite?” geto leans back in his chair, a sly grin on his face. "but alright, then. here's the deal," he says, folding his arms. "if you can convince me right now, in this very moment, that you deserve an A for this paper, i'll change your grade. but you'll have to persuade me.”

“persuade you?” you retort, “what you want me to do a powerpoint presentation or something…?” 

he chuckles, shaking his head at your naivety, for someone so smart you somehow lack social awareness, “no i wanna see if you taste as good as you look.”

“you mean…” your voice trails, finally catching on to what he was getting at.

“come lay down on my desk,” he says casually as if this was a usual ordeal between the two of you. he could see you hesitating, “you do want that A right?” 

your feet were stuck in the ground, you never wanted to be one of those girls — ones that had to fuck a teacher just to get through university. but, regardless of your below A grade, you were more curious about what it would actually be like. especially with a professor that looked like geto. 

you lay down on his desk, nervous, you could feel his breath on your stomach as he slides down your jeans. he was kneeling down, his face at the same level as your pussy. he toys with your underwear, pulling at it and snapping it against your skin, giving you a smile of approval in your choice of panties. but just before he pulls them off you he asks, “you sure you want to do it smarty? you can run back to your dorm if you want?”

“anything to get the A,” you grit out, basically lying, since getting your grade improved was the last thing on your mind as he pulls off your underwear. 

he takes his hair — that was usually tied up in bun —  down, releasing his long hair, “just in case you need something to pull on,” he smirks.

his fingers slide across your wet slit, spreading your lips. he presses a kiss on your clit, slightly nibbling on it before working his mouth down to your pussy. you gasp at the contact as he latches his mouth on you, his tongue darting into your cunt at a quick pace. 

geto hums in satisfaction as you hands immediately go to grab his hair, pulling at it as his tongue gives you long strokes, lapping up all the juices already spilling out of you. “i didn’t think my star student would be this needy, if only the class could see you now.” he taunts lifting his head up, “i guess they wouldn’t be surprised though, your as hungry for my tongue as you are to answer questions in class,” he finishes with a chuckle pressing a kiss to your thigh.

but you’re quick to silence him, clenching your thighs against his head, “s-shut up,” you whine, thrusting your hips up in his face to meet his tongue. your head was swirling, you could barely remember how you ended up on your professors desk in the first place. but all you were focused on was clawing your fingers through his scalp as he slurps and sucks on your pussy.

“oh m-my god,” you murmur, soaking his face. he could tell by the way you pushing his face deeper into your cunt, his nose forced into your arousal that you were close.

“ready to let me taste you” he asks, his voice sending vibrations over your pussy, “wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

“fuck d-didn’t think it’ll be this g-good,” you whine out. he brings his thumb to you clit rubbing it as fast as he could taking you over the edge. you moan out, practically squealing, as you squirt all over his face. he smirks, trying to get as much as it as he can.

“i didn’t know my star student could squirt,” he teases, his mouth glistening with evidence of you, “or should i call you my star squirter.”

“haha, very funny…” you deadpan, becoming slightly shy at seeing him lick his lips wiping the last remains of you off of him.

“i guess my theory was right,” he concludes.

“what theory?” you ask, puzzled, forgetting the whole reason you let him eat you out in the first place.

“you do taste as good as you look,” he comments with a pleased grin, already reminiscing about you squirting all over his face.

“so about my A?” you ask pulling up your jeans, and collecting your things.

“yeah i’ll expect your rewrite on my desk by friday,” he shrugs, going back to his nonchalant persona.

“rewrite? did you not promise me an A if i can ‘persuade you,’ at how badly i want it?” you question, going back to your original state of being pissed off, “did i not persuade you mr ‘you do taste as good as you look.’ this is so unfair”

“ask me if i care about fairness?” he smirks, a laugh leaving his lips as he watches you storm out of his office, “hey! you left your underwear,” he calls out behind you, his laugh growing as you say nothing, putting up your middle finger at him and slamming his door shut.

☆ GOJO

“do you want to lose your job?” you chastise, “shut the fuck up.”

“but i can’t help it,” he purrs, nuzzling into your neck to suppress his non stop moans and whines that he was doing as he pushed his dick in you, “your pussy’s just too good.”

you were leaning against the desk of your professor gojo’s lecture hall, your legs wrapped around his bag as he hoisted you up, grinding his body against yours as his dick drives in your pussy. 

it was after hours, and gojo forgot to lock his classroom doors. as soon as your peers left the room he was quick to put his lips on yours, throwing all the stationary on his desk on the floor in the most dramatic fashion ever. 

you don’t know how you got entangled in a relationship with your teacher. since you didn’t actually benefit from it, and he was needier and clingier than an actual student your age. but the mind blowing orgasms he gave you every now and again made you forget all of his ‘bad qualities.’

“c’mon don’t tell me it’s not making you feel wetter,” he murmurs in between kisses, “the idea of someone walking in on me fucking your pretty little pussy.” you ignore him, your arms tightening around his neck as you bounce on his dick. “tell me that doesn’t make you hot,” he eases his dick out of you slightly, drawing both of your attention to his member already covered in your juices. his eyebrows raise when you look back at him as if he’s just proved his point.

“whatever, i guess the idea of us getting caught isn’t that bad,” you lie, knowing it was causing you to get better, “but if we do get caught then it's your ass gojo.”

“aww you’re so thoughtful,” he coos, “you really care about me and my job, will you miss me if i get fired?”

“well i’ll miss my on campus dick,” you mutter, scratching at his back, as he thrusts into you deeper, “but i’ll be able to replace you quickly i guess.”

“oh how you wound me,” he mocks, pulling you into a deep kiss, desperate to taste you. that was gojo’s favourite thing to do to you, of course your pussy was great, but your lips were his favourite thing. sometimes he’d even drag you out of the hallway into his office —not a care in the world if anyone was around— and pull you into his lap just shove his tongue into your mouth and fondle your tits.

for a lousy professor, gojo sure knew your body well. he knew every spot to hit, every place to kiss, every stroke to make and you loved it. the scratches you were giving him on his back, encouraging him to go deeper, stuffing you to the brim. “f-fuckk you take me so so well,” he moans in your ear, whining and grunting as you tighten your hold around him. 

“i’m close,” he mutters, his pace slowing. he lowers you down so your back is laying on the desk and he swoops his mouth down to your tits. enveloping your left breast with his mouth, greedily suckling at it. 

“wow already?” you taunt, “you’ve really lost your touch professor, when i was an undergrad we could go at it for days.” his mouth pauses, as he looks up at you with a pointed look that reads as ‘girl really? as if you aren’t close.’ he wasn’t wrong, from his deep long strokes in your pussy, and his tongue twisting on your nipples, you were ready to cum all over him.

“gojo shit,” you curse, your hand coming down to your clit, flicking at it fast to speed up your orgasm. but gojo slaps your hand away, almost offended that you would try to cum off of something other than his hands and mouth. he bites down on your nipple, punishingly and that sends you overboard. you let out a shriek as you cum all over his dick, your hand quickly coming over your mouth to suppress your whines.

“what happened to being quiet huh?” he mocks your warning from earlier, “don’t want to get caught, do we now?” but he’s quick to let out a deep moan, as he releases into you, spraying your walls with all your cum. he slumps over you, exhausted, and wanting to just feel you — gojo was always needy after sex.

after you both come down from your highs and clean up — thankful that nobody stumbled across you. gojo pulls you into his lap, dabbing kisses all over your neck, “so when you gonna let me take you out, outside the classroom?”

“y’know that’s not allowed right?” you remind him, looking at your professor as if he’s lost his mind, “what we’re doing now isn’t allowed, but out in public is a no go, gojo.”

“not allowed?” he retorts, as if it’s news to him, “i thought it was just heavily frowned upon?!”

an: sooo what did you think? which one was your favourite. me personal lame gym coach toji really did it for me. tagging my girl @jabamin mainly just for nanami. but yes ALSO IDK WHY I MADE THE READER DUMB IN THE NANAMI FIC, but I juxtaposed it by making you super smart in the geto fic so it balances it out. anyways lmk what you thought, thanks for reading!! DONT USE MY DIVIDERS

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

start me up

pairing: leon x reader

tags/cws: cumming from nipple stim, thigh job, switch leon?, p in v, just the tip!!

summary: it's pwp

a/n: div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

wc: 1.5k

tags: @vaaaaaiolet @porcelainseashore @leonfucker3000 @rigorwhoring @withonly-sweetheart

You find out by accident. You're just messing around with Leon who's half-naked because he refuses to wear a shirt to bed even when it's cold outside.

"I'm always hot," he says with a wink.

His jokes may be stupid, but he's entirely correct — he is incredibly hot, all the fucking time.

You find yourself running your hands along his bare skin, innocently tracing shapes with your fingertips.

"What's the point of men having nipples if they can't even use them for anything?" you ask as your hands make their way over his chest.

"How should I know?"

There's something different about his voice, yet so familiar. His breath hitches and his body twitches at the sensation, but he arches towards your touch, not away from it. 

"Would you cut that out?" he asks.

You stop, worried you've crossed a line, but then you see the obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

"Why do you want me to stop?" you ask, with a knowing grin.

"Because, like you said… no reason to touch 'em…" he trails off, refusing to make eye-contact.

He's a better liar than this. He's barely even trying. Nevermind the Raccoon City incident cover-up, he kept your surprise party a secret for weeks, led you around the mall for hours so your friends could set up, and you had zero clue. That takes real skill. 

"So, this just came out of nowhere?" You ask, as you grab his hard cock through his pants.

You catch him off guard, making him groan.

"Maybe it did," he says.

"Maybe it didn't," you insist.

When your hands traverse his chest, testing the waters, you look him in the eyes to make sure he's okay with this. He gives you an almost imperceptible nod — the reluctant go-ahead. He wants you to do it again, but he doesn't want to admit it. 

Before you can resume your little experiment, he grabs your cheeks and pulls you towards him, distracts you for a moment with a fervent kiss. His attempts to regain control are in vain. You don't have to think to kiss him, it's second nature, so your mouth doesn't leave his until you decide to take your lips lower. You work your way down his neck, his collarbone, his shoulders, chest, and when your open-mouthed kisses reach their desired location — his supposedly-useless nipples — he whimpers. You can tell it's an attempt to hold back a moan, but the sound only comes out more desperate.

Effectively straddling his lap now as he lies on his back, you can feel him shamelessly bucking his hips up, trying to get some friction, some attention where he really wants it. You don't stop him, but you don't move your attention away from his nipples either. You switch back and forth between the two, flicking your tongue over one and your thumb over the other.

His breath quickens, as does his heartbeat, and he grips the bed sheets beneath him in lieu of touching you, like he's trying to avoid alerting you to the fact that he's so close. As if he could get away with cumming in his pants without you noticing.

Instead of teasing him, knowing he'll push you away and you won't get what you want, which is to see his head tipped back in pleasure as he moans your name, you ever-so-slightly reciprocate the movement of your hips against his.

His tone is urgent when he all but screams, "fuck fuck fuck". He can't decide if it's worth the embarrassment to let himself go over the edge but it's too late to make the choice not to. You do him the favor of palming him through his sweats as he cums, earning a breathy 'thank you' from Leon.

Once he regains his composure, he flips you onto your back, dips his head between your thighs, and makes you cum almost as quickly as he did. The image of him cumming in his pants brings you over the edge then as well as every time you touch yourself in the next week or so. 

So, of course, when you're in a similar position, half-naked and in bed (except this time you're already making out, he's already hard), you say, "we should try that thing again."

You flick one of his nipples to let him know which "thing" you're talking about.

"No," he mumbles into your, mouth, still kissing you, "I wanna fuck you this time."

"What if we compromise?"

"What's your idea of compromise?"

"You can fuck me, but not my pussy."

"Your mouth?" he asks, looking a bit boyish in his excitement.

"Nope."

"Your ass?" He looks surprised, yet not offended by the idea.

"No, Leon, you get to fuck my thighs."

At first, he looks disappointed, but then he grips the flesh of your thighs, and smiles. "They are nice," he muses as he runs his palms over your soft skin.

He's already under your spell, desperate for anything you're willing to give him. Sure, your thighs might not be the same as your cunt, but compared to his hand, your thighs feel like heaven when he slides his cock between them.

You insisted upon lubing him up lest he chafe your thighs with his thrusts. You lock eyes as he lifts your legs up, and you both know he's not going to last long.

He's a mess – rambling incoherently, hips stuttering, eyes screwed shut, knowing that one look at you equals an instant orgasm. But he can't resist. You lock eyes as he shoots ropes of white from your belly button to your chin. You wonder if there's a world record for this.

His cheeks are bright red when his eyes finally meet yours again.

"That was the hottest fucking thing, like ever," you say, much to his surprise. And you mean it wholeheartedly.

"Seriously?" he asks.

"Yeah, I might even let you fuck me as a reward."

Or at least that's what you say. But what you really mean is: I might need you to fuck me because you made me unbearably aroused.

One thing that Leon excels at is getting hard at a moment's notice. It's like how some people can cry on command – Leon can pop a boner just by willing himself to do so.

There's a caveat, of course. "But, just the tip," you say.

"You really only want just the tip?" he asks, teasingly, an attempt to turn the tables as he lazily drags his fingers along your dripping slit.

Yeah, you really do. You really wanna see him cum from almost nothing, again and again for the rest of your life.

"Mhm," you hum as you take his cock and guide it to your entrance.

You both gasp when you feel the head slip inside you. It's an unspoken challenge to see who cums first, and as he begins to thrust, you worry you might lose.

It's addicting – and quickly, you realize the tip isn't enough.

"Leon, Leon, Leon," you chant his name as if you don't have his full undivided attention. "I need more. I need you to fuck me – for real."

"Oh? I thought you wanted just the tip, baby?" He taunts.

"I changed my mind," you say, and seeing the smirk on his face, you add a sincere, desperate, "please."

"Too bad," he says. "I'll fuck you deeper later, baby, but you're getting what you asked for this time."

If he wasn't mean already, he is when he removes his cock entirely. You look at him in shock and horror. His only reaction is to slide his cock along your folds.

"You're so fucking mean," you say, and in that moment, you're convinced you mean it.

"And? What are you gonna do about it, huh?"

"Nothing!” You’re on the verge of tears now. “I surrender. I'll do whatever you want if you just fuck me."

"Whatever I want?" He asks, teasing your entrance with the tip.

You clench around nothing, in anticipation, in vain. "Yes. Whatever you want."

You're prepared to run down the street naked or enter a cage of hungry tigers, but what he asks for is worse. "Okay. Dishes for the week."

You groan, dreading the chore (but not enough to reject the bargain).

"And laundry," he adds.

You don’t even have a chance to think about your answer. Your pussy is in control now as your mind is lost somewhere in the pool of wetness dripping out of you. "Okay, fine, goddamnit, just fuck me."

So, he does. Since you practically milked him dry with just your thighs, he can last much longer. You are at a disadvantage. He fucks you at a merciless pace, making you scream out his name (and making your neighbors hate you even more than they already do).

The orgasm you share makes a mess of the sheets and when Leon pulls out of you, you remember your agreement.

"Oh, fuck me," you say.

"I already did, baby," he says with a particularly cheery tone, basking in the bliss of two orgasms and zero chores.

[silhouetteonpaper]

You’ve Changed

Summary: You’ve been hiding out for ages, living your own life now that you’ve chosen to be a solo-act agent. When someone from your past happens to appear at your door--this time with something on her mind--how will you react? Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 1,497 Warnings: None

“You’ve changed so much since the last time I saw you.” A voice fills the kitchen, leaving you startled as you turn to face the redhead standing in the open door frame. Her green eyes trail up and down your entirety for a moment as she takes in your appearance. You know you look quite different from the last time she saw you, over a year having passed since you left the compound.

“How’d you find me?” You ask with a slight coldness, turning back to the sink to finish putting stray dishes away. In reality, you don’t care how she found her way here, but a part of you is curious why Natasha’s standing in your apartment thousands of miles away from her own home.

“I told you I’d always keep an eye on you.” Natasha answers, stepping into the kitchen to eye all the things you have sprawled on the dining table. You peek over your shoulder to see her thumbing through the various papers. Maps, charts, diagrams, and clues sit covering at least half of the table, your next project in full fruition.

“Something caught your eye?” You question, crossing your arms as you lean against the counter. She’s certainly making herself at home. You don’t feel obligated to explain your use of all these documents, but something has her intrigued by them.

