#and they do a few exercises which i look at quickly to see if they have a simpler method but usually i just keep my things

[barbie-roberts-is-a-goddess]

my dilemma of the day: should I tell my friends that what they did pissed me off or should I just let it slide

[loonylupinblack3]

Shy

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: swearing, suggestive content

Summary: you have a crush on a certain co-worker but are too shy to tell him. so someone does it for you.

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: THIS WAS A REQUEST BUT WHEN I TRIED TO REPLY TO IT IT DIDNT LET ME AND DELETED IT INSTEAD (also jean is a meddling little shit in this and u just gotta accept that)

You watched him from across the hall greedily, eyes drinking in his panting form, the sweat coating his chest and back, the strained muscles underneath his wife beater tank top. Logan was a sight for sore eyes on a normal day, but when he was working out? He had you practically rabid for him.

You were sitting on one of the benches, a forgotten book in your hand you hadn’t glanced at in ages, preferring to treat yourself to the image of Logan Howlett hot and sweaty while working out. There were a few other X-men exercising alongside him, and others on the bench with you hanging out so you weren’t too out of place, but everyone could see the way you looked at Logan.

Everyone but Logan himself.

You’d joined the team a few months ago- 5 to be exact- after whispers had gotten to you of a safe space for mutants. Having hidden your true genetic code from everyone else in your life, you jumped at the chance of not having to hide anymore. With your unique skill set too- the ability to formulate and present illusions- you were an exceptional addition to both the X-men and the teaching staff.

You thrived at the X mansion. The kids loved you, you got along well with your fellow teammates, and you had suggested and helped act on several improvements to both the school and the team. You were a good addition, and the other mutants were grateful to have you there.

You’d just had one problem when acclimating to the school. Your teeny, tiny, incredibly small crush on your fellow professor, Logan Howlett. At first you really had thought it would be no big deal. Just a co-worker you had noticed was slightly attractive. That’s all. Other mutants had told you he was hard to talk to, and had a gruff, moody personality, so you’d thought the attraction would soon fade.

Unfortunately it had only grown. The first time you’d realised, shit, this might actually be a problem, was when you’d gone to get a glass of water in the middle of the night and found Logan leaning against the kitchen counter, shirtless, with a beer in hand.

You’d been so flustered, eyes continuously betraying you and straying to his chest that you’d blurted out the first thing that came to your head, “how’d you get beer in here?”

Logan had chuckled, observing you as he brought the beer bottle to his mouth for a sip. “Why? Want some Sweetheart?”

You’d felt heat rise to your face at the nickname, shaking your head. “No, I was just curious.”

Logan stared at you a second longer, eyes trailing your figure appreciatively before shrugging. “Your loss. And unfortunately I can't tell you how I got it. Gotta keep it a secret lest Xavier finds out.”

You were too flustered to argue so you’d just nodded, mumbled a quick goodbye, and quickly walked back to your bedroom. You hadn’t even gotten your glass of water. 

There had been other similar instances over the past few months. Logan just had a way to get under your skin, to cause your heart to go into cardiac arrest every time he looked at you, which made it hard to conceal your ever growing crush on him from literally everyone. Even your students knew about it, or at least had their suspicions, and you prayed they were too intimidated by Logan to ask him any questions about it. The last thing you needed was to get humiliated and have to pack up all your things and leave the home you had just created for yourself because you could no longer look any of your co-workers or students in the eyes again.

Especially Logan.

Things had escalated until you could barely look Logan in the eye anymore, and actively avoided him at all costs. The last thing you wanted to do was embarrass yourself in front of him, and though it was unpleasant you’d decided the best course of action was just to steer clear of him altogether.

Still, you allowed yourself some enjoyment, like watching Logan workout from afar while in a room full of people. The onlookers weren’t the best, but it was better than being alone with him when who knows what would happen.

“Like what you see?”

Storm’s voice dragged you out of your ogling, and you turned to her with a sheepish expression. “Maybe.”

She gave you a knowing look, raising her eyebrows. You ignored it, because you’d heard her suggestions many times before and found they didn’t align with your own interests.

“Go and tell him how you feel.”

And embarrass yourself when he inevitably rejects you? No thanks. You were more comfortable with keeping your feelings suppressed, continuously shoving them down, building a brick wall between them and you, to permanently keep them out. Yet for every single brick you added somewhere below you could feel three more being punched out, slowly destroying your barricades bit by bit. 

Your eyes strayed back to Logan, like they always did, yet surprise striked you when you couldn’t find him. Your eyes scanned the room like a man on a mission, only to realise too late Logan was heading towards you, a towel in his sweaty grip.

He greeted Storm with a nod before his gaze zeroed in on you, and you mentally added another brick to your shield, determined to keep him out this time. 

“Y/n,” he greeted, eyes never straying from your face.

You looked down, fidgeting with your hands. “Logan,” and, because you were incredibly weak willed- “did you have a good workout?”

You swear as you looked back up at him you saw the remnants of a smile on his face, but it was gone in the blink of an eye so you couldn’t be completely sure. You don’t think Logan had ever smiled at you, and you felt the bricks within you start to wobble.

“It was alright,” he said curtly, ever the man of few words. He lingered though, as if debating to say something, when it came out anyway. “I’d like it if you joined us next time.”

You felt your heartbeat increase. You felt the jump and the rapid incline as you processed what he said, your mind swimming.

“Me? But I just do illusions… I don’t have a fight worthy mutation.”

“Which is exactly why you should workout. Build your strength so you don’t need to rely on others and can trust your own body to do the job, regardless of mutations.”

It was the most you think Logan had ever spoken to you all at once, and you were suddenly feeling very dizzy. Logan wanted you to workout with him, to spend time with him. Could you imagine? Standing alongside him while he panted. Sparring and ending up underneath him, his entire body weight crushing you between him. It was almost too much to think about.

You cleared your throat, trying to clear your mind of unhelpful distractions, and found your eyes glued to Logan as he brought the towel to wipe the sweat from his throat, his muscles straining right in front you as he reached behind the back of his neck, wiping the sheen of sweat from his body.

You were staring, you knew that, but you just couldn’t find it in you to look away. It was a godly sight, Logan in front of you, sweaty and staring right at you. How were you supposed to look away?

“Uhm,” you mumbled when Storm stepped on your foot. If she’d noticed your ogling Logan certainly must have, and you felt heat rise to your face at the thought. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll think about it.”

Logan looked at you again, really looked at you, before nodding, slinging the towel over a shoulder. “I hope to see you there.”

And with that he walked away, and you felt the bricks tumbling, clattering away inside you, and you could do nothing to stop it until you felt bare and vulnerable, watching the man walk away with the realisation this might be more than just a silly crush.

You couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let yourself go too far, even though you could already feel yourself falling. You needed stronger defences, more barricades and walls. And if that meant more space between you and Logan, more avoiding and distance, well, you’d do it. You couldn’ let yourself go past the point of no return with him. You couldn’t.

Your avoidance of Logan had continued ten-fold. Whenever he entered a room you would exit. You would no longer spend time watching him workout or teach or do anything, really. You stayed as isolated from him as possible, and when you couldn’t you stayed silent, eyes fixed ahead of you rather than on him.

Others had noticed. You heard the rumours, whispers of a fight, a break up that occurred between the two of you. It was laughable, the idea that you and Logan had ever been together in the first place.

It was working though, or so you thought. You could feel your shields and barricades strengthening each day, and you continued to build them higher and higher, in the hopes you would eventually not need to avoid Logan, for he would no longer have any effect on you.

