#the blocks kept jumping out of order

[toxicanonymity]

what do you think would happen if sweet pea found out from carter that joel's birthday is coming up? <3

raider!Joel x f! reader. angst and fluff

A/N: He would tell her Joel doesn't like to celebrate. It being outbreak day, she doesn't wonder if there's more to it. She wants to honor him. She tries really hard to think of something, find something. Nothing seems special enough. She never gets anything, and she feels awful about it.

You wake up on Joel's birthday, empty-handed. You're sniffling in his arms, little spoon as usual, and soon a tear is running down your cheek and onto his bicep. "Mm," he grunts in his sleep. You keep sniffling. "Sweet pea," he mumbles and pulls you closer.

By the time he really wakes up, you're ugly crying into his arm. It turns him on. He touches your face, catches your tears and thumbs your lips, then slowly ruts into you. You wipe your face and get up to move. He turns over on his back to watch you. You straddle his knees, bend forward, and you're just about to suck him when he lays a hand on your head and asks, "you okay, baby?" You start crying again, harder. "C'mere." He pats his chest. You settle in with your head on his chest, tears in his chest hair.

Your voice is broken. "I know it's your birthday." His chest slowly expands under your cheek. "I didn't get you anything. I really wanted to. I couldn't think of anything good enough, I wanted to give you something really special." Your crying becomes more vocal. "And I don't have anything for you."

He pets your head and allows some silence, then answers, "that's cause I got everything I need." He kisses the crown of your head. After some time of soothing you and thinking, he starts, "you," and his voice is tighter. He clears his throat. You pull back to so look up at him. It's a face you're not sure you've ever seen on him. His brows are furrowed, and there's the slightest fogginess in his eyes. He swallows, looks away for a moment, takes a deep breath through his nose, then locks in on your eyes. His deep voice is barely above a whisper. "you've given me a lot, sweet pea."

[webq84]

soft yandere classmate having first met you as he bumps into you in one of the school's hallways. you had your head down, your voice too soft and quiet that he didn't hear you apologizing to him before you quickly removed yourself from the situation, steering away from everyone like a plague so you won't bump into them.

soft yandere classmate who learned that you two were actually on the same class, sitting in front of you after the teacher chose your designated seats. he took one glance at you as he looked over his shoulders, and already sees you looking down again, avoiding making eye contact with anyone as you traced your finger around the wooden desk. though you tried to keep a stoic face, he could see how anxious you are through the way you would shake your leg while sitting.

soft yandere classmate who catches the way your face dropped in his peripheral vision as the teacher gives an activity that requires drawing, and it's quite obvious that you must have forgotten to bring it with you. but you were too shy, too scared to ask for help. he couldn't help it, and quietly lend you a pencil. it was his only pencil too, earning him a zero on his worksheet. but somehow, he knew it was worth it.

soft yandere classmate who helps you in small, different ways during classes especially when the teachers asked questions. he would moved a little and raised his hand, blocking you from the teacher's view so they won't have to pick you, knowing that even if you do know the answer, you'll simply be too nervous to give an answer and might just end up there standing awkwardly, waiting for the ground to swallow you whole as everyone anticipates in silence. the whole scenario will be too much for someone like you.

soft yandere classmate who turns around and sits backwards on his chair to attempt to engage in a conversation with you. it was definitely difficult at first, your voice being so quiet that he sometimes have you repeat what you just said, his heart a little heavy when he does so. it will definitely take a while to have you grow comfortable around him, but when you attempted to make a small joke one day, his eyes lit up, knowing that he's making progress.

he instantly shuts down any bullying from your classmates. they don't try to approach you anymore, but they also don't try bothering befriending you. this extends to everyone outside of your school, subtly threatening anyone who makes you even the slightest bit of uncomfortable, glaring at the person who's taking your order as he stands in front of you when you kept stuttering, trying to make them hear what your order is after they had you restate it a couple of times despite you trying your hardest to raise your voice.

although he is making progress in your slowburn friendship, you two are still not quite close yet that you'd try to initiate a conversation with him. it has to be him who talks to you first or you won't be talking to him at all. soft yandere classmate wanted to change that without having to force you.

soft yandere classmate who found you one day underneath a bridge. worried, he stayed to find out what were you doing on such a place, eyes darkening at the thought of a bully forcing you to come here even after he's made it loud and clear for everyone about the consequences, only to see you crouching down in front of a small opened box with a tiny cute kitten on the inside, meowing softly upon seeing you.

he could feel his heart melting as he watched you interact with it, your usually aloof face covered with a sweet smile as you feed and played with the small feline. he could hear you talking to it, telling it about your day. his heart jumping a little mentioned him. he continued to observed from afar, noting how you seem to get along more with animals than with your fellow peers. eventually, he decided to make his presence known, slowly approaching from behind to join you and the small bundle of fluffball.

you were surprised at first when he crouched down beside you, but you were quick to relax as you were beginning to get used to his presence. you said your hi's and hello's before a brief moment of silence befall the two of you. it was like the small kitten in front of you made every thought inside your head disappear as you start the conversation, asking him what he's doing here. he felt a little nervous before answering, trying not slip up his little secret that he was stalking you.

it starts off with a small question at first, but soon you begin talking more and more, and before he knew it, soft yandere classmate is now just smiling softly as he listens to you ramble to him, from troublesome homeworks to the very kitten who you are currently petting and stroking on it's cute little head.

he learned a lot of things about you in those few minutes, and he couldn't be more happier. he learned that you couldn't keep any pets at your home, forbidden by your strict parents, and how you wanted to give the kitten a name despite it all. what you didn't know, is that you gave your classmate a sweet little idea.

soft yandere classmate who told you that he will help you pick it's name, and take care of it back at his home. and how nice he is, as he added that you can come over to his house anytime you like to visit it!

once everything is set and done, after class, he'll invite you over, happily telling you that he was able to think up of a cute name for the kitten. and since you're unaware of his underlying intentions, you made it easy for him to lure you in the safety of his walls. where he will slowly convinced you that you will live a much more comfortable and better life if you stay with him and lotte.

all of the things you didn't like to do but forced yourself to live up to everyone's expectations, they're all in the past now. your happy sugar life begins, starting with owning a pet that you've always wished for.

[11vr1]

Been Away ⭒ Miles Morales

Synopsis › You were tired of his secrets and lies, so you did the one thing you promised you’d never do and walked away. But Miles Morales wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

Pairing › Earth-42! Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

Inspo › “Been Away” - Brent Faiyaz

Includes › ATSV SPOILERS, Angst, the tiniest bit of fluff, pet names, spanish, a microscopic amount of manipulation, toxicity, going back to your ex, stalking, harassment, mentions being mugged, mentions being stabbed, mentions the police

P.S. › I do my best work when I’m sleep deprived.

P.S.S. › Reading comments and reblogs really make my day, even if you’re telling me my commas suck. Requests are also open.

Y/n pulled down the sleeves of her crocheted sweater as she stepped out of the bodega, white plastic bag of chips and candy in hand. The sun was close to setting behind skyscrapers and plunging New York City into its usual state of terror. It was dangerous to be alone on the streets, but Y/n figured she’d be fine walking a few blocks to her friend’s place. She pushed through sidewalk traffic, passing others who were just as eager to be safe in their homes.

Her phone chimed with a text.

Unknown: Turn left.

She paused, looking up to scan her surroundings. There was nothing strange or out of place. Just stores closing up for the night and people minding their own business. Despite how normal everything seemed to be, Y/n knew better. She spared a glance at the alley to her left, immediately deciding against it and kept walking.

Another chime. She ignored it and the next. Stopping wasn’t worth possibly ending up on the eleven o’clock news. At least that’s what she told herself. The less rational part of her mind had a thought. In some ways more terrifying than being mugged.

Tucked away in her pocket, her phone rang. This time she checked. Unknown. Y/n scoffed, rejecting the call.

Unknown: One more chance.

Unknown: Take a left.

Unknown: I won’t ask again.

Her phone rang once more. With a long, begrudging sigh Y/n swiped to accept. “I thought you weren’t going to ask again,” she said, her eyes darting warily to the darkening street.

“Make a left, Y/n,” a deep distorted voice ordered from the other line. Her heart dropped. Maybe the irrational part of her brain wasn’t as off kilter as she thought. The call hung up like she didn’t need anymore convincing.

The yawning mouth of an alley stared back at her. She took a calming breath, inhaling the morning rain before stepping away from any potential witnesses. Her footsteps echoed in the eerie silence of the alley. Her skin heated in either fear or anticipation, she didn’t know. “I don’t have all night,” she spoke into the open air. “I will leave.” Y/n attempted to hide the tremble in her throat.

Her ringtone was shrill in the alley. She jumped. The bright smiling photo of her friend illuminated her face. She did not hesitate to answer. “Hello?”

“Thank god! You’re still alive. Are you close?”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, Ellie,” Y/n began to exit the alley. “The bodega line was long.” She rustled her haul of snacks.

“It’s getting dark. I can send my brother to meet you. Ya know he’s always had a bit of a thing for you and now that you’re single…” Ellie trailed off. Y/n could practically hear her smile.

She rolled her eyes, laughing nervously, “You don’t have to make him come get me. I’ll be—” She was cut off by her own scream ripping from her throat. A streak of darkness and neon flashed in front of her, swiping the phone from her hand. Her grocery bag tumbled to the concrete as she stumbled over her heels. Cold metal met her back. A well defined arm snaked around her waist, held her impossibly tight.

“Y/n? Y/n!” Her friend’s voice rose over the speakers.

The smooth phone screen pressed against her cheek. “Tell her you’re okay then hang up,” the same warped voice demanded in her ear.

Y/n felt her lips move before he ended the call. Some quick lie about a monstrous rat. Blood thrummed through her skull along with her ragged breaths.

“Let me go!” Y/n wrestling out of his grip with no resistance, finally turning around. She halted. Pixelated eyes narrowed at her. What had she been expecting? Was a mask better?

Getting slashed for the money in her wallet and being left for dead by a dumpster was starting to sound more appealing than her current situation.

Mechanic panels whirred and parted open. Rich, penetrating dark eyes took in every inch of the girl in front of him, peeling back layer after layer in that calculating glare Y/n knew all too well. “Hola, mami.”

She hoped to never hear that name fall from anyone’s lips. Much less his. Y/n allowed a selfish moment to let her gaze wander. His braids were fresh, obviously not her work. Fade clean. Jay’s untied. Bronze skin annoyingly flawless. He was the same, except for the faint bags decorating his eyes. His chuckle bounced off the brick walls, catching her. It was sobering.

“You have one minute, Morales. One minute before I run screaming and call the feds on your ass,” she crossed her arms.

“Morales?” Miles raised an eyebrow. “Damn. Is that what we doin’ now?”

“Fifty.”

He circled her like the predator he was, each footstep deafening. “You look good, ma. Where you goin’ so late? It’s not safe.”

“You know where! You’ve been following me, remember? How long have you been doing that for? Just another secret, huh?” Y/n was on the verge of yelling, her initial fear replaced by pure rage. “You’re not even going to deny it.”

Miles dared a step forward. Y/n took two back. “You’re afraid of me.” Her lack of an answer was a shattering confirmation.

“I’m afraid of what you do, Miles,” she motioned to his suit, the spray painted insignia physically painful to see on his chest. The Prowler. She would have never fathomed the possibility if she hadn’t seen him in action herself. “You’re a criminal. You steal. You’ve killed people,” she choked trying to swallow back tears.

He dragged a gloved hand down his face. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right! I don’t get it. You changed and I don’t understand why.” Her waterline welled. Three months of suppressed feelings threatened to rear their ugly heads when he was near. Because of him, of course.

It was ironic how much he made her feel, even now. Ellie, other friends, Y/n’s family never fully warmed up to Miles. He was unfeeling, nonchalant, closed off. They couldn’t see how a girl like her could fall for him and stay. At least that’s the promise she made.

“So did you. You walked away. Left me. What happened to our forever, Y/n?”

“You expected nothing to change? In what world would I not react or feel some typa way?” She tensed. Another wave of anger seared through her veins. How dare he turn this on her? “Oh wait,” her laugh was humorless. “I was never supposed to find out.”

“I have to do this. The world ain’t right and I need to protect the people I care about,” he placed a hand over his armor, over his chest. “I couldn’t do shit about my dad, but you…” He stalked closer. This time she didn’t back away.

Miles grasped her hand, placing it over his heart. She couldn’t face his intensity for too long, not without air. He wore the same musky cologne she gifted him for Christmas.“Mirame,” he tilted her delicate face towards him. “Mi corazón, I can keep you safe. You gotta let me. If something happened to you I don’t know what I would do.” His chiseled features twisted, barely able to utter the words. He finally closed the space between them, resting his forehead against hers.

“One minute,” Y/n whispered. It had been more than one minute.

Without separating, he slowly slipped her phone into her back pocket, letting his fingers linger by the waist of her jeans. “Call them. I’ll stay right here and you can end this. You’ll never have to see me again. Prometo, mi corazón.”

She should have listened when Ellie told her to stay away. Undeniably gorgeous, genius level intellect, sexy accent. There was always a catch, she said. She was right. But there was one drawback not even her best friend predicted.

Y/n pulled away. Suddenly the autumn air was too chilly through her sweater. She unlocked her phone. Typed 9-1-1. She looked up through her lashes at Miles as if he would melt into the shadows and escape. She didn’t expect sheer defeat to paint his face, unhidden behind his usual mask of indifference. Her thumb froze.

Miles Morales had Y/n entranced. He’d woven himself into her being, hollowed out a space in her soul just for him. Those titanium claws were in deep and she didn’t know if she had the strength to pry them out or wanted to.

Y/n pocketed her phone. She resigned to every emotion she harbored for the boy in front of her. She chose every wrong decision. “Go, Miles.”

His grin was smug. “Should I call you?”

“Don’t push it, Morales.” He draped his arms around her shoulders, dragged her into his warmth. “I’ll unblock you. Sound good?”

Miles angled his head. His smile stretched to his eyes, showing those rarely seen dimples. “Sí, mami. Whatever you want.”

[ghettogirly]

Hey boo! I'm not sure if you're taking requests, but if you are, would you be willing to check this out?

I was thinking about a fresh out of prison Armando Aretas. He's been a little rough with you during sex, ever since he was released. Hurting you is definitely not his intention but he can't help but lose control after all this time away from you. It doesn't bother you at all but he still feels bad about his actions and wants to make it up to you. (Soft smut)

xblackfemalereader or femalereader would suffice.

This is for the freaks! Okay, I'm out.💋💋

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𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐨́𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚..

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᯾ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

᯾ synopsis: Armando couldn’t wait to return back to you after being freshly broken out of prison, wanting to come back home and to cherish you again was all that he wished for. However, he certainly didn’t wish to hurt you either.

᯾ theme: angst with a happy ending, smut.

᯾ format: story.

᯾ warnings: sex, mentions of escaping prison, armando is a rough during sex, mature language, reader gets hurt during sex, use of a safe word.

᯾ authors note: i hope you enjoyed!! This is my longest story yet, sorry it took so long, i added so many different elements.

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𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆, this was a normality within the institution as the men went crazy being locked in their cell for 23 hours a day. Their brains slowly turning insane at the routine of staring at white walls while the day goes by. Men turned into animals here, feeling as if they’re in a cage, they had nothing else to cast out their anger on.

Animalistic screams were scattered around the block of cells as the prison warden took no notice, sitting down on his chair with his hat covering his eyes as his head was down. Clearly taking no notice of the cameras. Casually walking over to the welded steel door, Armando looked through the tiny screen on his door, looking around as far as the tiny little screen within the door let him. He was used to the chaos, however, that didn’t mean it got any less annoying.

Yet, today was the day.

Plopping his magazine on his bed, he walked around to his shower room. Armando crouched down slightly. Pushing his fingers through the small steel gaps of the tiny vent in his cell, he opened it, taking out a match. “aquí tienes…”

His prison flip flops created a smack on the concrete floor as they connected. Whistling, he looked up at the camera while messing about with it in his hand. Wasting no time, A whoosh of light appeared before him as the flame quickly ignited and started moving slowly down the little stick. “Hasta el fuego.” Throwing the match onto his bed, he ran into the shower and disappeared down the hole.

Below the hole was a motorcycle waiting for him , with some cartel members side by side. Jumping on the blacked out bike, armando revved his aggressively before driving off. “Vamos! ¡No tenemos tiempo!” The other men nodded before quickly following their boss.

𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃. Armando’s orange jumpsuit clung to him as the fibres shrunk due to the contact of the rain above, now displaying his buff physique. Alarms were heard blaring in the distance, presumably because of the chaos he left behind.

Regardless, he kept his pace, running to a remote location within the field. His cartel organised a chopper for him there, to safely secure him back at the mansion. Branches snapped as he jumped over them or threw them out the way, Armando stayed alert.

Left. Right. Up. Behind.

Every area had to be surveilled. No witnesses. No police.

Finally reaching the location, a chopper was there awaiting him. A member stepped out to greet him, yet, there was no time for that. “¡Súbete al puto avión!” The male shouted, ordering his men as he signalled the pilot to engage. Some cartel members were still far behind. “Tsk.”

Bolts of light flashed among the mexican faces as bullets made of hardened steel penetrated the bodies of the workers still running to the helicopter, knocking them down one by one, the male angled his arms with ease. Looking through the scope, he released each bullet one by one, none of them being able to escape this fate. BANG! BANG! BANG!

“If they can’t keep up, leave them in the dirt.”

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍̃𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐒. Twirling his ring around, all he could think about was his wife. You was the light of his world. Staying with him through thick and thin, you even gave up your dream of a beautiful wedding by marrying him in prison.

He was coming back home now though, ready to give you the world baby.

Satisfied with the life Armando already gave you, each day you thanked the heavens that he was still alive. It was painful, seeing him locked up. Yet, it would’ve been worse placing down his casket six feet under. 𝐌𝐈𝐗𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓, travelled through your system as amygdala integrated your emotions with the other areas of your brain. He was coming back.

“Ma’am he’s here.”

“Jefe, estamos aquí.”

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐈. Cartel members swiftly moved to the door, opening it, revealing the muscular leader. Splashes of dirt imprinted the orange jumpsuit due to the dampness of the forest. It had slight rips in it, clear signs of getting caught onto nature.

Armando slowly made his way out of the chopper, slowly analysing all his workers as they waited for his approval. “Es bueno estar de vuelta.” Bottles were popped as loud cheers were heard from the whole crowd, who walked over to greet him. He gave handshakes and side hugs to his most loyal “friends.”

𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃. “Finally you’re home!” Running up to him, you jump in his arms as they wrap around you, leaning in for a kiss. “ive te perdió..” Armando whispers, feeling your scent flow over his senses, bringing him a sense of comfort. Looking up at you with love in his eyes, he licks his lips, “Maldita sea, no puedo esperar para quitarles la ropa.”

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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒, 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍. His heavy arm laid on your thighs, sleeping at an angle due to his constant movement while sleeping. Clearly he was not used to being in a comfortable bed, transitioning from prison conditions to luxurious conditions being a massive jump.

Yet, you felt strange. Your body felt sore due to the sudden use of muscles contracting while keeping up with Armando’s rough pace. Maybe it was the prison system that made him more aggressive, maybe it was the excitement. Who knows?

Nevertheless, you brushed it off. Not wanting to overthink all the possibilities of the sudden change in his sexual stance the night before. This was a moment to enjoy life, not dwell on it.

Removing the pink, silk bonnet that rested on top of your head, protecting every curl from breakage, they spilled out. Resting beautifully on your shoulders. It was frizzy at the roots due to the intensity of last night, the sweat causing the curls to become puffy, but that’s not nothing a little mousse can’t fix. Messing about with your curls as you was lost in thought, you felt a gentle press to your shoulder.

“está bien?”

You nodded, not really feeling the need to tell Armando about your thoughts from the night before, not wanting to concern him on his first morning being free from the cage he used to be contained in. “Never been better.” Planting a kiss on your lips, he smiled at your reply, not thinking anything of it as he was essentially on cloud nine. “Ven a acostarte con-“

A loud buzz reverberated off of the oak bedside table, a loud groan was made by the male as he slowly rolled over to pick it up. Swiping the green button, he answered. “¿Por qué coño me llamas tan temprano en la mañana?” You chuckled at his blunt answer, typical Armando.

A sigh escaped your husband’s lips, clearly annoyed at the shit he had to deal with so early in the morning. Placing the phone down he looked over at you, “tengo que irme..”, annoyance was plastered all over his face.

“That’s fine, i’ll be waiting here for you anyways babe.” You said gently, kissing his cheek and then his lips. Wrapping his arms around you, he leans for another kiss. and another. and another. “You need to go..”

“¿Realmente tengo que???”

Chuckling you lightly hit his arm, “Go and get up.”

“Ya no me amas?”

A pillow was then flung towards his head.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟎𝐏𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍. Armando had blood splatters on his white-collared shirt. The first two buttons were undone as he coordinated the outfit with black pants, he was looking sexy but that wasn’t the point. “What happened?” Asking in a panic as you walk up to him to check if he’s okay. “Estoy bien, no te preocupes.”

He walked into the bathroom, taking off his shirt and pants as he threw them into the wash basket. Walking back out, half naked. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, the scars tattooed all over his body due to the violent nature of the cartel being a sad story to tell, but sexy to look at.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 - 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐀

“Súbete a la cama, princesa.”