“Actually, that’s why I’m here. It seems we need your help with a mission, and you’re already two steps ahead.” She tells you, finally looking up to wait for a response. You say nothing at first, eyebrows raising for just a second as you feel a sense of surprise wash over you. It’s no secret that you left the compound to be on your own, when you felt like it was the best option for everyone since you don’t work well on a team.

What everyone doesn’t know is that you’ve continued your work as an agent, employed by whoever needs their dirty work done across the globe. You aren’t going to deny your capabilities as a top agent, you just couldn’t stay at the compound where you felt like a distraction more than a hero. Unfortunately your temper would get in the way more often than not, the constant bickering between you and your teammates jeopardizing missions.

“You came all this way just to see what information I have on a little mission?” You huff, leaning over the table to gather the documents. You stack them neatly and place them out of sight on a nearby bookshelf. You’ve been researching a specific target for months now, why would you share all your collected evidence this far along?

“We don’t just want the intel you have on this mission, we want you to join it.” She says plainly, her eyes refusing to leave you. You sigh, rubbing your forehead with your hand in contemplation. The last thing you expected was Natasha asking for help, let alone her showing up on your doorstep.

“After all this time, I never thought I’d see you crawling back for my help.” You admit, giving her a small smirk. She returns it, shrugging slightly as she speaks. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to offer your hand for this mission, you already have so much intel on it and could be of use. But what would that mean for you and Nat working together again?

“Life has a funny way of bringing people back together, doesn’t it?” Natasha expresses, earning a chuckle from you. You shake your head in disbelief, taking in the redhead standing in the room that was empty just a moment ago.

“When do we start?”

You show Natasha around the hideaway apartment you’ve rented for just over a year now since leaving New York. It stands in the center of Austria, hidden from any enemy eyes that could possibly be spying on a young agent. It was supposed to be hidden from the eyes of everyone, but it seems the Avengers once again proved their ability to locate anything and anyone.

“Is that blood?” Natasha asks, motioning to a worn floorboard with a mysterious stain.

“No?” You answer with hesitance, quick to move on to the next part of the apartment. It seems too soon to explain your continuation in crime fighting after moving to Austria. You know Natasha wouldn’t approve of your lifestyle, let alone the Avengers. They were always so protective over you, yet another reason why you needed to leave.

She doesn’t say anything, stepping cautiously over the floorboard as you move into the living room and conclude the tour.

Natasha informed you of the plan; tomorrow, you move to a safe house off the border of Romania where you’ll infiltrate a HYDRA base just a few miles out. You’re surprised at the trust held in your ability to infiltrate an enemy base, considering Natasha thinks the last time you engaged in any form of combat was at the compound.

While you both wait for the sun to set and the night to turn into morning, the two of you sit in the living room, silence echoing as the unfamiliarity of each other fills the room. You don’t know if Natasha feels betrayed, hurt, or even scared from your disappearance. You know how much she cares about you, or how much she used to anyway. Is there any bit of that caring nature left? Or was it demolished when you ran away from the one place you thought of as home?

“You promised you’d be safe when you left.” Natasha suddenly spoke, breaking the silent tension strung between you. Your head pops up, eyes moving from the window to her. What is she implying? What does she know?

“You promised you’d let me make my own decisions.” You remark, your gaze finding the window again. You aren’t going to give her the satisfaction of eye contact if she’s going to play this game.

“I don’t want you running around the world, fighting dangerous people you can’t handle on your own.” She jabs, her knowledge of your life here revealing itself. She knows you’re still an agent. Your eyes narrow, turning to face her completely. Your heart rate increases, unaware that she’d still think you aren’t capable of this lifestyle.

“I can fend for myself, thanks. If you have such a big problem with me making a living, you can leave. Figure out the mission yourself.” You stand up in a rush, preparing to get some space from the woman you barely recognize. It seems she doesn’t even recognize you either, unwilling to accept your true state as an adult now.

You freeze at the words that fall from her lips next. “You’re not the person I thought you were.” She says softly. Is that supposed to be some sort of apology?

“That’s what happens when people grow up. They change. They find aspirations, goals. They live their lives.” You voice, slowly turning back to face her. You feel the silence creep over the room as she pauses a moment to think.

“What I mean is, you’re more mature. You’ve grown, in more ways than one.” She laughs. “I wanted you to join me on this mission because I know you can handle it. I thought I was doing the right thing, coming here after all that time even though you wanted space, but…” Natasha trailed off, thinking over her decision asking you to join her. She was beginning to regret bothering you, and slowly understood you are an adult now who can decide things for yourself. You’re not the young, reckless teenager you used to be.

At the end of the day, regardless if you’re at the compound or moved out, living your own life, Natasha is like an older sister. She was there when you were rescued from HYDRA, she was there when you were a scared little girl. She was there when you decided you wanted change, when you didn’t want to be a superhero like the rest of them.

But today, she’s here. Although unsure if the girl before her is still the same exact young shadow that once roamed the halls of the compound following closely in her stead, or if she’s truly an adult that doesn’t need anyone anymore. You don’t know how much of either is true.

“Natasha…” You finally responded, turning to face her. “You’re the only one who knows me, the real me. Maybe even better than I do. I never thought I’d admit that, but it’s true. I wasn’t expecting you to show up here, but a part of me is glad you did. I missed you.” You admit, offering a small heartfelt smile. She easily returns it, her hand finding yours to hold.

That’s when Natasha takes a deep breath, and it’s easy to see the gears turning in her mind. “So, about that mission…?”

You laugh, finally nodding in agreement. “Let’s do it. Together, just like old times.”

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Curiosity Killed the Cat (+18)

Pairing: Massacre Soldier Killer x Female Reader

WC: 2600

Summary: You’ve never seen Killer without his mask. It’s a secret that you can’t help but need to be a part of. Your curiosity gets the best of you and Killer catches you peeping. 

TW: !SMUT PURE SELF INDULGENT SMUT! Porn with VERY LITTLE plot! fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, filthy talk, praise kink good girl etc, size difference. it's just porn.

**Minors DNI!!! 18+ only!!***

— — 

You had been with the Kid Pirates for half a year now and during these six months you’ve learned the inner workings of the crew and the Victoria Punk herself. You knew that the best place to take a nap was in the storeroom next to the kitchen. You knew that Heat and Wire have had a game of Dungeons and Dragons going on for the past 6 years and they play every Friday evening. You knew that Killer hated when you left food on your plate at the end of a meal claiming that “a girl needs her strength.” You knew that every morning at 10:00 AM sharp, Captain Kid would render the ship’s only bathroom unusable for at least the next hour. 

There was something that was still a mystery to you. 

You had never seen Killer without his mask. 

It was something you had wondered about ever since you first met the crew’s first mate. Was he horrifically ugly? Maybe covered in scars? Why did he hide himself from the world? He was always the kindest to you of all the Kid Pirates, making sure you were fed and had supplies you needed when you first joined the crew. Your crude captain left a lot to be desired in terms of intelligent conversation, but in contrast, Killer would inquire about the book you were reading or if you needed a late night snack. 

Tonight you were drawn into the kitchen by the delicious smell of garlic and onions being sautéed in oil and butter. You enter the galley and can’t help but flit over to the stove where Killer was diligently working. You lean over the pot of boiling pasta water and the steam feels nice on your dry, salt-worn skin. 

“Mmmmm, smells so yummy, Kil!” He was nearly a foot taller than you, so it was easy to sneak in-between him and the stove to get a better whiff of his decadent culinary creations. 

You feel his massive chest behind you vibrate as he chuckles. 

“Thank you, little one. I hope you’re hungry.” 

*SLAM* 

“Hey, that shit smells good!” Kid exclaims as he barrels into the kitchen, slightly drunk already. Killer whips his head around to look at his captain. You take this moment to lean your head back and try to peek under the gap between his chin and his mask. You strain your eyes but all you can see is darkness. Your efforts are quickly thwarted as Killer returns his attention to the stove to stir the pasta. 

“Are you making that thing I like? The spaghetti cars banana?” Kid asks as he takes a sip of his beer. 

Killer sighs. 

“Carbonara. It’s carbonara, for the last fucking time.” Killer looks down at you. “Dinner’s almost ready, why don’t you wait at the table?”

You smile up at him, searching the holes in his mask for any clue at his expression. You nod and proceed to set the dining table for the evening meal. 

— — 

After you had your fill of wine and pasta (making sure to gesture to Killer and show him your clean plate to which he gives you a playful thumbs up), you decided you’d treat yourself to a hot bath. You were sure that the rest of the crew would spend the rest of the night drinking themselves stupid so you could enjoy a quiet bath in peace. 

You stroll into the bathroom with your towel and lay it next to the tub. You put the plug in and get the hot water started. You search the cabinets for some sort of bubble bath, but end of having to settle on an unmarked bottle of body wash. You pour the soap into the bath and white, fluffy bubbles start to form on the surface of the water. 

Once the tub was full, you shut off the water and stripped yourself of your filthy, ocean-smelling clothes. You step into the steaming water one foot at a time and gently lower yourself into the bathtub. As soon as you’re settled with your head leaning against the edge of the tub you release a deep sigh. 

After a few minutes of soaking, you find yourself almost drifting off. The doorknob clicking open snapped you out of your daze. The wooden bathroom door creaked open and Killer stepped inside the bathroom. 

You instinctively cover your breasts with your hands, but it goes unnoticed by the intruder who went straight for the sink and counter on the opposite side of the room. You realize that he hasn’t even noticed your presence so you hold your breath, not wanting to startle or upset him. He stands at the sink for a moment with his hands gripping the counter. 

He then raises his hands and reaches for the back of his head. 

Oh my god. He was taking his mask off.

You were paralyzed, breath caught in your chest, eyes locked on the golden locks spilling from behind the mask. He leans down and pulls the mask off and leaves it on the counter to his right. You involuntarily slap your hand over your mouth in surprise. 

You eyes are fixed on the bathroom mirror when you see a pair of angled, sharp blue eyes staring back at you in it. 

“I know you’re there, little one.” 

You gasp. You still can’t move, stuck staring into those enchanting eyes. The only other things you could see were worn white bandages and messy blonde hair cascading from atop his head. 

“Come on out now… I want to show you something.” Killer says without turning around. 

You were mesmerized by his sweet voice, so you obeyed and stood up and stepped out of the tub. You dried off quickly and wrapped your towel around your torso before Killer interrupted you. 

“You won’t need that. Leave it. Come here.” 

You drop the towel and hesitantly approach the man at the sink, his muscles rippling in his back through his blue tee shirt. 

“Jump up here. I want you to help me take the bandages off.” Killer pats the counter to his left. 

You were frozen in place and your eyes were glued to the floor, so anxious about seeing his face. 

“Be a good girl and listen. Up.” Killer pats the counter again, more forcefully this time. 

“Yes, Kil…” You squeak and turn around and use the heels of your hands to pull yourself up onto the counter. You still would’t look up. 

“It’s ok… you can look…” Killer puts his hand over yours as it rested on the counter. You slowly raise your head and see a face covered in bandages, the only parts exposed being a thick pair of dark plum lips and those piercing eyes you saw staring at you from the mirror. You suck in a breath. 

“Here..” Killer pulls your hand and places one of the edges of the bandage in it and helped you begin to unravel it. With each pass of your hand across his face, Killer strokes up and down your bare thigh, causing you to open your legs involuntarily. 

With no sounds other than your own heavy breathing, you finally reveal Killer’s face. You gasp as you pull your hand to back your chest. He was so beautiful. His bright eyes such a contrast against his olive tanned skin. His chin was chiseled and his nose was pointed so sharply. You also notice faint scars littering his cheeks, similar to the ones on his left arm. You didn’t care, he was still handsome to you. 

“Killer… you’re… so pretty…” You reach a hand up and gingerly touch his cheek. He smiles softly. You curse him silently for keeping that smile from you for so long. He laughs and nuzzles into your hand. 

“Not as pretty as you, little one. Will you let me see you, too?”

“W-what do you mean?” You question. 

“Put your legs up, spread yourself for me.” He states as he starts bending your knees to place your feet on the counter at your sides, widely exposing your most intimate area to him. You feel blush fill your cheeks and the tip of your nose. 

“Mmm… now that’s pretty…” Killer coos as he slides his huge hand down your inner thigh to stroke up and down your slit with his thumb, sticky slick coating his digit. You find yourself shivering in anticipation under his touch. He begins focusing his movements on your clit as he rubs it in agonizingly slow circles, working you up at a painful pace. 

You can’t do anything but pant heavily and stare at his hand caressing your naked sex. 

“Look at me.” Killer demands. You oblige and look up at his exposed face. Your mouth hangs open as you keep his gaze, his rough thumb on your clit driving your crazy. 

“Killer…” You whimper up at him. 

“You’re so wet, sweet girl. So ready to get stretched out, hmm?” His lips curl into a devious smirk. 

You nod dumbly without breaking eye contact. 

Killer plunges two large fingers into your soaked hole and immediately curls them up into your spot. 

“Shit, Kil!” You cry out and grab his bicep with one hand, supporting yourself on your other palm. He pulls and tugs his fingers repeatedly inside of you while grinding the base of his hand into your clit. 

“I can’t hold it! I’m gonna! Fuck, Killer!” You whine loudly as you feel the coil in your belly tighten dangerously. You slam your eyes shut and grab onto his arm with both hands, leaning forward into him for support. 

“That’s good little one, hold onto me, just let go for me…” 

“OH FUCK!” You cry out and fluids spray out of your body onto both Killer and the bathroom floor. Your core squeezes and spasms, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as Killer helps you through your orgasm by whispering sweet nothings into your ear. 

Slumped over into his shoulder, Killer removes his fingers from your core and scoops you up in one arm off the counter.

“You did such a good job, cumming so nicely for me. Think you can take my cock now?” Killer asks as he hikes you up in his grip, forcing you to look at him again. 

“Yes, I want it, please…” You say softly, still coming down from your previous high. 

“Perfect.” Killer chuckles and turns to carry you to the table that you usually used for folding laundry. He lays your naked, flushed form gently down on the surface of the table and rips his shirt over his head. He quickly unbuckles his belt and shuffles his jeans down his legs and steps out of them. His huge dick bobs in your direction, uncut tip red and leaking. 

“It… it’s not gonna fit…” You breath out as you stare in awe at his member while sitting up on your elbows. 

Killer grins again and steps between your spread legs, slapping his cock on your abdomen, showing exactly how deep it was supposed to go inside of you. You audibly whimper at the thought. 

“Sweetheart… you like being a good girl, right?” He coos down at you, his massive frame eclipsing most of the light in the room. He rubs soothing circles into your hip with his hand.

“Mhmm…” You sheepishly nod. 

“So you’re gonna lay there and take this whole cock in that tight little cunt of yours like a good girl, hmm?” He teases as he pulls back and guides his tip to rub up and down on your clit. 

“Mmmmhmmmm” You whine and buck your hips up into his touch. Killer uses this permission to press his heavy cockhead into your soaked opening. Inch by inch he splits your body open, the stretch causing you to moan out. 

“That’s right, little one… feels good, doesn’t it?” Killer reaches up a huge palm to squeeze and pinch your sensitive nipple. 

“Fuck, Kil! So full!” You squeeze your eyes shut and try to relax on his giant member. 

“Oh, my sweet baby, I’m not even all the way in yet!” Killer gives you a sinister laugh. He takes his opportunity to push his hips flush against yours and your writhe and cry from the sensation. You had never been this full in your life, he was truly stuffing you to your limits and it felt so good. He rubs your clit with one hand as he pulls back out, groaning lowly as he feels your cunt desperately cling to him and try to suck his member back in. 

Killer begins thrusting his hips, keeping most of himself sheathed deep inside of your walls and his hand gripped your waist to pull you back into him with each thrust. 

“Ah!” You moan and whine, grabbing and scratching at Killer’s broad chest as he molds your insides to the shape of his cock. You could barely breath, the man inside of you so large that you felt like he was in your chest. Killer speeds up his ministrations on your swollen clit. 

“Come on sweetheart… I feel you squeezing me, you’re close again…” Killer picks up the pace of his thrusts and you shriek out at the force of his hips slamming into your ass and thighs. “Fucking give it to me!” Killer presses harder into your clit and you scream and explode for the second time that night, for the first time on his cock. 

Tears were now freely flowing down your red cheeks and you could no longer form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. You were a babbling, bouncing mess being speared by Killer’s massive girth. You were so dick drunk that your eyes were rolling back in your head. 

“More, more, more, more!” You slur out from your helpless state, spread out on the laundry table. 

“What a greedy little pussy… so fucked out and you want more? Want me to fill you, my sweet girl? Make sure you feel me for days…” Killer punctuated his last sentence with a push to your lower stomach. 