Until then you were determined to avoid Logan and spend as little time with him as possible. Unfortunately Logan did not share that sentiment.

You’d just finished up a class, instructing your students to have their homework prepared for next lesson and watched them all file out the door when Logan entered. It was so unexpected you hadn’t a chance to leave before he was upon you, his figure towering over your frame. His arms were crossed and he watched you with a frown on his face, yet you weren’t afraid of it anymore. Sure, you had been originally, but soon you’d discovered behind the frown was usually no ill intent, so you weren’t nervous.

Well you were, extremely so, but not about that.

“Oh, Logan,” you managed, swallowing thickly. “What are you doing here?”

Logan crossed his arms. “We need to talk.”

You winced. “We do?”

He let out an aggravated huff. “LIsten, I don’t know what I did to make you so pissed at me but it can’t be this bad-”

You interrupted him, confused. “Wait, what?”

He sent you a look. “You. Being mad at me. I don’t know why.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

Logan paused, looking at you with a scrutinising gaze. “Yes you are.”

You scoffed at him wrongly telling you how you felt. “No, I’m not.”

“So why are you ignoring me? And don’t say you haven't-” Logan said, noticing you’d opened your mouth to defend yourself. “I know you are. You have been avoiding me for weeks, and if you’re not angry at me I can see no other fathomable reason for why you’re acting like I have the plague.”

I frowned. “You noticed that?”

Logan scoffed. “Of course I noticed it. You don’t even come to training anymore, not even to watch like you used to. Why?”

You shifted uncomfortably on your feet. You obviously couldn’t tell him the real reason, otherwise all the hard work you’d done would be for nothing because you’d end up humiliated and rejected anyway, but you knew Logan could tell when someone was lying from their pulse spiking, and yours certainly would if you lied about this.

You grappled for something to say, anything, to shake him off your trail. “I have to prepare for another class-”

“You’re not preparing for shit until you tell me what’s wrong,” Logan practically growled. “I can stay here all day Bub.”

Well shit. You didn’t really have another choice. You were going to have to tell him about your feelings for him. Literally anything else would have been better. Anything else.

At that exact moment Jean walked into your classroom and relief bloomed in your chest. You were saved, you were safe. You could use Jean as an excuse and-

“She was avoiding you because she has the hots for you, Logan. Something every single person in this school knows except you.”

Well, not anything else apparently.

Logan let out a noise of surprise and looked at you, but your eyes were glued to Jean, horror and betrayal painted on your face. She mouthed ‘your welcome’ and left. What the fuck? Was that the only reason she entered, to butt into your private conversation?

“Y/n. Was what Jean said true?”

You opened your mouth and then closed it, looking like something akin to a gaping fish. “Define truth.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at you, not at all amused, and his silence forced you to continue.

You sighed, preparing yourself for the inevitable heartbreak to come. “Yes, it’s true, alright, but I never intended to act on it and I won’t act on it so you’re fine-”

“Who said I didn’t want you to act on it?”

You started. “W-what?”

Logan took another step until your chest was suddenly pressed against his. “Did I stutter?”

You felt like you were going to stutter if you said anything, so you sort of just… stood there. Waiting. For what exactly, you weren’t sure. Some clarity maybe?

Certainly not Logan grabbing you by the waist and kissing you, so firm and confident you couldn’t help but melt into his embrace. His hands were grabbing your waist, finding the dips in your curves and squeezing there, grabbing them and tugging you towards him.

His lips dragged across yours, adding an air of desperation to the kiss. You couldn’t help but bring your hand up to cup his cheek, thumb stroking his bearded jaw as he kissed you deeper, seeming for all the world like he was never going to stop. You were powerless to stop it, and you found you didn’t even want to. Your walls were crumbling and you gladly let them if it meant you could continue kissing this man.

Logan hefted you up onto your desk and you let out a gasp, muffled by Logan’s lips. He smiled into the kiss anyway, amused by your surprise, and placed his hands on your knees to part them so he could get between your legs. 

You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, something he liked if the pleased grunt from his throat was anything to go by. His kissing became more fevoured, like he wanted to devour you, and you gladly let yourself drown in him.

That was until the school bell rang, startling you both out of the kiss. Or rather, just you, because Logan seemed content to move to your neck when your lips stopped responding.

“Logan,” you murmured. “I have a class to teach.”

Logan made an angry grunt and continued placing open mouthed kisses to your collarbone. You laughed and gently pushed him away, causing the man to growl and look at you with such irritation you’d think you interrupted his wedding or something.

“I’m busy here,” Logan said.

You had to physically swallow the breathless sigh threatening to escape your lips, instead saying, “we can continue this later.”

“We will continue this later.”

You smiled, almost shyly, which was ironic considering he was still between your legs. “Yeah?”

Logan moved forward so he could whisper into your ear. “Now that I have you Bub, I ain’t ever letting go.”

He pulled back and your smile widened, making a mental note to thank Jean when you next saw her. “I can live with that.”

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

peacekeeper!coryo x reader where she's like the commanders daughter and she manipulates him to find out the real reason why hes in district 12 and not 8 where he should be. could include smut up to you! love your writing sm <333

In Control || Peacekeeper!Coriolanus Snow x reader

GIF by @youremyvioleta divider by @firefly-graphics

A/n: I really really love this one just bc I got to write reader in a manipulative light which was fun and interesting. I also had another request sorta but not really similar to this, ALSO I can’t remember for the life of me if there were any female peacekeepers especially in district 12 so let’s just imagine there weren’t any for the sake of the storyline :) 1/4? fics Im posting today

Warnings: smut! virgin reader, possessive, obsessive, manipulative, lowkey dark reader

Wc: 2,975 another long one!

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

You had to see for yourself Coriolanus Snow in peacekeeper uniform. When news travelled around that Coryo was to be sentenced to years as peacekeeper in the districts, you nearly laughed at the idea of him being here.

Your father, Commander Hoff, leader of the peacekeepers here in district 12, even found it amusing himself. So here you were, leaned against a beam as you peer down at the new peacekeepers in training. What the hell was Coriolanus doing here in district 12 when you knew damn well from your father that he was supposed to be in district 8.

Of course, your eyes looked around for the one and only, Coriolanus Snow. You went to school with him but you highly doubted he knew you since you were a couple years below him. You often moved from the Capitol with your mother to district 12, with your father, so most of the times you weren’t even at school.

“You will rise together and you will fall together,” Your father’s loud voice echoes in the room. “You will be our eyes and ears out here on my base, and it will be your duty, to report anything suspicious you see because if you do not,” Coryo gives you a curious look as a light smirk adorns your lips.

He was probably wondering what the hell you were doing up there on the platform with the commander, and who you were. “You are as good as a rebel, yourself.” Your father concludes as you straighten up and push yourself off the beam.

Your father watches you with a warning look as you ignore him; walking down the steps, your footsteps echoing as you knew the peacekeepers were fighting hard not to look away from the commander. You honestly preferred being in the districts with your father than in prison that people call the Capitol.

You slowly study each peacekeeper before you stand infront of Sejanus Plinth. “A plinth back in the districts?” You say with a hint of amusement as you study him. His hair shaved, his expression cold. “Y/n.” Your father warns.

Coriolanus was the first to break his gaze from your father as he looks at you. Y/n. “I think there’s somewhere you must be?” Commander Hoff spoke with such sternness it made you gulp. “Yes, Commander,” You lightly sigh, addressing him professionaly, before giving Sejanus and the man beside him, Coryo, one final glance. 