Wasting no time, you did as you were told, stripping off your clothes. Slowly crawling onto the bed you laid down, spreading your legs as he got in between you. Tracing his finger up and down your clit, your wetness coating his finger. “Stop-“ Not even having time to finish your sentence, he pushed a finger in, making you gasp.

Pumping it in and out, you writhed under him at the pleasure he’s inflicting upon you. “Oh fuck!”

He slowly lowered himself down by your clit, still pumping in that finger. You felt his hot breath on your lower area, sending down electrical impulses throughout your nervous system, diffusing through your synapses. A wet object then placed itself upon your clit, circling it.

Armando licked stripes up and down,

making you moan in pleasure, tugging on his hair as you urge him to do more. “I can’t..”

“Puede.” Lifting himself up from that area, he pulls his finger out from you, putting it in his mouth and tasting you. Repositioning himself, he lines up his cock with your pussy before pushing himself in, stretching you out. A sharp flash of pain struck you before quickly dying back down. Armando didn’t seem to notice and slowly started thrusting for about 5 seconds before increasing his speed.

It was somewhat animalistic as he roughly thrusted into you, clearly taking his anger out on your body. It was satisfying at first, but then, his pace got faster. His grip becoming harder. “Armando!” You shouted, but he was still caught up in the overwhelming feeling of being inside of you.

“Cherry! Cherry!”

That’s when he noticed and stopped., quickly pulling out of you “¿Te lastimaste?”

“Estoy bien, todavía estoy adolorido de la otra noche.”

You noticed the pained expression that plastered his face. “Lo siento, lo siento-“

Holding his face in his hands, you look at him with a passion in your eyes. “I know you never meant to hurt me. Stop blaming yourself so much.”

Armando looked at you and nodded, before lifting you up and carrying you to the bathroom.

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇, he slowly stroked your face as you relaxed against him. “Perdoname quierda.” He whispered.

“Don’t worry, i already have.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🕷️] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“aquí tienes…” : there it is..

“Vamos! ¡No tenemos tiempo!” : Let’s go! We don’t have time!

“¡Súbete al puto avión!”: Get on the fucking plane!

Los campañeros: Their companions.

“Jefe, estamos aquí.”: Boss, we are here.

“Es bueno estar de vuelta.”: It’s good to be back.

“Te extrañé” I missed you.

“No puedo esperar para quitarme esta ropa”: I can’t wait to take these clothes off.

“está bien?” : You okay ?

“Ven a acostarte con-“ : Come sleep with-

“¿Por qué coño me llamas tan temprano en la mañana?”: Why the fuck are you calling me so early in the morning?

“tengo que irme..”,: I have to go

“¿Realmente tengo que???” : Do i really have to ???

“Ya no me amas?” You don’t love me?

“Estoy bien, no te preocupes.” : I am fine, don’t worry.

“Acuéstate en la cama, princesa.” : Lie on the bed princess.

“Puede.” : You can.

“¿Te lastimaste?” : Are you hurt?

“Estoy bien, todavía estoy adolorido de la otra noche.” : I’m fine, i’m still sore from the other night.

“Lo siento.” : I’m sorry.

“Perdoname quierda.”: Forgive me, love.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🕷️] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @milliumizoomi @shurisgf @tyneshaaa @sarcasticbitchsblog @amplifiedmoan @wizewhispers @5tarlan7 @thedarkworldofhananerea @armandosbabymama @dyttomori @deadpool15

[justlemmeadoreyou]

2. the offer (restaurant owner!harry x chef!y/n)

(part 1 here)

summary: as you settle into the grueling routine at Haus, you find yourself seeking out any moment of praise or feedback from harry. you two develop an understanding, but it's still hard to focus when he's being...him. safe to say, it ends contrary to what you would have done if you were still the 16-year old smitten fangirl.

words: 5k

warnings: flirtations, some inappropriate behaviour, cursing

finally managed to use this pic in a fic!

***

"Keep your eyes on your own work, newbie!" Thomason's gruff yell made you jump, nearly burning your knuckles on the hot grill. 

You whipped your head around guiltily to see the grumpy head chef scowling at you from across the kitchen line. His eyes followed your sheepish gaze to where you had been not-so-secretly watching Harry chatting easily with the maître d' by the kitchen's swing doors.

Feeling your cheeks get hot, you stammered an apology to Thomason before fully focusing on the sizzling food under your tongs. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the burly man roll his eyes in disgust before barking at someone else down the line.

Ever since that surprisingly nice interaction with Harry a few nights ago, you found your wandering thoughts kept getting...preoccupied whenever you had a free moment. You hated to admit it, but some unprofessional part of you kept replaying his words praising your potential while those kaleidoscope green eyes held your gaze with seeming sincerity.

Just remembering the slight rasp of his voice was enough to give you butterflies in your stomach anytime Harry was nearby. You tried to push those feelings down with shame, scolding yourself for entertaining even a hint of inappropriate conduct.

This was your dream job, your long-awaited chance to finally prove yourself in a real professional kitchen. Getting distracted by your silly childhood crush could derail everything you'd worked so hard for.

But despite your internal pep talks, you couldn't quite shake the electrifying tingles that spread through your body whenever Harry was within fifteen feet of you. As embarrassing as it was to admit, just his nearness alone was enough to make you flustered.

You blinked hard and refocused with renewed determination on assembling the line of beautifully seared steaks. Keep your head down, you firmly reminded yourself. Don't mess this up over some silly fantasies about your boss!

As if testing your resolve, you looked up from garnishing the plates to see Harry striding through the pass, easy grin in place. He opened his mouth to speak to one of the sauce cooks but seemed to notice you watching. His lips curved a bit smugger as his jade eyes met yours from across the sizzling line.

With a subtle but obvious look up and down your body, Harry winked before turning to murmur his instructions. Your heart nearly stopped in your chest as an unexpected spike of nerves shot through you.

Was...was Harry actually flirting with you? Or had you just been so obviously drooling over him that he was amused to throw you a bone? Your face burned as you ruthlessly shook the thoughts away. 

In any case, this was no time for getting flustered - the height of Friday night dinner service was upon you. With sheer willpower, you blocked out everything except perfectly executing each plate and order. Harry Styles was now off-limits in your mind.

Until, that is, you heard Thomason's gravelly shout over the din: "Styles! We need you over here!"

You risked a quick glance to see the head chef gesturing for Harry's attention from across the kitchen. With one last considering look in your direction, Harry sauntered over to join Thomason at the expo station just as the evening's first orders began flying in.

You watched, trying to be subtle, as Harry fell effortlessly into the choreographed rush. He moved with an easy confidence as he inspected each dish, adding a sauce here, delicately plating a garnish there. His broad shoulders flexed under his snug black t-shirt as he reached over cooks, communicating with nudges and gestures.

This kitchen was clearly his domain; Harry commanded the space with the born ease of a natural leader. You stared, captivated by the smooth fluidity of his motions, the barely contained power in his lean, tall frame. It was mesmerizing watching him work like a master conductor.

Without seeming to think about it, Harry's brow would furrow in concentration whenever a plate arrived at his station. His gaze would rove over each element, those full pink lips pursing as he scrutinized the arrangement intensely. There was something utterly gripping about watching him wield that intense focus on each dish, his large hands deft and precise.

Your mouth went dry as you caught the shift of taut forearm muscles beneath tanned skin as Harry wiped an artistic streak of sauce. He gave a curt nod to Thomason, his chiseled jawline tightening in approval.

You realized this raw charisma and talent was putting on an entrancing performance for you...almost like a private show if you let your thoughts wander inappropriately. Smacking your forehead sharply, you earned a concerned side-eye from a nearby cook. Yanking yourself back to the present, you redoubled your focus on the tickets before you. No more watching Harry, not when you couldn't afford a single mistake.

Despite your best efforts, the rest of the evening flew by in a blur. You cooked and plated automatically with precision...yet couldn't stop tracking Harry in your peripheral vision. 

You saw him ducking out to handle a special order, then return with a rare olive oil for a dish alteration. You watched him joking with the bread server before snatching a buttery roll to taste the fresh bake. No matter where you turned, Harry always seemed to orbit nearby, that addictive charisma and easy grace undercutting your indifference attempts.

By the time Thomason finally called for station breakdown, your knees wobbled from the marathon stress combined with subtle Harry overload. You couldn't even feel good about handling such intensity because you were so emotionally drained.

As the crew began the process of cleaning and sanitizing, you heard a polite throat clearing behind you. You turned, already flushing, to find Harry watching you with an unreadable expression.

"Uh, hey," you croaked, shocked at your own cracking confidence around him. Harry arched one perfect brow but said nothing, seemingly waiting for you to gather yourself.

You swallowed hard before trying again. "Was...was there something you needed, Harry? I'm just about to start shutting everything down."

A slow grin spread across his lips as his eyes crinkled at the corners. For a strangely open moment, you felt like you could see straight into Harry's core - the intelligence and intensity normally hidden behind his lazy facade.

"You did brilliant tonight, you know?" he murmured, looking you up and down consideringly. "Thomason worked you hard, we all did - but you kept steady through the chaos no matter what."

Your stomach clenched with surprise at his open praise, tingling warmth blossoming outwards.

"O-oh. Um, thank you?" You winced at how flustered and uncertain you sounded.

But Harry's smile only deepened as he took an unhurried step towards you, decreasing the distance to mere inches. You could now catch the woodsy, leathery notes of his cologne taunting your senses.

"Nothing uncertain about it," he murmured, voice lowering an octave. His eyes traveled over your face before lingering on your chest. You felt unable to breathe under that smoldering gaze. "You're really getting the hang of this kitchen, aren't you?"

Despite your racing pulse, you bristled slightly at the implication. "Well, I still have a long way to go to be the cook you and Thomason are."

Those full lips curved at one corner. "True - but we both see the potential there, don't we?" Harry's voice had taken on a low, gravelly timbre that made something in your belly stir.

He took another casual step forward, crowding you back until the counter dug into your thighs. This close, you could see the gold and amber flecks in his green irises, feel the clean warmth of his body heat between you.

"You've got a long road ahead," he continued, so close now his words rasped against the side of your neck. "But I'd be lying if I said I haven't noticed how quickly you're accelerating."

The way he said that last word made you shiver despite the kitchen's heat. Harry's gaze dipped to your parted lips, then flicked back up, intense.  

"Tell me," he said in that same rumbling baritone. "Would you be open to my...personal mentorship? I could help get you up to speed even faster."

His meaning slammed into you like a shove. Was Harry...propositioning you? In an utterly inappropriate way that could get you fired?

Heart pounding, you could only gape at him, at a total loss. Part of you screamed at how wildly wrong this was, how you needed to shut it down immediately. This was your celebrity chef boss, for God's sake!

And yet, another part of you was utterly enthralled by the clear want in Harry's gaze, the visceral attraction crackling between you. All you'd need is to give a single nod and you could potentially experience pleasures you'd only fantasized about with one of the world's most desirable men...

Harry must have seen the conflict on your face because his lips twitched in a knowing smirk. Another half step forward brought your bodies almost flush, the hard planes of his chest brushing against your soft curves through his thin t-shirt. Your breath caught at the heated friction.

"Tell you what," Harry purred, his voice thick with suggestion. "Take a nice, hot shower after your shift tonight. Really think over my offer while you're alone."

With a searing look that felt X-rated, Harry reluctantly leaned back, restoring a sliver of propriety between you. Still, he held your heated stare as he reached out with one large hand and trailed his fingertips feather-light down your flushed cheek.

The barely-there caress sparked tingles everywhere. Your lips parted helplessly on a silent gasp as every nerve ending in your body felt sensitive.

A devilish glint sparked in Harry's eyes at your reaction. With a final wink, he turned to saunter off through the kitchen doors. You watched him go in a stupefied daze, unable to process anything beyond the strong throb now pulsing between your thighs.

What...had just happened? Your brain whirred trying to comprehend what precipitated that completely unprofessional come-on. Had you unconsciously encouraged Harry's advances somehow? Led him to believe you were open to that kind of...inappropriate relationship?

The mere thought of anyone perceiving you as willing to use your sexuality to get ahead made your stomach churn with shame. You had worked too damn hard to get here - you wouldn't risk tanking it all for some secret fling!

Yet a tiny part of you couldn't stop replaying Harry's scent, the timbre of his voice calling you "pet"...the unmistakable promise of illicit thrills in his heated gaze. You gave yourself a harsh internal shake, appalled that you could be so quickly led astray by such baseless temptation.  

Steadying your breathing, you forced yourself to refocus on meticulously cleaning your station. One step at a time, that was all you could think about. Allow yourself to get distracted by Harry's appeal and you were doomed.

Though it took every ounce of willpower, you managed to lose yourself in the monotony of scrubbing and sanitizing. The rhythmic motions gradually purged those unwelcome jolts of arousal, until you felt more like yourself again.

Some twisted part of you couldn't resist a bitter laugh. As if Harry Styles, world-famous millionaire, would ever seriously pursue someone like you. No, whatever sparked that bold flirtation, it was undoubtedly just him amusing himself by yanking your chain hard. 

Shaking your head disgustedly, you stacked your clean pans. This kind of negative self-talk was just as unproductive as indulging fantasies. Squaring your shoulders, you decided to follow Harry's advice - a hot shower was wise after a shift like tonight, then straight to bed.

Tomorrow was a new day to refocus and earn your place, plain and simple. As you hung up your apron, you resolved to greet Harry with a clear head, a smile, and firm professional boundaries from now on. Time to nip this nonsense.

Unfortunately, maintaining those boundaries proved far easier said than done. Over the next couple weeks, it seemed like Harry launched a campaign to slowly chip away at your sense of propriety.

It was like a game, seeing how far he could push before you combusted. Every time you'd settle back into your usual groove, Harry would level you with flirtatious comments.

Like when you restocked the walk-in shelves, so focused you didn't hear the door open behind you. The first hint of no longer being alone was the heat of Harry's chest against your back, molding from shoulder to hip.

His raspy exhale ghosted your neck as he purred, "Need any...extra hands to reach those hard-to-reach places, love?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the suggestive comment. Whirling around, you found yourself centimeters from his chiseled jaw, close enough to feel his amused chuckle.

He took a single step back, eyes shamelessly roving over your body before meeting your gaze, one eyebrow arched invitingly. You could only gape, robbed of coherent thoughts.

"I-I didn't hear you come in," you eventually stammered, trying in vain to will your blush away.    

Harry simply tipped you a wink before squeezing past you through the narrow opening, his body dragging against yours with every micro-movement. By the time he sauntered out whistling, you were gripping the shelves to keep upright.

It wasn't just the innuendos and lingering looks Harry leveled at you that made you feel like you were losing it. He'd instigate small, casual intimacies while you worked, completely eroding your focus.

Like when you labored over a roulade during prep, Harry hovered at your shoulder to murmur appreciated groans about "how good you are at working that lengthy meat with your bare hands."

You froze, blood rushing to your cheeks as Harry's heated gaze bore into you. His lips twitched as he deliberately looked you up and down, taking in your flushed throat. 

"Among other things," he added in a tone dripping with innuendo, making you nearly drop the roulade. Harry threw you a scorching look before sauntering off, leaving you flustered.

Another time, you garnished a plate when you felt Harry's hard body press against your back. His large hands caged you in as he leaned down. You froze, breath catching, as his nose skimmed along your neck to the soft spot beneath your ear.

"Mmm, you smell delicious," Harry rumbled, his gravelly voice sparking tingles everywhere his warm breath hit. "I could just eat you up, petal."

You barely suppressed a whimper at the heated promise in his tone, squeezing your thighs together as arousal flooded you. Harry chuckled low, leaving you feverish and shaky after brushing his lips along your ear.

Moments like these rapidly became the norm - heated glances, suggestive remarks laced with innuendo, lingering casual touches far past professional boundaries. It left you feeling unmoored and disoriented, certain the prize was something deliriously illicit.

You tried to shut it down at first, offering polite reminders about conduct. But Harry only grinned, as if you barely registered. "Relax, love. Harmless flirting between coworkers never hurt anyone."  

As the incidents persisted, your token protests grew weaker. Though you refused to admit it, some part of you began craving Harry's heated focus and suggestive teasing like an addiction.

He always paid you those inappropriate compliments while deeply engrossed in showpiece cooking. As if he derived pleasure from flustering you amid such intense artistry. 

Truthfully, it did add an undercurrent of charged tension to mundane tasks - feeling Harry's eyes tracking your hands as you worked, knowing he was eye-undressing you. Though you refused to meet his gaze, a delicious shiver inevitably rippled through you.

He'd hover nearby with a murmured narration: "Oh yeah, petal...use both hands to really get a good grip on that shaft...fucking gorgeous watching you stroke it like that..."

No matter how disciplined you tried to be, Harry's sly innuendo always made your mind race with X-rated visuals of intimacy. You'd bite your cheek to keep from whimpering, consumed by arousal and shame equally.

By the time work ended each night, you felt punch-drunk and disoriented, like you'd run an erotic marathon. More than once, Harry would further mercilessly bait you in those vulnerable moments.

"You look thoroughly debauched, petal," he'd purr, eyes burning into yours before dragging down your sweat-dampened form. "Care to skip the hot shower and come home with me instead? I'll give those talented hands a real workout..."  

You swore Harry could make any phrase sound filthy. On too many nights, you fled to your car - face flushed, breath uneven, core throbbing - envisioning how those invitations might unfold.

In quieter moments, bitter self-recrimination was your companion. How had you let yourself become such a pathetic, distracted mess over meaningless flirting? No matter how heated Harry's stares felt, he was your famous boss while you were nobody.  

Your entire career and reputation rested on maintaining a strict professional boundary, no matter how electrifying and tempting your boss's overt sexuality. You resolved on more than one drive home to simply start shutting things completely down as soon as inappropriate comments began, no matter how intoxicating they felt.

Sadly, as soon as you stepped back into the thick of Harry's potent charisma and sensual magnetic field, your willpower tended to erode embarrassingly fast. 

One morning during a high-stress meal prep, you trudged towards the walk-in in search of more chives. Harry looked up sharply from his sauce station as you passed his station and snagged your wrist to halt you. The unexpected gesture made you jump, and you whirled to find his  eyes already roving hungrily over you.

"Wait," he rumbled, not bothering with any professionalism as his heated stare settled on your lips. Before you could question him, Harry tugged you flush against the long hard planes of his body, caging you against his workstation with his pelvis slotted snugly between your thighs.

The sheer eroticism of that ardent man-handling and friction punched the breath from your lungs. You could only stare up at Harry with wide, lust-blown eyes, momentarily bemused into stillness as his forearm came to rest beside your head, his deliciously musky sandalwood scent surrounding you in an intoxicating cloud.

"You've got a smear of sauce right..." Harry breathed against your mouth, so close now you could taste the earthy spice on his warm breath. His free hand came up to cup your jaw tenderly, rough thumb swiping out to trace the seam of your parted lips. "Here."

Your chest heaved against his in tiny, panting gasps. Any remaining illusion of boundary, lay in crumbling ruins around your feet. There was no mistaking Harry's seduction for mere playful teasing at this proximity, and indecency.

This was him finally making his play, naked want and desire radiating off his tall frame in scorching waves as his searing gaze clung to your mouth. Every ounce of blood in your body rushed straight between your thighs in anticipation.

You remained utterly motionless, rendered speechless and hyper-focused entirely on the sizzling feedback of sensation Harry's proximity inspired. He was absolutely everywhere - the heat of his body seeping under your skin, the slow rhythmic rise and fall of his chest brushing against yours, the gravelly white noise of his ragged breathing surrounding your senses.

Every rational thought in your mind screamed at you to gather some shred of control and push him away, firmly shut this down before it escalated further than you could ever recover from. But you remained frozen in place, utterly possessed by the intoxicating anticipation of what those plump, virile lips would feel like finally slanting over your own.

Just as your last vestiges of propriety and worry threatened to shatter, a ringing clatter of trays against metal echoed in the hallway. Both of you jumped as if electrocuted, the tension between your pressed bodies dissipating in an instant as reality came crashing back. You stumbled backwards, putting several feet between you, just as one of the prep cooks rounded the corner lugging a heavy trolley.

Harry cleared his throat roughly and shifted to put more workspace between you, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. The aborted moment seemed to penetrate the fog of arousal, harsh light returning to his dilated emerald eyes as they flickered across you. You wrapped your arms around your midsection defensively, suddenly feeling small and skittish under the weight of his palpable discomfort.

The prep cook sailed by with a polite nod, oblivious to the fraught tableau he'd interrupted. As soon as he rounded the corner again, Harry shook his head and grasped the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut in clear frustration.

You watched with bated breath, anxiety coiled in your belly, as he seemed to wrestle with some internal dilemma. When Harry finally opened his eyes again, the naked hunger that had consumed him only moments ago was carefully veiled once more behind that affable, dimpled mask.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, more to himself than you. Straightening, Harry met your uncertain gaze head-on, his own shuttered and inscrutable. "That was...completely out of line. Unprofessional of me."

Your heart stammered in your chest at the curt dismissal, warm arousal rapidly cooling into brittle rejection. Of course this had all been a mere game to Harry, one he lost interest in as soon as the threat of consequences loomed. You were such a fool to have let yourself get caught up in the fantasy.