“Uh huh! Kil, please! Cum inside!” You try to nod your head but the force of Killer’s strokes made it nearly impossible. 

“Hnnnggg…” Killer slams his hips deep into yours and blows his heavy load into your wet, waiting walls. He leans down and buries his head in the crook of your neck as his cock still twitches inside of you. As his orgasm subsides, he sighs and slowly pulls out of your spent cunt, leaving a heavy stream of semen to pour out of your hole. He holds himself up above your head and looks down at you and smiles. 

You smile back. You lift a shaky hand and cup his cheek. 

“It’s you…” You whisper as he gazes affectionately into your eyes. 

“It is me. And you’re mine now.” Killer says. Before he pushes himself off the table and grabs your towel to wrap around his waist. After fastening the towel securely he grabs you by your sides off the table and throws your nude body over his shoulder. He carries you out of the bathroom, presumably to his bedroom. 

“What the fuck Killer?” Kid calls from down the hallway, spotting you both. “Why is y/n naked? What the hell are you doing?”

“Going to enjoy my dessert.” He calls back at his captain. 

It was going to be a long night. 

— —

xx

[astonmartinii]

was wondering if you could do a smau or just a normal fic where oscar or lando are with an f1 academy driver!reader where maybe outside of racing reader is slightly alternative/rockstar gf vibes

hope you have a good day!

i am the rockstar, girlfriend | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x f1academy!reader

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, oliviarodrigo and 320,984 others

yourusername: you get the best of both worlds

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user1: enough is enough i need to be her

user2: someone get that kitty cat some ear protectors

yourusername: i found cumberland sausage in a bush by an airfield baby has ear drums of literal steel

user3: i wish i was a kitten who gets to go racing and live the rockstar life

racerbia: tell cumberland i love her

yourusername: so what about me ???

racerbia: i guess i love you too

yourusername: that's what i thought

user4: miss ma'am lowkey MADE it tell me why she has olivia rodrigo in her likes

user5: the girlies been using y/n as a pinterest board

oscarpiastri: who's the cutie

yourusername: oh oscar i'm blushing ... 😊

oscarpiastri: i meant cumberland sausage

yourusername: blocked.

oscarpiastri: i'm in your walls.

user6: i'm sorry but what the fuck is going on in here

user7: i'm just going to sit back and observe

vogue

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,209,875 others

tagged: yourusername

vogue: this month's cover of british vogue is up and coming f1 academy driver y/n y/ln who doesn't let her day job as a driver stop her from embracing her chosen aesthetic in every other aspect of her life. inside y/n touches upon her struggles as a woman in the industry, inspiring others and her scene-stealing cat, cumberland sausage.

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user8: mama on the cover of vogue ???

user9: okay i don't have a clue what the f1 academy is but i may have to tune in now

yourusername: thank yew for having me 🥰

user10: i guess we can't gatekeep her anymore

user11: gatekeep? girl she had like 700k followers before this

racerbia: oh so my bestie FAMOUS famous

yourusername: don't worry i'll never forget you

racerbia: i should hope not you still don't have your road license and who gives you lifts?

yourusername: i love youuuuuuuu

user12: so not to make it about a man, but oscar always be in the comments/interacting with posts from/about y/n

user13: rocks for brains

user14: tbf they'd be cute

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 609,812 others

tagged: premaracing, yourusername

oscarpiastri: can't keep me away from the racing, i spent my spare weekend in barcelona with the f1 academy. oh i guess i bumped into y/n (most importantly, cumberland sausage)

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user15: so ... did anyone else know they were friends?

user16: i went dumpster-diving to find out and they're very lowkey but they've known each other a long time but because of racing in different series they've mostly had an online friendship

user15: interesting

yourusername: always nice to see you osc, and cumberland says thank you for her dreamies

oscarpiastri: she's always the highlight of our visits

yourusername: stop playing hard to get

oscarpiastri: you know i'm always easy for you

user16: @yourusername you know we can all see this, right?

yourusername: i know that's half the fun

user17: god this comment section fried my brain

landonorris: so THIS is where you were this weekend

oscarpiastri: yes, i told you this

landonorris: nooooo, you skipped my bbq because you were visiting "someone special"

oscarpiastri: yes, cumberland sausage

landonorris: i'm on to you, piastri 🤨

f1academy

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 331,896 others

tagged: premaracing, yourusername

f1academy: OH WOW !! y/n y/ln sets a record this weekend in monza by leading all practices, grabbing pole for all three races, leading all laps and winning all three races - the first ever f1 academy grand chelem

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user18: okay but like what more does she need to do to get to f2?

user19: i was there and lord this is DOMINATION

racerbia: that's MY teammate

yourusername: i love youuuuuu

user20: now this is a slay

oscarpiastri: wowowowowowowo

yourusername: do i make you speechless?

oscarpiastri: you know it

user21: these bitches are just teasing us now.

yourusername

liked by racerbia, oscarpiastri and 679,034 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: happy birthday cumberland sausage, my pretty girl, mummy and daddy love you xxx

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user22: MUMMY AND DADDY?

user23: so we're all idiots?

racerbia: i thought you guys agreed on a soft launch?

yourusername: too much effort, cumberland's birthday is now

racerbia: your mind confuses me so much

user24: i'm new here someone PLEASE tell me how this cat ended up with the name cumberland sausage

yourusername: when i rescued her the only food i had in my flat was a pack of sausages and it just stuck

oscarpiastri: does this make you a milf?

yourusername: and you a dilf?

landonorris: who are you and what have you done with my teammate?

oscarpiastri: are you just annoyed you found out the same time as everyone else?

landonorris: .... no

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 788,034 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: best weekend, with the best of company

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user25: mama y papa

user26: obsessed with y/n's need to bring her cat with her everywhere, she's just like me

yourusername: so proud of you osc

oscarpiastri: maybe it's because i had a good luck charm in my garage

yourusername: that's cute, but for real you're just TALENTED AS FUCK AND DESERVE EVERYTHING

user27: loving y/n's brand of aggressive positive reinforcement

mclaren: turns out we ARE a cat friendly garage

yourusername: that you are, and your catering is very good 10/10 experience would do again

oscarpiastri: extra points for letting cumberland sleep on a tyre blanket

yourusername

liked by racerbia, oscarpiastri and 821,067 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: living the dream

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user28: that should be me 😭

user29: god i have seen what you have done for others

oscarpiastri: i dream of you often

landonorris: i beg you stop being horny on main

oscarpiastri: you made it weird mate i'm just professing my love for my girlfriend

yourusername: awwww love you too baby

user30: the way oscar is lowkey bringing in y/n's aesthetic

yourusername: i love this thought but really he'd just came for a last min visit and that is my shirt 😭

oscarpiastri: don't expose me like that

user31: now that's MY f1 IT couple

[choso-star]

jjk men and jobs!!

summary:

jjk men and there modern jobs!!

characters:

gojo, geto, choso, nanami, toji, megumi, yuji, ino

authors note

wow this was a lot more than i was thinking id wrote for my first time! let me know what you think!

CONTAINS! nsfw, fluff

bartender! gojo

-i just see gojo as a bartender, i have literally no clue why i just do.

-just imagine him standing behind the bar, muscles showing through his tight dress shirt, sleeves slightly pulled up🤭🤭

-thats definitely how you guys met, him standing behind the bar on your 21st birthday, your friends long gone partying and you just sitting there, looking all sweet.

“aww look at the little birthday girl layin down and takin my cock so well” all you can do to respond to the man pounding into you is clench your pussy around his cock. “to fucked dumb to say anything? its okay baby we’ll be finished soon and i can send you back to your friends” when you do end up going back to your friends, gojo is back behind the bar serving drinks and your walking out of the bar with cum dripping down your leg.

—————————————————————————

tattoo artist! geto

-i have such a love hate relationship with this man😞

-he looks like he would genuinely be so talented, and so skillful with his hands(🤭)

-his favorite tattoos to do are definitely the more intricate ones he can really put his heart into

-you probably came into his shop, no appointment and wanting your first tattoo. normally, he probably wouldnt have done it for anybody else, but you’re just to cute to refuse.

“hold still princess, it’ll only hurt for a moment” geto says, pressing the needle to your skin, a loud cry leaving your throat. normally, this wouldnt bother him but today its just different. no matter how many times he tells you to stay quiet or for you to not move, you dont listen, you cant help it after all. “y’know what if your gonna keep bitchin i’ll make you quite”

—————————————————————————

piercer! choso

-this man has my heart he could literally do anything to me

-choso is such a sweetheart, he really is, but he doesn’t necessarily look that sweet.

-with his strong build, arms covered in tattoos, several piercings, he looks a little more rugged.

-this certainly wasnt your first piercing, but it was one of your more painful ones, and based on the reviews, choso was your best and safest bet.

-you were definitely nervous but once you saw choso you almost turned around and left. but your committed, your going to get this piercing.

“just lay down on the chair and it wont take very long” you lay down, ‘to late to turn back now’ you thought. as you lay back choso takes his seat in between your legs, preparing everything to complete the piercing. his hands slightly lifted up your shirt to expose your belly button. you would be lying if it wasn’t a great sight. “so pretty, ready for your piercing?”

—————————————————————————

ceo! nanami

-i know, i know “ceo? everyone puts him as that” its just what he is😞

-he looks so good, sitting at the desk in his office, one foot crossed over the other propped on the desk, working on paper work

-your just his little secretary bringing him coffee every morning and checking up on him every so often. i guess you wouldnt want colleagues to know what you always do at your 2 o’clock meeting.

“such a good girl bent over the desk for me” he says, fingers plunging in and out of your tight cunt. “nanamin p-please give’m more” you slur out, then feeling a sharp slap across your ass, causing you to whimper. “if you dont shut up your not getting any of my cock”

—————————————————————————

plumber! toji

-oh god he can come clean my pipes whenever 😊😊 (please send help)

-definitely fucking hates his job😭 wishes he didnt have to work but knows he needs the money bad.

-you would think he would half ass shit to get it done but he’s doing everything the best he can so he never has to come back.

-and then he came to your house, or, your daddys mansion.

“m’better hurry up before your daddy gets home” toji says, holding your hips as you bounce on his cock. “t-toji your too big., m’gonna cum soon- ah” you cried out, but your sobs fell to deaf ears as toji started fucking up into you harder “c’mon baby lets make this quick, we can do more next time”

toji didn’t fix all of your houses pipes this time, looks like he’ll have to come back to finish the job.

—————————————————————————

actor! megumi

-he’s a pretty boy so ofc he’s gonna be on screen

-all the girls want him, he’s literally the josh hutcherson of his universe. constant edits being made of him, always being shipped with someone new.

-what they wouldnt expect is the one he wants isnt an actor, a producer, another celebrity of any kind, but his own personal makeup artist

“hold still megs i have to put more blush on you” you say, slightly sticking your tongue out to concentrate. megumi’s hands find there way to your hips, and pulling you down onto his lap, causing you to accidentally get to much blush on the side of his face“megumi! now im gonna have to redo your base” you whine, but megumi doesn’t care, pulling you into a slow kiss “as long as i get to spend more time with my favorite girl”

—————————————————————————

delivery driver! yuji

-i felt bad for giving him a delivery driver (no hate to delivery drivers obvi) i feel like its so much less glamorous but it kinda fits him😭😭

-yuji is a little pizza boy, driving around the city in his busted, broken toyota camry, but whatever pays the bills right?

-but, hes a broke college student and this is the only way to pay off all his loans.

-its his last house for the night, he walks up to the door and sees you, teary eyed and holding a tub of ice-cream in one hand and a spoon in the other.

“fuck.. you like that? do i fuck you better than he ever could” he said, your pushed against the wall with yuji fucking you at a pace you cant keep up woth “mmmhm.. m’yes- y..uji soso good!” you cry out, tears spilling from your face as he keeps going “good, i’ll fuck the thoughts of him out of your mind”

—————————————————————————

firefighter! ino

-oh my lord imagine this man in firefighter gear, AWOOGA, that hose aint the only thing spraying🥰(im sorry that was so bad😭)

-ino is a caring person, putting others safety before his own, i mean thats his job as a firefighter.

-so when someone sets your apartment on fore, ino is the first one rushing in to help, even tho he has no clue who you are

-he helps you out, and then theres the investigation, but ino is the only one you trust to talk to about what happened! looks like you’ll be spending a lot more time with him!!

“cmon baby im only fucking you in here cause you basically begged for me infront of those police officers “ he says hips snapping against your own, balls slapping your ass. “i only wanna talk to that firefighter ino! cant i talk to ino!” he says in a high pitch tone meant to be mocking you. “well now im here so talk to me baby, tell me how you feel.”

[sinkovia]

Coffee shop: II

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

You work at a small cafe that Simon starts visiting when he’s not deployed.

Coffee Shop Masterlist

You smiled as the man from yesterday walked through the door around the same time he did before. He approached the register, and you held his gaze. "Was my cup of tea really that good?" There was a slight tease in your voice.

"Had to come back for seconds." You laughed, and Simon found himself disliking how his gaze lingered on your smile.

"Another black tea?"

"Please." He handed you four dollars, and you smiled at the fact that he remembered.

"I'll bring you your tea when it's ready." 

“Thank you love” he walked away, taking the same seat by the window. You lightly hummed to yourself while preparing his cup, and he couldn't help but glance over at you, trying to see what you did differently that made it so good. Unfortunately, everything on the counter blocked his view.

A few minutes later, you emerged with his steaming cup, setting it down on the table. Your eyes caught sight of the book he was reading. "No Longer Human" by Osamu Dazai.

You were surprised, to say the least. You hadn't pegged him to be a Dazai-read type of man. He noticed your lingering gaze on his book.

"Read it before?" you slightly leaned your hip on his table.

"Yeah, I love Dazai’s books." He put the book down, picked up the cup, and took a large sip, letting the warmth envelop his body. Involuntarily, a small smile played on his lips when the cup left his lips, and you smiled, pleased that he enjoyed what you made.

"Do you like the book so far?"

If he was being honest, he hadn't the faintest clue about what the fuck was going on in the first pages of the book. It was like Dazai was speaking in a language he couldn't understand.

“I actually don't really understand what he’s trying to say, no matter how many times I reread it.” You softly smiled and took a seat across from him. “Really? Like what part?” you scooted in and leaned towards him, a smile on your lips that made him relax into the chair.

He slid the book over to you. "Page twenty-five." You opened the book and flipped to the page, quickly skimming the words. He couldn't help but let a smile tug at his lips as he watched you lift the book an inch in front of your face and squint, your eyes quickly darting back and forth.

“Oh! This. I can explain it to you briefly if you’d like.” You smiled, leaning forward, hoping he would say yes. You loved nothing more than talking about your favorite books, often rambling on and on about them to your cat, who usually just stared at you blankly for a few seconds before falling asleep.

“Be my guest.”

For the next ten minutes, you rambled on about the page he was talking about, delving into the next few pages and launching into a full rant about the entire book, covering all the plot points. Simon didn't mind; he just sipped on his tea while watching you talk and flip through the pages. He noted how often you exaggerated your hand movements and how fast you spoke when finishing a point or transitioning to another plot point.

As you began talking about the ending of the book, you gasped, realizing you had just broken down the entire plot and spoiled everything for him in a matter of ten minutes. You put the book down and fiddled with the hem of your coffee-stained apron.

“Oh god, I'm so sorry for spoiling the book. This is so embarrassing; I'm sorry.” Simon couldn't help but smile as he watched you cave in on yourself.

“There's a reason why I didn't stop you, love. I didn’t mind,” he reassured you. You let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry; I really am.” Simon opened his mouth to reassure you once more, but he heard the door open, and you quickly got up.

“I have to get back to work; I'm sorry again.” He just smiled and brought the cup to his lips, watching you speed walk around the counter to greet the customer with a smile.

During your break, you grabbed a Danish from the pastry display and put it in a small bag. Walking up to Simon, you placed it next to his empty mug.

“It's on the house, for ruining your read,” you smiled and stepped back.

“You really think a Danish is going to make up for a wasted book?” He had a straight face, and your stomach dropped. Your smile fell, and Simon grinned. “I'm joking, love.”

You nervously laughed, grabbing the hem of your apron. You turned when you heard the door, and your smile widened upon seeing your regular, Elise, an elderly woman with a sweet demeanor.

Bad joke? Simon thought to himself before turning to look out the window as he listened to your conversation about crocheting. He saw from the corner of his eye as the elderly woman pulled out a crocheted cardigan from her bag and handed it to you.

“Oh my gosh! Is this for me? You really made this just for me, Elise?”