~

Coriolanus couldn't help thinking about you, for a few reasons. You intrigued him, not only because he thought there were no females at all in the base, but also because he found you attractive. Very attractive.He had a feeling he has seen you before, maybe around the academy, but he wasn't sure on it.

He wondered what the hell you were doing here at base. Maybe you were here as punishment as well, but that didn't explain why you were up on the platform beside Commander Hoff.

~

"Let's go!" Coriolanus shifts his attention outside as he hears a whistle being blown. Sejanus and Coryo walk side by side onto the open field where Commander Hoff and you stood at the front.

The two of you make eye contact before he quickly looks away and stands in the front row, beside Sejanus. "Today you will be participating in physical exercises..." Commander Hoffs words became muffled to Coriolanus as he only pays attention to you.

You were stood beside your father, a clipboard in one hand as you tap the tip of your pen against your bottom lip. That made it clear that you were probably not here as punishment. Your uniform was the same except slightly altered. "Go!" A whistle blows as Coriolanus stands there confused because he wasn't paying attention.

"Do you think your special, boy? Get on the ground and do pushups, now!" Commander Hoff barks as he looks around before quickly following along side the others. You watch in amusement, your father shakes his head at you as you try and stifle a giggle.

You write down notes on your clipboard as you listen to your father instruct the peacekeepers. You were training to be the first female commander in history. Focused on Coriolanus practically the entire time, you sauntered past your father to where he was, on the ground doing pushups.

It was a particulars hot day so they all were wearing white singlets with their blue pants. You were secretly salivating the entire time you watched Snow perform the exercises, his muscles bulging, his skin slightly covered in a layer of sweat.

He looked fucking hot. The few times you saw him around the academy, he looked handsome, ethereal, with his blonde locks, but now with his buzzcut, he looked like a complete different person, he was a walking sex appeal. You lightly bite your fingernails as you watch the way his dog tag would dangle from his neck when he was doing pushups.

Your father raises an eyebrow as he watches you sit on Coriolanus' back whilst he was doing a pushup. Coriolanus grunts at the sudden weight on his back. You smile in satisfaction as you hear him grunting. Music to your ears.

You sitting on his back only made Coriolanus push harder as you let out a small yelp, placing a hand on his shoulder to stabilise yourself. Your jaw dropped at his speed, it was as if you weighed nothing. His stamina was insane as he kept the same rapid pace.

"What do you think you are dong Miss Y/n?" Your father raises an eyebrow at you, "Extra punishment, Commander Hoff," You beam at your father, patting Coriolanus' firm back as he Snow lets out a groan. Hoff hums before walking away, his hands behind his back.

When you hear the final whistle blow, you get off his back. Coriolanus stayed laying on the grass, his chest going up and down rapidly as sweat ran down the side of his face. You pulled out a handkerchief from your pocket with your initials embroidered in fancy writing and hold it infront of him.

He quirks an eyebrow at you, your roll your eyes before taking his hand and placing the lacey handkerchief in his hand. "Thanks," He says in a hoarse voice. You don't break eye contact with him as he wipes his face free from sweat.

Coryo hands your handkerchief back to you but you shake your head, "Keep it," Is all you say before turning around and leaving him there dumfounded. The thought of why he was here in district 12, and not 8–where he was supposed to be–still lingered in the back of your head.

~

For the next couple of days there was an unspoken tension between the two of you. Sexual tension to be specific. You were still itching to know what his business here in district 12 was. You were attracted to him for sure, how could you not when he looked like that. But your curiosity overpowered your desire for him.

You were walking along a quiet corridor before you felt a hand reach out and grab you, pulling you into a room. You let out a muffled scream, a hand firmly on your mouth as you felt someone's breathe fanning your neck.

Your eyes were wide in shock before the person spins you around and he reveals himself. He was dressed in his full attire, hat and everything included. You let out a sigh of relief, all while he watches you. "What the fuck are you thinking?" You whisper yell at him, as you quickly lock the door behind you.

"I wanted to introduce myself-" You scoffed loudly, turning your head to the side. "You think I don’t know you, Coriolanus Snow?" You raise an eyebrow at him as his tongue wets his bottom lip. Truth be told, Snow actually never mentioned his name to you. He just assumed you didn't know who he was. "I just wanted to properly introduce myself to you, Y/n.” 

"Well, that is not a very good reason to pull someone into a room without warning," You shrug your shoulders at him as he stays quiet, studying you as you study him back. Tilting your head slightly, you open your mouth, "You have another motive, Coriolanus,"

He swallows, "I want to see you again-" "why-" "privately." Oh? All the times you and Coriolanus would see each other was always out in the open with prying eyes everywhere, particularly from your father. You'd be lying if you said you weren't purposely whoring yourself for him just to get information out of him. From your lack of response, Coryo speaks again.

"What are you doing here on base? You don't seem to be here for punishment-" You let out a low chuckle, stepping a few steps forward towards him. "I could ask the same for you, Have you really no clue?" Coriolanus purses his lips, looking away before meeting looking over your face.

"Your initials on your handkerchief..." He starts, ignoring part of your question as you lips start to quirk up, "Are you Commander Hoff's daughter?" "Maybe I am. Does that bother you?" You step even closer to him as you notice his breathe starting to hitch.

"No," He breathes out.. "But what would your father think if he found out that you and I are here alone, when we shouldn't be," A smirk forms on his lips as your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips.

"Truthfully, I couldn't care less," You whisper before pressing your lips against his. Coriolanus froze when your lips touched his, you honestly thought he might just shove you away. You were pleasantly surprised when you felt his hand coming up to grip the base of your neck, deepening the kiss. It was as if he was a starved man, feasting on his food. Like you were oxygen that he desperately needed. 

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed with such savageness. The heat was like wildfire. The tension, the waiting. Days of expecting him to make a move on you. After the wandering eyes and the way he would make up any excuse to touch you or say something to you.

You slid your fingers across his broad, firm shoulders. One of his large hands gripped your loose locks, tugging at it, while his other hand reached down and tugged at your shirt. You pull back for a second as you take off your shirt, your bra covered chest on display as he wastes no time in unclipping it.

Coriolanus palmed your breasts hard enough to make you hiss against his mouth. You kissed him deeply, your fingers slid behind his neck and along the tendons of his neck. Coryo reaches up to take his hat off before you stop him, "Keep it on," You breathlessly say as Snow smirks before continuing his assault on your lips.

You tore your clothes off in front of him as he gapes. A surge of confidence ran through you as you grab his hand and push him against you. His rough hands dragging up your body, feeling every curve and dip he found to be perfect.

Snow kissed across your breasts and once again tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling at it until you whimpered and tilted your head back. His mouth was at the base of your neck and he kissed and nipped along your collarbone until he reached a point where you moaned gutturally and arched against his still fully clothed body.

Coriolanus pushed you back, your ass bumping into the only piece of furniture that was in the room which happened to be a desk. He pushed your legs apart and sank into you with a single, hard thrust. The he paused and pressed a kiss against your lips before he started to move.

You bit back a cry of pain and forced yourself not to stiffen or pull away. Your whole façade crumbling as he thrusts into you. It hurt. You knew it might, if not done slowly at least. But the pain still caught you off guard. The abruptness of it. He most likely assumed there had been others before him by the way you sauntered around the base and interacted with the other young peacekeepers.

You were glad it hurt. You were whoring yourself for him. You had seduced him the moment he made it abundantly clear that he wasn't keen on sharing his story of why he was here. You had manipulated him because you wanted something from him. You were greedy.