Fighting to keep your expression neutral, you gave a small, tight nod. "It's alright, Harry. I understand. We got...carried away there for a moment." The flimsy excuse felt pathetic even to your own ears, but you pressed on. "It won't happen again, I can assure you."

Something flickered behind Harry's gaze at your reassurance, though you couldn't parse its meaning. He maintained the weighted silence for a heavy pause before finally replying.

"See that it doesn't," he replied evenly, a subtle edge to his deep timbre. "We're professionals in a workplace, after all. No matter what harmless games we play at, I'd hate to see you get...distracted from your goals here, petal."

You flinched at the petname, once again. Color bloomed hot across your cheeks at the insinuation that you would be the one unable to draw the line between flirtation and flat-out unprofessional conduct.

Disappointment and shame swirled sickeningly in your gut alongside lingering arousal. Before you could formulate a response, Thomason's bellow echoed across the kitchen, shockingly close. "Oi! Either get back to your stations or take the grope fest to the alley already! Some of us got shit to do today!"

If you thought you were flushed before, it was nothing compared to the full-body conflagration sparked by the head chef's words. You opened and closed your mouth soundlessly, utterly mortified at being caught out in such compromising circumstances, as Thomason stomped closer into view with a disgusted scowl. 

"What the fuck are you two playing at, huh?" he demanded gruffly, stabbing an accusatory finger first at you then Harry. "Styles, I expected this kind of shitty lack of focus from a prima donna rock star jackass - but you?" He swung his narrowed glare your way, making you shrink back involuntarily. "If you want to keep getting world-class knowledge dropped on your dumb ass, try keeping it in your goddamn pants around the maestro for five fucking minutes!"

If possible, your flush deepened even further at his harsh reprimand. Shame roiled nauseously as you struggled to meet Thomason's furious glare, much less Harry's eerily impassive one. This was it, the humiliating moment you'd been dreading - getting outed as just another silly starstruck girl unable to rein in inappropriate impulses around her famous boss.

Just as you began mentally drafting your letter of resignation, Harry finally broke the tension by letting out a low chuckle. You shot him an incredulous glance, but he simply shook his head, dimples creasing his cheeks ruefully. Raising placating hands, he turned to the seething Thomason with an engaging grin.

"Easy there, Paulie. No need to get your apron twisted, nothing skeevy going on here I assure you." Dropping one hand to your shoulder, Harry gave it a firm squeeze, muscles in his bicep flexing enticingly. "Our young prodigy and I were just engaged in a bit of innocent culinary mentorship. You know how hands-on and intense those private tutorials can get."

His lascivious emphasis made it clear there was nothing 'innocent' about the nature of contact you'd nearly devolved into. But Thomason seemed to relax marginally all the same, giving a grunt of grudging acceptance.

"Fine, but keep your dick out of the dough while you're on my clock, capisce?" he growled at Harry, ignoring your scandalized gasp as he turned on his heel to stomp away. "Christ, I feel like I'm running a fucking fry shack instead of a Michelin kitchen..."

You watched his retreating back, utterly stunned into speechlessness by the unbelievable turn of events. Was...that seriously it? Harry had just implicitly outed your unprofessional indiscretion, and the consequences amounted to mild ribbing and a halfhearted reprimand?

Slowly, you pivoted to face Harry once more, utterly at a loss. His hand was still a scorching brand on the cool exposed skin of your shoulder, eyes glinting with that same indefinable mischief you'd witnessed him deploying to charm countless others.

As if sensing where your thoughts were headed, Harry quirked a knowing smile before finally withdrawing his touch. "Don't look so stricken, love. Paulie likes to play the crusty hardass, but far as he's concerned - as long as the work gets done right, whatever happens off the clock is nobody's business but our own."

His emphasis on those last few words rang with clear unspoken suggestion. But unlike before, you felt firmly centered in yourself enough to shake off any arousal. Lifting your chin defiantly to meet his smoldering gaze, you replied in a low, measured tone:

"Then with all due respect, Harry...I believe I'll pass."

For the first time all evening, the suave restaurateur looked briefly taken aback. You refused to let the flicker of uncertainty show as you pressed on, keeping your voice carefully modulated.

"I've put in far too much time and hard work getting here to jeopardize it all over some...tawdry infatuation. So while I'm flattered by the attention, and your willingness to keep things discreet, I have to draw the line at anything more than a professional mentorship."

Harry's eyes narrowed fractionally, clearly unaccustomed to such outright rejection. You refused to quail, squaring your shoulders as you laid it all on the table.

"My dreams are bigger than being another disposable conquest for my famous boss to slum with in secret. If you can't see me as more than that...well then, I wish you the very best. But our relationship can only be strictly chef-to-chef from here on out."

You paused to let the weight of your impassioned words hang between you, searching Harry's expression for any flicker of reaction. For several tense moments, the only sounds were the distant murmurings of kitchen noises and your own thundering pulse.

Then, as if an invisible switch clicked, Harry's stony demeanour melted away - replaced by a look of grudging amusement and what could only be begrudging respect. The familiar dimples you adored so much reappeared as his lips curved into a wry half-smile.

"I see," he replied at last, voice low and considering. "Well then. If those are your terms, I can hardly expect any less from such an admirably principled young chef, can I?"

Another beat passed between you, the tension slowly bleeding out to be replaced with the subtlest charge of intrigue. Harry's emerald gaze roamed over you in a way that felt far more evaluative than outright sensual before he spoke again.

"Very well then. A professional mentorship it shall be, with all the rigor and boundaries that implies. But make no mistake..." Here his lips stretched into a lopsided smirk that somehow felt both conspiratorial and vaguely provocative. "I expect you to rise to every challenge and be an exceptionally eager pupil, my dear."

You couldn't quite suppress the shiver that rippled through you at his lilting promise, despite your best efforts. If anything, the glint in Harry's eye only sharpened at your reaction, his grin taking on a hint of satisfaction.

Wanting to flee the weighted tension before it could reset that dangerous gravitational pull between you, you quickly gave a curt nod before turning on your heel to walk away. "Then we have an understanding. I won't let you down, Chef.”

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Nine

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Warnings: smut! P in v! Oral, female receiving

Mafia AU

1.4K

Series Masterlist

His mums place wasn't what she was expecting. She didn't know what she expected from Lando, but it wasn't this. He parked outside of the little apartment block on the outskirts of town and opened the door for her.

"This is your moms place?" She asked as she took Lando's hand and climbed out of the car.

She kept a hold of his hand as he walked over to the apartment. "Nobody knows about this place," he said as he took her up the stairs. "I think my mom knew she was going to die when she did. She left the keys for me for my sixteenth birthday."

He came to the door, apartment 105 on the first floor, and pushed it open.

It was... gorgeous. The pictures on the wall were of baby Lando and a woman. There were no baby pictures of his sister, but that made sense. The living room was tiny, with a small, L-shaped sofa pushed up against the wall. On the floor in front of it was a cream, shaggy rug, with a circular coffee table on the top. Opposite was a television.

Everything was covered in dust.

"I don't get time to come here much, now," Lando answered as she took a moment to explore. "It's the only thing I have left of hers."

He walked over to the fridge and pulled out two cans of beer. Lando sat himself on the sofa and turned on the television. It was the newest thing in the apartment, something he had bought after the old one packed up.

At last, she came and sat beside him. She tucked herself against his side and took the beer he offered her. "How did she die?" She asked as she cracked open the can.

Lando sucked in a breath. "I don't remember much about her," he confessed. "And my dad doesn't much speak about her. The records I've looked through say nothing about her getting sick, but nobody will tell me what actually happened."

She cuddled into him and sipped her beer. "Tell me about your step mother," she muttered.

Before he answered her, Lando pulled her into his lap. She placed her beer down and wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands settled on her hips. "My step mother was a vicious bitch," he said with a laugh. "She was a great mum to me, but she was terrifying. Her main priority was taking care of my sister. Everything I know, she taught me." Guns, fighting, all of that. But Lando wasn't ready to tell her that. "Everyone that came in and out of our house was terrified of her."

"How did she die?" She asked, but Lando shook his head.

"That's a story for another day," he said and kissed her. "Should we order a pizza?"

They stayed on the sofa, eating pizza and drinking beer as they watched movie after movie.

Halfway through the third movie, she yawn and stretched her limbs up. "Are we sleeping here?" She asked sweetly, innocently, and Lando nodded his head. "Perfect," she whispered as she climbed off of his lap.

Lando watched her move across the apartment, his apartment. It wasn't owned by his father or the Norris family. It was his. And she was in it.

Her hips swayed as she moved. Before she could round the corner and disappear into his bedroom, she pulled her shirt over her head.

It landed in his lap.

Within a second he was jumping from the sofa and racing after her.

When he got there she was laying on his bed in nothing but her pyjama pants. Lando let out a low whistle as he looked at her. He'd been with plenty of women in his life, but none of them were her.

"Fuck," he hissed as she looked at her. "You really are something." He climbed onto the bed and crawled on top of her, kissing her slowly, completely ignoring her breasts.

She whined against his lips, threading her fingers through his hair. Lando rolled his hips against hers and she pulled her lips away from his to cry out.

She'd been wanting this, just as much as Lando had, since the wedding. "Please tell me you've got a condom," she whispered and Lando reached into the bedside drawers, pulling out a box of condoms.

She grabbed his face and pulled him down to kiss her.

He kissed her cheek and down her neck. Lando stopped to mark her up, to leave dark, purple bruises on her skin. She whined and moaned, tugging at his hair. He was loving every second of it.

Finally, he moved down to her breasts. She arched her back towards him as his thumb toyed with her right nipple, his lips wrapping around the left. "Fuck," she hissed, eyes squeezing shut as he played with her. "Lan."

He pulled away from her and reached up to quickly kiss her lips. When he pulled away, he grabbed hold of her pyjama pants and underwear and pulled them down her legs.

"Holy shit," he said as he dropped them to the floor. "You're fucking soaked."

"Jeez, I wonder why," she muttered with a grin as she parted her legs.

Lando touched her, gingerly parting her lips with his fingers. His breath hitched as he looked at her. He ran his fingers through her folds, gathering up her wetness and placing his finger in his mouth.

He released it with a pop and stroked over her hip. "I can't wait to get my mouth on you," he whispered, staring at her.

She looked down at him with adoration in his eyes. "Do it then."

Lando dove in. He pulled her towards him and pressed his face to her cunt. His lips sucked at her clit as he gripped her legs. Holding her open. The moan she let out echoed around the apartment. "Shit!" She cried, gripping the sheets. "Fuck, Lan." She bucked her hips against his face, but he held her still, used his tongue to bring her pleasure.

When he hummed against her, she grabbed his hair and bucked her hips towards his face.

Lando couldn't hold her for that one. He allowed her to move against him, his nose bumping her clit.

When her legs began shaking, Lando pulled away. "Pass me a condom," he said as he climbed back up her body and kissed her.

She could taste herself on him as his tongue danced into her mouth. Blindly she reached for the box of condoms and pulled out a square, blue wrapper.

He ripped it open and rolled it over his rock. "Next time, I want you to ride my face," he whispered as he lined himself up.

He kissed her as he slowly entered her. Inch by inch he pushed himself into her, his lips against her own. He didn't pull away until she did, throwing her head back as she moaned.

His movement were slow and gentle. If he wasn't kissing her, his forehead was against her own as he moved her hips. With how slow it was, Lando was determined to draw it out, to draw every little noise from her. It was music to his ears. If he could have, he would have listened to it on repeat for the rest of his life.

She locked her legs around him, her chest rapidly rising and falling as Lando brought her closer and closer to her orgasm. He buried his face in her neck, leaving a mirroring bruise on the side of her neck that had none.

She came, squeezing around him as a little cry left her lips. "That's it," Lando whispered against her neck. "That's it."

With just a few more thrusts he came inside of the condom. Immediately, Lando pulled out. He quickly pulled off the condom and dropped it in the bin, returning to the bed beside her.

Her breathing still heavy, she grabbed Lando's hand and brought it up to her lips. "That was," she began through heavy breaths. Lando grabbed her and pulled her close, wrapping his body around her. "Wow."

Lando squeezed her. "Something you'd wanna do again?"

"Definitely."

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[yeosatinyngz]

BIRTHDAY SURPRISE

↳GN Reader: You’re planning a surprise celebration for Xavier’s birthday but he suspects that you’re cheating on him | wc: 1127

A/N: Y’all already know what today is!! It’s the loml’s Birthday, everybody say Happy Birthday to Xavier!!🥰🥳 To celebrate I gift to y’all this oneshot, enjoy!

Anxious. That’s what Xavier has been feeling for the past few days after carefully watching you. You were being sneaky for no reason, constantly on your phone and going as far as placing your phone face down whenever a notification popped up.

There’s no way right? You can’t be cheating on him right? The dark thoughts clouds his mind and before he could be drowned by them he was pulled out by your voice calling out to him. He snapped out of it and looked at you confused, “Huh?” “I was asking you what we should do about dinner, do you want me to cook or order takeout?”

He quickly mumbled out that ordering takeout would be fine and tried to get his mind off those unsettling thoughts. However he couldn’t help the fact that those thoughts kept creeping up at the back of his mind, to the point that it kept him up all night.

The following day, Xavier decided that he would stop by Philo to ask Jeremiah for advice. He was shocked to find out that you were there. He was going to enter the store but stopped after seeing Jeremiah hand a bouquet over to you, you excitedly jumped up and down and hugged him which shattered Xavier’s hearts into pieces.

He immediately turns around and walks back home, alone with his thoughts that suffocated him more and more. Were you cheating on him with Jeremiah??

It was another sleepless night for Xavier. He decided to confront you today and walked down to your apartment with determination. He knocked on your door, his heartbeat quickening as he anxiously waited for you to open the door.

You opened the door slowly and cautiously peeked your head out. “Oh Xav, what brings you here?” He gives you a perplexed look, “Do I need a reason to visit my partner?” You let out a nervous laugh, “Of course not.” “Can I come in?” He questioned while trying to step in.

However, you were quick to block him from stepping inside your apartment. Frantically you excuse yourself saying, “Uh my apartment is currently really messy and I wouldn’t want you to see the state it’s in.” He raised an eyebrow at you, “You know I don’t care about that right?”

Xavier looks down and spots a pair of men’s shoes. Specifically Jeremiah’s shoes and at this point he was a second away from bursting out. You were quick to shove him back spewing out, “Come back later when I text you to, I’ll have my apartment cleaned by then, ok byeee” and then you proceeded to slam the door in front of his face.

Xavier scoffs in disbelief at the stunt you just pulled and grumpily walks back up to his apartment.

You texted Xavier to come down and excitedly wait for him. It took you weeks of planning to get to this point and you imagined his reaction in your head so many times, you were finally gonna be able to surprise him.

You heard his familiar knocks and asked Jeremiah to get the door for you as you were going to the kitchen to get Xavier’s cake and the bouquet of flowers that Jeremiah chose for you specifically for Xavier.

“SUR-“ The word surprise was caught in your throat when you witnessed the scene before you. What you returned to was Xavier aggressively grabbing Jeremiah’s collar and his other hand in a fist ready to strike. “STOP” you shouted in panic. Xavier turns his attention towards you, eyes full of anger. His anger was quick to dissipate when he looks down at the cake in your hands with icing that wrote “Happy Birthday Xavier” and the bouquet of flowers in your hands. It was like a sudden light bulb clicked in his head and he was finally grasping the situation at hand.

He was quick to let go of the poor trembling Jeremiah who was quick to run and hide behind you. “Get your crazy boyfriend under control please.” You looked at Xavier with a glare, “What’s gotten into you? What was all that about?”

He looks away, ears red with embarrassment. Whispering out, “I may or may not have thought that you were cheating on me with Jeremiah.” Your eyes widened in shock as you shoved the cake and flowers into Jeremiah’s hands and walked towards your lover. “I’m sorry for acting all suspicious and making you think I was cheating on you, I was just putting together your birthday surprise party. You know that I only love you right? And no offense to Jeremiah but do you seriously think I would leave you for someone like him?” “HEY! I have feelings too, you know.” Jeremiah chimed in before a glare from Xavier shut him up.

“I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, to be fair I was coming to confront you but got angry after seeing Jeremiah’s stupid face.” “Ugh I don’t even know why I even helped to set this surprise party up if you were going to be so rude.” Jeremiah grumbled out loud, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his comment. “Alright alright, Xav apologize to the poor dude before we start witnessing his villain origin story.”

“I’m sorry for my words and actions, that was not my proudest moment and I hope you can forgive me for them.” “I’ve seen worse from you, apology is accepted although I think you have some making up to do.” Xavier sighs, “Fair is fair.” An evil look takes over Jeremiah’s face for a split second and you couldn’t even start to imagine what Jeremiah would make Xavier do to accept his apology.

Anyways, now that the whole ordeal was dealt with you resumed with the party and lit up the candles for Xavier to blow out. Once it was blown out you all broke out into a sea of applause. Not long after that all the guests were off doing their own thing and you and Xavier were alone in the kitchen. You smiled as you watched him happily eat the cake that you baked for him.

“You have a little something.” You tell him as he just finished up his cake slice. He looked up to you in surprise with those cute big blue ocean eyes of his, “Can you help me get it please?” “Of course, my love.” You leaned forward and connected your lips with his. His shock was quickly overtaken as he closed his eyes and melted into the sweet kiss. You slowly pulled away before whispering softly into his ear, “Happy Birthday Xavier.” His ears were quick to flush red as he leaned in once again to find the comfort and warmth of your sweet lips.

[thatonebirdwrites]

When the news came, Lena was in a meeting with Sam and the L-Corp's board. She'd long ago set all alerts for Supergirl to come through to her phone, but ones where Supergirl was injured had been set to ignore all other settings.

The ring caused Sam to jump, but Lena kept her cool. She glanced down at her phone, and felt her veins turn to ice. A brief message that Supergirl had fallen from the sky.

Shit.

Lena grabbed her phone and bag. "I regret that I must take this call. An emergency has come up."

Sam looked at her, her brow furrowed in worry. "I can handle this, Lena. Go."

With a tight smile to her friend and CFO, Lena hurried from the room. She swapped out her shoes, and took off in a sprint. The alert had given her an intersection, but she needed to know if Alex knew about this yet.

Lena: Alex, I'm incoming.

Alex: wait, what?

Lena: Kara, she's fallen.

Alex: The hell? She's supposed to be eating lunch! Was in a meeting. Where?

Lena forwarded the alert's text, baffled that Alex had no idea.

Alex: How close are you? It's gonna take me fifteen minutes. J'onn unavailable.

Lena: Be there in five.

The doors of the elevator opened. Why drive when she could take the helicopter? When her pilot reached the intersection, Lena stared in horror. Someone had what looked like a missile launcher over their shoulder, and Kara laid in a cracked hole in the street in front of Noonan's. So Alex had been correct, Kara had been getting lunch, as drinks and food was spilled across the curb. People clustered in the doorways of the cafe and storefronts, and Kara's supersuit had a burn mark across its front.

Fuck.

"Hold us steady," Lena ordered the pilot. She grabbed a bag from behind her seat. In case of an attack -- considering she had quarterly assassination attempts all the time -- she had some specific weapons in here. One of them was a shotgun with some unusual shells. She flicked through her supplies and decided on a particularly useful set. She popped in the shells, cocked the gun, and threw open the door. The person started to look up, but Lena wasn't giving them a chance to react. She fired. The shots slammed into the person's back and immediately ice formed. She fired again. This time the person fell to the ground as a block of ice. Cryo shells had their use. She reloaded and gestured to her pilot.

He brought the helicopter closer to the ground. "Watch my back," she said, mostly out of habit, though she doubted the pilot could do anything. "And stay in the air. We'll need a quick exit." "Right, Ms. Luthor." He kept his gaze on the controls, his voice coming through her headset.

She jumped to the ground, her shotgun cocked. As she scanned the area, she realized, to her dismay, that another person stood in the shadows of the storefront across from Noonan's, armed with some sort of long rifle. Why the person hadn't fired yet confused her.

Lena aimed but didn't fire yet. She didn't have confidence that her shot would hit before the other took her out. "Step away from Supergirl."

The person wasn't that much taller than herself. Curly blonde hair leaked out of the black beanie, and blue eyes regarded her from under a black mask, their clothes definitely assassin-like. "Stay out of this, Luthor." A high-pitched voice. Possibly a woman?

"This is my business." Lena stalked closer. "Don't think I won't take you out like your friend there." She nodded at the other person dressed in black with a black mask over their face, their eyes closed. Ice was still encased around their lower body.

Lena wished she'd seen the person earlier. Otherwise she'd have fired on them too. Now they were in a stand-off exactly when Kara needed her the most.

"I don't want to do this," the woman in black said. "You're not on our list."

"Then step away now. Don't think I won't fire."

The woman stared at her for a long moment as if sizing her up. Her voice timbre changed to a hint of coy and frustrated. "Why do you care, Lena Luthor? Doesn't your family hate Kryptonians?"

Lena rolled her eyes. "I'm not them." She needed to distract her somehow. At least until Alex got here or Lena could fire the shot without getting hit in turn. "Now, how about you put down your weapon, I'll put down mine, and we'll talk like civilized people?"

The woman hesitated, her rifle moved just an inch down.

That was when the shot came from above. The bullet hit the woman's shoulder, she staggered backward, and Lena took the shot. Two blasts later, the woman was encased in ice like her friend.