Again, Simon couldn't resist the tug at his lips, a small smile forming as he saw your face and how excited you were trying on the cardigan. The color suited you well.

The alarm on his watch beeped, and Simon got up, grabbing his pastry bag and book. As he walked towards the door, you called out to him, “Have a nice day!” He slightly turned around and muttered a "you too" when the elderly woman turned to look at him.

“Oh, aren’t you a handsome young man.” Simon couldn't help but smile. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Oh my, you're going to make my knees weak.” Simon laughed, and your eyes lingered on his face, tracing the outline of his lips and the way they curved upwards. You couldn't help but agree with Elise; he was pretty handsome.

“What's your name, honey?” Elise had her back turned to you, her attention on him.

“Simon.”

Elise softly clapped her hands together. “Well, Simon, do you have a girlfriend? Because y/n here is single, and she is just wonderful. She hasn’t had a boyfriend in ages.” Your eyes grew wide, and you called out her name.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, but thank you for telling me the name of the lovely barista that makes the perfect cup of tea.” You couldn't help but smile, your insides doing somersaults. He smiled and looked at you one last time.

“Don't be so hard on yourself, y/n; I appreciated your thoughts on the book.”

With that, he opened the door and started walking back home. You turned to Elise, scolding her for putting you on blast like that. She just brushed it off and said you needed to find someone to settle down with. You sighed, knowing she was right.

[somehow-a-human]

Whose POV is it anyway?

An Introduction

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

Cracking down on the storytelling of Good Omens season 2 through the lens of a changing narrator.

If you haven't read this interview with Good Omens cinematographer Gavin Finney, and you're interested in the fantastic dedication and detail that went into this TV show, definitely give it a read. Not only is it lovely, but Neil also posted the article with a caption mentioning that it's got so many secrets in it. Obviously that made me take a closer look.

I have already gone into a fair bit of detail about the different Lens Filters that Finney mentions in the article in a separate post and I will be referring to them quite a bit so if you aren't familiar with them I would suggest reading that first!

This first post is going to cover the basics of changing narrator/POV's and I'll be writing additional posts for separate episodes/minisodes/scenes since there's obviously way too much to cover in a single go. So shall we take our first look?

It's no secret that something's a *bit weird* with season two, and there are SO many theories about it. I love to read speculation, metas, theories, and opinions, it's definitely fun but my personal ideas align more with the idea that we're simply being shown the events of season 2 through the memories of multiple narrators, different POV's, and it slightly skews the story, sometimes within one continuous scene.

I am also a sucker for a good multiple timeline theory but that isn't this post.

Lens Filters

As I stated above, I wrote a post about each of these individual filters earlier. What I didn't go into in that post was speculation about the filters. While I think they're pretty straightforward, especially the filter for hell (Black Pro-Mist ((BPM)), I think the other two have a bit more room for speculation.

Bronze Glimmer Glass

BGG was described by Finney as being used for 'bookshop scenes', but after S2 back numerous times and paying as much attention as I could to the lighting and colouring of the scenes, I think this is generally true but not always true. There are times when bookshop scenes seem to use a different filter, and other locations also seem to be shot with the BGG filter as well. I think BGG aligns with Aziraphale's POV. Or if Not Aziraphale, an outside-of-Crowley narrator? Based on the scenes (which we'll specifically get into in other posts) which BGG seems to be used, context clues, character behavior, etc, I think BGG clues us in that we're seeing, if you will, through Aziraphale's eyes.

Black Diffusion FX

BDFX was described as being used for 'Crowley's present day storyline' and fuck me, that's not ominous or weirdly phrased at all Mr. Finney! This filter definitely aligns with Crowley. Most of the time he's separate from Aziraphale it seems that this is the filter being used, and certain scenes switch filters mid-scene when he begins to go off on snarky Crowley-centric commentary.

Catch-22 & Herzog

The books on Gabriels bookshelf, great books obviously, but I think books that are also meant to give us context about the story. Pride and Prejudice is a love story about making snap judgements on someone's character, and coming to recognize somebody might be good despite their title or appearance. The Crow Road is a story about life, death, love, morality, mystery, and God. 1984 details the tragedy of Julia and Winston's attempt at falling in love while living under in a police state. You see my point?

That's why I wanted to touch a bit more on Catch-22 and Herzog specifically when talking about the possibility of changing narrators/POV's in Good Omens 2.

Catch-22 frequently switches narrator and the events described are often not necessarily sequential. This way you're getting information about previous scenes as the story continues, so while you're reading the book you're forming a more complete image of the events as the story continues from different characters POV's and iterations of the story. Sound relevant?

Herzog is the other book I wanted to talk about. To be fair I haven't read Herzog in full like I have Catch-22 but I pulled out my copy to reference and flip through a bit to remind myself. Herzog unlike Catch-22 doesn't switch narrators but the narration by the main character, Herzog himself, switches between first and third person throughout. When he is narrating through his letters, you get a deeper look at his thought processes and emotions. It also relies on flashbacks to bring context to the life of Herzog.

While these books touch on other elements that are relevant to the Good Omens story, namely Yossarian's relationship and views of God in Catch-22, the way these stories are told intrigued me for this context.

Crowley's Hair

Yeah I'm gonna mention the hair, because I think the hair is linked. Crowley's shorter sideburns, trimmed mutton chops in the 1827 flashback, and shorter Job wig seem to be clearly aligned with the BDFX filter/Crowley's POV as far as I can tell. I don't know if this means it's just another way to denote POV, but it seems way too consistent not to mention it. The longer sideburns, fuller mutton chops, and longer Job wig all match up with Aziraphale's POV or the BGG filter. My thoughts here are that his hair is another hint of who may be relaying the information to us, AKA is it internal or external. I am making my best guesses though and there are still some situations that I feel less sure about. For example, when Aziraphale takes the Bentley to Edinburgh and Crowley is in the Bookshop with Jim his sideburns are long, is it because he's remembering these scenes unreliably? Is Aziraphale imagining the events? Is it because Jim is present? A brief fluttering thought I toy with from time to time is the fact that in the before-the-beginning scene they are long, and what that means in context of the rest of the season.

S2 Promo Posters

Finally this set of season 2 promo posters showing the characters thoughtfully considering scenes in their heads just gives me a lot of these POV vibes.

I'm planning on doing individual posts for specific scenes, episodes, and minisodes that require detailed breakdowns. I'll update this list with links as the posts are finished!

POV "Your 'Something's Wrong' Voice"

POV a Trip to Hell and a 25 Lazarii Miracle

POV a Companion to Owls

POV The Dirty Donkey & I think I Found a *Clue*!

POV Bodysnatchers & Cosplaying a bookseller

POV 1941

POV The Ball

POV The End?

Whose POV is it Anyway - a Conclusion

[sinsandsweetness]

across the hall - part 2 (Frank Castle x fem!reader)

part 1

cw- eventual smut, 18+ , nothing crazy<3

notes- definitely placed in the beginning of season 1. I know he goes by a different name at that time but… I don’t really care lol. I have no clue where this is going but it’s all my fingers will type today so I’m rolling with it. lmk what we think:)

Frank opened the door in plaid pyjama pants and a grey tee. Rubbing at his eye with his palm and leaning up against the doorway.

“Hey,” he seems a little surprised. Like no one has ever knocked on his door before. “You lose your keys again?”

You’re momentarily distracted by the stretched fabric across his body. Muscles in his arms bulging and flexing involuntarily as he crosses them against his chest.

“Oh, um, no I just- uh, I wanted to say thank you, for the other night. You didn’t have to do that and … yeah just, um, I made you this.” You bring attention to the casserole dish in your hands. “Just as a little thank you.”

He wants to smile but for whatever reason he bites it back. Nodding slightly and shrugging his shoulders. “Was just bein’ a good neighbour.”

“Yeah, but I mean, you didn’t have to. It was just really nice and I, um, I appreciated it. A lot.” You shift on your feet. Glancing down at your bunny slippers and pyjama pants.

“What is it?” Frank opens the door even more, nodding to the dish. He’s inviting you in. Not verbally. But he backs into his apartment and expects you to follow.

“Uh, lasagna. Hope you like it.” You step in and he closes the door behind you. “It’s still needs to go in the oven. A half hour?” You suggest, handing it to him.

He turns the oven on and places the tinfoil covered dish inside. Turning around and looking you up and down. You figure you weren’t supposed to notice that.

With his gaze on you, you find yourself suddenly a little self conscious of your pjs. White top, probably a little see through though you didn’t want to check. Faded pink striped pyjama pants and those fucking slippers. Why couldn’t you have just slipped on some flip flops. Anything else.

“Kinda late for dinner, no?” He cracks a smile to let you know that he’s not being rude. Just making conversation, acknowledging both of your attire.

“Well you work late, right? I mean at least it seems like it… I don’t know when you get off work or anything-“ you’re rambling. You do know when he gets off. Almost every weekday at 8 pm you hear his door unlock. It’s sticky, catching on the wooden frame. That’s how you know. It’s louder than anyone else’s in the hall. And, most of the time, you get home from college at the same time. Running into him in the elevator and walking alongside him to the two of your doors. At least on the days you decide to study.

Frank nods. Leaning up against the counter. A little smirk visible in the dim lit apartment.

“You want somethin’ to drink?”

“Oh, no I’m ok. I should get back to bed anyway.” You stutter, motioning towards the door.

“You’re gonna make me eat this whole lasagna all alone?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

“Stay. Have a beer. Or water. I have water. Wine? Think I got some wine somewhere in here,” Frank is already in the fridge, pulling out a couple bottles of beer. Same as the other night.

“Beer’s good.” You finally answer.

“Here. Take a seat.” He hands You the bottle and pulls one of the stools at the island out for you.

You sit there and wait for the timer on the oven to go off. He asks you what you do. What you’re studying in school. How you like it. You ask him about work. What he does, how he likes it. Typical small talk, only this time you’re here on purpose. Not out of necessity.

When the timer goes off he makes you up a plate. Sitting next to you at the island, you eat with him. You’re not very hungry, seeing as you’d already eaten dinner. But you didn’t really want to leave. Not after his comment about eating alone. That pulled at a heart string.

“So…” you try to come up with more conversation. An empty plate and a fork in front of you both. Only a few sips left in your beer. “You live alone?”

He nods. Taking a swig of his beer.

“Oh. So you don’t… have a girlfriend or anything?”

He doesn’t know wether he should smile. Instead he just shakes his head. No girlfriend. Ok. You don’t want to admit it but you’re glad he said no. Even though you don’t know him very well, you feel drawn to the man. Big and burley and quiet. Handsome of course. And something else that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“You uh,” he swallows, “you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” you huff a little laugh. Though it’s not very funny.

“So your buddy from the elevator…?”

“Oh no. That’s- he’s just my roommate. He’s got a girlfriend. Several actually,” you laugh awkwardly and wish you could smack your forehead.

“Lady killer, huh?” He cracks a smile.

“Somethin’ like that. Definitely thinks he is,” you smile back and take a few more swigs of beer. Not really feeling a buzz but definitely more relaxed. You don’t know why you’re always so anxious around Frank. He’s much more kind than the energy he puts off in the hall.

Two more beers and a few awfully raunchy roommate stories later and you find yourself back on his couch. Laughing so hard your stomach hurts. your slippers are kicked off and across the room. You’re sitting there, criss cross applesauce beside him and demonstrating the size of a hot pink dildo that your freshman year roommate forgot to take out of the shower. Frank is laughing and covering his face with a palm. Like he’s actually embarrassed for the girl. But you’re both a little tipsy so it really doesn’t matter.

“So what, you’ve never been the bad roommate?” He asks. His hand so close to your knee it’s burning hot.

“I mean…” you bite your lip. Trying not to smile and give yourself away.

“Ok. So you have. How?” He nudges your leg with his own. Urging you on.

“I have not!” You laugh. Trying to uphold your dignity.

“I’m callin’ bullshit. Pretty girl like you? No way you don’t have a few skeletons in that closet.” His hand is on your knee now. Undeniably there. Resting. Squeezing.

You blush. You can’t help the way your face heats up. He called you pretty. And he’s touching you.

You swallow, “I- I’ve had a couple of hookups that, maybe weren’t exactly the quietest. Or… safest.” You try to keep it brief. Hoping he’ll let it be at that.

“Safest?”

“Well… there was a bathtub incident, where he, um, broke his foot. And a… well a bed frame incident as well…” you’re face is burning. You can’t believe you’re admitting this to your neighbour. One that you definitely wouldn’t mind seeing shirtless again. One that you’ve been picturing in your bed for a much longer time than you’d care to admit.

“Hmm,” He hums a little laugh but he doesn’t bother asking for any explanation.

“What?” You ask. Nervous of the answer.

“Nothin’,”

“No, you were about to say something, go on.”

“I don’t know. You just didn’t strike me as that kind of girl. Always carrying all those books around. Seemed like the kinda girl who goes to school and to church and that’s it. Just… I don’t know. You surprise me.”

“I’m full of surprises, Frank. I think we both are.”

He nods. You have no idea.

“Besides, I don’t even go to church,” you finish off your bottle with one last sip. Placing on the floor beside the couch leg.

“No?”

“Why did you think that?” You ask.

“You’re up at 8 every Sunday. Dressed all nice. Figured that’s where you go.”

He notices you every Sunday. How does he notice?

“I meet a friend….for brunch. Been sort of a ritual since school started,” you explain, “how do you- how do you know that?”

“Hm?”

“How do you know that i’m up at 8 on sundays?”

“I see you, walking down to the corner of the street,” He points to the window. “Hear your keys in your hand as you leave the hallway. And I know about 4 minutes later, I’ll see you on the sidewalk. Going towards the lights.”

“So you’re spying on me?” You tease. Smiling like an idiot. He notices you! Frank notices you and he has for weeks. All while you’ve been trying to muster up the courage to talk to him in the elevator or the hall. He’s been doing the same thing.

“It’s not spyin’ if it’s general knowledge. Anyone can see you leavin’ the building.” He defends himself but you know he’s smiling.

“Yeah but you’re obviously the only one who notices.” You sit up straighter. Suddenly feeling really close to his face. Looking into those deep brown eyes.

“Trust me when I say, I’m definitely not the only guy who notices you.” His eyes keep darting away. Like he’s afraid of you seeing into them. Seeing into him.

You bite your lip. Not knowing what to say. It’s a compliment, though you’ve never been very great at taking those.

“Hey, Frank?” You ask, redirecting his attention back to your eyes. Your voice is quiet. Shy. “Would you wanna go for brunch sometime?”

“I got a better idea. Stay the night, and I’ll make you breakfast this time. How’s that sound?” His hand on your leg is squeezing you gently. And his words are pulling you even closer.

“I’d like that,” you breath out, nose almost touching his. Hand coming up to the side of his face, “I’d like that a lot.”

You press your lips to his and your suddenly thankful for all the beers he gave you. Feeling a hundred times more courageous than you typically do.

His hands are wrapping around your waist on no time. Pulling you around to straddle his lap. To kiss him and feel him underneath you. Hands roaming his broad shoulders and down his chest. His own hands dragging under the thin material of your long sleeve, sending pinpricks down your arms from the touch.

Your tongues taste of beer as they trace over each others lips. Muffled moans threaten to creep up your throat as you feel him grow hard underneath you. Grinding against his bulge, only the thin fabric of your pyjamas between you.

He picks you up by the backs of your thighs. Lifting you and him both to maneuver you around. He wants you underneath him. Your back hits the leather couch and his forearms frame your face. Coming back down to meet your lips again, you reach for his shirt, pulling on the hem. He lets you lift it over his head. Your own shirt quickly after. Pants being tugged down all rushed and inpatient before you find yourself inviting him in between your legs. Heels wrapped around the small of his back and your nails dig into his shoulder blades while he enters you slowly. Giving you a minute to adjust to his size.

His kisses are hungry. Warm and, somehow, already familiar. His beard tickles your jaw but you can’t complain. It feels too good. Him. Inside of you. Hands wrapped around your waist and pulling you closer as he fucks you. The sofa is creaking with every thrust but he doesn’t seem to care. Whispering sweet nothing in your ear. You can barely hear them you’re so high. Intoxicated by the taste of him. The feel of him. Nothing is going through your mind except him and how fucking good he feels.

“Frank, I’m- oh god I’m getting close,” you let him know with your lips brushing his neck the whole time. You want to kiss every inch of him. Every spot you can reach. He doesn’t mind. Going even faster at your announcement. Determined to get you there before him, because at your words, he’s trying so fucking hard not to finish in your tight, warm heat right here and now.