You weren't just going to settle on the undivided attention he'd give you. No. You wanted him, body and soul. Coriolanus was so much bigger that his frame practically enveloped you. His hands were tangled in your hair so tightly you could barely twitch your head as he met your eyes and moved inside of you at an almost inhumane speed.

His jaw was tense. His expression partially shielded from his hat. But the grip he had on you, and the speed he was going at, you could tell you were his. And similarly, he was yours. You forced yourself not to show any signs of discomfort as your threw your head back, eyes screw shut, when his fingers started playing with your stiff, perked nipples.

You moved your hips to meet his movement and clenched around him, your fingernails dragging across his clothed back. You lock your feet below his hips to drive him further in driving him crazy as a string of curses fall from his lips.

Coriolanus hisses, dropping his head against your shoulder as he thrusts deep inside of you. The angle of his movement, the intensity between them wasn't just his–you whimpered and gasped near his ear. 

His pace faltered slightly, and he lifted his head. His hands moved away from your tits, caught hold of your hands and intertwined your fingers together. He kissed you. Deep, passionate kisses that made your chest hurt as you returned them.

He shifted his pace. Slower. The angle was different, the way your naked pelvis met his as he pushed into you, and you realised with alarm that it was tearing your sense of control away from you. And you desperately wanted that control back or otherwise you’d be vulnerable. 

Coriolanus was kissing you. Hot. Bruising. Almost punishing kisses, as he gripped your hands and kept driving into you relentlessly. The pain had dulled to a fainter throb. Several more hard, deep strokes, then Coryo's hips jerked, and he gave a deep moan and dropped his head down in the crook of your neck.

His breath dragged across your skin as he panted near your ear and kissed your shoulder. You were still against him. You were suddenly aware of the rough table biting into your skin. And that the room was hot. Coriolanus stayed pressed against you and still inside of you for several seconds and then he abruptly tensed and pulled away.

He expression was drawn, and he didn't even look at you as he zipped up his pants. You slowly sat up, watching him carefully. He was progressively getting paler and paler as his hands lock behind his neck. His expression was both disbelieving and horrified.

"Fuck-" He said under his breath, he seemed devastated. And part of him was. He just fucked you. The daughter of his commander. He may have just screwed up his opportunity to see the one person he had risked everything for. If Commander Hoff found out that Coriolanus fucked his daughter, he could be transferred to another district, away from her. Or even worst, he was going to be executed.

His desire for you got the better of him and his initial plan. But he just couldn't resist you. Coriolanus clapped his hand over his mouth and looked over, meeting your eyes. Whatever he was battling inside his head seemed to be giving him a panic attack.

He swallowed visibly, closed his eyes and adjusted his hat. Then he opened his eyes, he seemed to have composed himself. He drew a deep breath and turned to you. His expression tense.

As he looked at you, his eyes dropped to your legs and he blanched white. You couldn't believe someone could even possibly blanch that white. "You were a virgin?" His voice was rasping. Coriolanus felt his hole that was dug out for him was getting deeper and deeper.

"Yeah," You say seeming unbothered. Snow looked like he was about to be sick. His jaw was clenched as he kept staring at you. "I–would have been gentler–if I had known," He finally said.

You slowly got off the desk, the middle of your legs aching as you put your clothes back on as Coryo watches. "I didn't really want you to be," He pressed his lips together.

"Fuck I'm not going to be able to see her," He muttered as his hands once again lock around his neck as your heart dropped upon hearing what he said. You smile bitterly to yourself. You got what you wanted. You found out what he was doing here. You'd grieve over the cost later.

Maybe he couldn't change course now. It was set. Obsessive. Possessive. You had him; possibly forever, if you didn't decide to use your cunningness. You had him. For whatever reason, you had him. Now you had to find a way to take advantage of it.

A slip of words to your father and he could be transferred to another district, away from her, or even hanged for taking your -virginity. You knew you had him wrapped around your finger now. And by the way Coriolanus stared at you and swallowed hard, horror in his eyes, he knew it too.

[xothatnerdykid]

what's love got to do with it?

The students and teachers alike at UA High can't help but notice the strange behavior of the typically stern and stoic teacher of Class 1-A. They come up with all sorts of theories but soon discover the even more surprising truth: Aizawa-sensei is simply falling in love. Fluffy Aizawa x fem!reader drabble. SFW. 2,828 words.

The way everyone looks at him when he walks in, you’d think he’d grown a second head or something.

Aizawa glances up from his phone after reading a sweet little text from you, greeting him good morning and wishing him a good day at work, only to find every student's wide-eyed, unblinking attention focused solely on him.

One second, they were all happily chattering, and then, the next…

"Hmm? What?" He asks his class offhandedly, throwing his things on the table and taking his usual seat.

But instead of answering him, the whole room erupts into a whispered frenzy.

"Did you see that? Did he just...?"

"No way! Must have been a trick of the light or something."

"What the heck? I feel so unnerved. Llike we just spotted a UFO or something.”

“You guys saw it too, right? Are we all just collectively hallucinating?”

"Oi!" He calls their attention. "Would anyone care to tell me what it is exactly that's gotten all of you so worked up this morning?"

Stunned silence falls over Class 1-A again, and Aizawa can’t help but cross his arms and sigh. “Iida? Yaoyorozu? What’s going on?”

He doesn’t miss the way the class president and vice-president exchange a hesitant look before Iida answers him. 

“Apologies, sensei!” He hastily gets up to bow. “I will personally make sure everyone quiets down.” He zooms around the room and gestures frantically at his noisy classmates to settle down.

Bemused by their commotion, Aizawa observes them all carefully. What could’ve caused such a stir? He wonders. And why are they all so reluctant to tell him? Did he have a piece of spinach in his teeth or something? A quick glance downwards tells him he didn’t forget to wear pants or shoes or anything, so what was it?

“If I may, sensei?” Yaoyorozu raises her hand and he nods at her. “I think everyone was just a little distracted by your change in demeanor today."

He furrows his eyebrows at the young girl. "What change?"

"Well, we’ve never seen you smile before. Or at least, not like that.”

He blinks in surprise. He’d been smiling when he walked into class this morning? "What about it?"

"Well, sir," Iida adds, taking his seat once everyone's finally settled down. "It's quite an uncommon sight. Naturally, they were taken aback."

“You usually only smile when you’re giving us a tough time in exams or training exercises, sensei.”

The corners of Aizawa’s mouth twitch upwards at that, which he quickly covers up with a small cough. “Well, enough of that. Let’s get on with today’s lesson, shall we?”

Everyone straightens up to listen as their homeroom teacher goes over a few important announcements. And although he isn’t smiling anymore, Class 1-A doesn't miss the way his usually sharp gaze has grown soft and almost...fond as he speaks to them.

As soon as the homeroom bell rings, Aizawa dismisses them with an absent-minded wave of his hand and takes out his phone to text you: Do I really never smile?

You smile when you’re rounding up bad guys sometimes. You reply almost right away. Or when you see a cat.

He chuckles. Apparently I also do it when I’m torturing my students. Then…Or when I’m texting you.

You send back a little cat emoji, and the grin you get after reading that doesn't leave your face for the rest of the day.

_________________________________________

“Shouta! Helloooo? I said Earth to Shouta?” Kayama waves her hand in Aizawa’s face.

It seems to snap him out of whatever trance he’s in. “Sorry, what?” He blinks up at her.

She gives Yamada a look. “What’s with him today?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs, then turns to his friend. “Hey buddy, didn’t get any sleep again last night or something?”

You could say that, Aizawa thinks to himself with a smirk, then hastily scolds his features into their usually stoic expression. “No. Why?”

Kayama raises an eyebrow at him. “You've just been acting a little...off. Distracted, maybe?”