Lena slung the shotgun over her shoulder and raced to Kara's side. "Supergirl!" She dropped next to her and felt for Kara's pulse. It was faint, far too faint. "Dammit." She didn't have time to check for injuries. Kara needed extracted immediately. "Riordan, drop the stretcher," she said into her headset.

The helicopter hovered closer, and a side door slid open. The stretcher shot out, swung, and slowed to a stop above her head. She reached up, snagged its side, and pulled on its rope until she had it next to Kara. It took two tries to lift the Kryptonian -- damn, Kara was heavy -- until she had Kara on and belted in securely. Flicking the switch on the bottom of the stretcher, a set of footrests dropped into place.

After she clamped her shoes onto the footrests, she noticed several people had started to come out of the stores with their phones in their hands, likely recording her rescue.

Whatever. All Lena cared about was Kara. "Go," she ordered her pilot, and held on tightly as the helicopter lifted toward the sky.

TO BE CONTiNUED...

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Monster, Inc. 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is an asshole, you know this. But what happens when he turns his wrath upon you? (plus!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, this reader is known as Missie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Monday's are always difficult. Especially as you cling to the good vibes of a girls' night out. The mood was a bit spoiled by the presence of few unexpected bosses but Elfie and Billie kept you all on track. Still, it wasn’t enough, you’re not ready for another week. 

You might not be but you make sure Mr. Hansen is. You have everything on his desk waiting. His coffee is in a travel thermos keeping warm, his daily itinerary is ready for him, and when he gets in, you’ll go to get his breakfast so it’s hot and fresh. 

You yawn and uncrinkle a pleat in your dress skirt. The brilliant shade of green is as bright as an emerald with a trim of yellow at the collar, belt and hem. It's loud but you don’t mind a bit of boldness. 

Mr. Hansen rushes by so quickly he catches you by surprise and your barely catch sight of him over your monitor as you snap your teeth down around another yawn. He’s so quick, he’s a blur. His door shuts behind him sharply and you stand as you go rigid as a pole. Oh no, what now? 

You don’t linger to figure it out. What you know about Mr. Hansen is that it’s best to let him simmer down on his own. The time it takes you to get his organic wrap should be more than enough. You head off with your purse and a bounce in your step.  

It feels good to be moving around. If you’d sat any long, you would risk an ambush nap. You can’t imagine your boss would appreciate that. 

You get to the bistro and put in your usual order. They know you there. They have a ticket ready to ring up and you pay with the company card. You step aside and chatter with the girl at the till about her film class in college. She’s sweet and very passionate about independent movies you’ve never even heard of. 

You claim your order and the complimentary iced tea Kamila made you. You thank her extra and head out, making note to return the favour the next time you stop by. You rush back to the office building a block over and barrel into the elevator. You smile at a man from the eight floor and wait for yours to ding. 

You carry on through the ritual of readying Mr. Hansen’s breakfast. You zap it in the microwave just to make sure it’s still warm and set out the porcelain plate. You lay it out with the little side of greens and tomato salad and leave your iced tea on your desk. 

You knock on Hansen’s door. No answer comes but you know better than to let yourself in. You knock again and put your ear to the door. A third time gets you a response. 

“Fast,” he demands from the other side. 

You open the door and declare your purpose, “Breakfast, Mr. Hansen!” 

You bound over as he keeps the back of his chair to you. You can see the top of his head over it despite his efforts to hunch down. Is he hiding? You put the plate where you usually do as he angles away from you. Is it Mr. Hansen? His hair isn’t that dark... 

“Mr. Hansen, is everything okay?” You ask tenuously. Silence. You hold your breath as he doesn’t move. You gulp and take a step back. “Sir...” 

“Fine,” his hits the armrest and spins around. 

You let your breath out with a gasp. Oh god. His hair is pitch black. The box dye has that blueish tint to it and is less than complimentary to his skin tone. Not to mention he didn’t touch the mustache. You do your best to control your expression and your. 

“Oh, wow, Mr. Hansen, did you get a new tie--” 

“Shut up!” He roars, “it’s not funny.” 

“Nothing’s funny, sir, I didn’t laugh.” 

“I can see your cheek...” he wiggles his finger tersely, “don’t.” 

“Sir, really, I’m not,” you assure him, evening out that ripple in your stomach and your breath. “You know, when I was in college, I killed my hair with bleach and died it green.” 

“Yeah, because green looks so good on you,” he chirps as he scowls at your dress. 

“Thanks, sir,” you smile, “but there is a point. I hated it. I got colour remover and managed to get to a decent brown.” 

“Colour remover?” He narrows his eyes. 

“Not as harsh as bleach but it stinks like rotten eggs. I think you could probably get at least a few shades lighter. And since it’s not green, you won’t go greener. Shouldn't.” 

He shifts his glare to the wall and his forehead pinches. His nose crinkles by his nostrils and he pokes his cheek with his tongue. He clucks and shakes his head. 

“Fine, go get it.” 

“Oh, uh, me? Sir--” 

“No one else is seeing me like this so go fucking get the remover,” he rolls his chair towards the desk and snatches up the wrap, “that shade of green makes my eyes bleed.” 

You give another gentle expression. You truly pity him. You’ve been there before. He was only trying to feel better about himself. To try something new. It happens, but you’re not so sure he should trust you to fix this one. 

There’s not much of a choice. You go back out to your desk and grab your iced tea and purse. Off to the pharmacy. It's kind of fun. An unexpected adventure to keep yourself from falling asleep. It’s exactly what you need. And who knows, if you can help Mr. Hansen get the inky dye out, he might lighten up. Literally.   

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 5

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, overstim? WC: 6.2k AN: hehehehe i have written something nefarious!!! requests and asks are open, as always <3

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, [Ch. 5], Ch. 6, Ch. 7

Chapter 5: Learning

Your knees were shaking as you unlocked the bathroom door. The metal handle was cold under your fingers, but your body was blazing hot, an inferno trapped inside a person. Only two people were left, one of whom was Barriss, so you smiled tightly and told her that, actually, you were gonna head home, that you fell asleep on a bench outside and it was time to turn in. You hoped she didn't smell the cum on your breath.

You almost forgot to pack your laptop, but slid it into your bag haphazardly at the last minute and managed to leave the room with a smidge of your dignity still intact. On unsteady legs, you walked over to the door of the building, resting your fingertips on the cool glass, just to steady yourself. Images of Anakin flashed in your mind. His yell as he shattered that wood. His desperate moans as he tried to keep it together before cumming last night. His hands buried in your hair, rough and unyielding. His strong legs under your hands as he fucked your throat. His smile when he woke up next to you.

All of them kept you unbelievably horny until Anakin joined you with the clicking of the lab door behind him. He'd probably made some similarly lame excuse to the others, but you could see the flush of his cheeks from earlier hadn't faded, even when he cast you a grin. If they knew to look for it, maybe the other students would have noticed the slightly heavy breathing or the looseness in his movement. But only you knew that about him, and it sent a thrill down you.

"Let's go home," he said, pausing in front of you, far closer than any friend would be. Your heart jumped again, and you could feel that he still made your knees weak, even after everything the two of you had done. There was no one in this area, and you took the risk to put your hand on his chest, then drag it slowly, almost imperceptibly, downward.

"Oh? What are we gonna do when we get there?" You pouted up at him. This was crazy, you thought. Two weeks ago, if someone had told you that you would be drooling, practically begging Anakin Skywalker to fuck you, you probably would have filed for a restraining order. Now, it was all you could do not to mount him in the middle of the lobby of the engineering building.

Anakin obviously enjoyed the way you teased him, based on his smirk and flaring eyes.

"Don't act innocent. We both know where your mouth was ten minutes ago." His voice was low, gruff, but it was like he'd lit you from within. Everything buzzed and tingled, and you couldn't wait to get home. God, how did he do this to you?

Anakin must have noticed, his eyes catching on your slightly open mouth. He grabbed the hand that had stopped its path somewhere around the top of his stomach, and took it in his. "Come on," he murmured, then turned around and started speedwalking out of the building. You followed him, in a trance, and somewhere around the second block of your walk home, you realized that your hand was still in his, and his thumb was rubbing over your knuckle and leaving fire under its wake.

You were holding hands. You hadn't even held hands while you fucked, or anything else really. The two of you weren't supposed to be like this, all romantic and sweet and hand-holdy. But there was nothing that would have ripped you away from him right now, horny or not. You'd give anything to solder your hands together like pins of a chip, intertwined eternally.

Fear curled in your stomach, and an image flashed in your mind. His face, crestfallen, his eyes pleading, begging fate to give him another chance. His prototype in his hands, delicate and made of hundreds of hours of his best ideas, but still not enough. The creamy paper of the certificate under your fingers on the hot lights of the stage. The thunderous applause of the audience, your classmates, as you looked out at the one person in the audience who mattered. The tears welling in his eyes, even though he tried to will them away by looking up and blinking as fast as he could. His cold look when he ignored you in class for the last six weeks of the semester.

The breath stalled in your chest, but you looked up at the Anakin in front of you now, walking home with his hand wrapped around yours. Strong, powerful, unbreakable. He'd get over it, right? Going home with him now surely couldn't make it any worse down the line, you tried to tell yourself.

You were quiet for the rest of the walk, but the ache between your legs didn't stop. No matter what you thought about the future, the current you wanted him more than anything. More than whatever fears you had that he'd never look at you again in three months' time. And, if that did happen, you wanted some memories to keep you warm while you got over him. (But what was there to get over? This wasn't anything more than some comfort between friends, right? You tried to quiet the racing voice in your mind.)

The front door of the building was there, and, as soon as you slipped into the elevator--not yours, the one on the other side of the entrance--Anakin was kissing you again. Your mind went quiet, and the only thing left was that you wanted him. You wanted him more than anything in your life. He was leaning, looming over you with his imposing figure, and kissing you like you were his oxygen. And, if you were being honest, right now, he was yours.

Your hands came up to his strong jaw as you tried to bring him closer and closer, but the elevator dinged, and he yanked away. Anakin really was strong, you realized when he almost dragged you down the empty hallway to his room.

It was your first time in his space, and you were shocked by how neat it was. You'd expected energy drink cans covering every surface, or maybe random devices and wires all over the floor, but it was like someone had taken special care cleaning up. Not a speck of dirt on the carpet, and the bed was made almost militantly. He had been planning to ask you over tonight, you realized. You started grinning like an idiot as he dropped his backpack by the door and threw his coat over it. You took yours off too, but with more care than he did.

His desk was the only sign of chaos, covered in old papers and sketches. There was a bucket in the corner of the room of what looked like shells of old Raspberry Pis, and a gleaming array of servers blinked in the darkness on his dresser. There was a picture there of a woman, kind-looking, older. She had his eyes, but her hair was darker, thicker. Their smiles were identical. That must be his mom, you thought. Somehow, this new window into his life made you want him even more, but in a different way. In a scary way.

The thoughts disappeared when you felt his warm lips on yours again and his arms wrapping around your waist. It never got old, even if you'd kissed plenty of times before. It was always new, exciting. He furiously pulled you closer to him, his fingers digging into your back. He was devouring you, his tongue lapping at your lips insistently. You met it with your own, and he groaned loudly before exploring your mouth further.

You stumbled backwards until you hit the desk, sending a few papers flying. Anakin detached from you, just for a second, and shoved the papers off like they'd affronted him personally. Immediately after the desk was clear, his hands came up on the back of your thighs. You both know what it meant. Jump, just like the first time in the lab, and you obliged, shimmying onto his desk until you were fully seated.

"Get your fucking clothes off. Right now," he ordered, already starting to peel off your shirt. You threw it off, then took off your shoes and socks, leaving them forgotten somewhere on the floor. He had already shrugged off his tee, and, forgoing any extra steps, yanked his pants and boxers down in one go. His cock bobbed up, already leaking and hard again. With a similar annoyance at the existence of clothing as a concept, he yanked down your leggings and underwear and tossed them aside, leaving you bare, panting, and looking up at him expectantly. You'd been waiting for so long, so desperately, that you could feel the slick had spread to the inside of your thighs.

He opened one of his desk drawers with his right hand, his eyes still fixed on your pussy, and fumbled around until he found a condom. He couldn't resist before opening it, and shot out one hand to gently smack your clit. You keened as sparks exploded across your body and made your back arch. You were sensitive. So sensitive, you wondered if you could cum with him inside you. He put his hand on your hip, and it was big enough that he could reach your clit with his thumb, rubbing small circles that made you produce gentle noises of pleasure.

Eventually, he gathered enough self-control to pull away and roll the condom onto his dick before stepping in between your spread legs. Taking his cock into his hand, he slapped your clit with it a few times, just to get a rise out of you. The contact, the pressure, was perfect, and with every slap, your hips twitched to chase the spongy head of his cock. He watched your desperate writhing and chuckled darkly. You knew what he wanted, and you were too far gone to try and stop yourself.

"Please, please, Anakin, I need you," you begged as you slid to the edge of the desk, trying to get closer to him, just enough to touch. You added another desperate, quiet please, and he gave in, slamming into you all the way.

Both of you let out ragged groans as his hips met yours, finally filling you to the brink. You'd been thinking about this for hours. The whole day, even. Then he pulled back and started fucking into you with an aggression you hadn't seen before. The previous time you'd fucked, he was energetic, sure, but he wasn't like this. This was wild, a remnant of how excited you both were from the way you'd blown him earlier. His thrusts wracked your frame, making you shake with each vicious jab into you. The smack of his hips into yours and the squelch of your wet pussy taking him was obscene, dirty.

Anakin's hands came to your knees, moving them so that your feet rested on the table. You were completely folded over, and you realized why when he pressed his hips to yours and rocked into you instead of thrusting, creating amazing friction from his skin on your clit. You threw your head back with an unrestrained groan of his name. He was out of breath, ragged and feverish, but he just kept going.

"Look how good you take it, baby," Anakin growled. "God, you feel amazing, so fucking wet for me." One of his hands found your hair and grabbed it while he hit a particularly tender spot inside you. Your scalp screamed, and so did you.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck Anakin, right there!" You could hardly recognize your hoarse voice as you begged him. "Harder, faster, please," you moaned. You could feel that coil of pleasure in your stomach that had been wound up for hours because of him getting tighter and tighter. He was moving so quickly, his eyes wild, feverish and desperate like an animal. His usual smile had faded, and you saw a sort of intensity you only noticed when he was angrily working. Like you were the only thing he wanted.

Each thrust pulled a grunt or curse as you started tightening around him. You were so close, only a few more thrusts until you'd finally feel relief, and you started shifting your hips up to meet him, just to get an extra bit of friction. Anything would be enough to push you over the edge. Anakin noticed your erratic thrusts upward and held your hips down to the desk. You hoped bruises were forming.

"Fuuuck, you're so needy. You're not gonna cum until I say," he ordered. You weren't sure if that was possible. Your pussy was twitching wildly, and your walls were fluttering around him. You bore down and clenched as hard as you could, but that bought you thirty seconds at best.

"I can't--please--I can't--" you started, trying to tell him that you were too close, and he quickly stopped panting to smirk, before slamming into you even faster. You were trying so hard to be good for him, to do what he asked, and your pussy was betraying you as it started barreling towards your orgasm. Your face scrunched into a grimace as you tried, in vain, to control it, and you counted one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten excruciating seconds before he grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him as he finally gave you permission.

"Cum on my dick--ughhh ffuck--Do it now. Cum for me," Anakin gritted out. As soon as he did, something inside you exploded, and you let out a howl as you finally came. Wave after wave hit you, and you went limp in his arms, like you were made of nothing but pleasure and loose limbs. Even though your eyes were squeezed shut, his face was all you could see in your mind, everything that mattered at that moment. Aftershocks made your head buzz, and he could feel you constrict around him.

"Shit, you're so good for me, baby," Anakin choked out between gasps, "So fucking perfect, fuck I'm--" And then you felt him twitch and jump inside you, thrusting in a couple of final times before he buried his face in the crook of your neck as he let out wild grunts of pleasure from his second orgasm of the day. Beneath him, you were boneless, thoroughly exhausted from everything the two of you had done that day.

After a few moments, you felt his strong arms lift you up to your feet, then help you over to the bed. You slowly started to catch your breath, splayed out on the soft sheets which smelled like a mix of clean, fresh laundry and him. You wanted to swim in it. Maybe if Anakin wasn't right there to see you do it and then make fun of you mercilessly after, you would have stuck your nose into the pillow.

You felt the springs of the shitty dorm mattress shift under you as Anakin joined you on the bed. You expected him to lay next to you, maybe spoon you if you were lucky. (If you were lucky? When did you start wanting that?)

Instead, you felt Anakin's fingers, still warm from your body, come to brush your thighs above the knee, tracing patterns. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. When his hand reached the crook where your leg met your pussy, it was entirely clear what he wanted. Stirrings of arousal started inside you again when the tip of his finger barely ghosted over your clit.

"You're not done. I came twice, you're gonna cum twice," Anakin said as he sank his finger inside you. You let out a high, keening moan, which turned more desperate when he lowered his hot, wet mouth onto your clit. He was merciless, driven, precise, repeatedly licking circles into your skin as he watched you squirm above him. Anakin was a quick study, based on his success in classes, but you didn't realize he was this quick of a study. Even based on just the first time he'd eaten you out, he was near-perfectly doing exactly what he knew would get you close. Last time, he had been tender, exploratory, but today, he was going directly for what he wanted. You were still sensitive from the way he'd slammed into you, and the finger inside you was stroking your walls gently, just to remind you it was there. Despite how tired your pussy was from everything he'd done to you, his pointed tongue directly where you needed it, sucking you and covering you in his spit, was enough to restart the tension in your stomach and light it on fire.

Your hand fumbled on the sheets, looking for him, his head, his hair, his shoulder, his anything, and instead his hand came to meet yours. You interlocked fingers, and you caught his eyes looking up at you tentatively. As if you'd pull away at any second. But you wouldn't, not by a long shot.

"Fuck, Anakin, I'm close," you moaned out, even though you were fairly certain he could tell, based on the little breath he huffed out when he felt your thighs clench. The idea that he knew you that well was enough to push you over the edge, gentle waves lapping at your core and spreading through your body. It was softer, weaker than the one before, but it was still enough to make your toes curl. The knuckles of your hand that was intertwined with his went white, and he gripped you back with equal intensity. Your moans floated through the room. You heard them as if they weren't even yours, just noises in your ears as you came on his tongue.

When your rhythmic clenches became softer, Anakin pulled his finger from you and came up to lay beside you. He squeezed the hand he was still holding to try and grab your attention when he saw you were still a bit dazed. Your eyes shot open and fixed on him. He was holding a water bottle, and helped you sit up so that you wouldn't spill.

"Drink some, baby," Anakin said, bringing the bottle to your lips as you took a couple tentative swallows. Sometime around the third mouthful of cool water slipping down your throat, you realized that he'd called you baby again, and that you hadn't flagged it as weird.

He pulled the water bottle away and took a couple of gulps. It was an oddly intimate gesture, drinking from the same water bottle, but it felt right. It felt natural. The way his Adam's apple bobbed would have made you feel something if you weren't so thoroughly spent, but you could at least ogle him a bit and save the image for later. A bit of water dribbled out of his mouth, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"Wanna watch some TV or Netflix or something? Once we clean up, I mean. It's kinda early for bed," Anakin said. You nodded, and slowly dragged yourself out of the bed to the bathroom, which Anakin shared with his neighbor. You locked the doors and started cleaning up the wetness along the insides of your thighs.

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When Anakin exited the bathroom a couple of minutes later, he was still naked, and quite annoyed he had forgotten to bring a pair of underwear or pants or anything. Instead, he was pacing in his bathroom trying to figure out if whatever the two of you were was the kind of relationship where he could walk around flaccid without it being weird. Or would it be weirder if he wrapped a towel around himself? That would definitely be weirder, because he still smelled like sex, and he was going to shower tomorrow morning, anyway. He was too tired tonight.

After a few minutes, he decided to just leave, and if you got weirded out by him being soft, so be it. He couldn't imagine you would, but the delicacy of it all had him second-guessing everything. How far was too far? Would you push away a suggestion to wear his shirt to sleep tonight? What if he held your hand again?

He got his answer when he opened the door and found you wearing one of his old CU hoodies and pulling on a pair of his boxers. The grey hoodie was stretched out and soft, and it was too long on your frame, so it ended more around your upper thigh than your hips. His boxers looked a bit silly, but comfortable on you, and he felt a flare of possessiveness in his stomach. God, you looked like you were his. But that wasn't what this was, right? When he looked at you, he wasn't sure. He'd give anything for you to be his right now.

"Sorry, I didn't ask. Is this okay?" Your innocent eyes looked up at him, like you didn't know what you were doing to him. Yes, it's fucking perfect, and I kind of want to rail you again, but I think I'd pass out, he thought.

"Yeah, um, it's great," he said, trying to hide how pleased he was. He did not succeed, but he caught you hiding a smile.

The two of you settled into the bed, covered by one of his blankets. He grew up in a warm climate, he explained, and duvets were just so stuffy, so he used a pile of blankets and sheets instead. His laptop sat on your laps, balanced between one of his thighs and your leg.

"Have you ever watched Pride and Prejudice?" You asked.