You press your forehead to his collarbone, fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck. Pulling and tugging and silently telling him that you’re there. Your breath hitches and he feels you convulse around him. Your orgasm takes over and a warm, euphoric wave spreads throughout your core. Frank pulls out and hot, white ropes coat your lower belly. His own face pressed into your neck. A shiver of pleasure runs through his spine.

You catch your breath in his hold. Gripping his arm and the back of his neck. Trying to pull him back for one last kiss.

He obliges, pressing his lips to yours and leaning back, forcing you to follow and sit up with him.

“Sorry, I- you can shower. I’ll go get it started.” He days between kisses. But you shake your head.

“It’s fine.”

“No I shouldn’t of-”

“I liked it.”

He nods. Eyes closing and melting back into your kiss. Hands still refusing to leave your body. Feeling and memorizing every soft curve of your waist. Your hips. Your ribs and the dip in your spine.

“Can I stay? Can we- can you-“ you take a deep breath, “will tou take me to your bed, Frank. Please?” You ask and he feels his cock twitch. Fuck. He can’t say no. He doesn’t want to say no. He wants to fuck you in his bed until the sun rises. He wants to tell you to stay every damn night for the rest of your life. To move on in and give him a damn kid. He knew he was hooked from the first kiss. Screwed really. There’s nothing he can do except see it through. Ride it out and let the universe do the rest.

Before you know it your legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s carrying you through the apartment, lips on his the whole way to the room. His foot must have tapped your empty bottle, knocking it over to roll along the floor, clinking against the linoleum.

Distracted by eachother, you don’t seem to notice, and he doesn’t seem to care.

[flower-yi]

In your bedroom, only soft breaths are heard. The ceiling looks nice, too, and so does Alhaitham. Somehow, he sleeps like the dead: arms rest gently at his sides, expression frighteningly at peace—the only thing that gives a clue to him sleeping is the eyemask lifted above his eyebrows, strewn somewhere on his head.

It makes you giggle to yourself. He looks goofy, and causes fondness to pool in your stomach, twisting and turning like you did moments before.

Fondness then gives way to jealousy, something like jealousy, because you can’t sleep. Your mind races, not particularly with any urgent thoughts, but it is active and you cannot shut it off—any attempts to won’t likely work, so you’re stuck with trying something with where Alhaitham lays to bring forth sleep. And, well, it doesn’t either. Just looking at him is a recipe of disaster—because there rises the desire to touch, to discover, to feel what he feels like it’s your first time seeing him on your bed—the first time seeing someone beside you, like this, on your bed.

“You’re moving too much,” some groggy voice speaks. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Sheets crinkle under your movement. A warm hand settles on your waist, gently, and slowly, now, you see Alhaitham who is squinting—the light on his nightstand’s been turned on, giving his side of the room a soft glow.

“No, not really,” you reply airily, “No trouble because I am trying to.”

His voice is quiet; stripped away from the layers of sarcasm and unintentional haughtiness; it is now filled with sleep, and all the things that come from being woken up. “That is having trouble with sleeping.”

You huff, inching closer to him. He is warm and, unfortunately, hogs all of the blanket, so the duvet barely covers your back. “Okay, smartass. You got me this time.”

“Did I now? I suppose that’s my first win of the day.” Alhaitham welcomes your closeness readily, the arm ‘round your waist now pulling you in—he’s never been one for excessive displays of physical touch, and the love language you choose is different from his. He is all acts of service, and you a combination of two others, but right now, when it is dark and the night has descended, his warmth melds with yours. “Changing your habits would lead to sufficient rest. I’ve told you so before.”

“Your fault for having to need to go to work early.” His breath is steadying; calming. There is a type of rhythm to it that makes you count sheep, like numbering the times he pauses for a moment, and then, you can hear him listen. “Your fault for also having a work schedule that doesn’t align with mine.”

“Dramatics,” Alhaitham points out. You don’t need to look up to him to see him roll his eyes. “You and I leave work on the same days and have similar work hours.”

“So?”

He sighs, the breath exhaled softly too much to be mistaken as irritation, “I’m quite sure you’re trying to say something. What is it?”

Your cheeks heat, and on instinct, your hands flies up to hide them. Stupid, the light on his nightstand barely reaches you—why… even…?

“Go on and tell me, joonam,” Alhaitham’s fingers pry your own from your face. Archons, it feels like it’s gonna fall off. “Don’t take too long, or else I’ll fall back asleep.”

You groan, “I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

“Exactly!” You look up at him, frowning. Alhaitham meets your eyes, chin dipping; eyes narrowing slightly. “I still miss you.”

Alhaitham takes a moment to respond. If it were anyone less familiar with him, you’d shrink beneath his gaze—with every genius comes the thought process that they can proudly declare is their own, and Alhaitham falls quiet to process his thoughts. In moments like this, his eyes bore holes onto you, but you find it not particularly bothersome; it just causes something like embarrassment and a parched feeling surfacing when it happens.

When he decides to speak, it comes with some gentle flourish, “Our last date was a month ago, was it not?”

Oh. Well. Maybe… yes?

Alhaitham rolls his eyes, affection oozing from the gesture. “On second thought, I doubt you’d remember.”

“That’s a lie!”

“Your eyes widened and you looked like a frightened cat. Inferring from those observations and other information I’ve gathered since knowing you, it’s easy to deduce you’ve forgotten.”

Nothing rolls out of your tongue, except a half-baked protest that tumbles as it leaves you. Alhaitham fixes you with a stare, nothing too harsh, and you can’t do anything but give in.

“Later,” He starts, arm on your waist moving up to your shoulders, “Will you come home early?”

“I will be. Why?” You ask, curling into his side.

Alhaitham tells you, “Then be ready by the time I come home.”

Work, in a couple hours, will be easy—after all, if there’s an incentive to work hard, you’ll do it to your heart’s content. You tease, “You’re being nice. I wonder what’s happened.”

“It is my duty as your partner to not dismiss your feelings,” Alhaitham’s voice is quiet; the soft sounds of crickets outside even more louder. There is something serious in his tone, and silence falls onto you. “I had failed to realize you felt neglected. Us getting busy with work is not an excuse to ignore the fact you and I haven’t gotten time together. I wish to rectify that mistake.”

In your bedroom, only your soft breaths are heard. You look at him, the world having gone silent, and gaze into Alhaitham’s eyes. It’s hard to tell what rises in you, and if it’s a good feeling—though there’s some gut instinct that tells you it’s good, and you should bask in it. Is it right? Does this feel right?

Normally, you’d feel stupid pondering these things. But right now, as Alhaitham gazes back at you, expression calm as always, you don’t fail to notice what washes over you.

Relief, and the feeling of being seen. That’s what it is, and it is with Alhaitham.

“I’ll see you then,” You settle on that response, heart tightening in your chest. It’s hard to not let the fondness seep into your voice, and Celestia knows what you look like right now. “I’ll give you time to change, too. Don’t worry.”

(You look like an image he’s only seen on other couples, Alhaitham thinks. The shimmering of your eyes is something… foreign, yet familiar all the same.

This will be life with you, he decides.

And just like every choice he’s made, it is resolute.)

[bon2bonn]

Boooo! , the grid's chilling adventure .....

22!F1 grid X female!driver!reader

Words count : 3.3k?

The grid's local crack-heads are up for a haunting adventure!

*warnings : grammar, cursing, ghosts and creepy clowns, haunted places, (haunters : scare actors), a short change in pov where the cameras malfunctioned .

The camera was pointing slightly to the side framing some of the drivers as they stood before what looks like a deserted two storey building, some of the windows were missing, some were covered with cardboard slaps and the rest were creaking with the wind .

The working crew were going back and forth , sitting cameras and adjusting the drivers monitors as they were preparing for the intro of the video , it was a bit blurry but the sound was clear due to their already working mics as it caught them mid conversation .

Y/N's voice called " I'm just saying, if we got caught , I'm ditching you guys and saving my ass " lando could be heard sassing back " you have to have one to begin with " a smack sounded followed by lando Groaning in pain , Y/N retorts back " I hope Annabelle gets you first " . Max could be heard next as he complains " why am I here again? " Charles answered him " you , are lucky enough to hang out with us " Carlos asked incredulously " in a haunted building!? , I'd rather do more sim hours " Max agrees with a humm but Daniel cuts him " just admit that you're both cowards " Max called him out " says you ! , you screamed about ten octaves higher than an ambulance siren the last time Y/N scared you , lando did too " lando protested at the bashing " I didn't say anything! " Max shrugged " you were about to " lando looked away refusing to deny the accusation , Y/N looked at the building behind them before turning back to her friends " I have to give to them this time , this place creeps me out " they agreed as Charles nods pulling his sleeves over his hands " why is it so cold around here!? " lando replied in an ominous voice getting their attention as they all turned to listen " they said this place was built over an old boarding school , they shut it down after students starts to go missing and they couldn't find anything of them but their shoes, all found in the main dining hall , they say the other students would hear their steps going around the corridors at night looking for their missing shoes and whoever dares to go out would meet the same fate " everyone was looking at him in silence untill they all burst in laughter dismissing his attempt , Carlos clapped his shoulder " yeah , nice one" , Charles agreed " I almost believed it " the crew called for their attention as they stood in line facing the camera , the director gave them the ok after she counted down .

••••••••••••

The camera cuts off to them greeting in one voice " hello! " each introduced themselves and their team , Y/N carried on after everyone was done as she explained " tonight we are doing something a little bit different as you could see " she pointed to the building behind them " our teams couldn't get rid of us legally so they've all decided to sacrifice us to the dark side and hope for the best " lando looked at her in question " wait , what !?" , but Daniel nods as he carries on " yeah , today we're doing a haunted night in a building challenge , we'll be divided into teams of two each team will take a different entrance, each have the task of collecting clues that leads to the way out " Charles piped in an exited voice " the winners gets a three days weekend getaway in a place of their choice " Max spoke next " aaaaaand, the bragging rights of being the bravest in the paddock " Carlos gave a thoughtful nod " not bad " .

The director told them their teams already been set but they protest with Y/N reasoning with " but where's the fun in that !? , come on losers rock , paper , scissor, the winner of each round teams up with the winner of the next round , incase of two winners in one round ,they play one round together and the loser gets back to play with the others " the first winner was lando who paired up with Charles, followed by Max who got Carlos , and that left Y/N to team up with Daniel , the director asked " so , what do you think about your line up ? " , Carlos nods " I think we have a pretty good team " max agreed as he looked to the other teams " I think we have more chances than the others to win this " laughing as the rest booed at him , Danny scoffed " you won't be saying that when we beat your asses " , lando shrugged " not gonna happen with your team mate , I mean you'll be lucky if you could get out " Y/N didn't hesitate to call back " speak of yourself, Charles is the definition of clumsy and you'd lose your head if it wasn't attached to your body " they went on arguing about who'd win and who's going to lose .

The director had enough and called out " alright enough with the shit talk! " And chimed in before they could start heading in " before you go , there's one more thing to know . Whoever get caught earn their team a penalty point , which requires a side task to do in order to move on with your task of collecting clues, in the end the team with less penalty points win and the one with the most lose automatically " Charles looked at lando laughing " now we're definitely doomed" lando nod back laughing as well but both moved on to their door as the rest did the same , all waiting for the count to go down to one before they got in .

The cameras inside showed each team and followed them as they ventured through the three separate hallways , each holding a flashlight and a head mounted camera for more coverage , they crept slowly looking for clues and trying to avoid getting the attention of wandering haunters who roamed in and out of the rooms , even turning their flashlights off when they hear someone close by .

•••••••••••••••

Things with Charles and lando were going surprisingly well as they proceed to look for their second clue , they end up in a storage room at the back of the first floor the both went damaging through boxes and looking through shelves not noticing the figure standing by the door and when they found it they read the instructions " seek and you shall see , which way it might be , where one turns to 100 and where voids are filled with noise " Charles made a face as he reread the clue over again trying to think of something to connect to theses words . (( the clue leads to the copy/printing room 🖨️ on the other side of the floor)) .

Lando turned around to look once more around the room for more insight but froze once he came to see the masked figure standing in a torn dusty suit with a baseball bat in hand , he poked Charles shoulder but he kept repeating their clue unaware of their current dilemma , so he ended up smacking him hard earning a shout of surprise out of him as he face lando " what was that for !? " Only for his partner to point at the figure , all Charles could say is a small " Oh " lando grimaced at him with a " oh indeed! " Charles ignored his tone whispering back " I'll go left " lando nods as he whispered back " and I'll head right , on three " Charles braced himself as he waited for the count but was left in shock as lando screamed " three ! " And made a run for the door , leaving a flabbergasted Charles back as he sprinted down the hall , the masked figure turned to Charles raising his bat and swinging it around as he stepped in , making Charles let a high pitched scream that startled everyone in earshot range and resonated through the whole floor .

•••••••••••••••••

Max and Carlos both looked at eachother at the sudden scream, both laughing as the thought the same thing " Charles got caught" , before going back to making their way to look for their third clue in one of the conference/meeting rooms on the second floor, both dodging as a clown walked by the door holding a long iron rod , skipping down the hall in a creepy dance/walk , a creepy giggle leaving him as he turned the corner . Carlos turned to Max with a shudder " that'll fuel my nightmares for two months ahead" Max gave him a teasing smile " I just figured out what I'd wear for Halloween this year " Carlos groan at him " you're insufferable!" His friend laughed " it's better me than N/N " both shuddering at the memories of being scared shitless by said driver .

••••••••••••••••••

Thing were going relatively good with the last team , collecting clues efficiently , their last clue lead them to an archive unit of sort , the kept looking around before they spotted their next clue peeking out from a file holder on the top shelf far from their reach , they ended up with Y/N on Danny's shoulders with him standing on a chair to finally reach it " imagine if i accidentally dropped you ?" She gave him a sticky eye " bitch! , if I fell down you bet your ass you're going down with me " he snorted " it's my glorious arse , you should be honoured to be in the same capacity " she rolled her eyes at him , yanking at his ear from her place still on his shoulders " yeah, me and the vengeful ghosts are truly blessed " he feigned confidence as he claimed while looking up at her " Casper and his friends can kiss my arse , I'm not scared " she pat his shoulder after she got down safely " mmhm , of course you're not " ignoring him in favour of reading their clue " look twice before you flee , one step , two steps and you may see , for it's your only way out , or it may be " both hummed in thought as they head out and down the hallway , she smacked the side of her head " I swear I'm losing brain cells with every clue ! " Daniel turned around looking for something to connect with their clue but couldn't find anything, after a while they head out , looking through the other room down the Hallway , and as expected they didn't find anything useful to aide them .

They creeped out of the hallway reaching what looked like a break room, and to their luck they found one of the haunters looking around, Y/N crouch down signaling for Danny to follow her , he gave her one look and knew exactly what she was about to do, shaking his face in a grimace he yell in a whisper " but why!?" She shrugged with a wicked smile " why not!? " , she then stomped her foot loudly getting the haunter's attention as he walked back into the hallway unaware of the crouching driver , and just as neared the corner she sprung out with a shout , scaring the wits out of him , causing him to stumble back before falling into the floor, he looked at her with wide eyes as she cackled at his stunned face , but she quickly backtracked with giggles as she kept apologizing as he got hold of himself and got back up with a hammer in hand . Daniel grabbed her hand as he turned to make a run for it .

••••••••••••••

They bot ran away with the poor figure chasing after them hammer held high and face full of vengeance , all three unaware of the stunned Max and Carlos who stood on the side of the hallway eyes wide at the scene that passed by them , both frozen until the three turned a corner and disappeared out of sight .

she let out a scream as she stumbled " I can't run! My legs are killing me!! " Danny scowled at her with a shout of his own " and who's fault is that !? " She answered not missing a beat " it's God's fault for giving me short legs " , he rolled his eyes as he found a cracked door and he was quick to shove her in getting behind her and shove the door to leave it cracked a bit , leaving enough space so they could see what's going on outside, both held their breath as he stood right before their door , he looked around with his back facing them , both driver's eyes widened when they caught their final clue , but much to their luck it was stuck on the back of the haunter's jack , the same haunter who's now looking for them , Daniel looked at his partner with a glare , she gave him a cheeky grin as she whispered " I have no regrets" he rolled his eyes again shoving her head lightly " of course you don't" she snickered before looking out only to find the figure walking away , so she turned to look around room they were hiding in, she found thin blocks of wood and an old ax thrown aside , Daniel shook his head at her " No we're not doing that , I won't trust you with an ax ! " She huffed and picked the wooden log instead, " ok , now what? " , Daniel thought for a moment as he came up with an idea.