"Nothing to worry about," Aizawa reassures them, dismissing their concerns with a wave of his hand. He goes back to observing his students closely in the hopes of them moving past the subject, but Kayama and Yamada aren’t convinced. Anyone looking at him could tell something was different today.

“Sensei?” Kirishima hesitantly calls out to him. “I’m having a little trouble with my balance. Could you show me that move again?”

Aizawa nods, and everyone’s jaw just about drops to the floor when he demonstrates the proper stance with uncharacteristic patience. 

"Remember to be mindful of where you shift your weight," He guides Kirishima through the motions with a supportive tone, a stark departure from his normally gruff and no-nonsense approach. "And keep your focus. You'll get it."

Kirishima does as he’s told and looks to his teacher for feedback.

"No, adjust your stance a bit like this. Yes, that's it. Great improvement," Aizawa says, offering a rare compliment. 

Flabbergasted, the red-haired boy manages a stuttering, "Th-Thank you, sensei," before Aizawa moves on to help the next student. 

Observing everything from afar, Kayama leans over to Yamada and whispers, “He didn’t get a concussion on that last mission, did he? I've never seen him like this."

“Check what was in his coffee a while ago. And if he still has more — oof, it was just a joke!”

_________________________________________

“Okay, enough is enough!” Mina bursts into the room, dramatically crying. “I have to know!”

“Know what?” Kirishima asks as the others start to gather around her.

“What’s going on with Aizawa sensei? I saw him on the way here — he’s wearing a buttoned up shirt.”

There’s a collective gasp.

“Are you sure?” Momo asks.

Mina nods frantically. “And it was freshly pressed, too!”

Another round of gasps.

“And his hair was tied up!” The pink girl all but weeps, throwing herself onto the nearest desk.

“What do you think is going on with him?” Deku rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“He’s been acting so weird lately!” Uraraka whines.

As if on cue, Aizawa walks in. “Good morning, class,” he greets them without his usual gruffness.

Everyone hurries back to their seats, but Mina leans over to grab Kaminari’s sleeve, screaming under her breath, “He said good morning!”

“Look at his eyes!” He points frantically. “No puffy, dark circles or redness at all! He actually looks well-rested for once!”

“That’s where I draw the line!” Kirishima almost slams his fist on his desk. “We have to get to the bottom of this.”

Sero joins them, “Do you think Mic sensei and Midnight sensei know anything?”

Kaminari shrugs, “It’s worth asking.”

“Maybe Aizawa sensei has a secret twin and he’s pulling a prank on us?” Deku contemplates.

Uraraka shakes her head, “Sensei? Pulling a prank? I doubt it. What if there’s a new teacher at UA with a shape-shifting quirk?”

“Or Shinsou brainwashed him into being in a good mood?” Jirou chimes in.

As they huddle and murmur, Todoroki and Tokoyami shoot them curious glances, and Iida has to shush them discreetly. 

They snap back to attention every time Aizawa faces them, pretending to listen to the lesson. But as soon as their sensei turns away again, the room buzzes with whispered speculation. 

And though he acts none the wiser, seemingly engrossed in the topic they're supposed to be discussing, Aizawa can't help his amusement listening to their outlandish theories. A small, smug part of him relishes stoking the fires of their confusion. 

He knew he'd have some explaining to do, but for now, he’s more than happy to just let  them wonder.

_________________________________________

“Oh, look who finally decided to show up!” is the first thing Mic says when he spots him. The colorful cocktail in his hand is practically empty, but he happily sips the fun loopy straw for whatever dredges he can anyway.

“Are you going to make me regret it?” Aizawa grumbles, taking his seat next to his friends.

But Mic and Midnight just snicker, unfazed. They’ve had years to get used to his grumpiness after all (and a few drinks to put them in a better mood). 

"We have to admit, Aizawa," Midnight smirks up at him. "We had an ulterior motive for asking you to come hang out tonight."

"Don't you always?" He deadpans, lazily chewing at the gyoza they ordered without him. Although he doesn’t show it, he’s pleased to see there’s already a whiskey neat waiting on the table for him. 

Midnight rolls her eyes as she slides it over to him, "Yeah, but aside from just getting you to lighten up as usual."

"And getting you to sing karaoke with us, which I still can't believe—"

"You promised me we'd never talk about it again,” Aizawa groans as he rubs his hand over his face. “And that you'd never let me get that drunk again.”

"Awww, come on, buddy," Yamada slings his arm around him. "What's the point of having a good story you can't tell?"

"Fine, but I'll deny it, so no one will believe you anyway."

"I don’t know,” Midnight sing-songs, swirling her margarita in its glass. “With the way you’ve been acting lately, they just might.”

He frowns at her. “Meaning?”

Mic grins, leaning forward with an impish glint in his eye, "Meaning we heard you've been keeping secrets from us, Aizawa."

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

"Oh really? Then would you care to tell us why you’ve been smiling so much lately?”

“Or who you’ve been trying to look nice for?”

Realizing they weren’t going to let this go easily, Aizawa sighs and takes a deep sip of his whiskey, the familiar warmth sliding down his throat. He's not one to discuss his personal life openly, even with his close friends, but there's something about their teasing that doesn't quite irk him tonight.

Aizawa tilts his head slightly, thoughtfully. "I'm just...happy, I suppose."

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“Come on, buddy, you can tell us!” Mic nudges him playfully. 

“We want to know what’s got our favorite grump acting like a—" Midnight’s hands quickly fly up to cover her gasp. 

“Like a what?” Mic gives her a puzzled look, but Aizawa’s shoulders tense up at the glint in her eyes. That look usually meant very bad things for him. 

“Like a lovesick puppy!” She grabs Mic’s arm, excitedly slapping it before shaking Aizawa’s shoulders and squealing into his ear. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re in love!”

Aizawa chokes on his drink, and Mic pats him on the back to ease his coughing fit.

"Real smooth, Kayama,” he teases her.

"Sorry, but I couldn't resist," Midnight pouts, the twinkle of amusement still shining bright in her eyes.

Aizawa wipes his mouth and sets his glass down with a sigh. “Well, if you must know…There is…someone I’ve been spending time with.”

"Someone!" His friends chorus, delighted.

Mic nudges him gently. “Well? Don’t leave us in suspense!”

"Who is it? Do we know them?" Midnight leans forward, giggling.

Aizawa looks down at his glass for a moment, contemplating how much he should reveal. Although he feels a little overwhelmed by their excitement and their scrutiny, he also secretly relishes the joy of sharing this part of his life with his closest friends. 

It feels good, he thinks, to be around them and to know that they care so much about him. And though he’s never been one to discuss his personal affairs, he trusts these two enough to share the parts of himself he usually kept guarded. 

Seeing the expectant looks on their faces, eagerly awaiting his answer, Aizawa's ears turn the faintest shade of red. 

“Do you want to meet her?” 

_________________________________________

"Had a fun night?" You greet your boyfriend with a hug when he shows up at your door well past a reasonable hour.

You don't miss the small smile on his face when he takes off his shoes. "Actually, I did. But Yamada and Kayama were pretty insistent on meeting you." 

"You told them about me?" you respond, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. 

He nods, not quite meeting your gaze. "I think they'd like you."

"Really?" You plop down on the couch with him and stretch your legs atop his lap. 

"Yeah," He gently grazes your thigh. "They were wondering why I've been acting so differently lately."

"Like what?"

"Apparently I'm smiling more and acting nicer and" — He air quotes — “Stopped looking homeless."

You laugh. "And what did you say?"