"Uh, I think I watched the start of it once." He had, sometime at friend's house when it was playing on the TV. They didn't have cable when he was a kid, so he got most of his pop culture knowledge acquired before the age of thirteen from snippets at other people's houses and doctor's offices, before someone changed the channel.

You nodded and pulled it up on his laptop, slotting yourself just perfectly under his arm and on his chest. He was almost too distracted to look at the screen, and instead kept finding his eyes drifting back to the way your soft lips mouthed some of the lines. Every time he saw you, it made him smile like a maniac, and his cheeks were hurting by the time he noticed you were asleep. Darcy's first proposal rolled around, and you were gone to the world, so he gently closed the laptop and pulled the blanket up around your shoulders.

As Anakin drifted off, he thought about peace. The kind of stillness that you inspired in him when you were together, the focus you brought. And sure, he teased you, but you made him better. He was the best version of himself around you, and he wanted to spend every second of every day by your side. He slipped into a deeply restful sleep, but, before it took over, he asked himself if he'd ever felt this way about anyone before, and concluded that the answer was no.

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"Hey, Anakin?" You asked him the next morning, when you were throwing on a loose t-shirt of his and some old joggers.

"Yeah, what's up?" He tossed a jacket over his sweater. You were a bit nervous to bring it up, but the harshness of the morning light had made you think more about what you should have been doing last night than you would have liked.

"I was thinking, um, I'm worried about that thermo final, and I ended up not finishing what I wanted to last night, so, would you mind if we kinda sorta did less stuff for a tiny bit? Not that I don't enjoy it, I'm just worried about my grades," you explained. Anakin nodded.

"Yeah, of course. Why don't we say that we'll keep it PG until the thesis deadline on Monday?" His suggestion was great timing, actually, because you weren't sure you'd be clear-minded or awake enough for the next week to be able to have good sex anyway.

You agreed. And it was easier than you expected, too. Anakin was never too far away, which soothed the ache if you ever really felt like you needed to fuck him. Now that TKD practice was finished for the semester, given that you were in the week before finals, all his time was dedicated to classes and his thesis, both of which involved you. You left your dorm together, worked on your projects together, and walked home together.

Sometimes, you'd catch glances filled with something across the lab, and you didn't realize that you were shooting them at him too. When you were alone, which was typically after 11, you allowed yourself a hand on his shoulder, or a brush of his back. Just enough to remind you that he was still there, still real. Then you'd go back to your wiring, and everything else faded away.

You touched yourself in your bed nearly every night, thinking about him. One night, when you were particularly shameless, you pulled up his Instagram and looked at his photos as you got yourself off. It had only been three days since he last fucked you, but you were insatiable.

On Thursday, when you woke up, you got a text from him.

Anakin: hey, was thinking about typing my report n studying for thermo today in the library. wanna join?

You texted him back that, yes, you would, and that you could meet there after breakfast. On the way, you stopped by the campus bubble tea place for some much-needed caffeine to top up the supply of Celsius in your bag, and then entered the library. It was a grand space, all old-money style marble and granite. It made you feel like you were getting ready to go to some swanky gala, covered in Swarovski with a champagne flute in your hand.

Through the check-in desk, you found your way to the elevators, which took you to a distinctly less old-timey space. Anakin told you to get to level B3, which you did, and you found it to be quite cool for a subterranean lair. It had mesh rolling chairs, oak tables, and a little overlook of B4, which appeared to be a massive computer lab with rows of desktops set up. Only five were in use, which made the space pleasantly quiet. Anakin had saved you a seat at a table overlooking the students below. It was already covered in hand-sketched schematics for his thesis, and some crumpled slips of paper that were probably thoughts he'd had on the go and written down before he'd forgotten.

When he spotted you, he grinned and waved you over, and you told yourself the warm feeling in your gut was from him being such a good friend. He asked what you were drinking, then admitted that he didn't get the hype around boba. He'd had it once, at a freshman year event, and thought it was too expensive.

You spent the rest of the day trapped inside the library, only coming up for air to pick up a to-go box from the dining hall. He took about seven trips to the vending machine, four of which were to get Skittles, which he inhaled by the bag. He admitted, when prodded, that he maybe had a sweet tooth. The other three vending machine trips were for Red Bull, which he was using to get through the week, he explained. Around 3am, he forced you out of the building, and walked you home. Thankfully, the library was only three minutes from your building, but the city was not particularly safe at night, so the buddy system came in handy.

When you reached the elevators of your building, past the completely empty entrance, he hesitated before pushing the call button.

"I was wondering if you'd like to come up?" He asked the question while staring at the elevator door, and you hardly realized it was directed at you.

"Anakin, I thought we said we wouldn't--"

"No, I mean, just to sleep," he interrupted. The silence hung in the air between you, cut by the ding of his elevator arriving. "Sorry, that was weird of me. Good night," he said as he stepped inside. It seemed to surprise him when you followed him, but it wasn't like you'd say no, ever. You wore his hoodie to sleep again. You'd wanted nothing more than to feel his weight next to you all week, and it was a relief you didn't know you needed.

On Friday, once you'd gone to your room to change and grab some stuff, you met at the library again. This time, he texted you "i have a surprise for u." He was holding two bobas, one replica of your order, and one for him. He got the sugar wrong (it was too sweet), but it was the taro milk tea with a double serving of tapioca pearls. He'd gotten himself a mango green tea with jellies, so sweet that, when you tried it, you needed water to make your throat feel normal again. He laughed heartily when he saw your reaction, and pronounced your drink "too milky," but you saw him go for sips when you weren't looking.

(It was something he wouldn't have spent money on if it was just for him, but treating you was a treat for him, he told himself. His mom told him to take care of himself, and making you smile was the best feeling he could imagine, so it was technically self-care to buy this, right? And he could just work another hour in the Jinn lab this week to make up for it.)

Sometime around midnight on Friday, in the silence of the library, you felt his pinky graze yours. Sparks shot across your hand, just from that simple touch. When you looked up at him from your thermo textbook, you found him staring intently at you, mouthing is this okay? You nodded. It was. It was so okay.

You didn't know when, but, the next time you looked up, your fingers were laced with his, and he was grinning like a maniac as he looked down at some equations about air pressure.

You slept in his arms again that night, but in your bed this time. He would have to do the walk of shame this time, fair was fair.

On Saturday, after Anakin had slipped out to avoid questions from Ahsoka, you joined him at the lab for an hour, just to get photos of your project, then you both scurried over to the library for a couple more hours of writing. You were already at 56 pages, which you felt proud of, but then you saw Anakin hit 70, and you typed faster.

When he outpaced you and hit 80 before you hit 65, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the stacks at the back of B3, then kissed him silly. That will slow him down, you thought to yourself. It also slowed you down, but you didn't really find yourself caring much when you found him blushing for an hour afterward.

You slept in his bed that night, but a more appropriate description would have been that you both collapsed around 5 am.

On Sunday, you were both completely focused in the library, and consumed more caffeine than food. Anakin insisted he get you lunch, which he did, but he only ate bits of his. Dinner rolled around, and he got it for you again. You were finally finishing your first draft, and so was he, so you read each others'. His was, unsurprisingly, brilliant. His results section was a little sparse, but he was still in the prototyping phase, so that was fine, but you added a few comments anyway and caught a few missing verbs and weird sentence structures. When he returned your draft in half an hour, you found he had passed through it carefully, marking "justify more" and "good argument, put it in the intro too" and "why not use a different material for the shell?" all over the document. He was good at editing too, apparently. You hated to admit it, but his comments made your paper better. You just hoped you'd returned the favor.

The two of you passed out in your bed at 7 this time, only for an hour, before getting some food and writing furiously in the dining hall. The deadline was in four hours, and you were so, so close. Ahsoka joined you around 9, just to eat, but then went back to your room to study an hour later. The clock was ticking down, and you were bouncing off the walls. You still had to generate two graphs, and add all your citations.

You were practically vibrating in your chair when Anakin's hand found your knee under the table.

"It's okay. It's already good, don't get in your head about it," he assured you, just for a moment, before turning back to his own laptop and frantically adding some images of existing microsurgical tools.

At 11:59am, you both hit the submit button, then, without words, looked at one another and instantly went back to his apartment.

You didn't even take off your sweater before collapsing onto his bed. His warm body wrapped around you, and you had the best sleep you'd had all semester. You woke up at 9pm, but then promptly went back to sleep. You had a debt to catch up on.

The next morning, you dropped by the lab again. Just to get everything squared away from your submission, and to grab some basic parts so you could work over finals next week and maybe even over winter break the week after, if you found the motivation.

The only other person in the lab was Barriss, who greeted you warmly. You'd missed her sass and chipped black nail polish. She was a breath of fresh air among all the other dudebros who you had to deal with. Plus, she actually cared. She asked you questions about how your finals went, if you thought the thermo final was actually the tenth circle of hell too, and filled you in on her dating life. She had been seeing this girl, but it wasn't working out, so she was going to end it in a few days. You were dreading where the conversation would inevitably go, and you were getting ready to tell her that, no, you weren't seeing anyone, but she had another question. A much more direct question.

"Are you… with Anakin? I've seen you two together a lot lately." Barriss asked, her deep green eyes unreadable. Your blood went cold. Were you too obvious? Did Barriss see or hear you two fucking in the bathroom downstairs that one time you'd done anything in the building? You had to say something, quickly, or else you were scared she would get suspicious.

"Um, no? We're friends, nothing more," you said, intently staring at some imperfection in a section of the plastic. You grabbed some sandpaper, just to have something to do. Did she know about the two of you?

"Friends? I thought you hated him?" Her question was joking, lighthearted, and the tension eased from your shoulders. She was just being perceptive. You were spending a lot of time together, someone was bound to realize you weren't quite so anti-Anakin anymore. If you hadn't been so relieved, you would have noticed the edge underlying her tone.

"Well, I used to. But he's actually kind of a good person, turns out," you commented, shrugging as you worked a little too hard on the divot under your fingers.

A derisive snort flew from Barriss.

"What?" You suddenly couldn't give less of a damn about the plastic or the sandpaper. All you could look at was Barriss, who was tightening a nut on the body of her bike with a wrench like nothing was wrong.

"Just that you think he's good. It's kind of funny, actually," Barriss said as she shrugged nonchalantly. What the fuck did she mean? Anakin was a good person, a great person even, someone who you'd really like to spend more time with. What did she see that you didn't? Was it still that bot thing from sophomore year?

"What do you mean?" The question came out more tentative than joking, and you cursed your lack of subtlety. But it didn't matter how you asked it, not in the slightest, because what she would say would throw any facade of yours out of the window.

"Anakin Skywalker is a thief."

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[dannyphantom-zero]

Doctor Danny chapter 3

Danny shivered as he drove to work. The feeling of being watched was way creepier than he expected. The worst part, he couldn't tell if it was all in his head or not.

Sometimes when he was younger he had felt like people were always watching him, turned out he was paranoid.

Danny shrugged it off and started work.

The second he was in he was pulled in ten different directions.

Danny had been treating a patient when on the TV the news was showing footage of a live battle. A bomb had gone off and rubble blocked the ambulance from getting to patients.

"NURSE! TAKE OVER" Danny shouted, he ran out of the patients room as soon as the nurse was there. That attack was still happening.

If Danny didn't do something those injured people were going to die.

"DOCTOR! WHERE ARE YOU GOING!" the head of the ward shouted.

"I'LL BE BACK WITH PATIENTS GET BEDS READY!"

The head didn't hesitate. Danny was infamous for not following orders but he never seems to fail a patient.

"You heard him! Get beds ready!"

The nurses and interns scrambled to ready as many rooms as possible.

Danny floored it to the location. A feeling of dread settled onto him. As soon as he hit the first rubble blockage his car door flew open. He started dragging the rubble out of the way.

The news reporter noticed Danny.

"Just coming into the scene, a mysterious unnamed man has jumped into the frey. He appears to be clearing the road."

The camera focused on Danny who had the road almost clear. Danny motioned for the ambulance to get closer.

Danny rushed further into the disaster area. He pulled the rubble off of pinned down citizens. Danny put as many patients as possible in the ambulance.

There were so many. He couldn't wait for another ambulance.

"This man is carrying two people at the same time! He's acting like a superhero!"

The head of the ward stared at the TV back at the hospital.

"Doctor, what are you?" He asked himself in wonder.

Danny had a worker from the ambulance drive his car back, he wasn't done here yet.

He thought he had heard it.

HELP PLEASE SOMEONE PLEASE I CANTBREATHE.

Yes, those were the scrambled screams from someone soul. If a person was put in an extreme situation, their soul in rare cases screamed.

This worked on Damners favor. Danny scanned the area and then he saw it. A mother and her child. The mother had protected the child and got pinned under falling rubble.

Danny hoisted the rubble off from her and thrust it aside.

The women would get more injuries if she were.moved carelessly. Danny grabbed a thick piece of nearby board.

He laid his coat on the board and put both hands under the women securing her. He hoisted her onto the boards and then used his belt to latch her to the makeshift gurney.

Danny was alone on this war front. He really didn't want to carry a critical patient alone but he had no choice.

"Hey kid, you gotta be quick. Run get out of this rubble and to the open street, if you do that I promise I'll get your mom out of here"

He nodded before sprinting away. Thankfully the women wasn't too heavy. Danny picked her up and do his best not to jostle her as he made his way through the wreckage.

They had nearly been out when a peace of cement fell from the sky. Danny quickly adjusted the women and thrust his fist into the concrete. It broke into smaller pieces, none hitting the patient.

Then they were out. Another ambulance was waiting there for him.

He transfered the women to the real gurney and sat on the ambulance. A soon as he got to the hospital he was running from patient to patient doing his best to swiftly treat each one.

The entire time one name kept repeating in his head. Joker.

The villain who had attacked, the villain documented to have taken the most lives. He needed to pay.

Danny sighed. He was standing on the hospital roof, a good place to go and think.

The patients were all stable and thankfully there were no deaths.

Danny drank his canned coffee and headed back in. What he saw was chaos. One of the patients had gone into shock suddenly and without warning.

Danny rushed to the ED with the patient. They started performing emergency surgery. On the end it was futile.

They could not save the patient.

"Time of death 1:23 AM" one of the other doctors said in a solemn tone.

Danny gritted his teeth and stormed out.

"DAAMM EEIIT, AAAAHHH!" Danny screamed once he was on the rooftop.

Tears streamed down his face. He lost a patient because of that damned psychopath!

Danny wiped his tears and made his way to the hospitals morgue.

"Let me see my patient" he had to help the soul pass on, it was his duty.

The soul looked like a cloud of blue mist. It glowed and swirled.

"Go, be in peace" it evaporated and Danny sighed.

"It's time for you to go home Danny, you need to rest. You've been working tirelessly and you just lost a patient"

Danny was frustrated because he knew the head was right. He had to throw away the cost and get a replacement because it was torn to the point that it was unrecognizable.

Danny sat in his car with his head pressed on his hands that were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

His car made a low rumble sound as he drove home. Once he got there he crawled into his sleeping bag and tried to forget.

Jason had been watching the fight, ready to jump in at any moment. Then he saw Danny, the way he had pulled those people out of there.

There was a clip that had been missed by the news. It wasn't a professional camera the way it kept shaking but through all the dust you could see a slab of concrete falling towards Danny and then he just... punched it.

Later he had heard that Danny's patient had died and he knew he needed to make a visit.

No doubt the doctor was blaming himself. He knew what it was like losing someone you were trying to save.

Jason slowly slid open Danny window. It's lock was faulty, he wondered if Danny knew that.

"Danny?"

He didn't respond.

"I know what it's like to lose a person like that, especially to joker"

Danny sat up and looked at Jason with rage burning in his eyes.

"If I ever meet Joker, I will tear his arms off"

Jason stared at Danny for half a second before grabbing his shoulders, "I knew I liked you!"

Jason let go and reached up to take his helmet off.

"Don't!" Danny said grabbing the helmet.

"Danny, I'm going to stalk you whether you know my identity or not"

Danny sighed and let go.

"Okay but what about the other vigilantes identities. Once I know yours, figuring out theirs won't be so difficult"

Jason paused, considering it.

"Meh, they'll be fine"

Danny shook his head.

"When I'm kidnapped and tortured and all of your identities get revealed, it won't be my fault" Danny said.

Jason grinned and took off the helmet.

Danny glanced at Jason. He didn't look half bad in terms of looks, he considered Red Hood to be pretty handsome.

"I don't recognize you at all" Danny said peering closer.

"Really? I'm Jason Todd"

Danny pulled back like he had touched something hot.

That name, Jason Todd was famous for his soul being reborn due to a hazardous pit called the Lazarus Pit. It must be eating away at him, probably destroying his mind.

"Shit" Danny muttered.

"What?" Jason asked.

Danny seemed conflicted.

"I am about to say something that's going to sound, in a word, insane"

Danny paused, "I'm only telling you this because I feel obligated to help you"

"Help me? How?" Jason asked with a sly smirk.

"With your situation" Jason had a blank look on his face.

"The Lazarus Pit that you fell into is contaminated. It's going to damage your brain"

Jason's eyes grew wide and Danny could see the sparks of the contaminated ectoplasm influencing Jason's emotions.

Before Jason could fly into a rage Danny grabbed him.

"Sorry, this is gonna hurt but I have to filter the ectoplasm"

Danny bit Jason's neck finding a vein. He began sucking out the contaminated ectoplasm, replacing with his own. He tried to think of it like a blood transfusion.

Jason was too stunned to do anything. The longer Danny was like that, the calmer Jason felt.

Finally Danny let go. He waited for a horrified look or a demand or anything.

But Jason seemed almost like he was in a trance.

"Jason?"

He snapped out of it, his hand flying to his neck.

"That felt...nice"

Danny sighed.

"I'm half ghost" Danny said.

Jason looked at him like he was dead.

"I was in an accident in my parents lab and sort of died, my DNA was mutated due to ectoplasm. It was the purest form."

"Your half dead?"

Danny nodded, "what I did was filter the Lazarus water and replace it with ectoplasm."

"Am I all good then?"

"Well no. I can't do it all at one time since it's mixed with the blood in your veins. If I did you could die"

Jason smirked.

"Oh noooooo" he said sarcastically, "looks like I'll have to come back"

Danny rolled his eyes.

"So are technically like a vampire ghost then"

"I am not a vampire!" Danny said.

"Sure, sure."

Danny sighed.

"So are gonna leave or what?" Danny asked.

Jason grinned.

"Naw, Imma stay right here"

Danny opened the window.

"Shoo"

Jason put a hand on his heart.

"Wow, I can see how welcome I am"

"I hope so"

Jason shook his head as he climbed out of the window onto the fire excuse, helmet secure on his head.

"You can't get rid of me Danny"

"I know, that's why I'm getting a restraining order"

"What?" Jason asked in alarm. Danny shut the window cutting off Jason's concerned cry.

Now THAT was satisfying.

Jason couldn't stop smiling. His new friend had the cure to his pit rage and had powers. Not only that, he was medically equipped so Jason wouldn't have to go to the hospital ever again!

It also worried him. Danny was too skilled, he was a big target for any villain.

Danny fell asleep and he slept deeply.

Danny was surprised to wake up to something other than his alarm the next day.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

The Triceratons Experiment: part 2 (Angst) (18+)

2003!Turtles, Donatello x reader

Intro Part 1 (18+)

A/N: Finally! Finally I’ve been able to write part 2! I know some of you have been waiting for this for quite some time, and it’s finally here! Hope it was worth the wait💜💚

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Loooong (but we do like that), lust drug?, mildly forced?, forced injection, fingering, being watched, orale - female receiving, orgasm denial?

What Mikey had told Donatello and his brothers, had the purple clad turtle on edge. As a man of science, the unethical ways the triceratons went around their so called experiments, left a bad taste in Donnie’s mouth. He did not like what Mikey just had told him, and furthermore, Donnie had a feeling that this wasn’t the last they would see of the triceraton “professor”. But Donnie would have no idea how quickly his suspicions would come to pass.

The next day started like the day before. The turtles were woken up along with the rest of the prisoners, and told to head for the cantina for food. However, as the turtles made their way down the hallway, they were stopped by the guards, stretching their hands out and blocking their way.

“Halt here”, the nearest guard grumbled, scowling at the turtles.

“Why?”, Raph asked, already feeling agitated. He was hungry, even if it was for a plate full of horrible alien beige goop.

But the guard did not answer him. Instead they intensely stared at each other. Raph waiting for the guard to answer, and the guard expecting Raph to stand down. But neither of them did, standing strong in their silent power struggle. But finally the guard gave in with an agitated look.

“Crowd control. We can’t let all prisoners in at once”, the guard grumbled.

“Since when?”, Donnie asked, confused yet slightly annoyed. It made no sense to him. But the guard did not answer, instead he turned with his side facing the turtles, making it clear that he wasn’t interested in talking, leaving the turtles in silence for some time.

None of the turtles had any way of knowing how long they stood in that hall, waiting for the time they were allowed to go into the cantine. And as the time went on, their already present hunger had started growing, their stomach growling loudly. Raph’s anger and frustration grew as well, to the point where his brothers had to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, in order to calm him down.

Then, finally. Finally the turtles were allowed to go down the hall, making their way to the cantine. Mikey and Raph practically sprinted, not caring what kind of horrible food was left. They just wanted something. But as soon as the two of them came to the cantine, just ahead of their brothers, they were sad and horrified to learn that there was no more food.