••••••••••••••••••

Max and Carlos were seen again in another hallway, both frozen as a loud ruckus was heard down the hallway followed by a bang and footsteps running , another pair of feet were heard before they appeared, now with the haunter running away followed by Danny who was carrying a Y/N on his back and she have a long wooden stick shouting " coward !, get back here !! " They screamed as they rushed at them but didn't stop as they once again passed by them in a sprint , Carlos looked at his partner who shook his head " I for once don't wanna know " he nods in agreement " some things are better left unknown" , they turned and moved on . But stopped once the came face to face with a tall much scarier version of Annabelle, red hair falling all over her face with her hair ties tangled up on the sides , the bottom of her dress is covered in mud and the sleeves are torn with some parts seems to be burnt , they turned slowly to the way they came from and tried to run but got cornered by the clown from earlier, Carlos groaned " come on, not the clown!! ".

••••••••••••••••••

After a long chase they finally got their clue , leaving behind a traumatized haunter that they managed to corner in one of the storage rooms . now they made their way to the exit as the clue turned to be an instructions leading to the way out through the main lobby, both done with their tasks along with the penalty for technically getting caught ( they're the ones who caught/cornered to haunter but they did it anyway ) , Daniel was dressed in a bright pink tutu along with a yellow feather boa and Y/N with matching green boa and a big mustache drawn over her lips with a marker that Danny forgot to mention that is permanent ink .

On their way they came across Charles wearing a balding wig paired with thick glasses as a penalty with lando nowhere to be seen , he shrugged " he ditched me, and I ditched him back " both nods , agreeing with his logic but they stopped as they say lando rounding the corner, wearing A very fluffy clowns wig and a red nose to go with the look , he gave Charles the finger as he approached them , Charles gave him one back " you did the same thing " lando kept his scowl " yeah yeah , whatever, still , fuck you ! " . The camera glitches for a moment before it turned off along with the mics which gave a loud screach before they stop working all at once .

••••••••••••••••

(Third POV):

They all were about to head out but stopped as light foot steps were heard down the hall , they waited as the steps got closer Charles thought aloud " maybe it's max and Carlos" Daniel agreed but they were greeted with a little boy not older than 12 walked out of the dark , his face bale with dark circles framing his blank eyes contrasting his complection, the eerie thing beside his old fashioned and dirty school uniform was the way he walked, his bare feet dragging on the dirty floor and a pair of old worn out dress shoe is held tightly in his small hands , he suddenly came to a stop as he tilted his head looking directly at them causing the drivers to scoot back discreetly . He opened his mouth and asked in a hauntingly innocent voice " have you seen my shoe ? " They grabbed Y/N who was crazy enough to take a step towards the boy all three giving disbelieving looks as she made a protesting sound Daniel shook her shoulders " where in hell do you think you're going!? " She casually pointed at the standing boy " to look for his shoe ? " Lando shook his head " hell no! " Charles hid behind Daniel as he shouted at her " have you lost your mind !?" She shrugged as they turned back to the boy who was standing there looking at them waiting for an answer, lando shook his head as he answered " no we haven't seen any shoe " the boy stood still for a while but eventually gave a creepy smile as he said " okay " turning to leave, walking through the wall and out of sight, but his steps echoing down the hall before they disappear .

The drivers eyes widened in shock , their minds trying to comprehend what they just saw , Charles pointed at where the boy stood looking around unable to voice his thoughts, lando nods , he was looking like he saw a ghost, well he did see one moments ago, Daniel didn't waste time as Y/n tried to step back in to see where the kid go , so he scooped her up turned around and made a run for the door , making the other two follow his lead as he made it out in no time .

(End of POV)

••••••••••••••••

The video ends with them now lined up once again to announce the winners , lando readjust his wig " before any announcement I have one thing to say, It's rigged!" Charles shoved him , scratching beneath his balding wig " if you didn't ditch me we could've won " the director called the results " it's a technical draw between two teams with one penalty each , and the third team with 4 penalties " Carlos asked in confusion as his glittering hight top hat tilted to the side "what does that means " the director answered with " it's a technical draw between the teams because Y/N and Daniel weren't supposed to be penalized but they did serve the penalty so it's counted......" Danny called out in shock " we could've won !? " Y/N gave him a glare " I told you we should've ditch it !!!" They eventually agreed to compromise and share the prize with the other two .

Daniel made a pose while throwing his boa around his neck dramatically giving the losing team a smug look " eat dust , losers!" His partner doing the same as she throws an exaggerated kiss their way. But lando didn't let that faze him as he said pointing at her fake moustache " laugh all you want , but that's a permanent marker" she snapped her head towards Daniel who backed away " I didn't know!" Running away as she charged at him " get back here ! I'll stuff these feathers down you throat you piece of...... Get back here !" .

Max ignored them pressing on his attachable moustache and pushed back his relatively too big cowboy hat, tilting his head back a little to look at the camera as he finished the video " that's it for this time , I hope you enjoy it as much as we did" the three remaining drivers made faces of disagreement shaking their heads but he ignored it as he waved them off " tune in next time for more challenges and haunted establishments to rent , if you're interested call the F1 haunted hotline for more informations , bye " the rest waved as well minus Carlos who was rubbing Charles balding wig as he laughed " this would be us in the next three years " , Y/N and Daniel joined them eventually waving at the camera as the video ended .

[aceviscontiswife]

Killers catching you crying/upset

I’ve been wanting to do some comfort type stuff for a while, so this is what my poll was for! Hope y’all enjoy!

Gn! Reader. Pre established relationship! Killers included: Danny, Pyramid Head, Wesker.

• Danny is used to seeing people cry from fear. He isn’t one to comfort, if anything, Danny’s the reason someone’s crying in the first place. He’s a murderer, not a therapist.

• However, when Danny catches you crying, it’s a different story. Why? What happened? Who did this? How the actual hell does he help you? Long story short, Danny hates seeing you upset.

• You’ve never seen Danny this concerned, or this confused. It’s clear he has no clue how to comfort you, but he tries his best. He’ll kneel down beside you and stay with you until he was sure you were alright. It was a side of Danny you’ve never seen, but not one you didn’t like.

• If it’s a survivor who’s made you cry; don’t worry, Danny will handle it. Once you’re better, Danny will teach that survivor a lesson they’ll never forget.

You had tried to last the entire trial without breaking down, but eventually you couldn’t hold back your tears any longer. You slumped against a tree, hugged your knees to your chest, and began to sob quietly. Danny was the killer this trial, you could always just find him, but you didn’t want to ruin his trial with your problems. Danny must’ve heard you, for it wasn’t long after you started crying that he kneeled down next to you and quickly removed his mask so you could see his face. “Hey… what’s wrong?” Danny asks in a tone so… soft, so concerned. It was like nothing you’ve ever head from him.

“I… it’s Nea…” You answer as more tears well up in your red, puffy eyes. Danny nods, wiping away your tears and pulling you into a tight hug, mainly so you wouldn’t see the flash of anger in his eyes at the mention of your teammate. “I’ll handle them once you’re better, okay?” You nod, and while you knew Danny was being sincere, you couldn’t help but ask “Are you sure?” To which Danny simply replies, “It’s what boyfriends are for, dollface.”

(I have never wrote for Pyramid Head before so I apologize in advance lol 😅)

• You’re… crying? That’s not something Pyramid Head likes to see, not at all. His first instinct is to make you stop crying, whatever that might take.

• While he can’t speak, Pyramid is good at telling you things through his body language. He’ll set his weapon aside and open his arms slightly—his way of saying “Come here.”

• He’ll pull you into a bone-crushing hug, his hands awkwardly rubbing your back as you cry against his chest. Pyramid will hold you until you’re done crying, and listen to any word you had to say. For something that spoke in garbled nothingness, Pyramid Head was surprisingly very well at comforting you.

• You’d tell him what had upset you, and if it just so happened to be a survivor, Pyramid Head would leave your side in an instant to go deal with them. He would return covered in blood, set his weapon aside, and allow you to melt in his arms once more.

You were somewhere in the deep, desolate forest of the entity’s realm, tears streaming down your face as you cried. You hadn’t even heard him approaching, startled when Pyramid Head suddenly appears next to you. He had laid his large weapon against a tree, his arms slightly open and waiting for your embrace. You didn’t say anything, you simply took a small step forward and wrapped your arms around him, laying your head on his chest.

Pyramid Head held you for a while, and it was only when your sobs began to lessen did he finally pull away. You knew what he wanted now; Pyramid Head wanted an explanation. “Gabriel was-“ You cut yourself off as Pyramid Head suddenly turned away, grabbed his weapon, and began making his way towards the survivors’ campfire. Was he going to-? Would the entity even allow that?! Either way, once you realized what Pyramid Head was doing, you couldn’t help but smile and wait patiently for his return.

• Unlike most of the killers, Wesker at least knows what he should say to someone who’s upset. Does he? No. Crying is a weakness, and Wesker can’t have that.

• But, much like Danny, Wesker does a complete 180 when he finds you crying. He never wanted to find you like this, and now that he has, he wants nothing more than to bring an end to your tears.

• You never would have guessed Wesker was good at comforting, but he was. He knew exactly what to say, what to do, and had you feeling better again in no time.

• If it’s a survivor who’s made you cry, you best believe Wesker will handle things. He’ll wait until he’s in a trial with them, and once he is, he’ll make sure their time with him is absolutely miserable. Wesker will teach that survivor a lesson, and it’ll work so well they’ll probably never speak to you again; out of fear of what Wesker might do if they hurt you again.

“Dearest, why are you crying?” You heard a familiar voice speak from behind you. You turn around to spot Wesker, staring up at him through teary eyes. “It’s nothing…” You lie, quickly wiping away your tears and sniffling. Wesker obviously didn’t believe you, stepping up next to you and resting his hand on your shoulder. “Don’t lie to me, y/n. What’s upsetting you?” You knew there wasn’t a point in lying again, so you tell Wesker the truth.

“Laurie was being really rude to me in my trials…” You admit, sounding more childish than you had wanted to. Wesker simply hums in response, resting his free hand on your other shoulder and beginning to rub them, easing the tension you had gathered from your earlier trials. “I’ll handle it, sweetheart.” Wesker assures you, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

[television-overload]

The Most Popular Man in D.C.

(X-Files Fanfic)

[read on AO3]

-.-.-

In the months after Scully is returned from her abduction, Mulder starts getting catcalled on the street on an almost daily basis. At first, he doesn't think much of it, but after a few weeks, he finds it odd enough to mention to her.

She walks into the basement to find him putting pins in a map of D.C., hunched over his desk in concentration.

"Mulder?" she asks with an amused look on her face, paused in the doorway with her eyebrow arched.

With a brief glance up at her, he asks, "Scully, do you think I'm attractive?" Her hand almost slips off the door handle.

Her mouth falls open to answer, but she has no clue what words might come out. What is it he's wanting her to say? He doesn't look like he's joking. In fact, he looks deadly serious.

"I–"

"I just mean, if you saw me on the street, would you—you know—whistle at me?"

His question startles a chuckle from her throat, loosening her tongue. "Whistle?" She stares at him incredulously. Where is this coming from?

"Yeah," he says. "Whistle, wave, shower me with unsolicited compliments?"

Normally, she might laugh, assuming this to be one of the goofy bits he does when he's in a good mood, but something genuinely seems to be concerning him.

"Why do you ask?" she says, brows furrowing as she enters the room fully, shutting the door behind her.

He puts another pin on the map, near the grocery store she knows he goes to near his apartment in Alexandria.

"Scully, in the last month or so, I've been catcalled by random women nearly every day, all over D.C." he begins. "On my run, at the gym, even once when I went to pick up more fish food at the pet store. All over."

"Catcalled, Mulder?" she asks.

"Yes!"

"Is that so unusual?"

His brows slant in clear concern. He needs her reassurance.

"Look, you're a... not wholly unattractive guy," she starts cautiously. "And these places—the gym, the park where you run... You'd be covered in sweat, wearing that— that sleeveless Knicks shirt you have..." She trails off, blushing profusely and hoping her hair conceals it.

"But, the PET store, Scully," he insists, thankfully too worked up to notice her pink cheeks. He gestures wildly at the map before him. "All of these pins are places where I remember it happening. All in the last month."

Oh boy. "Putting that eidetic memory to good use, I see," she says. She surveys his slightly manic appearance, gauging how worried she needs to be about his state of mind.

"There's a clear concentration in certain areas," he says, ignoring her comment. "Look: about four blocks from my apartment, see? There's a cluster of them, all near this corner."

She looks where he is pointing, and indeed, there are six pins huddled close to each other while others are more spread out.

"Do you have a theory?" she can't believe she asks.

"I was hoping you would," he says, a little defeated.

Well, if she's not about to be dragged into a wild goose chase investigation based on some theory he's concocted, then she's back to finding this entire situation hilarious again. "Why should I have a theory?" she asks, suppressing a smile as she crosses her arms and looks up at him.

"I don't know," he says, shrugging awkwardly. "You're a... a woman."

She rolls her eyes. "Thank you for noticing."

"No, but maybe you have some insight. A different perspective."

"Some kind of womanly intuition?" she asks doubtfully, challengingly.

"Well, yeah."

She purses her lips. She has no immediate answer for him, so the office falls silent. He slumps back into his chair, looking far more bedraggled than he ought to at just past 8:00 am.

No, Mulder, she doesn't have some insider secret about the female mind to explain this so-called phenomenon away, but... Man, that is a lot of pins on the map. All in the last month, he says?

Why are her toes tapping incessantly on the floor beneath the desk?

"Mulder," she starts, hardly believing the words that are about to come out of her mouth. "If you're that worried about it, maybe we should go check out some of these areas of concentration."

He looks up at her, just as surprised to hear the suggestion come from her lips.

"Really?"

She wants to roll her eyes again, but there's a knot of something she refuses to acknowledge as jealousy in her chest that prevents her from doing so.

"Only if you're that concerned," she says, hoping she sounds firm and not at all interested in why her partner is getting hit on by women left and right.

He fumbles his way to his feet, stabbing himself in the palm with a pin accidentally in the process. He curses under his breath and shakes his hand out while eagerly shoving his arm in his jacket sleeve. "Okay," he says. "I think we should start by my gym, that's where it happens the most."

"Fine," she agrees stiffly, trying not to picture him breathless after a workout and surrounded by his loving admirers.

She drives, because she needs something to do with her hands. He navigates. It's his steps they're retracing, after all. He knows best what direction they need to head in.

They park on the street, exiting the car and getting a feel of their surroundings.

"There's my gym," he points out. She's not exactly sure what they're looking for, but she keeps her eyes peeled all the same.

After a few minutes spent wandering near the entrance, she's about to call it quits, but then a muscular little brunette calls out from across the street, grinning from ear to ear as she shouts, "Woo! I'd pay your dry cleaning bill just to watch you work out in that suit, handsome!"

Before either of them has time to respond, or even come to terms with what just happened, the woman disappears into a storefront. A yoga studio, Scully deduces from the sign out front.

"See?" Mulder says, swinging his hand out toward the other side of the street. The suddenness of his speech startles her out of her tense posture, and she forces her shoulders to relax.

"I give her points for creativity," she says, marching primly back to the car and throwing the driver's side door open.

The next place they drive is the grocery store, just a stone's throw away from his apartment building. Once again, she parks, and they wander about, but this time, their fellow pedestrians are blissfully silent. She looks around. There's the grocery store. Beside it, a pawn shop. On the other side, a place selling herbal supplements... and possibly also other "herbal" remedies. RadioShack across the street. Not much going on at—she checks her watch—8:47 am.

"Notice anything unusual?" she asks, watching as an older couple hobbles into the grocery store arm-in-arm.

His shoulders lift in a shrug. "It's quieter than usual," he says. "I'm not usually here this early on a week day."

She nods. This stop might have been a bust, but at least she didn't have to hear another cheesy one-liner directed at Mulder.

They're not so lucky at the next, and—she decides—final stop.

About a block down from the coffee shop in Georgetown that he frequents when he has to wake her at an ungodly hour, two women loiter outside a shop advertising high-quality tattoos and piercings. One takes a drag from her cigarette, then calls out, "Let's see a smile on those pouty lips!" The other woman chuckles, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

Mulder gives an awkward smile and nod in their direction, and Scully promptly grabs him by the arm, ushering him hurriedly back to the car.

She stews in silence on the drive back to the Hoover building. She knows she has no right to do so, and yet...

"You see what I mean, Scully?" he asks. "You gotta agree that something's unusual."