He shrugs, “That I guess my girlfriend just makes me really happy.”

“Awww,” you pat his cheek playfully. “What’s next? You gonna tell me you’re in love with me or something?”

"Yes? I thought it was obvious?"

"What?" Your heart skips a beat at his nonchalant admission.

“Hmm?” He looks over, and seeing the evident surprise on your face makes Aizawa chuckle. "I thought I'd been making it pretty clear, but I suppose I should say it outright. Yes, I'm in love with you."

Your heart flutters at his words, a warmth spreading through you. "Well, for someone who's known for being so straightforward, you sure took your time saying that."

He brushes a strand of hair from your face and leaves a soft, lingering kiss on your temple. “I’ll say it as many times as you want to hear it, baby.”

You lean in closer, your lips almost touching his. “Alright,” you look up at him with a sleepy smile and half-lidded eyes. “I’m waiting.”

"I love you," he whispers, his voice low and tender. He places a gentle kiss on your nose. “I love you,” and then another on your cheeks…“I love you.”

He gently brushes his lips against yours, cupping your jaw so you can’t help but gaze deeply into his dark, smoky eyes before he finally closes the distance between you.

“Mhhm.” You smile, contentment washing over you like a gentle wave. "I love you, too, baby."

[rhaenella]

LN4 | Challenge Accepted

pairing: lando norris x non-driver!reader

genre: one shot ✿

summary: it’s been five years since the last chinese gp, so when you and lando are set up to race each other on the shanghai circuit on mclaren’s state of the art simulator, anything is possible…

word count: 5.6k

masterlist

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The sound of feet tapping restlessly against the floor, alternated by the squeaking of a swivel chair spinning round, echoed through the large hall at McLaren HQ. With a sigh, you refreshed your social media—again—but there were no new posts of any kind to keep you occupied. You’d already gone through all of them.

Your boyfriend and F1 driver, Lando Norris, was somewhere in the massive building, filming interviews, challenges and whatnot for the McLaren social media platforms. He had asked if you'd come with him today, mostly because you already saw so little of each other due to his busy schedule. Not that you saw much of each other right now, but at least there wasn’t an ocean between you like there usually was. 

Besides, he’d promised he would wrap up as quickly as he could, and take you out for dinner. So. The wait was worth it. Even though you were bored out of your mind for the foreseeable future.

After walking up and down the hall’s boulevard four times over, admiring all of the beautiful, historical cars on display, you had checked out the trophy wall, which was just as impressive. But since you weren’t allowed access anywhere else inside the building, at least not without a chaperone, there wasn’t much else for you to do or see. That’s how you found yourself in your current situation, spinning around in a chair like an impatient five-year-old, the line of racing cars and the lake outside whooshing by. 

“Y/N?”

The chair came to an abrupt stop. “Yea–yes?” you squinted at the blurry figure in front of you. 

Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to spin around so many times that your vestibular system now made it feel like you were on a ship battling a terrible storm. Luckily, once your vision cleared, you recognised the person instantly. It was Lando’s performance engineer, Andrew Jarvis. You’d seen him around race tracks a few times—he was always very friendly and kind to you.

“Jarv! Hi, how are you?”

“I’m good, thanks. What about yourself?”

“Oh, good, good… Enjoying the scenery,” you sneered, waving a hand.

“Right,” he drawled, looking you up and down with an amused smile. “Bored?”

“Yes,” you groaned, sinking a little deeper into the chair. “So. Fucking. Bored.”

Jarv chuckled. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid Lando is still tied up. I think he and Oscar are filming some kind of… song challenge? I don’t know,” he shrugged with another laugh. “It’s not exactly my area of expertise.”

Your lips quirked up. “Imagine if it was. You could start hiding strategy calls in songs and sing them over the board radio.”

He wavered. “That would be…”

“Genius?”

“Eh, well,” he faltered, his mouth twitching all the same. 

“Right. Maybe not,” you laughed. 

Although, privately you thought it would be a hilarious idea. With a tinge of brilliance, perhaps. But the pinnacle of motorsport would probably be a little too serious to see it your way. 

“I’m obviously not an engineer, or a strategist, or a driver. So, I guess I’ll just stay here,” you sighed, patting the armrests of your new friend, the swivel chair. “And try to excel in exercising patience instead.”

Jarv nodded, his brows furrowing. “Maybe you don’t have to…” 

You eyed him with a suspicious look. “What do you mean?”

He checked his watch and glanced around before looking back to you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I have an idea. Come with me.”

Jarv had already turned on his heel before you could object, expecting you to blindly follow him to wherever it was he intended to take you. Which you did… without too much thought. Let’s just say boredom got the best of you. Choosing between sitting another god knows how many hours in that chair, or doing something—anything—the choice wasn’t hard. So, you leaped from your seat, sprinting to catch up with him. 

“Wait!” 

He slowed down, and you fell into step beside him. “What’s your idea? Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

You neared the large double doors at the rear of the boulevard. Jarv pressed his right thumb on a small, glass box on the wall next to them, waiting for his fingerprint to be authorised. The system scanned his print, and the light tinged green. “Welcome, Mr. Jarvis,” a female voice said as the doors automatically opened in front of you.

“Nice.”

Jarv grinned, gesturing for you to precede him into the restricted wing of McLaren HQ. The part that the general public never got to see. You gazed around in amazement. You knew it was a large building, but it was more like a maze back here, and you quickly lost all sense of direction.

“I should probably text Lando, he’s gonna wonder where I’ve disappeared to.”

“Don’t worry, Lando is heading where we’re going, too.”

You relaxed a little at that, however your curiosity didn’t subside as you trailed after Jarv throughout the many long corridors. Where the hell were you going?

The behind the scenes looked arguably even more impressive than all the trophies and race-winning cars that were being flaunted in the entrance hall. You passed countless offices, labs, and workshops where employees were working on top-secret updates for the MCL38, or perhaps even next year’s car. And although Jarv kept up a good pace, you were still able to sneak a few glimpses here and there, thanks to all the glass walls. Most of the technology looked so futuristic, you felt like you had accidentally stepped onto the set of a sci-fi film.

Jarv made a sharp right turn down another hallway. This one only had one door at the end, and it wasn’t made out of glass like the rest of them, which prevented you from being able to see what was behind it. 

You read the sign next to the door, which only added to the mystery. 

Strictly No Admittance. Authorised Personnel Only.

“This is it,” Jarv said, retrieving a key to unlock the door, opening it wide. 

Well, there was your authorisation.

You stepped into the mysterious, dimly lit room, your eyes gradually widening with awe. 

The room was roughly twelve by twelve metres, and in the centre stood two professionally altered Formula 1 cars, both with their own 180-degree widescreens set up in a semicircle around them. The back wall was lined with large computer screens, a row of chairs stationed in front of them, which gave you the feeling you were looking at a small-scale pitwall. 

Holy… beep.

Speaking of futuristic tech, this was way up there.

“Welcome to the McLaren simulation room.”

You whirled around to face Jarv, beaming. “This is incredible. I’ve never seen a sim like this before.”

It was true. Sure, Lando had his own simulator at home in Monaco. But it was nothing compared to this piece of craftsmanship.

Jarv hummed, smiling as he walked to the faux-pitwall. “So. You ready to try it out?”

You blinked. “Ready to–wait a minute… what?”

You stared at Jarv as he turned on the computers, pressing buttons here and there that made the right car hum to life. Next, the widescreen around the car powered up as well, causing a wave of light to brighten the otherwise dark room.

“Jarv?”

He opened a cabinet, retrieving a steering wheel before he walked to the simulator. “Come on, don’t tell me you don’t want to.”