Mikey kept pulling on the handle, hoping that a little bit of that beige goop would come out into his bowl, but nothing came. There was no more food.

“They did that on purpose!”, Raph spat, throwing his bowl and spoon on the table in distaine, before sitting down with his brothers. “Fucking triceratons! If I could get my hand on them I would-”.

“Raph!”, Leo exclaimed, cutting his brother off with a stern voice, his face matching his tone.

“What?!”, the red turtle asked, still fuming his anger.

Leo didn’t say a word, but with the same stern look, be pointed to level above them. Raph turned to look up, and found what Leo was talking about. On the floor above, professor Exzor stood with his clipboard, surrounded by guards, looking down at them, taking notes on his board.

“They’re doing it on purpose”, Donnie mumbled, not taking his eyes from the professor in his white lab coat. “It’s probably his idea. A way to force us into giving in to what he wants”.

“You’re telling me that that piece of shit doesn’t think he’s done after yesterday?!”, Raph boomed, fighting not to jump at the nearest guard.

“Yes, that’s what I’m telling you”, Donnie calmly said. “Now, sit down before you give them a reason to go at us”.

With a scowl Raph finally sat down, staring angrily at the table, his knee bouncing under him.

“Aw man!”, Mikey whined, laying down on the table. “I was looking forward to food!”

Donnie and Leo exchanged looks before side eyeing the triceraton on the balcony above. Both had a feeling there soon would be an offer of food coming their way…

—

Once back in their cell, all four stomachs were growling like never before. Raph was getting angry, walking in circles, mumbling and growling. Mikey was once again sitting on the bench, talking about the human girl from yesterday. Though he had been surprised and shaken by the events, he nonetheless had found you very attractive. So attractive he would still mention you out of nowhere before rambling on. Both Leo and Donnie found themselves in deep silence, trying to figure out what was going on.

Suddenly the door slid open, once again revealing six triceraton guards with their weapons ready at hand.

“Face against the walls!”, they roared, marching into the small room. For a moment, Raph looked like he was ready to attack, but with a sharp look from Leo, he let out a small grumble before turning around to face the wall.

With every turtle turned and facing the walls with a guard behind them, professor Exzor made an entrance. For a moment, just a brief moment, Mikey hoped he came to pick him out once more. Though yesterday had been quite a shocker, he wouldn’t mind seeing you again. And if he actually would be allowed to have his time with you this time, he would have absolutely nothing against it. But Exzor didn’t go for Mikey this time around. Instead he went directly over to the guard that stood with Donnie.

“This one”.

“What makes ya think he wants to go?”, Raph suddenly perked up. “After what ya did to my brother, ya be having some nerve coming in here-!”

“Raph!”, Leo yelled out in a stern voice, causing his brother to shut his mouth instantly. “Shut it”. Raph tensened his jaw, letting out a strained sigh. He hated this so much.

Donnie didn’t really say a word as the guards escorted him out. And for some reason, he wasn’t too scared. No, he was thinking. He was too busy throwing glances towards professor Exzor to be fearful, his mind working trying to figure out what was going on.

They guided Donnie down one long hall after another, until they finally came to what Donnie assumed was professor Exzor’s laboratory. Under any other circumstances, Donnie might have been fascinated by it, wanting to get a closer look at the different machinery all around. But not today. Right now, he stood out in the middle of the room, all six guards standing by the walls, while professor Exzor went around the room, getting things ready.

“You’re probably wondering why I chose you today, aren’t you?”, Exzor asked, still not looking at Donnie.

“Because you want a different test subject than yesterday?”, Donnie asked innocently, acting as if he didn’t already knew.

This time professor Exzor finally looked up at him. He stared at him for a moment, before putting his hands behind his back, slowly wandering over to Donnie, slowly walking around him, taking a look at him, before stopping right in front of him, his horn up in the air as he did so.

“You seem like the smarter one of you four”, Exzor said, looking at Donnie down the bridge of his horn. “Am I right to assume that?”

“I like to think so”, Donnie calmly answered.

Exzor nodded a few times before stepping back, moving over to a strap table, setting things up for whatever he had planned for.

“Are you a scientist yourself?”, he asked with his back turned to Donnie, hands busy on the side table.

“I am”.

“I had a feeling you were”, Exzor said. “That’s why I picked you for today”.

“What do you have planned for today?”, Donnie asked, studying the way Exzor moved, along with what he was getting ready by the table.

Exzor stood for a moment, thinking his words through before he spoke. “Do you know a lot about humans?”

Donnie frowned his brows. “A thing or two”.

“What about human biology?"

“A few things as well”, Donnie said, feeling his hands getting clammy. “Some of my friends are human. I know enough in case they need medical attention”. Donnie wanted to ask why, but he had a feeling he would know soon. All day he had had a feeling he would learn something today.

“Have you ever gotten hands on with a human?”

This question took Donnie a little aback. He had never been asked such a question. He had never even allowed himself to think of such a thing. Him, a mutant turtle getting hands on with a human? No way.

“No, never”.

Exzor turned back towards Donnie, this time with a small self satisfied smile. He was finally going to explain. “Your brother has probably already told you about the human girl we have, right? I thought so. She’s an interesting specimen. We found her in an unknown spaceship, cruising around at the edge of the galaxy. We believed she was a spy from the Federation, but she kept saying she was from a planet named Earth. She wasn’t very convincing so we didn’t believe her. Yet she’s the only human we’ve ever had in captivity. It would be idiotic to get rid of her, when she could provide useful information about the mental and physical workings of our enemy. Yet there was only so much we could learn about with only one specimen. But then you and your brothers showed up, stating you were from planet Earth. That suddenly provided us with a whole new opportunity”, professor Exzor said, taking a hold of what he had been working with on the side table. Gloves… High tech gloves… “Though you and your brothers may not be the same species as her, you are from the same planet. That can be just as useful as well”. Exzor took a hold of Donnie’s hands, forcing the three fingered gloves on his hands. “These gloves are made to scan and read the subject. What we want you to do is touch the subject in specific areas, so that we can have our readings”.

“And why exactly do I have to do it?”, Donnie asked, somewhat fascinated by the gloves.

“Because no triceraton is so low as to touch a human in that manner. Disgusting!”, Exzor said sternly, almost offended that Donnie could even ask such a question. “Bring in the subject for testing!”

Another set of doors slides open, revealing two more guards, dragging in a woman wearing what looked like what Donnie could only describe as a hospital gown. Suddenly Donnie understood why Mikey kept talking about you - you were beautiful. A very attractive woman. You made him freeze on the spot and stare with wide eyes as they strapped you onto the table, hands and arms restrained, legs open wide in front of Donnie. He instinctively avoided his eyes, trying to be gentlemanly. But given the whole situation, it was kind of hard for him to do. That was when the two of you made eye contact, and Donnie felt a strange feeling in his stomach, remembering all the things Mikey had told him. Why did Mikey have to tell him all those things? And why did he have to remember them right now.

Professor Exzor told the guards to stand clear, before moving to a computer screen, pressing a few buttons on the keyboard before suddenly turning back towards the guards.

“Give them the shots”.

Before Donnie was able to react, he was grabbed by two guards, one holding his arm out, ready and exposed. He tried to put up a struggle, but realized it was no use. They had him in a lab. Resisting would only cause him, and maybe even you, more problems.

You and Donnie watched the guards with wide observant eyes, as they came in closer, two syringes at the ready. One for you and one for Donnie, filled with a violet substance. You immediately began struggling against your restraints when you saw it. Donnie immediately knew what it was. Whatever gas they had used on you and Mikey yesterday, it was that in liquid form.

“What is that?”, Donnie asked, keeping his voice calm, trying to sound curious, hoping it would make Exzor talk. But the triceraton didn’t budge so easily.

“You’ll figure it out”, was all he said, not looking up from his computer screen once.

Grabbing a hold of your arms, the guards injected you and Donnie with the pinkish, violet liquid, before quickly taking a few steps back from the two of you.

“Now”, professor Exzor said with a stern voice directed at Donnie. “Before the effects set in, put your hands on her angels”.

Donnie gave you an apologetic look before doing as he was told, closing his eyes for a moment when he felt your leg under his gloves. He would lie if he said he didn’t already feel the effects slowly kick in. His senses was already getting heightened, the scent of you slowly getting stronger and stronger. Along with another scent from you… oh no. It was kicking in for you as well. Donnie could understand what Mikey was talking about now. You already smelled so good. Why did you have to smell so good?

“Move your hands further up”, the professor said, still not looking up, somehow sounding even less interested than before.

Donnie already wanted to shoot him a death stare. Somehow the sound of Exzor’s voice made him feel like he was being ripped straight out of a pleasant state of peace. He did as he was told and moved his hands further up, noticing how your legs tensed up and your scent getting stronger. How easy it would be for Donnie to just slide his hands further up, lifting your hospital gown just a little…

“Don’t hold yourself back”, Exzor’s voice sounded once again, reading whatever came up on his screen. “The more you explore, the more information I get”.

Donnie looked back at your eyes, only to find you pupils blown wide already. From the sweat he was feeling forming on his own body, he was sure he looked the same. He sheared your eyes for permission, and to his surprise, you gave it to him. Giving him a small nod. Remembering what Mikey had told him from yesterday, you probably still had a lot of pent up emotions from yesterday. And with that, Donnie gave in, sliding your gown up so that he had a full view of you, the scent of your arousal smacking him in the face.

Donnie stood and stared for a moment, just the sight of your most private area making him go dizzy. Never had he seen a woman up close, nor been able to smell a woman like this. He couldn’t tell if it was because of your scent or the dose running through his veins at the moment, but it was making him feel like he was a week away from his mating season.

Donnie’s hands settled on where your thighs met your hips, pushing your legs further apart for him, his thumbs subconsciously making small circles against your skin, making small whimpers escape you. It didn’t take much to figure out that you were already feeling the effects, and that they were already hitting you strong. Just the feeling of Donnie’s hands on you making you tense with neediness under him.

You laid there before him, your eyes closed and your hands holding onto the restraints. Donnie caught the sight of your tongue wetting your lips, the stuff in his blood already creating images of what that tongue would be capable of doing to him…

“Please”, you whimpered, bringing Donnie back to reality, his abdomen tightening at the sound of your voice. The first time he had heard your voice, leaving him stunned. You sounded just as beautiful as you looked. Your legs quivered, trying to close so that you could create some friction yourself. “Please do something”.

Donnie’s brain went into reboot. He had never thought he would get to hear a woman beg for him to touch her - to do something to her. Yet here he was, with your legs spread wide open for him, though under rather dubious circumstances.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of staring, Donnie finally dared to touch your most intimate zone, letting his thumb grace over your clit. The slight touch made your hip buckle and a small sound of pleasure leaving your mouth. Donnie took a deep breath, taking in the strong scent of your arousal, totally forgetting about the triceraton guards standing around by the walls. Frozen like statues, not even looking at the two of you. It was as if your doings weren’t interesting to them at all.

Pressing this thumb a little firmer against your bundle of nerves, Donnie watched your reaction. You opened your eyes, trying to look down at his hand on you, heavy breathing and hands shaking. You needed more, your eyes silently begging him to do more. And so, Donnie started moving his glove covered thumb in small circles on your clit, causing you to cry out under him.

“Shit!”, you cursed, buckling your hips against him once more. Donnie couldn’t stop himself from churring lowly in his chest at the sound, the hand on your thigh tightening, pushing you even further open with a small increase of force, your head falling back. “Don’t stop”.

Donnie ignored the sound of the triceraton professor pressing the keys on the computer keyboard, focusing on your sounds, your smell and the expression on your face, pressing his thumb firmer against you. You slammed your foot against the table, moving your hips, forcing Donnie to use his other hand, placing it on the side of your hip and keeping you down against the table.

With his thumb still moving against you, he moved one other finger to your folds, gliding his finger through them. How he wished he could be doing this without gloves, so that he could feel your wetness against his skin…

Donnie’s finger glided through your folds until he found your entrance. He did not ask for your permission, feeling both you and his need growing with every second, instead pushing his finger into you, sliding into you with ease. You let out a loud moan that took both you and Donnie by surprise. Yet it fuelled something within him that he didn’t even know was there.

“Is that what you needed?”, Donnie asked as he started to move his finger inside of you, causing you to squirm underneath him.

“Yes”, you whimpered, your restrained hands moving to hold onto the table. Donnie could only imagine how pent up you had been yesterday, finally gaining some sort of release. “Faster, please”.

Donnie hummed at your words, doing just as you told him to, speeding up the movement of his finger, curling it up inside of you. Your reaction was better than he had expected, one moan falling from your parted lip after another. He felt that pressure against the inside of his cloaca, which he grown familiar with throughout his many mating seasons. How he just wanted to drop on the spot a slam into you, as if there was no one around the two of you. But he restrained himself, growling at the strong pressure within him, instead adding a second finger into your clenching hole, watching as your juices gathered up around his digits.

Your legs started kicking against your restraints, your muscles tensing and relaxing as he stimulated your nerves, his fingers hitting the sweet spot deep inside of you. One would not be wrong for believing that he was a master at this, that this wasn’t his first time at the rodeo. Donnie couldn’t explain it. His actions just felt natural at that moment.

You clenched around Donnie’s fingers making him groan, thoughts of how you would clench around him running through his head. You were intoxicating, every sound from you dulling the fire in his veins, yet edging him on, telling him that he needed more. That you needed more.

Donnie couldn’t help but press a kiss to your knee, making you look up at him, your eyes pleading for him. Pleading for him to continue what he was doing. To do more of it. So Donnie did, his lips going from your knee to hovering just above where his thumb was rubbing circles on you. You whimpered when you felt Donnie’s breath on you, your excitement for the feeling of his lips where you needed him the most, almost turning into anxiety of the thought of him not doing it. Flashes of what happened yesterday appeared in your head. The pain and need you felt for hours after the guards had broken you and the other guy apart. You had had no release, and the slowly growing feeling made you almost anxious. You wanted nothing more to cum, letting your juices drench this guy’s face. You still didn’t know he or his brothers names, yet in that moment you were desperate for either one of them to make you cum, just to stop the growing burning feeling inside of you.

Donnie replaced his thumb with his lips, giving your bundle a small lick before attaching his lips with small sucks. This action caused you to let out another loud moan, arching your back, once again struggling against the restraints. Donnie’s fingers speed up, so did his tongue continuing to do fast small licks on you, while the hand that had been holding you down, slowly sliding up under your gown, reaching to grab a hold of your chest. You and Donnie was so far gone in what you were doing, that you didn’t hear professor Exzor mumbling “interesting”, at what he saw on his screen.

You were so close, your mouth open wide, your eyes closed shut, and your body squirming underneath Donnie. He could feel how close you were, driven by a primal instinct to make you climax on him. You were so close. So close that Donnie could almost taste more than your sweet and salty juices. So close…

“Okay, that’s enough”, Exzor said to the guards. “I got the data I need for now. Put him in a holding cell before you bring him back to the others. Just send her straight to her cell”.

It felt sudden to you and Donnie when the guards grabbed a hold of him, pulling him away from you. You let out an almost pained scream, knowing that your possibility of release was once again being pulled from you. Donnie was like a wild animal at this point, fighting against the guards that were trying to restrain him.

“Let me go!”, he yelled, trying to pull his arm away from them with as much force as possible, only causing the guards to get more aggressive towards him. However, with eight guards around, it was only a matter of time before they were able to overpower him, and escort him out of the lab, so that they could place him in a holding cell. But just before they managed to get him out of the door, Donnie managed to get a look back at you, fighting against the restraints on the strap table. He caught your eyes, seeing how you silently pleaded for help. And suddenly Donnie understood why Mikey couldn’t stop talking about you.

—

“Log 67 on Human Studies by Professor Exzor. Date: the eighth of galamion, in the year 56 of the Triceraton Republic.

Today’s experiment once again proved a success. The turtle specimen marked purple has proved to be just as useful as theorized. With their help, I have been able to obtain more information about the human reproductive system, as well as their nerve system, along with a long theorized connection with humans' perception of pain and pleasure.

With today’s obtained data, I can now green light tomorrow's experiment, focusing further on humans’ connection between pain and pleasure, using the turtle marked red.

For the Republic”.

[rileyslibrary]

hi babes!

could you write something for ghost x civillian or medic (fem)reader with a one bed trope? (something angsty + fluff?)

btw i really like your writings! keep up the great work, you're amazing!

thank you x

@efsa-lks , babe! 🍫 The good ol’ “there’s only one bed” trope! I was wondering if someone would request this! I kept it short and sweet ;)

“… there’s food in the fridge for both of you and plenty of ammo in the base-”

You stop reading Laswell’s note and look up at Ghost. He stares back at you with narrow eyes and gestures for you to continue.

“-ment. Unfortunately, though, there’s only...”

“No,” he interrupts you, shaking his head, “no fockin’ way.”

“-one bed, so you’ll have to share.”

He runs towards you and extends his hand. “Gimme the bloody paper.” He orders and snatches it from your fingers.

His eyes jump from word to word, eagerly looking for a possible mistake. He finishes reading, throws the “bloody paper” on the kitchen table and heads to the bedroom to verify Laswell’s words.

You sigh. Why is he so grumpy all the damn time? It’s just for a night, and it’s not like you’ll cuddle like newlyweds. He’s too offensive sometimes.

“So?” You shout from the kitchen and hear his footsteps approaching. They’re slow and sound... defeated.

He leans on the door’s frame and looks up. “Affirmative.” He says, disappointed, “There’s only one bed.”

You follow him to the bedroom and stare at the single bed before you. You scratch your head, imagining two Tetris blocks trying to puzzle their way across the bed without disturbing each other. He rubs his temples as if he’s sending brain waves to the bed so it can split in two and magically solve your problem.

“What if-”

“Don’t you dare mention it.” You stop him.

“I didn’t-”

“You were going to suggest sleeping in reverse, my head looking at your feet and vice versa,” you sneer, “but it’s been done before.”

“Where?”

“In another fic.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

His mask stretches, and you can tell he has his mouth open. You take a deep breath and let it all out before suggesting something else far worse than the one he proposed.

“Ever heard of spooning?” You hesitate.

His mouth closes, and the expression gets transferred to his eyes. “Are you having a laugh?” He asks, shocked, and you put your hands up.

“Stay with me, Ghost.”

“Can’t do much about that,” he mutters, “we’ll practically sleep together.”

You rub your forehead and continue. “I’ll be the big spoon,” you explain. “This way, you won’t feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh, I won’t feel uncomfortable?” He repeats your statement and points at himself, “Don’t tell me that I’m the only one who’s feeling that.”

You frown and bring your index finger to the tip of his nose.

“You know what,” you say, “I’m tired of your shit; tired of walking on eggshells, trying to keep some peace between us and not disturb you.”

He raises his eyebrows and breathes in. He wants to say something, but you’re too angry to hear it.

“I saved you, for god’s sake,” you press your finger on his chest, “I saved your ass last year when I patched that bullet hole in that chest of yours. And all you do is keep treating me like shit.” You say, removing your hand from him and walking towards the door. His eyes follow you until he decides to speak.

“Small,” he says but stops. He doesn’t even believe what he’s about to say. “Small spoon it is, then.”

You pause just outside the door, and a smile forms across your lips. Can it be that he finally came to his senses? Took him long enough, you think. Or maybe he just needed a reality check. You shake the satisfaction off your face and turn to look at him with a disinterested look.

“Which side?” You ask, “Left or right?”

“Left side,” he replies. “I have to keep an eye on the window.”

He assumes position first, and you lie behind him, your forehead brushing his back. As the “big spoon,” you mimic his stance, attaching yourself to him like a mould. He is stiff and awkward, trying to take as little space as possible and failing miserably.

But it’s not just the two of you in this bed. He’s not the littlest spoon. He holds his gun in front of him since he needs to be on the lookout in case someone locates you.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t-”

“I want—I need to protect you,” he corrects himself, “and I’m the only one who knows how to use a gun, so we must stick together.”

“Isn’t this ‘sticking together’ enough for you?” You ask, and his shoulders move up and down. He’s laughing.

“Thank you,” he says, “for saving me back then.”

“It’s my job.”

“And for keeping up with me,” he continues, “I know I’m not the easiest.”

“No, you’re not,” you reply, “but you’re my big-little spoon.” You coo and wrap an arm around his waist.

He freezes at first but lets out another chuckle, this one more audible than the last one, and grabs your hand. He brings it to his chest, where that bullet wound used to be, and secures it under his arm.

“Fork you, little-big spoon,” he quips, and turns off the night lamp.

[dreamlandreader]

Hounds of Love

Part One

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Eris Vanserra storms through the woods in a rage, the last thing he expects to come across is a beautiful fae who is heading right into the path of his father. Eris knows he can’t just stand by and watch this oncoming storm, but in helping this gentle soul, he may have to sacrifice more than he bargained for.

Content Warning - Parental abuse, parental illness, off screen injury caused by a dog (very briefly mentioned).

A/N: Here it is - the piece that landed me with major writers block for weeks and weeks on end and then got stalled because life got in the way! Inspired by the song Hounds of Love by Kate Bush and Feyre’s encounter with the water wraith in ACOMAF✨

Part two will be out soon 💖 Hope you enjoy 💖

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

The hounds of love are hunting, I’ve always been a coward, and I don’t know what’s good for me … 

In the limited light of the quickly setting sun a furious male and his hounds stalked through the trees. 