Does she? He's an attractive man. YES, okay, she's attracted to him. Can she fault other women for noticing? Maybe they could do to keep their mouths shut and leave him alone, sure, but wouldn't most men kill to have that kind of attention given to them?

"I don't know," she answers, her hands gripping the wheel.

"I'm serious. I've lived here for years, and this has never happened before. Then all of a sudden..."

"You're reading too much into it," she snaps. Then, softening her tone, "I mean, if they won't leave you alone, tell them to back off. Tell them you're an FBI agent and can arrest them for harrassment."

"Scully..."

"It's not an X-File, Mulder," she says decisively. "We've missed enough work as it is. Just forget about it."

His jaw shifts like he's about to argue her point, but instead he says the words she's always longed to hear from him.

"You're probably right."

-.-.-

She tries to forget about it.

On Thursday, he cheekily informs her that he had been called a "handsome devil" that morning while stopping by the bank. Friday, the descriptive term is decidedly less work-friendly, but he saunters in looking quite pleased with himself.

Gee, she sure is glad she told him not to worry about all the attention he's getting. Now, he actually seems to be enjoying it.

The weekend can't come soon enough. At 5:00 on the dot, she bids goodbye to his boyish smile and wishes him a good weekend. At home, she finishes off half a bottle of wine and watches some trashy reality TV until it's bedtime, and she promptly passes out.

-.-.-

Saturday, she wakes up feeling stupid. After popping a few advil, she deep cleans her kitchen, tossing out the now empty bottle of wine and even dusting on top of her cabinets, a task that requires standing precariously on the countertop with a featherduster in hand.

As the clock ticks closer to noon, though, she begrudgingly pulls herself away from her work and readies herself for her afternoon commitment with her sister. On the way to Melissa's dumpy—temporary—apartment, she picks up lunch from her favorite Chinese place. It's been months since Melissa came to town. She's not the kind to stay put in one place for long. If Scully hadn't been abducted, or whatever it was that happened to her, Missy wouldn't have been there in the first place.

The apartment is one she'd found on short notice when she heard what had happened, and came to support their mother throughout the ordeal. It pays by the month, and has a serious ant problem in the kitchen, but otherwise isn't the absolute worst living situation Scully could fathom. She liked having her sister nearby, even if it was only for a while.

Now, the ceaseless call of adventure summons Melissa once more, and it is time to go. Scully had promised to help her pack her things this weekend, and now the day is here.

"You sure you don't want to stay?" she asks, loathing how the sentence makes her sound like her 15 year old self when Missy had first left home for her first (and only) year of college.

"You don't need me, Dana," her sister says. "Besides, you know I can only handle so much of Mom telling me what I should be doing with my life."

"She means well," Scully assures her.

"I know she does," Missy says with a smile. "And I know you're no stranger to doing the complete opposite of what she tells you, too."

Scully breathes out a laugh.

"Come on, help me take these boxes down to the moving truck." Melissa shucks her jacket off, tying it around her waist in preparation for the physical labor it would take to carry multiple loads of boxes down four flights of stairs. One of the worst features of this apartment building is it's permanently broken elevator. Moving in must have been a nightmare.

Bending to pick up her first box, Scully catches a glimpse of something on Missy's right wrist, visible now that her jacket has come off.

"What's that?" she asks, brows furrowing.

"Hmm?" her sister asks. Her eyes follow Dana's to the marking on her skin on the underside of her arm. "Oh, I got that while you were in the hospital. You're like 90% of my impulse control, Dana."

Her teasing tone does not negate the heaviness that comes from mentioning that horrific time for her family. That time when she was all but lost to all those who knew her.

"What is it?" she asks.

Missy sets her box back down, and Scully does the same. "Check it out," she says, drawing closer so Scully can see.

On her wrist is a small cross tattoo, remarkably similar in shape and size to the cross Scully wears around her neck.

Strange. She's fairly certain Melissa hasn't been to mass in years, much to their mother's chagrin.

"Why?" she asks, genuine confusion lacing her voice.

"Don't go all 'Mom' on me, Dane," Missy jokes, smacking her in the shoulder. "It's just a tattoo."

Scully shakes her head. "No, I mean, why that? Why a cross?"

"Oh." Melissa looks down at her wrist in thought, then back up at Dana. "It just... seemed to be the thing to do."

"Something to remember me by?" Scully tries to joke, though she's aware of how morbid that sounds, to live to see the way her sister planned to memorialize her.

"Actually, no," Melissa corrects. "It was your partner."

Huh?

"Mulder?" Scully asks, wondering how on earth her necklace—the symbol of Christianity—relates to her unbelieving partner.

"Yeah, it was— Look, it's not really my place to tell, but I saw the way he relied on that necklace of yours for strength while you were gone. Not once did I see him take it off. It was like, if he didn't let go of it, then he wasn't letting go of you. I admire that."

Scully still doesn't understand. "So, the tattoo..."

"Is a reminder to have hope," Melissa finishes. "To have that same belief in others that Fox had for you, even when things looked hopeless and we almost gave up."

Scully's heart twists painfully.

This marking on her sister's body is tangible proof of what Scully has known all along:

That her partner is something special. That his uncommon belief in the unbelievable leaves an impact, not just on her, but on others whom he interacts with.

She still finds it hard to fathom that there had been weeks and months where Mulder was out there, spending time with her mother and sister while she was missing, or lying comatose on a hospital bed.

"When you came back, and when you got better, I knew it was him that saved you," Missy says softly, as if she can hear her thoughts and doesn't want to disrupt them. "I know it's him."

Her sister's piercing eyes meet hers seriously, and she turns away, lifting the box back into her arms to serve as a distraction.

"We don't want to keep the movers waiting," she says, forcing her thoughts away from Mulder. Away from the dangerous thoughts that had filled her head all week.

Missy's eyes brighten, and she grins.

"Don't keep him waiting," she warns.

-.-.-

Scully hands her sister the last of the boxes, and Missy stands up in the back of the truck, brushing the dust off her hands with a satisfied sigh.

"That's the last of it," she says proudly. "Oh, wait—"

She turns quickly, rummaging through a few boxes before triumphantly extracting a small piece of paper.

"Here, give that back to Fox, will you?" she says, handing it to Scully.

"What's this?" she asks, turning the glossy paper in hand to look at it properly.

In her hand, she holds a photo of Mulder from one of the times he'd been locked up on trespassing charges that ultimately wouldn't hold. He'd gotten a kick out of getting his mugshot taken, and so had requested a copy of it upon his release, and the small sheriff's department in Idaho had granted his wish.

But why did Melissa have it?

"I stole it from his apartment," she says, answering her unspoken question. "Made some copies, spread them around."

"You— you did what with them?"

"Just gave them to some friends," she says, smirking as she plops down on the edge of the truck bed. "You know I make friends wherever I go."

"Yeah, but why?"

The conspiratorial smile on her sister's face comes straight out of their childhood.

"Has Fox been getting an unusual amount of attention when walking around D.C. lately?" she asks nonchalantly, concealing a wider grin.

"Missy, you didn't!" Scully says, her jaw dropping.

"You didn't see him, Dane! He needed a pick-me-up!" Melissa raises her hands in defense, smiling at her sister's reaction.

Scully scoffs, but only to prevent a burst of astonished laughter from escaping. "A pick-me-up, not someone to pick him up," she says in as chastising a voice as she can manage.

Only Melissa would do something like this. She should have known.

"So it did work after all," Missy surmises. "Good. He needed a confidence boost. Has his ego inflated terribly?"

This time, Scully does laugh. "Sure, maybe after he got over the paranoia of suddenly being the most popular man in Washington, D.C."

"I guess it would come as a shock," Missy says, eyes bright with mirth.

Scully smacks her sister in the arm. "He was convinced it was some kind of conspiracy!"

"Oh, well," Missy says. "The real conspiracy is how you won't hit on that man yourself."

She's going to miss her sister, she reminds herself. Just be glad she's been in town this long.

Nope. She still wants to throttle her.

She shakes her head.

"Melissa..."

-.-.-

The compliments—because Scully refuses to call them catcalls—continue for the next few months, though with decreasing frequency.

After thinking it over for the weekend, she decides not to tell him. Maybe some day, years from now, when they can laugh about it.

For now, she lets other women say her thoughts aloud, and delights in the way his cheeks turn rosy when she's with him to hear their cheesy pick-up lines.

She wonders how she didn't notice before, the way these women look just like people Melissa would hang around with. Choker necklaces around their necks, Doc Martin shoes... Mulder was onto something with his map. The gym: across the street from a yoga studio that Missy had gone to a few times. The herbal supplement place, one that Missy had definitely stopped by on occasion. The tattoo parlor. Self-explanatory.

Now that she's in on the secret, whenever it happens, it's like Missy is there for a second. It makes her feel less far away. She thinks of these women being handed a photocopied flyer with Mulder's face on it, and wonders what on earth Missy had specifically told them to do.

Whatever it was, it had been effective.

Funny. She never really pictured introducing her sister to her partner, but now she wonders how she didn't see it before. She's glad Missy stepped in to look after him while she was gone, even if it involved a prank of questionable taste. She wouldn't have expected any less from her sister. And maybe that was just what Mulder needed.

She tells him at the funeral.

It's too early to find the humor in it, like she'd hoped they would someday. But his lips do curl into a small smile. Remembering.

It still happens on occasion after that. And when it does, Mulder takes Scully's hand and whispers, "See? She's never really gone."

Melissa Scully had left her mark on Washington, D.C., even in the short time she'd been there. She left her mark on Mulder in the same way.

Years down the line, when the number of Mulder's admirers has dwindled to one, Scully lies awake, picturing his face as he whispered sweet words to her. His constant. His touchstone.

"You were right, Missy," she breathes into the still air of her lonely apartment. Sometimes it feels haunted by her ghost. Tonight, that brings her comfort. "You were right."

She thinks she hears the echo of a sultry whistle.

-.-.-

Tagging: @today-in-fic @agent-troi @baronessblixen @captainsolocide @cutemothman @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @teenie-xf

[ficnation]

Chapter 4: The Love She Holds

Series: “She” Word count: 2,7k+ Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female! Reader Warnings: 18+; mayans mc typical warnings, unwanted touch, SMUT kinda A/n: What we're all been waiting for ✨ PS. If I reread this one more time before posting I'll probably scrape it all bcs I'm never satisfied 😩 If you enjoyed reading this please reblog and let me know your thoughts!

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For the next few days, Angel can’t look you in the eyes—hell, he can’t even bring himself to leave his room when he hears you shuffling around the apartment. He waits for the sound of the lock shifting in the door before he can bring himself to stick his head out of his safe haven. 

Angel knows he’s the one that fucked up this whole thing with you. He was lonely, and you were in his life for such a long ass time. You’ve never let him down—not even once. You are the sweetest person he’s ever met, yet you can still kick his ass when he’s being a dick. Falling in love with you was inevitable, but he didn’t know it would happen so fast—so soon. 

The man sighs as he leans his elbows on the wooden counter, listening to the wheezing of the coffee machine as hot black liquid spurts into the mug. The sound was tickling his nerves in a certain—very annoying—way. It didn’t make him even slightly angry before the bath incident, but now he just can’t stand it—it makes his head hurt. 

He slams his fist onto the counter, cursing loudly. The coffee spills over the edge of the mug and barely misses his hand. 

“I should fuckin’ do something,” he murmurs to himself through clenched teeth. Since when was he afraid to go after a woman he loves? He’s never been a goddamn pussy. What changed?

You are just so different than anyone Angel’s ever been with. He doesn’t want to lose you—can’t fucking stand the thought of you walking away. He has to do something. 

He drops Maverick off at Felipe’s house—gives them some abuelo-nieto time while he drives over to the bar where you work. It’s a shithole—a very suspicious one at that—yet the parking lot in front is almost full. The neon sign above the door flashes on and off when Angel slams the door of his car shut. Jesus, it’s gonna give someone a headache or a fucking seizure.

Entering this building was probably one of the worst mistakes in life—the man thinks as he’s greeted by a couple almost going at it by the entrance. The skinny blond dude has his hand down the poor girl’s skimpy skirt as she moans loudly in his ear, hips rolling into his palm. Fucking disgusting. 

He was doing the same exact shit back in the day when he was dumb, reckless, and didn’t care about anyone other than himself. But now the view makes him almost gag. 

The brunet pushes past the lovebirds—or rather fuckbirds—through the narrow hallway to the main area. The dimmed red lights flashing above his head and the music that makes every wall pulse with the beat make it seem like more of a club rather than a bar. He’s surprised when he takes a few more steps and a woman dressed in booty shorts with her whole tits out passes by him with a tray full of colorful shots. What the fuck is this place?

Angel looks around wildly, searching the topless women’s faces in fear he’ll recognize one of them. He pushes past the swaying bodies in the middle of the room, and then he sees you—working behind the bar.

He’s relieved when he notices that your chest is covered by one of those bralette thingies you like to wear so much. But he’s not sure whether this relief comes from not wanting the pathetic men around the bar to stare at your perfect body or not wanting to get another surprise boner in front of you. 

“You didn’t tell me you’re a bartender now,” he yells through the loud music as your gaze finds him, your eyes widening in shock.

You serve one of the men at the bar a bottle of beer, popping the cap simultaneously, then you come back to Angel and squint at him, trying to find a clue as to why he turned up at your workplace and how he even knew where to find you. This bar was almost an hour's drive away from Santo Padre. 

“What the hell are you doing here? I do not have time to put up with your shit right now, Angel,” you sneer at him as you lean over the bar in hopes he’ll hear you better, take the hint and retreat back to his car. 

“I’m fucking sorry, alright?!” He throws his hands in the air in exasperation, almost knocking a drink out of some poor girl’s hand.

You blink once, then twice, and your eyebrows scrunch up in annoyance, “Fuck off.” You whip around and go the opposite way to serve another customer. 

That’s definitely not how Angel imagined this conversation would go. He didn’t know you were that mad at him. He was a moron to think you’d accept his apology without a peep in the middle of a sea of drunk strangers. This wasn’t a goddamn telenovela. 

The man sighs deeply in annoyance before following you to the other side of the bar. ��Querida, can we talk? Give me five fucking minutes.”

At first, he’s sure you’ll just ignore him as your eyes almost pop out of your skull—that’s how hard you roll them at his words—but then you turn to him with teary eyes. “I’m at work. I can’t. You really couldn’t wait and ambush me when I’m home?” 

“It was an impulse,” he admits. Angel knew it was pretty dumb to think that if he came here, you’d drop everything, so he could explain himself and get rid of this guilt that’s been eating him alive for the past few days. “Please, querida.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” you curse under your breath before waving over the other bartender and shouting through the noise to her that you’re taking a break. 

You join Angel on the other side of the counter and tug at his kutte, leading him toward the exit. Before you can even reach the hallway, someone bumps into you, their hands grabbing at your naked waist. 

“Hey there, bonita,” the man greets you. The smell of his cologne and cigarettes makes your eyes widen—you know it very well. 

Angel stands there for a second, his left brow raised in annoyance and confusion because you seem to know this guy—and he really doesn’t like that thought. He pushes the stranger’s hands off your body with a sneer. 

“Man, don’t fucking touch her like that.”

You catch Angel’s forearm and squeeze almost painfully, your nails digging into his inked skin. You don’t turn your head toward him even for a quarter of a second. 

“The hell? We’re friends, big guy.” The man’s deep voice and graying beard confuse him even more. Since when do you fancy fucking grandpas? 

“Uh, Cesar, hi,” you greet him, your voice squeaky and the upward quirk of your lips fake. The second the stranger’s gaze falls over your grip on the brunet’s arm, you release him. “Sorry, I’ve actually just finished my shift.”

“No, you fucking didn’t.” Cesar’s eyebrows and nose scrunch threateningly. Who the fuck is this guy to be talking to you like that?

You reply without missing a beat, “My kid’s got a fever. It’s an emergency.”

The old guy looks between your face and Angel’s before the grimace falls. The smirk taking its place isn’t any less threatening. “You must be the baby daddy, huh?” he asks, but his tone is clearly mocking.

You pray in your head that Angel will hold his short temper at bay. You know, one wrong word to Cesar equals a shit ton of trouble—even the satisfaction of wiping that disgusting smirk off his face wasn’t worth it. 

“Mi niña hermosa. So fucking good at riding, she got herself a biker,” Cesar almost moans those words out as his hand finds your hip, fingers toying with the belt loop of your dress pants. You don’t move to slap his hand away.