“That’s not it,” you trailed off. 

“Good,” he said, turning around, looking at you expectantly. “So get in, then.”

“But… what about Lando? You said he was on his way over here. Don’t they need the room?”

“They will be here to film something in,” Jarv checked his watch again. “In a little over an hour. Until then, the room is empty, and we can use it. I presume you’ve driven a simulator before?”

“Yeah, I have… but don’t I need some kind of special clearance to use one of these?” One of these super expensive, highly accurate simulators that are solely used to train drivers and prepare the real cars and their setups for race weekends. Whatever could go wrong?

“Y/N, don’t worry about it. I’m Lando’s performance engineer. I’m one of the few that gets to decide who uses the sim.”

You shifted your weight, still unsure. “I’m not gonna be any good at it.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you have fun, or would you rather return to the waiting area?”

“No.”

Jarv’s smile widened, and he gestured to the sim, inviting you to take a seat.

You hesitantly walked up to the car, twisting your rings, a nervous habit of yours. You’d tried the simulator at Lando’s before, and like you’d already pointed out to Jarv, you weren’t any good at it. Lando had tried to talk you through it, telling you where to break and lift, but it was painfully clear you weren’t cut out to be a driver. 

And now you had to drive in McLaren’s state of the art simulator, under the watchful eye of Lando’s performance engineer. The pressure was real. You didn’t want to make a complete fool out of yourself.

After you’d managed to, somewhat awkwardly, settle yourself in the sim’s seat, Jarv locked the steering wheel into place. It was familiar to you as it looked exactly like the one on Lando’s car, just like everything else on this sim. Except that it didn’t have a front or back wing, or any tyres.

“Alright, before you start driving, it’s important to know the ins and outs of the track you’re racing at. Which in this case will be Shanghai, the location of next weekend’s race,” Jarv said, pressing a few buttons. 

The layout of the track popped up on the screen in front of you, with a sea of information and data appearing on the sides. 

“Don’t worry about the data. We’ll stick to the basics that are of importance to you as a driver. Ready?”

You nodded.

“Good. So, the Shanghai International Circuit has sixteen corners, two DRS-zones on the main straights; one in sector three, and the other on start-finish…”

***

“I don’t know, I feel like maybe I should pursue a musical career,” Lando joked as he and Oscar followed Marion, the head of McLaren’s PR team, down the building’s corridors. 

They had just finished filming another challenge for YouTube. Or Instagram. Or both. Lando didn’t really care about the specifics. It was just another part of his job. Something he’d rather be done with soon, so he could go back to his girl.

Oscar snorted. “Yes, I’m sure you’ll be a Grammy-nominated artist in no time.”

Lando grinned, agreeing with a nod. 

“Alright, lads. One more, and then you’re free to go,” Marion called over her shoulder. 

It was absolute music to Lando’s ears.

“What is it that we have to do?” Oscar asked.

“You’ll be racing each other on the sim, just for a couple of laps, around the Shanghai circuit.”

“I thought we were gonna train on the sim in the morning,” Lando said.

Marion nodded. “You will. This is only a short challenge for a video ahead of the Chinese Grand Prix. Because we haven’t raced there in so long, we thought it’d be fun to film your initial reaction to the track driving the MCL38.”

He and Oscar shared a look. They were always down for a race. There was no question about it.

The click-clacking of Marion’s heels bounced around the hallway as the group made their way to the simulation room. When they arrived, Will, Lando’s race engineer, and a camera and sound crew were waiting for them by the door.

“Why are you all out here? You should be setting up the cameras,” Marion scolded, looking at the men expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

But the men ignored her, instead they all looked to Lando, grinning. He frowned, not at all understanding the meaning behind the knowing looks they were sending him. What was up with them?

“Someone beat us to the sim, I’m afraid,” Will explained, his eyes still on Lando.

Marion turned to Lando as well, equally confused. “What does that mean?”

Lando met her eye and shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

As if on cue, a high pitched scream came from the simulation room, followed by a distinct, “That’s more like it!”

Will and the crew chuckled, but Marion wasn’t having it. “What on earth is going on,” she bristled, pushing past them to enter the room.

Lando followed her, but he couldn’t have been less prepared for the scene they stumbled upon next. 

Occupying one of the simulators was his girlfriend, and right next to you stood Jarv, who was closely monitoring your driving, giving you short and precise instructions. You were going down the straight at full throttle, following Jarv’s pointers as you breaked and hit the curb perfectly for a smooth exit.

What the hell? 

He’d thought you were still waiting for him in the entrance hall on the other side of the building. Never in a million years had he expected to find you here, racing on McLaren’s simulator, looking like you actually knew what you were doing no less. 

So that’s why all the guys had been smirking at him…

“What do we have here?”

You jumped at Lando’s voice, immediately causing the car to spin and crash during your momentary lapse of concentration. 

“Fuck! I was on a flying lap…”

“And a bloody good one at that,” Jarv added, proud.

Lando’s eyebrows shot up. “You were what?” His eyes flicked from you to Jarv, to you, and then back to Jarv. “Mate?”

Before Jarv could utter a word, you turned to face your boyfriend with a wide smile. “Baby, guess what?! I’m not a complete loser at this!”

“I–I’m so proud of you… but,” Lando shook his head, still not understanding any of this. “Why are you two in here?”

You grabbed onto the halo and pulled yourself out of the car to face him. “Jarv came to see how I was doing, and since I had nothing better to do, he suggested I’d give this a try,” you explained, gesturing to the sim.

“Oh, I see,” Lando smiled. 

Yet he struggled to swallow the bitter taste at seeing you spending time and having fun with Jarv. All the while he had been stuck ‘working’. Not that he blamed you for it. He was the one who left you all by yourself for so long. But still… 

“Uhm, but now that you’re all here,” you said, a bit sheepish, your eyes scanning the gathering crowd. “I’ll uhm, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Very well,” Marion called, but she was quickly interrupted.

“No, no, no, no. Wait a second. I need to know something first,” Will spoke, stepping forward. “Jarv, we need your professional assessment, man. How did she do?”

Marion sighed, tapping her phone to check the time, which only made her look more impatient. Lando ignored her, his eyes sliding from you to his performance engineer, curious as well. 

“Y/N did great. She struggled a little at first, but the more laps she did, the better she got,” Jarv beamed. He turned to face Lando. “You know, I reckon she’d even have a good chance at beating you.”

Lando studied him. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m being serious, mate. I’d wager good money on it.”

Marion’s annoyance evaporated within an instant, her eyes lighting up. “Oh gosh, that is a perfect idea, Jarvis.”

“What is? Gambling?” 

“No,” she huffed. “I mean, instead of Lando against Oscar, we can have these two lovebirds race each other on the sim instead!”

“What?” you and Lando cried in unison.

Everyone looked at you, and your cheeks tinged a soft pink. You weren’t used to all the attention, usually preferring to keep a lower profile. Well, as much as that was possible dating a Formula 1 driver.

“Guys, I’m flattered. Truly, I am. But I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes. I know you’re all here to do a job, and that job doesn’t include me…”

“That’s right,” Lando agreed. He shot you a brief smile before addressing Marion. “Besides, she doesn’t like to be the centre of attention, and I don’t want her to embarrass herself in front of the eyes of millions.”

Something stirred inside you. “What does that mean? You don’t think I can beat you?”

“Well, sweetheart…”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you mumbled, your eyes narrowing. 