The bronze leaves shivered in the wake of the Autumn Court heir, who bustled past in a burning rage. Embers of fire flickered at his fingertips as he watched his hounds run wild and free with a glint of jealousy burning in his warm eyes. 

Eris Vanserra was sick. Sick of his court which became more and more suffocating by the century. Sick of his title which kept him tethered to this land. Sick of his father, at whose hands he now bled. 

It had become a regular routine over the years, the way his father would manipulate and berate and twist the knife until Eris could bear it no longer and his calm exterior would shatter. Beron, unimpressed by his son’s outburst, would then beat him back into submission, and Eris would take it until his father got bored. Then he would slip out into the woods with his hounds, using the space to breathe, and to prevent himself from burning the whole damn court to the ground. 

As Eris stormed, the yowls of his hounds swirled around him, twigs snapping beneath their heavy paws as they ran and ran. Eris was all consumed plotting his father’s demise. He knew it was only a matter of time before one of them destroyed the other, and he would be damned if he gave up without a fight.

Lost in his own thoughts it took a few seconds for Eris to notice the sudden silence. The excitement of his hounds tapered off, and the only noise left was the ringing anger reverberating through his skull. A knot formed in his stomach, as he began to run in the direction of his dogs. Eris had spent centuries training his hounds, and they had a rhythm. They never once went silent unless he ordered them to. Not unless something terrible had happened to them. 

Burning orange trees blurred in Eris’s peripheral vision as he ran into a dusty clearing, the fire at his fingertips warmed his hands as he prepared for a fight, but he faltered when he saw the largest hound of the pack lay flat on his back with his soft stomach bared to the skies, a slender hand scratching away at his furry tummy. Glancing up in shock, Eris was greeted with gentle laughter as a joyful fae female watched his two youngest hounds prance around her, play fighting for her undivided attention. Eyes gazing back down once more Eris tutted as he watched the usually stoic leader of the pack bury her large head into the female’s lap, snuffling into her skirts and drawing another delightful giggle from her. 

“What well trained dogs I seem to have bred,” Eris spoke sharply, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. 

His hounds stiffened and stood to attention immediately upon hearing their masters sarcastic growl. You jumped to your feet in surprise, wiping your dusty hands on your dress, meeting Eris’s hard stare with a sheepish smile, crimson flooding your cheeks.  

“Oh, hello. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise they were out here with anyone. Your dogs are beautiful,” 

“My lady, you are lucky you still have your hands. My hounds do not usually take so kindly to strangers,” It was the truth, a few months ago a wandering merchant lost three fingers when he reached out to stroke the dogs without their permission. The fact that you stood before Eris not only whole but covered in fur from their loving affection was baffling to the Autumn Court heir. 

“These dogs?” You ask skeptically, holding back a laugh, reminding Eris of the position in which he had found them. 

“It appears they must have taken a liking to you my lady, a rare thing indeed,”

“I am not a lady,” you state gingerly. He should have noticed the lack of jewels, the plain dress, the absence of guards - but something about your sheer presence was so captivating that all of that had faded into the background. 

“I do apologise, you will have to pardon my ignorance,” It was Eris’s turn to blush then. He prided himself on his intuition. His innate ability to size up his opponents had served him well over the centuries, allowing him to swiftly understand a person and their motives in order to stay five steps ahead of them at all times. In your enchanting presence however, Eris’s usual instincts evaded him completely. 

“What may I call you then?”

“Oh right, my name is Y/N,” you reply, bashful as Eris takes your delicate hand and places a kiss upon it. 

“Whilst it truly is a pleasure to meet you Y/N, I am curious to what you are doing alone in the forest so close to nightfall. You are aware of what lurks within the trees once the sun goes down, no?” 

“I’m here to see the High Lord,” 

Eris stiffened, so many questions flying around his mind as something thick and painful settled itself deep in his chest. Why would such a seemingly gentle being want to be anywhere near his beast of a father? 

“Th-the High Lord?” was all Eris could stutter out.

“My family, we have a farm to the south, just above the border. Only for the past few years my father has been sick, and the crops have suffered greatly due to the droughts we’ve been experiencing,” 

Eris’s heart cracked for you, for the pain that swam in your eyes. There was no reason he should care, he had met you a matter of moments ago, and yet a part of him ached to fix your situation.  

“I would like to ask our High Lord for a reprieve on our tithe - just for six months. By then I hope and pray to the Mother to have our little farm back to the flourishing haven it once was,”  

You were dead. If you got to his father and begged him for anything then you might as well sign your own death warrant. Eris had witnessed too many times the tithes that ended in bloodshed. Beron was too clever to kill anyone in a public forum, he knew it would lead to rebellion, but his spies would soon catch up with anyone who was lacking in funds and they would all mysteriously vanish. He had to do something, he couldn’t let you wander innocently to your death. 

Oblivious to Eris’s internal struggle, you suddenly perked up, eyes widening, 

“Oh how rude of me, here I am prattling on and I haven’t even asked how I should address you? You are dressed so finely you must be a Lord, please forgive me,” you stated, sinking into yourself as you took in his perfect appearance.

The Lord’s pristine shoes alone likely cost more than your family could scrape together in a whole year. Embarrassment tainted your good mood as you pulled your cloak tighter around your body to hide your shabby clothing. 

Eris could sense the shame dripping off you, and unable to stop himself he placed a finger under your chin, and made sure your eyes met his.

“My name is Eris, but you needn’t concern yourself about formalities’ he told you “I am of little importance”. 

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Whilst his position in the Autumn Court provided him with the finest luxuries money could buy and any outsider could easily assume the heir had unlimited power and freedom, behind closed doors, under Beron’s harsh regime, Eris was nobody. He was liked by few and truly understood by none. 

 “Eris,” you say dreamily, tilting your head to truly take in the beautiful male before you. 

Under your gentle gaze Eris feels a glittering warmth spread across his body, a primal rush to protect you, and then a life altering snap.

“You’re-,” he stumbles, unable to finish his sentence before you begin your own.

“Anyway I best be going,” you rush out, realising the passing time and lifting your skirts to turn. “It was terribly nice to meet you, but I really must be on my way,”

“Please don’t!” Eris blurts, gently grabbing your hand, sending a shiver down your spine. You turn to him, confusion taking over your face as he explains softly.

“The highlord, he isn’t a good male. He won’t hesitate to hurt you. If you approach him with any vulnerability he will do anything he can to manipulate you into making a deal you can’t keep, and if that doesn’t work he will just kill you,” he said, stroking a surprisingly calloused thumb down the back of your hand.

“But, maybe if I can just explain my situation to him then-”

 “He won’t care, Y/N. You will die,” Eris’s eyes go dark and you know in your very soul he is telling the truth. “I just- I need you to believe me,”

“I do, it’s just-,” You faulter, breathing deeply before you continue.

“I can’t go home without this six months reprieve. We have nothing more to give. Surely if I turn up to the tithe next week empty handed he’ll just kill me anyway?”

Eris looks down at the wealth that drips from his body, and suddenly recalled the scandal that Tamlin’s ex-human had caused at the last Spring tithe. Rumours swirled far and wide of the Cursebreaker’s controversial gift to a poor wraith, and without a second thought Eris followed suit, pulling off the gold rings which covered his fingers.

“Here,” he says, shoving the pieces into your hands before he began to unclasp his cuff links.

“What, no! Eris, I can’t take this,”

“Yes, you can,” Eris insisted, moving on to his many earrings. “I will not let that beast touch you. I’m not in a position to offer you safety, but please let me give you some help,”

You nodded, frozen in shock, and watched as Eris filled your hands with rubies, opals and orange sapphires all set in the finest metals money could buy. Finally he takes out a fine leather pouch filled with gold coins and helps you to gently stuff the rest of his riches inside. Once the pouch is fit for bursting he removes his fur lined cloak and tells you to swap it for your own threadbare one.

Looking you once over, Eris swallowed down his instinct to press his lips against yours, knowing his relentless father would never allow for his eldest child, his heir, to be mated to a peasant.

Collecting himself, Eris let out a sharp whistle, making you jump as the leader of his pack came to his heel.

“I want you to take Hallie,” he said, his throat thick with emotion as he took your shaking hand into his own.

“Eris, I’m not taking your dog!” You argued, giving him an incredulous look.

“These woods are unsafe at the best of times, if you walk them with gold lining your pockets it is asking for trouble. She is a good hound. She will keep your safe,”

“I- I have no way to repay you for your kindness,” you breathed, silver lining your eyes, unable to fully comprehend the events of the last half hour.

“Stay safe, my lady, that’s all I ask,” he said, before kissing your hand one final time, petting his beloved Hallie on the head and then bidding you both goodbye as he disappeared between the trees, the sad howling of his remaining hounds in tow.

The walk back to the manor passed quickly in a mess of emotions, and even as Eris dragged himself to bed, accompanied by a glass of strong whisky, he tossed and turned all night, unable to forget the beautiful fae he left in the woods and the piece of his soul she had taken with her.

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

Hope you enjoyed reading!

✨Let me know if you would like to be added to my general taglist ✨

[pinkkittysaw]

BUT I CAN’T STOP STARING IN THOSE EVIL EYES

title is based off a lyric in lady gaga’s MONSTER

my halloween night of horrors masterlist can be found here!

pairing: plaga leon s. kennedy x plaga f!reader

summary: while wandering through an ill kept factory, you and leon grow closer in unimaginable ways due to unforeseen circumstances

word count: 5,648

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI you will be blocked!) minor dub-con (in the beginning), slightly rough leon, mind control, notes of voyuerism, fingering, male masturbation, boot humping, minor breast/nipple play, unprotected p in v, creampie, breeding, degradation, praise, petnames (baby, princess, sweetie) leon steps on you, reader is wearing a skirt

*some things to note: though saddler is willing leon and reader into having sex, they both want to sleep with each other of their own volition regardless of the plaga’s influence, it’s the circumstances surrounding it that makes them apprehensive

there are lines of dialogue from RE4R used in paragraphs 12, 14-15, 18, 23 & 39. i do not claim to own these lines or any media from Capcom

a/n: first time writing for leon so please be kind!!! i am just a simple mouse girl :( i thought it’d be interesting to write the plaga “overtaking” him and reader in a sense, watching his mood change drastically much like how it does in the OG RE 4 in this scene with ada (choking cw)

divider by @/benkeibear

You stare at the huge chunk of amber in front of you; it's pretty. The reflecting light gives it a soft orange hue, brightening the dull room it inhabits. After closer inspection, you notice what appears to be hundreds, if not thousands, of Las Plagas encased in the resin. You were almost too scared to be looking at them for so long, fearful that the parasites would jump out at you from their confinement once you crossed a certain threshold.

Cocking your head to the side, you think aloud, "I wonder if this is where they extract the plaga."

Leon, who's rummaging around the room looking for any spare supplies, pipes up, "Who knows? I certainly don't feel like waiting around to find out. Come on." He waves you over, walking toward the exit after determining that none of the scrap in the room was worth taking.

"Alright," you agree, beginning to move towards him.

Then, all of a sudden, your movements are halted, unable to continue forward. "Fuck, no no no,” you think to yourself. Leon looks behind his shoulder, noticing that you haven't moved from your position.

"What are you doing? Let's go." You can barely speak, clenching your teeth together as you force the words out.

"I can't fucking move." You demonstrate your lack of mobility as you attempt to force your body forward, but the most that happens is the slight twitching of your arm and legs.

"What?" Leon's about to stride over to you when the door opens behind him. He's quick on his feet, his gun in the air, aiming his pistol at the tall figure and a group of robed cultists that soon follow him into the room.

"Welcome, my children," he states as the two followers remove the hood of his purple robe, the rest filing around the two of you.

"I am Osmund Saddler. The speaker for our Lord."

Leon, obviously fed up with all the loony bullshit, shoots Saddler straight in the eye. "Tell someone who gives a shit."

Saddler reels back from the shot but doesn't die, staying hunched over due to the impact. "Foolish lambs," he scoffs. "Why do you deny grace?" The volume of his voice rises, and all at once, Leon keels over, taking a knee as he almost completely falls to the floor in front of you, now frozen in place while his gun falls from his hands.

You try to reach out to him, but your movements are stunted.

"Now, abandon your body." Your body is not your own.

"Obey, obey the voice of our lord," Saddler commands as your forced motions bring you closer to Leon. There's a ringing in your ears as he gives you orders; the noise is so piercing that you're ready to stuff your ears full of cotton just to make it stop.

Leon's now back on his feet, his veins turning black against his skin as his arm reaches out to you. His body trembles as he extends forward. You're compelled to move onward slowly, reaching down for Leon's pistol.

"Stop, please," you plead, your wrist swaying back and forth as the gun locks onto Leon. "No," you grit, resisting with everything you have while your arm continues to wobble. Tears stream down your face as you're forced to pull the trigger, shooting one of the cultists to Leon's side, watching them drop dead to the floor.

"Sweet child, do not resist." His commands turn into scolding. The ringing in your ears gets louder as your arm moves again. "Please," you wail into the open air, willing to give anything as long as it meant that he stayed alive. The trigger is pulled again, and the other masked figure drops to the ground.

Leon's face coils up, and his body jerks, trying to reach you, but to no avail.

"I'm sorry," you whisper as you pull the trigger for the final time, scrunching up your eyes, not wanting to witness his lifeless body drop to the floor. The gun clicks and falls in front of you while you collapse onto your knees, sobbing onto the floor beneath, your tears staining the dark concrete floors.

Leon is released from his own entrapment and rushes over to comfort you, placing both his hands on your shoulders. "Are you okay?"

It's funny, you think, in a twisted sort of way. You almost killed him, and here he was, asking if you were alright.

"Pray forgive these wicked sinners," Saddler exhales while shaking his head. Leon's about to lunge for his gun when you're both halted once more.

"Injecting one's blood with the plaga isn't the only way to diffuse it among the populous."

Both you and Leon are manipulated until you're standing in front of each other, his hand reaching out to grab at your hip.

"What are you doing?"

"It's not me, I-"

He gets cut off by Saddler. "The plaga can reproduce sexually as well as through implantation." And it's all of a sudden that you feel a certain heat growing inside you—desire, a sort of carnality—and if the crimson on Leon's cheeks is anything to go by, he's feeling it too. There's a certain glint in his eyes now, a hunger that wasn't there before. Both his and your irises turn a bright vermillion as the plaga fully takes control. It's overwhelming. All of your senses are heightened, now very much cognizant of Leon's hand on your hip, the warmth of his skin permeating through your skirt. All you want now is for him to bend you over and take you.

You shake your head in the hopes of clearing your mind. God, when did you start harboring such intense feelings for him like this? This can't be okay, can it? He saved your life. He's a government agent simply doing his job to rescue you from this hell hole. That's what these feelings are—just misplaced appreciation. You try to reason with yourself as the growing need between your legs calls more and more for your attention.

"What the hell's going on?" Your voice is harsh as it cuts through the air. Leon's grip tightens on your hip, almost as if he's holding himself back.

"Is it not obvious, sweet child? You two have perfect compatibility as sexual mates, and since you're both able to resist killing each other, I'll just have to change my line of thinking and make things easier for you."

"Don't be ridiculous," Leon grunts.

"Why deny it? It's quite clear that you're attracted to each other."

"I barely even needed to coax the plaga into doing anything."

As fucked up as this entire situation was, Saddler wasn't wrong, at least in regard to your side of things. You were intrigued by Leon from the moment he found you, rescuing you after being hog-tied and thrown into one of the wardrobes of an abandoned cabin. He was still incredibly handsome, even if you didn't trust him at first. From the subtle bounce of his soft ashen hair when he jogged to the bulge of his biceps whenever he slicked his fingers through the silky strands and how he was so protective over you, so kind. You could go on and on listing the things you found attractive about him. How he looked suplexing zealots, the slope of his nose bridge, his little smirk after roundhousing ganados, the thickness of his thighs, the swell of his **very** defined chest, and god, his ass. His cute, full-pert ass that you could just-

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

This isn't right. You shouldn't be thinking of him this way, but no matter how much you try to resist, you're always coaxed back into these feelings of sensuality. You'd be lying if you said you didn't think of him fucking you against one of the crumbling walls in the village, holding you so tightly against him while he tugs on your tits. Arousal pools in your panties as heat rushes to your face at the thought.

"Fuck," you murmur, and Leon looks over at you, his breath more labored than before. 

"Submit your bodies and release yourself from fear!" Saddler booms, waving his staff around in the air. It's then that you feel Leon's hand underneath your skirt, cupping your mound through your tights, his other hand still gripping at your waist. 

"Leon-" you say exasperatedly.

"I'm sorry, I just..." he leans into you, inhaling your scent. "I'm sorry." His lips press into the side of your neck, slowly moving against the sensitive skin. It's so gentle and kind, and if you close your eyes, you can almost pretend that you're somewhere else, not in a dusty room of an old factory, being coerced to have sex through the means of a parasite.

"You're so soft...smell so good," he mumbles into your ear. Even if you're forced to fuck in front of Saddler and his devotees, Leon at least wants his words of care and fondness to be private—to be yours.

You can't help but moan out loud at his ministrations on your neck, feeling your skin crawl with a newfound heat. Your nipples pebble in your bra, and how desperately you want his hands to be on your breasts, kneading them. You wrap your arms around his neck, curling your fingers into the smooth, pale tresses at his nape.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he confesses over and over. He knows this is wrong. He should have a stronger will than this. He shouldn't be sleeping with the hostage he was tasked with saving. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, if at all. He probably wouldn't have confronted his feelings in any other circumstances, seeing how wildly inappropriate they were. He would've rather taken you somewhere nice—maybe a fancy hotel—and do all the sappy, romantic shit you deserve—the candles, the music, the mood lighting. It'd be sweet and kind, but no. Instead, you get this, being made to breed like cattle. The only comfort he can offer is through his words, his mind trying to fight against the plaga, but you smell too good, your skin so supple and warm against his mouth; it's almost as if he can feel the blood pulsing through your jugular vein. He gently grazes his teeth over the area, biting and pulling the skin taught.

"Don't apologize. You feel good too," you exhale, pushing your chest against his.

"I shouldn't let this sick bastard have so much control over me, but god, you feel so good against me," he groans, worming his hand under the band of your tights and underwear. You loll your head back as his assault on your neck continues. He sucks the skin gently as the worn leather of his gloves makes its presence known against your mound. His finger swipes between your slit, gathering the wetness leaking from your entrance to rub soft circles on your clit.

"Christ, you're already so wet for me, baby," he groans against your neck, your breath hitching at his words.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" An amused tilt now present in his voice, the soft circles on your clit continuing as he speaks against your throat. "You like me calling you baby?"

"Yeah," you mewl, your hand reaching down to grip his forearm.

"That's it. Just focus on me making you feel good." Your cute noises cause blood to rush to his cock, making it stiffen in his pants. Your head rests against his chest as he continues to play with you.

"You want my fingers, baby?"

"Yes," you pant, pressing your face into the middle of his chest. He lets out a lighthearted chuckle, his digit circling your entrance before sinking into your warm cunt. "Oooh, you're so tight, sweetie. Squeezing my finger real nice."

"I can't wait til you're on my cock." he mumbles against your throat once again, smirking. His finger curls deep into your soaked pussy, thrusting in and out as you grind against his palm.

"Yes, yes, yes," you gasp, his lips resuming the suckling of your skin as he adds another finger, stuffing your cunt with their thickness, the leather of his gloves wet with your slick as it glides against your clit. You look down from his chest to see his hardened cock starting to poke through his utility pants. Your hand wriggling down to slowly palm him through the fabric, a soft moan rearing from his throat at your touch.

Through feeling him against your palm, he seems to be an impressive size, definitely girthy from what you can make out.

You slide your hand back and forth against the crotch of his pants, his hips lightly bucking into you as a grumbled "fuck" falls from his lips. He sounds so hot when he moans, and you want to hear more.

"I need you to come for me, sweetheart. I need your pussy on my cock so bad." He curls his fingers some more, hitting that soft, spongey spot that makes you see stars. A few more thrusts from his digits and nudges from his palm have you arching into him, his mouth swooping down to swallow your moans through a kiss. He's the only one that gets to hear you cum, despite the audience you both have.

He keeps his fingers stuffed in your cunt as you ride out your orgasm, the sensation of your pussy squeezing down on him making his head whirl in anticipation.

"That's it. That's a good girl," he murmurs, guiding you through the waves.

Despite having just came, you're still just as eager, if not more so, to palm him through his black cargos. 

"Easy, easy. You'll have me soon enough," he coos in an attempt to pacify you, removing your hand from his erection while you whine and grumble in response to the loss of touch, wanting him to mount you already.

He guides you onto the floor, laying you flat on the chilled concrete. The cold seeps into your clothes and skin, causing you to shiver almost uncomfortably so as you arch your back, spreading your legs as far as they'll go in your tight skirt. You take to palming your tits through your top, desperate for any kind of prolonged pleasure. 

"Someone's needy," he chuckles to himself while he looms over you, his broad shoulders casting a large shadow over your form.

"Come on, you'll be a good girl for me, won't you?" He moves to remove both of his belts, unbuckling them and letting them drop to the floor. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest decision to leave himself so exposed, but neither of you could be bothered enough to care.