Angel raises his fist to punch him, his teeth gritting against each other almost audibly. Before he can deliver that hit, you push him aside and usher him out of the door. You don’t say another word to that Cesar guy—not even a goodbye—as he slips a bill into your back pocket and slaps your ass.

Angel is fucking livid because you know how to take care of yourself, he saw you kill a man before, crush his skull with your goddamn boot, and yet you just take the disrespect in silence. It’s not like you.

Once you’re out the door and out of earshot, he explodes. “Why the fuck did you let him treat you like that?!” His voice reverberates through the night air, earning the two of you a few concerned and annoyed glances from the bystanders. 

“That’s my boss. Now shut up and take me home,” you mumble, exhausted, looking around the parking lot in search of Angel’s car. “I spent an hour in the car with that dick to even get here, and now I’m going back after not even half of my shift just because you couldn’t wait to talk,” you rant, almost stumbling over your words.

When you reach the car, and he opens the door at the passenger side like always, he’s surprised to catch a glimpse of tears running down your cheeks. He joins you inside with a sigh, concerned eyes finding your head turned away from him as you stare through the side window. 

“Cariño, I’m sorry,” Angel whispers, his hand reaching to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

You sniffle, wiping your cheeks with your bare arm. “Every single time I feel like we’re closer than ever and that maybe you feel something toward me too, you fucking push me away.”

“I know, I’m—”

You cut him off before he has a chance to apologize again, “No, I’m speaking right now. You’ve never yelled at me before. Not like that. You scared the shit out of me, and I blamed myself. Wondered what the hell I did to deserve it. But I didn’t do shit.” You throw your arms in the air, gesticulating toward him. You still refuse to meet his eyes. “You fucked up. Not me. You’re the one that’s been playing with my feelings all this time, and god forbid I try to even out the stakes.”

Angel’s now the one tearing up as his eyes widen at your words. “Querida, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t fucking mean it.” His fingers find solace in tugging on his hair in frustration.  “And I never wanted you to feel like I’m playing with your feelings. I’m so sorry.”

You turn away from him again, biting your lip to keep the sobs inside. “Please, just drive me home, Angel.” The desperation in your voice is heartbreaking. 

So he does what you ask of him and drives you home in silence. He doesn’t have it in him to try again when you’re already struggling, trying to keep the whimpers from wrecking your body. And when you pull up in front of your apartment building with a heavy heart, he lets you jump out of the car and rush to the door. 

He stays in his seat, trying to recollect himself—it doesn’t help, he still hates himself for making you feel this way. It takes a while for him to get inside the apartment, he dreads that when he walks in, you’ll tell him to take his shit and get out of your life. 

Angel knows he fucked up, and you were right; he played with your feelings—played with his own too. He slept in your bed almost every night, cuddled with you, kissed your forehead and told you ‘goodnight’ and ‘good morning’. How was it any different from how he’d treat Nails, Luisa, or any other woman he loved? Minus the sex. And when you challenged that unspoken boundary—on purpose or not—he chickened out and treated you like a plague. What the hell was wrong with him?

The apartment is swallowed in darkness when he enters it. You’re nowhere to be seen, and he figures out you’ve probably shut yourself inside your room, maybe even locked the door, so he wouldn’t be able to come in. He wouldn’t blame you.

He sits on the couch in the gloom and stares into the void. He’ll wait for you to come to him once you’re ready—he’ll sit here for hours if he has to. Angel needs to fix this, tell you what’s really been on his mind the past couple of days—tell you how much you mean to him, how much he loves you, and how fucking terrifying it is. 

Three hours pass, and he’s almost dozed off on the couch, his head tilted forward, his back slumped, and his eyelids drooping with every second. The wooden floor creaks underneath your footsteps, waking him up completely. The sleepiness evaporates into thin air as he straightens up and finds your frame in the darkness. 

You switch on one of the lamps in the corner of the room. Its warm glow takes over its surroundings, but not overwhelmingly so. Angel squints a little as your frame drops onto the couch beside him. You sniffle softly before leaning your head on his shoulder.

His heart shatters just a little bit more, and his voice carries it, breaking in the middle of the sentence, “I’m sorry, cariño.”

You don’t acknowledge his apology—you don’t really need to. Your next words are all the forgiveness he could ever want. 

“I love you, Angel,” you mumble against his arm. It’s a quiet confession, yet it echoes in his mind like a mantra.

He feels your tears soaking into the sleeve of his shirt. The man blinks in shock once, or twice, then pulls you into his lap and presses a gentle kiss against your forehead. 

“You know I love you too, right? More than any woman I’ve ever loved,” he admits, and it pains him, but it’s the truth.

He loved Luisa and Stephanie, but those feelings pale in comparison to what he feels for you. Angel never experienced this overwhelming want to protect someone from the whole goddamn world—the pure need to spend every single minute of his life with them and care about them more than he’s ever cared about himself. He feels that for you—like he could throw himself into a burning fire if someone promised him his sacrifice would give you and Maverick safety for the rest of your lives. 

You straighten up in his arms and cradle his jaw in your palms. When your eyes meet, you see that burning fire in them. He doesn’t need to say anything else—you understand him without words. 

Your lips press against his tentatively at first, tasting the love and longing. But Angel has a different idea. He pulls you flush against his chest, hands tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss. His tongue grazes the plush of your lips, and you part them for him without a second thought. 

That night, he fucks you on the couch in the middle of your living room, your back pressed against the cushions as he slides inside you with a guttural groan. It’s sweet and needy. The desire you harbored for each other finally released into the world—he’s far past feeling guilty, and sorry for a woman that’s long gone.

Your moans reverberate through the room, and all he can think about is how perfectly he fits inside you—like you were made just for him. One look into your eyes, and he knows you’re thinking the same thing. 

Your nails bite into the bare skin of his back, and the pain is so lovely—he could get drunk on it. He pushes deeper and deeper until you’re a whimpering, clenching mess beneath him. It’s a picture that burns into his brain, he’ll never be able to get it out—not that he’ll ever want to. 

When he spills inside you with a groan, you pull him flush against your naked frame, cradling his face in your palms and leaving sweet pecks anywhere you can reach. 

He’s addicted already, he’ll never be able to give you away now—not a chance in the world. Angel’s love for you is burned into his heart permanently. 

Taglist: @neverland14353 @darklydeliciousdesires @spnaquakindgdom @dreamy-caramel @mars469

[dreamwritersworld]

Favorite crime. Part 2 (miles morales x reader)

Miles was ghosting Y/n and he didn’t even notice. Y/n cried for hours walking home thinking about everything. Miles laid in his bed thinking about the argument. Was he wrong? Yes. Was he going to say sorry? Not..yet? He just didn’t know how to, this never happened. In other words, miles didn’t understand how to deal with it, with her.

It was eating him up, Y/n tried so hard to hold in her cry. She was all he had beside him..but it was Gwen’s arms that he needed this time. Y/n was doing so well, and she was so understanding. Miles knew she was good to him no matter what, in any universe or world he knew Y/n would be supporting him. After all Y/n was his partner in crime.

It was buried deep in Y/n’s head that miles wished it was Gwen there instead. Maybe in another universe…he’d love her back. For now, Miles can continue to say nothing happened between them but it was Y/n’s sweetest memories.

That night Miles just couldn’t help but think about the last time they hung out before this time…he was slightly bored with her that night but forcing her to sing was something that brought him back to her…even for a little.

*flashback*

The two teens were walking back home, after a night of Y/n singing on an open mic in front of a small crowd in a cafe.

She wasn’t going to do it until Miles pushed her into it, he loved her voice and the way she showed exactly how she was feeling with it.

Y/n sang ‘no me queda mas’, a song she knew so very well and held close to her heart. Unrequited love was going to be the death of Y/n.

She stared at miles for the most heart breaking lines, if he knew better and understood…he knew it was about him.

“That was so fun…”

There was silence between them but it was comfortable.

“When I was on that stage, it was like something I never felt before. I’m just glad they liked it!”

“I know why they all love you so much”

“Oh yea why?”

Y/n giggled at his statement until he paused them.

“Because I love you. You’re the best friend that I’ve ever had, I can talk to you about anything and you always understand.”

Y/n heart was warmed but still hurt at the thought of him still calling her, ‘friend’

“Oh miles..I love you too.”

“Let’s get you home before someone starts screaming for your autograph since your a singer now and all”

Laughter erupted between them at the delusions they were setting. They walked side by side calmly and Y/n was happy in being with him and even if it was only two hours.

*

The next couple of weeks, they never spoke but something changed in Y/n…she was bit by a spider. She would’ve never been at the park by herself sitting in the cold on a chair if she hadn’t been missing miles. She was terrified of her own body, although…it didn’t mean she was tied down to this universe ..no..no something was different with her. Y/n never had a clear home and when she did it was miles…she had nothing to love here except miles and his family. Her parents never cared for her or loved her the way she was supposed to be loved. Y/n wanted so badly to run from herself. She didn’t want the weight of saving the world to stand on her shoulders and she had zero clue on how to handle it.

She wanted to run to Miles though, ask him how to handle it…but she just couldn’t. Rio missed Y/n coming around more then one time a week and every time she asked miles what was going on with them he just brushed it off. Their Sunday’s was now just Rio, Jeff and Y/n all of them shake their heads at the empty chair next to Y/n that was once Miles chair but no one brought it up.

For the first time that night Y/n decided to just accept her powers, Y/n loved it. She fell in love again with herself and her world…she was the calmest she ever was in weeks! Swinging across the city never catching a breath, astonished at the beautiful views. Y/n blended in with the night wearing all black and a face covering, but she was being watched.

Spiderman…miles. He saw her, but he didn’t know it was Y/n so, when he saw her settle on a rofftop after swinging, he approached her.

“Hello! I saw you swinging over there! It’s awesome to see someone with powers again, did you just get them? Or are you not from here?”

Miles couldn’t see the surprised expression under the mask, Y/n coughed before changing her voice.

“I am from here! I-uhh I just got my powers…see you around.”

His eyes widened at the sudden goodbye, and once he heard her nervousness in her voice he knew it wasn’t her fault.

“Hey! Don’t worry I’m not gonna tell no one! I just..I want to know someone like me again.”

Y/n turned around, her sweet heart couldn’t let herself deny miles…ok only for five minutes��that’s what her mind said. Looking from a far you could see how similar they were, Y/n was wearing all black but her outfit fitted perfectly with her body, just like miles…He couldn’t deny that something drew him to her.

“I can only stay for a little…wanna go for a swing?”

Miles gladly accepted and they had fun for a little time. He admired the way she did everything so effortlessly even after he just learned this was only her first night, she was just scared to accept her powers.

Y/n didn’t know that miles would once again drag her into his issues. When they said their goodbyes Y/n meant it. Sure she enjoyed talking to miles but it hurt to be around him and it felt horrible knowing she was talking to him behind a mask. Miles said goodbye for now, not goodbye forever.

The next day Y/n gently did her hair and light makeup, putting on a beautiful long fitted black dress and fur sweater. She didn’t have much money, but Y/n knew the in’s and out and never failed at dressing herself perfectly. Underneath the dress was a perfectly sewn outfit fitted and black, with a black mask connected, thin enough that she can see better but not enough for you to see her face. Nerves ran through her body at the thought of seeing Miles again without the masks.

She walked her way to the roof where Mr.Mórales’s promotion was. It had been hours of no eating so Y/n grabbed a plate and served herself quickly biting into at piece of chicken. Rio was the first one to greet Y/n, taking her by surprise.

“Don’t eat to fast honey! How are you? You don’t come over that much anymore.”

Y/n looked up in surprised and embarrassment covering her mouth before speaking.

“Hola Mrs.Mórales! No te preocupes, estoy bien! (Don’t worry, I’m fine) ….I just stayed up late studying for a big test for a class. I’m sorry about not coming around-“

Y/n was cut off with the door opening and a rushed miles announcing his arrival with cake and all she could do was sigh in relief at not having to lie to Rio about why she hadn’t been coming over. The conversation ended as Rio rushed to miles with the most motherly walk ever, visibly upset. Y/n turned away from the three of them, creating distance enough that miles wouldn’t see her. She could hear the entire argument…I mean everyone kinda did..her heart never failed to ache for him though, it was so visible to her that he was just stressed.

When the argument was over a couple moments later Rio walked back to Y/n who was silently sitting by herself staring at the view.

“Y/n…i know you heard everything. If you could just come down with us..to speak to him, maybe hearing from you is all he needs.”

There was desperation in her voice and right then and there Y/n wanted to cry and admit to Rio that she no longer is the one who can comfort Miles and make him feel better…but once again Y/n just couldn’t say no. She nodded her head quietly following both parents to miles room.

“miles…miles..?”

Both parents tried telling miles they just wanted to talk but Y/n just got silent as she saw the empty room, she only had the door opened enough for her to see it. When Rio pushed it open more she was filled with anger, staring at the jacket of a girl…Y/n never noticed it but now that she did it hurt her even more. She was far too busy taking in his drawings and room, missing the familiar homey feeling of it.

The three of them walked up back to the party, catching miles talking to a girl on the roof…Gwen. The scene was far too sensitive for Y/n to keep looking so she just stared at the floor trying to keep tears from falling.

“y/n…i know you-..”

Rio hesitated on her words, for the first time scared to confront the girl who’s barley hanging on watching her son talk to someone she knows has his heart.

“I know you love him..just, remember to take care of yourself too mija..”

Y/n looked up with a gentle smile and watered eyes.

“I’ll be ok…I have to go though..enjoy your party!”

Rio’s emotions were so mixed seeing her two favorite pair tear from each other. Jeff and her smiled to Y/n sweet goodbyes as they focused on approaching Miles and the girl.

The awkward interaction between Gwen, miles and his parents continued, while y/n changed out her dress and into her suit, ready to go for another swing.

10 minutes into the adventure Y/n could feel something was wrong, she trusted her senses to lead her. It followed her right to miles and Gwen. Y/n followed Gwen into the dimension, she saw the way Gwen was slightly torn on leaving miles and his universe…it just bothered Y/n that she got in between the two. She was never apart of this universe..how much did she really love miles if she was able to jump back and forth between universes and never visited him.

When y/n made it, following Gwen and Miles and showing up right beside the group, all of them stared at her confused. All she could do was chuckle awkwardly.

“Ha..i just sensed something bad and followed. Sorry-“

Miles could tell the girl was nervous without seeing her face, it was just the way she acted and gestured he knew those were acts of anxiousness, he’s seen it on Y/n..but he was too stupid to put two and two together.

“It’s fine! Guys, this is…spider-women for now.! She doesn’t have a name, or she hasn’t told me! We met last night! She’s new to all this-“

Miles rubbed his shoulder against her to get her to lighten up, it was things like that…the small things provided her comfort.

“Welcome newbie. We should get to fighting, meetings aren’t important right now.” Gwen made it blunt and short for Y/n and Miles to understand.

When it was time to go, Y/n walked beside hobie, Gwen and Miles fascinated at the area full of other versions of them.

“You can take your mask off…no one is gonna care or know.”

Y/n turned around to miles, panicked at the request.

“I don’t know, not too sure I’m comfortable..”

Y/n walked forward beside hobie as he made a joke in order to get the girl to finally open up.

Miles head turned to the familiar laugh, it sounded all too much like Y/n’s. Filled with joy and excitement for everyone to hear…he missed her, but she wasn’t gone. For all he knew she was with his parents having Sunday dinner…Miles wishes right now that everything was perfect and he was at home with everyone, at least he had Gwen and his friends for now..?

Y/n watched at Miguel scolded everyone but she didn’t expect for him to actually point at her.

“And you! Your whole story just- I can’t. You both ruined your universe, your lucky nothing happened when you got bit.”

Miguel’s words hurt, but they didn’t dig deep enough for her to not talk back.

“Excuse me? I didn’t even do anything wrong. I don’t even know you so don’t tell me what I-“

“But i know you! You’re Y/n and Miles stupidly changed your path. You aren’t even supposed to be here, you followed him. Again!”

Miles froze hearing her name.

“Y/n…”

The young girl stumbled back not responding while Miguel went on about how both of them weren’t supposed to be there, he was more enraged at Miles for causing it. When Y/n heard that Jeff, Mr.Morales was going to die, she escaped with miles fighting off everyone. Following him once again…

!❤️💙!

requests are very much open, feel free to send and I’ll decided if I can do them or come up with something

You know I had to use the two most heartbreaking songs both Spanish and English because phew. Those tears fell. Notice how Y/n stayed beside him while everyone else betrayed him…yea. Loyal.

Tag list: @justleila @tati-the-fangirl @kxllanxtdoor @abbersreads @abislays123 @not-aya @usernamepasswordsstuff