The next thing to come off was his shoulder holster, the leather straps meeting the other discarded materials on the floor. It's only after his confines are removed that he begins pleasuring himself, reveling in your position on the floor, legs spread deliciously while the rest of you becomes utterly debauched, your expression filled with nothing other than need and want.

You whine out a little, desperate for his touch even after the fact. He smirks while walking toward you, his heavy boots echoing throughout the room with loud thuds til he stops just short of your cunt and sneers. Something about him is different. 

He plants his foot atop your mound, grinding the sole into your folds. There's no real force behind it, but it's oppressive and demeaning. He's not the same Leon. The Leon who told dumb jokes at every opportune moment, who ate multicolored herbs, both raw eggs and fish WHOLE, yet looked at you as if you were the crazy one for refusing, choosing not to believe him when he said they'd "mend your wounds." This was not the same Leon who pulled you aside after you ran off scared, giving you words of reassurance and encouragement just as he had throughout this whole endeavor. No, this Leon was more sinister.

Your whines and mewls get a little more pathetic, rolling your hips and grinding yourself on his boot in a desperate attempt for any friction that he'd give you—which wasn't much, but still, anything was better than nothing!

In the midst of your pouting, you catch Saddler's eye. His expression is blank, almost as if he were watching paint dry. His attendants were dismissed by this point, as they had no need to witness the impregnation take place. You can't help but stare at him, his eyes oddly captivating, unable to help but wonder what he thinks of this. Surely he’s the one controlling you both, but is this a last effort of sorts? Making two "subjects" fuck like rabbits just for the sake of spreading his message, his word, and his so-called "vision" Was sex something that he looked down on? Something shameful?

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Leon whistles at you. "Would you rather fuck him instead, princess?" He jeers in a mocking tone. You frown and furrow your brows, glaring at him as you deliver a bratty "no" in response.

"Then keep your eyes on me, yeah?" He sneers as he grinds his heel into you some more, swiping his foot from side to side, knocking the grooves into your clit. He laughs as you continuously mewl into the air, squeezing your tits through your clothes, begging for more attention. Instead of aiding you in your frustrated disposition, he decides to be a little crueler, reaching down to palm his cock through his pants. His head lolls back as he lets out a soft groan, the sound causing more arousal to flood in between your legs.

You moan, your eyes scanning his features—the bob of his Adam's apple, the softness of his jaw, the way his teeth dig into the plush of his bottom lip.

Deciding to prod further, he pulls out his leaking cock from his pants, and you can't help the gasp that escapes you at the sight. He has an adorable ash-blonde happy trail running down his navel that fans into darker, coarse curls at the base of his cock. It has a slight left curve to it and a pretty pink tip. The look of it is tantalizing and mouth-watering. Your mind is flooded with every memory you’ve had of wanting Leon to fuck you silly during this godforsaken nightmare. Now you have a visual to go along with your many fantasies—a pretty cock for an equally pretty man.

You expected him to be in a hurry to fuck you, but he does something unexpected. He keeps his foot on your cunt. You attempt to sit up, your abdomen contracting as you begin to move upward, when he plants his boot on your chest instead, right on your sternum, effectively pushing you flat on your back again.

"Did I give you permission to move?" He stares, cocking his head and quirking a brow, looking down at you as if he were scolding a misbehaving puppy. His carmine irises meet yours as you attempt to shove off his foot by his ankle, though soon finding it pointless as the boot remains firm and steady against you.

You shake your head with a petulant "no," grumbling as his foot takes hold of your chest, pressing lightly on your rib cage, making it somewhat difficult to breathe.

"Then don't get greedy," he chastises, moving his boot back to its previous position on your cunt, leaving a muddy footprint in its wake. Instead of providing you with the friction you wanted, his limb now lays idle against you.

You frown at the brown stain left on your top, glaring at him once more. "You ruined my shirt!"

"I'll tell you what: when this is all said and done, I'll get you a new top. How bout that princess?"

You roll your eyes, grumbling as his hand moves toward his mouth, yanking off his fingerless gloves with his teeth and tossing them among the pile of his other forgotten items.

Warm palms slither down his torso, making their way to his cock, where he squeezes the base, shaking it in the air a tad, teasing you with it.

It's well-known at this point how much you desire him. The plaga floods both of you with nothing but thoughts of you two fucking each other. He watches you eye his cock thoroughly, gnawing at your bottom lip with how badly you wanted him to fill you up.

He languidly begins to pump his hand up and down, precum leaking from his pretty tip all the way down his shaft, creating all the slip he needs. You start to buck your hips against his boot, desperate for your own pleasure, which he still refuses to give you. His hand continues to move along his cock; the rough callouses on his palm are a stark contrast to the glisten of his slick-covered dick.

You huff and puff as he continues to jerk off, growing tired of being teased and tormented. His thumb glides along the slit of his cock head, causing his hips to buck and shudder. You were like a rabbit on a treadmill, his cock being the carrot on the string you were being teased with, so close yet so far...

"Leon, you're being mean," you scowl, feeling grumpy and grouchy, tired of his damn games, your panties soaked through with your arousal, craving any sort of attention.

"Mean?" he asks, pressing his foot further into you, pumping himself a smidgen faster while his pectoral muscle begins to bounce with his quickened pace.

"If I were mean, I'd make you cum just like this while you watch me jack off."

"And since you want to act like such a little brat, maybe that's exactly what I'll do." He speeds up again, twirling his wrist as he fucks his fist, his grunts and groans filling the air among your whines.

"No, no, no, no," you cry, watching him buck into his hand as the slick makes his cock even more slippery.

A pink hue floods his cheeks as heat builds in his body, sweat gathering on the threads of his clothes.

"No?" he mocks with a feigned pout. "You want my cock that badly, huh? Want it to fill you up? Stuff you full?"

"Mhm," you nod incessantly, heat flooding your own face as well, the arousal so overwhelming that you feel as if you’ll burst.

"Why don't you beg for it? Beg for my cock."

You look at him apprehensively. Was he really gonna make you beg for him like a cock-hungry fool?

"I'm not joking about finishing you off with my boot. You'll get no dick and no cum." His efforts hastened, his hips twitching every so often. He’s serious, and so are you, so despite your "strong-willed bratty nature," you beg and you plead for his cock like a good girl.

"Please gimme your cock, Leon. Need it so bad. Need you to fuck me dumb; turn my brain into mush."

"I think you can do better than that princess," he smirks down at you, huffing slightly from the continued pleasure.

Your words turn into a slew of pleas and jumbled moans varying from saying you'll "die without his dick," "how badly you need it," and "how desperate you are for it," all of which boil down to you whining please over and over and over. When he's finally decided that you've made your case, he staves off his release, gripping the base of his cock so as not to finish right in his hand.

He drops to his knees, grabbing and pulling you towards him by your hips, your thighs settling on either side of his while he hovers over you. All his movements are quick and hasty in nature as he hikes up the bottom of your skirt over your pelvis, allowing you to spread your legs further and welcome him into the warmth between your thighs.

He stares down at your black tights below him, now transparent enough to see through to your pale-colored underwear from the fabric being stretched so far. He wastes no time in grabbing the crotch of your tights at the seam and effectively tearing a huge hole in them, his biceps bulging as he rips the fabric from your body. He stares down at the cute design of your panties as your tights lay in shreds against your leg, his eyes settling on the front of the fabric, the wet splotch soaking through from your previous orgasm.

He moves his hand over to your cunt, running his middle and ring fingers through your slit. He settles on your clit, rubbing the sticky fabric against you as he swirls the bundle of nerves in slow circles.

"I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I'm surprised that I held out as long as I did without fucking you."

"Leon," you groan. "No more… I wanna feel you, please," you mumble, reaching out to him as a final stand to get what you desperately crave.

He finally gives in, tugging down the waistband of his pants, landing on the swell of his thighs and below the curve of his ass, exposing the stretch marks that litter his hips and upper thighs.

"See something you like, princess?" he teases, pumping his cock a few times in preparation.

"Mhm, mhm," you nod eagerly as he begins to move toward you. Luckily, your panties are spared from his strength as he chooses to simply pull them aside instead of tearing them apart. He mumbles a grumbly "fuck" as he gets a look at your sweet cunt for the first time. The hair covering your mound shines as your arousal spreads throughout your folds. He doesn’t stop himself from running a finger in between the seam of your pussy, gathering the slick on the pad of his digit and sticking it in his mouth, groaning at the taste of your sweetness.

"Delicious," he mutters as he lays his cock against the warm heat of your sex, giving you a closer look at just how big he is.

He lines himself up at your entrance, and without so much as a warning, he thrusts into you down to the base. You arch into him, your breasts pressing into his chest as your back curves in his direction, a hearty moan coming from both of you. He stretches you out better than in your fantasies, your warm, wet walls clenching down on him as he twitches inside.

"Let's take care of this, yeah?" He asks, lifting your upper half into the air and placing you on your elbows. He lifts your top over the peak of your breasts, ogling the sight of your tits filling out your bra, trapped within their confinement, before he's reaching behind you to fumble with the clasp of the garment. A part of you is amused while watching him struggle, but it's not long after that the cups are falling from your body, your breasts free to Leon’s eyes and the open air as he pulls the straps down your shoulders, flinging the undergarment toward the pile of other forgotten items. He decides to keep your shirt on, enjoying the disheveled, fucked-out look you have with your clothes half on and half off, letting the top stay wrinkled above your tits.

"Perfect," he mumbles, moving his head toward your chest to mouth at it, planting open-mouth kisses along the swell of your breast as his hips begin to roll languidly. He gives you a few slow strokes, just to get acquainted with each other's bodies, before it quickly turns into a hurried fucking.

His hips knock into yours in quick succession, his girth smoothing over every ridge and groove in your tight cunt, leaving you panting into the air as he grunts and groans against your breast. His body pressed so tightly against yours.

His lips find your nipple, his tongue swirling around the areola before pulling the nub into his mouth. The roll of his hips and the suckling of your nipple add to your growing pleasure. You buck your hips in tandem with his, desperate to feel every bit of pleasure you can.

"So greedy, huh, princess? Just need your cute cunt, fucked huh? Anything goes as long as you feel good, right?"

You whine, clenching down on him, squeezing his cock tight as he fucks you thoroughly. He pulls away from your chest, grabbing your hips tight in his grasp, his fingers digging deep into your skin.

"God, you’re perfect for me," he mumbles, leaning back so he's standing straight on his knees, his hands pulling you down on his cock as he brutally thrusts back into you. "So perfect for me to breed." You swear you can see a glint in his eyes as he says that, and your pussy pulsates around him even more.

"You like that, huh?" he teases, punctuating every word in the sentence with a brutal thrust. "You like the thought of being all mine? being claimed by me? Me fucking my kids into you? Knocking you up?"

You mewl and wail, nodding and gasping and heaving; the only thing you care about at this moment is him fucking you full of his seed.

The snap of his hips continues to get quicker, your soft breasts bouncing so pretty as you lay beneath him, your worn and fucked-out expression giving him nothing but joy. His rhythm gets so quick that he manages to slip out of your vice-like grip, causing a low and extended whine to draw out from your lips. He chuckles, enjoying how desperate you are for his body, and leans himself into you once more while he guides his cock back into you, his thrusts regaining their previous speed.

His hand pushes one of your thighs toward your chest, rolling his hips deeper so he can more easily hit the spot that makes your eyes cross, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter as he fucks into you with more vigor. You can’t stop your hands from wandering as you grab the plush of his ass, squeezing the fat while you writhe underneath him. You pant into his mouth, trying to signal him for a kiss, to which he happily obliges, meeting your lips with his as he continues to drive you further and further to the edge.

"Gonna cum for me, princess?"

"Gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?"

"Want it so bad, please?" You moan, sneaking your hand down to the front of your body and rubbing quick circles to your clit.

"Go ahead, princess, cum for me," he mumbles, nestling his head in the crux of your neck, sucking on your pulse point. As his hips continue to thrust into you, you arch intensely into him, moaning loudly as you reach your climax, your eyes rolling into the recesses of your mind as your nails claw into the meat of his ass, leaving pretty, red crescent-shaped divots in his porcelain skin.

You run your hand through his silky blonde strands as you position yourself next to his ear. "Cum with me, Leon," you mutter, still reeling from the aftereffects of your high, the additional thrusting adding to the lingering pleasure still felt. "Cum in me, please. Wanna be stuffed full of you." You lick a stripe up his neck, the salt from his sweat lingering on your tastebuds.

It's a few short and sloppy thrusts later that he's grunting loudly into your skin while he cums, ropes of his seed traveling to your womb.

The door can be heard shutting behind you as Saddler makes his exit, Leon's hips slowing to a full stop once he’s left. With the impregnation going through, he no longer needs to bother himself with whatever the two of you do from here on out.

It’s a few minutes later that the both of you begin to feel normal again, or as normal as you can be given the dire situation. It doesn’t take long for Leon to recover, his baby blues greeting you once more as he snaps to attention, getting himself situated as he puts on his gear and adjusts his clothes, keeping a watchful eye on you as you start to do the same, picking up your bra from his things on the floor.

After getting dressed, he’s immediately at your side. "I'm so sorry. I-"

You cut him off with a finger placed on his lips and a shake of your head. Your face is tired and weary, and your voice a little strained as you tell him, "It's alright."

He’s not willing to argue with you on the ethics of what went down, at least not here, so he decides to put off the conversation til you’re both safe back home, hopefully having figured out some sort of plan by then.

"Are you good enough to move? We shouldn't linger around."

You nod, moving to fully take off your tights before making your departure, seeing as you have no more use for the tattered fabric. The torn material catches his eye, causing embarrassment to rise throughout his face, his cheeks taking on the same rosy hue as before.

"I'll make good on my word, I promise. I’ll get you a new shirt and some tights when we get back. For now…"  He walks towards the exit. "We need to get rid of these damn things," he says, pointing to his chest. He checks his jammed gun, ejecting the magazine and resetting the casing before gesturing you over toward him, readying the weapon in front of him before the two of you begin to make your way out of the factory.

Needless to say, this would NOT be going in his incident report.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Solace

Lando’s ending!! I’d very much recommend listening to Wanna be yours towards the end :)

Lando had heard her anguished voice and knew that he had to fix everything. He started off by ending things with his side piece and finally coming to terms with the overwhelming amount of attraction and affection he held for the younger Busmante sibling.

He felt weird when he saw her and Oscar coming out of Oscar’s room, almost like someone had slapped him right into his senses.

Lando’s first reaction was the obvious jumping to conclusions, getting pissed off shit. He realized that it was the same reaction that had gotten him into this messy situation in the first place.

Lando started small, he started with trying to make conversation with her, it honestly didn’t last long as either Oscar would show up and whisk her away or she would point blank ignore him. He understood why she was doing what she was doing but he couldn’t wrap his head around why the hell Oscar was interjecting himself between the two.

Since small moves and small talk wasn’t getting him anywhere near where he wanted to be with her, Lando resorted to sending the girl flowers each and every single day.

Unfortunately for Lando, she was deathly allergic to them. That plan went to shit real quick. It was about 2 race weekends in when Lando started to hear rumors surrounding her and Oscar. He was never one for paddock gossip, knowing it was the furthest from the truth, and if he really wanted to know he would have to only walk down the block to Oscar’s room and ask him. He really didn’t want to show weakness and insecurity around the Aussie so he stuck to the paddock gossip. He started noticing how close the two had gotten ever since he messed things up.

He saw how she was glowing around Oscar, always smiling and seeming in peace, yet the second he’d make eye contact with her it would all fade away and the red scars that he had encased on her would start to show.

It was difficult, extremely difficult for her to get off that McLaren floor side by side with Oscar Piastri himself and answer his daunting question. “If he came here and apologized would you let him back in”?

She knew she was weak from the beginning but his ocean eyes made her even weaker. She didn’t lie to Oscar and simply shook her head to signify that she would indeed let the idiotic British driver back into her life if he ever gave her a good enough apology. That’s when Oscar came up with an idea, kind of shady from his side but hey who could blame him. He was trying to prevent the love of his life from choosing his very own teammate over him.

He came up with a very simple yet effective plan, one that would allow Oscar to live out his dreams with her whilst allowing her and Lando to find their ways back to each other. He’s suggesting that they should start fake dating in order to get Lando to be jealous and confess what he truly felt.

If Lando didn’t, then that would be the obvious sign that she needed to truly move on from Lando and perhaps fall into his teammate's arms, Oscar had kept that last bit a secret from her.

And so it started, Oscar finding her in crowded places, especially near the paddock cameras and especially near Lando. She felt a sense of pride when she heard how much she affected Lando and all the hissy fits he was throwing, much to the dismay of the McLaren PR team.

It really took Y/N Busmante ages to realize that Lando’s words were targeting a much larger problem, she started going to therapy and finally cut herself off from her family.

She was no longer Y/N Busmante, she simply was just Y/N. She’d found peace in the violence that she’d been exposed to.

When Lando had first sent the flowers to her apartment, she’d genuinely thought it was from Oscar, the sweet Australian had quickly become one of her closest friends, both on and off the paddock.

The shock that registered on her face when she saw the little card tucked in the corner made a faint smile appear on her face.

He cared about her, he got her the flowers she’d once rambled off about, she used to think he never once paid attention to what she would yap about. It’s the small things that matter, she simply thought to herself. She knew that all it took was one step from Lando for her to let him back in, make everything better.

However, she’d told herself that she’d not get too close cause she knew how she messed it up before. When Oscar told her about his plan she was honestly a little confused but the Aussie convinced her, it’s just fake dating to actually see if Lando cared about her, she silently thought.

Unfortunately, life still hated her. Her fake dating scam only lasted a couple of races before paparazzi got wind of it and started slut shaming her.

It was vile and rude what was printed about her, both physically and digitally.

She had frankly learned to ignore it. She was used to strangers saying stuff about her online, and she really didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with any of it, thus letting it go, putting on a brave face that was enough to fool the public.

Well, Lando Norris was not included in the public. His blood was boiling with each and every new article being released about her; he was frankly pissed at Oscar and why he wasn’t helping her defend herself.

Lando was reaching his boiling point; he saw the way her eyes were looking more and more dull with each passing attack on her character. All Lando wished for was the chance to protect and save her.

Lando seemingly had rubbed Aladdin's magic lamp because he got his chance to finally protect his girl. It was the FIA prize-giving ceremony. Lando had his eye on her the whole time, from the second she had walked into the room with that golden dress he knew he was gone for.

They had briefly met eyes, and she actually smiled at him, he couldn’t help but smile twice as brightly back at her. That little interaction was worth more than any stupid trophy he’d be given today.

The event was surrounded by the hounding eyes of the paparazzi; it was well known that they were to target her based on a tip given to the paps from her family. The vicious attack started when she walked out of the venue hall all alone. Luckily for her, Lando was close behind, but she didn’t know that.

A creep cornered her near the exit and thought it was his right to give her a nice feel-up, you know??

Her loud shrieks were muffled as the pap's disgustingly sweaty hand clamped down on her mouth. Her expensive dress ripped, her hair a mess, mascara smudged, and small cuts on her arm from grazing the soft skin against the hard pebbled driveway.

Lando wasn’t close by when she went out but noticed very quickly that she was missing. Instantly, he thought of the driveway exit she’d once mentioned to him, where she goes when she finds her surroundings too overwhelming at any event.

He rushed out especially quickly when he heard her muffled cries. He saw red and went insane when he heard what the pap was saying to her rather loudly, "Little bitch, you are willing to put out to both the drivers but suddenly have an issue when it’s just regular folk?? This is what you deserve for whoring around."

The guy's next words never made it out as Lando's fist made contact with his face and the sickening sound of bones cracking was heard. Fortunately for the guy, he was given the chance to scramble off to safety as all Lando could now focus on was her.

He just wanted to make sure she was okay. His ocean eyes scanned hastily over and over again to check if she'd been badly injured, much to his delight she wasn’t harmed physically. Her broken voice muttering his name was all it took for Lando to engulf her in a hug, muttering nothing but how sorry he was for everything he did, and how he simply can’t live without her. how he wanted to keep her safe and sound and how she was the only one who truly captured his heart.

Lando’s proclamation of love fell on deaf ears as all Y/N could focus on was Lando’s eyes and his scent. She couldn't believe he was actually there and that he really saved her from the vile man. She knew she loved him then and there, regardless of how choppy their relationship and story was, it just felt right. She knew she’d never find solace in anyone else’s arms. She knew that he’d be the only one for her who would truly love and care for her.

Solace was a funny feeling; it's described as something negative, but it was truly one of the best feelings for this couple. From a playboy to a dedicated boyfriend, and then finally a lovesick husband, Lando Norris had changed drastically.

Following the attack on y/n, Lando had made it his mission to find the crook and deal with him. Lando had also gotten in contact with the best lawyers in town to get restraining orders on any and all paps who would come near ten feet of her.

He truly made it up to her when he finally got down on one knee to give her his last name.

Y/n Busmante had gone from being just the younger sibling, to then being someone who didn’t even have a last name, to then being accused of being a slut, to then being Lando’s girlfriend and now finally she was a Norris. She was no longer a Busmante, she was y/n Norris, and she wore that name with pride.

She let all the pain and suffering die down with her old name.

She finally found peace, and it was the British lad after all who had made her feel it.

Someone who once was the root cause of her pain was now the only person who gave her solace.

Everything she went through, she’s made it out alive and now she was finally thriving alongside her lover.

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