Under other circumstances, you would have agreed with him. But this last hour and a half with Jarv had boosted your confidence. It had gone really well, exceeding both of your expectations on your sim racing capabilities by miles. And maybe, some part of you, just wanted to show him that.

Like Lando, you never shied away from competition. Not if you had a chance at winning. You weren’t a hundred percent sure if you did right now. But you couldn’t deny you weren’t more than a little curious to find out. And seeing as Lando had just called you out in front of everyone, the only logical thing to do was rise to the challenge.

“You know what? I’m in.”

With that, you climbed back into the snug seat, forcing the thought of having everyone’s eyes on you to the back of your mind. 

Lando’s eyes widened. “What?” 

“Wonderful,” Marion exclaimed. “Let’s roll, people.”

Lando watched as everybody around him immediately jumped into action, including the camera and sound guys who got ready to put it all on film. Jarv grinned and grabbed his tablet, giving a slight nod to Will, who nodded in return and went to start up the second simulator and retrieve a steering wheel for Lando.

“I’ll be assisting Y/N, and just like with a normal race, Will can be Lando’s engineer,” Jarv said.

“Yep,” Will said, holding up the steering wheel as he walked to the other sim. “We’re good to go.”

“We are too!” one of the crewmen announced.

Marion smiled, but it faded when she noticed Lando still standing by the door, not having moved an inch. “What are you waiting for? Get in the car,” she said.

She started pushing Lando in the direction of the other sim, but he stood his ground. 

“Hold on. We can’t do this.”

“What? Why not?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Lando sighed. “You know why.” 

Did they? Did he? 

Lando loved to race, and he certainly loved you. So what was stopping him from combining the two? 

He wasn’t scared of losing—he never has been, and never would. Not that there was any real chance that you, an inexperienced ‘driver’, could beat him today. There was simply no way. 

He’d seen you try the sim at his house, and despite his best efforts, you were, for lack of a better term, absolute rubbish. But then again, Jarv had seemed so sure of himself. That man didn’t lie or exaggerate. He would give it to you straight if you underperformed or weren’t any good. Lando had always admired and respected that. 

So, had Jarv been able to unearth some sort of racing talent that was buried deep inside of you? Something that Lando himself hadn’t managed to uncover…

Was that why he hesitated going up against you? His sense of pride?

Lando groaned internally. If anything, that should make him that much more adamant to race you.

He looked over to see you were already staring at him, ambition burning bright in your eyes. Ambition to beat him. At the thing he did best… It was alluring, and Lando felt his own competitiveness flare. 

“No, we don’t. Honestly, what’s stopping you?”

“It’s only five laps. It’ll be a piece of cake for you, Norris.”

“Unless that’s the problem,” Jarv joked. “Maybe he needs to warm up and familiarise himself with the track first…”

“I think all of you are forgetting that I’m the only one here who actually raced in Shanghai,” Lando shot back, unconsciously taking a step towards the sim.

“And how did that work out for you, mate?” Oscar chimed in.

Lando glared at him and Oscar struggled to contain his laughter. 

“Even better,” you exclaimed, reclaiming your boyfriend’s attention. “You have on track experience and I’ve had a little time to prepare with Jarv. That’s fair enough, right?”

“Y/N… are you sure you want to…” 

He was so close to giving in. He knew it, you knew it, probably everyone did. Besides, you had one more trick up your sleeve. One that would surely make his competitive side overshadow any lingering doubts, and get him to race you in that other sim.

“When have you ever walked away from a race? Hm? Unless you’re scared you’ll lose…”

That struck the intended chord. 

Oh, she didn’t, Lando thought. 

You gave him your most innocent looking smile, but he knew damn well what you were doing. He shook himself. Fine. If you wanted to race him so badly, he would give it to you. And no way in hell would he still consider going easy on you.

Lando promptly made his way to the other car and slid into the seat with practised ease. He signalled Will, who handed him the steering wheel. He clicked it into place before glancing to his right, smiling dangerously. “Alright, you’re on, darling. Challenge accepted.”

At that, Jarv entered a bunch of commands on his tablet, which was connected to the simulator’s system, to set the race parameters. Two cars appeared on the screens, each from their own driver’s point of view, already in position to start racing at Shanghai’s International Circuit.

“As you can see, Lando will start on the right and Y/N will start on the left,” Jarv informed.

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Lando sputtered. “Why are you starting from pole and not me?”

“Because I clocked the fastest lap time.”

“You clocked the only lap time.”

You shrugged, smiling. “Take it up with race control, baby.”

“Don’t worry,” Will reassured, looking at his own tablet as he scrolled through the accumulated data from your runs. “Break late, and you can easily overtake her in the first corner.”

Lando nodded, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel as the digital green flag was waved.

Jarv leaned in to whisper in your ear: “No, he won’t. Just remember what I taught you.”

“Aye, aye,” you said, focusing on the lights.

The cameras were all set and rolling, and Marion looked around, relishing the unexpected turn of events. This would be an enormous hit online, for sure. Her eyes landed on Oscar who stood to the back, watching the couple with an amused glint in his eye. If only she could involve him as well somehow… that would make it even better.

“Oscar, why don’t you take on the role of commentator?” Marion suggested, her tone indicating that he didn’t have much of a choice. 

Oscar startled. “Oh. Uhm. Yeah, sure.”

He moved to stand in between the two simulators, clearing his throat. “Right. Uhm. Welcome to the Shanghai International Circuit for the 2024 Chinese Grand Prix… It’s Sunday, April 21st—well, not really but let’s go with it—uhm, and we’ll soon start racing–”

“You’re a lousy commentator, Piastri,” Lando interrupted.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “How about you worry about yourself, Norris.”

Lando snickered, but he quickly sobered when the first light gleamed red. Then the second, the third, the fourth, the fifth, and…

“It’s lights out and away we go!”

You got away quick, but Lando was faster, years of experience siding with him.

“Lando dives into the first corner, ahead of Y/N. Can she cross back? No, no she cannot. Ah, bummer…” Oscar narrated. “She’s right behind him, though, going into turn 3. Lando nearly missing the apex there, but he recovers well. OH! Oh, never mind. Lando goes wide in turn 6! Yeah, he’s familiar with that one.”

“Shut up,” Lando snapped.

“I didn’t think so, mate,” Oscar grinned, settling into his new character nicely. 

“Y/N is back on his heels as they go down sector two. DRS is not yet enabled, but she is only six tenths behind! Will Y/N be able to overtake Norris without DRS on the straight? She’s getting closer… they’re racing each other into turn 14, and… OH Y/N, massive lock-up! She manages to keep the car on track. Excellent save! But that’s gonna cost her some valuable time.”

You crossed start-finish, eyeing the time as you entered lap two.

Oscar’s voice boomed loud. “DRS enabled! But Y/N is too far–”

“Just 1.2 seconds behind, you can still do this,” Jarv encouraged. “Line-up on the left and take the first corner on the inside. Yeah, like that. Good.”

On the other side of the room, Will was giving Lando similar instructions. It had, after all, been a while since Lando had last raced this track. During his rookie year, no less. Therefore it was currently taking him quite a bit of effort to find the correct race line, especially with the many difficult corners and hairpins around the track. 

“Steady on,” Will said. “Y/N is out of DRS. Let’s keep it that way.”

The couple sped down the track on their simulators, and even though most of your focus was spent on driving and listening to Jarv’s notes, you also marvelled at the accuracy and realism of the sim. From the sensations of the literal car you were seated in, down to the gravel Lando’s little off-track adventure had caused to spread in and around turn 6. Whatever the outcome of the race, this experience would certainly beat waiting around and lounging in that swivel chair.

“Great exit from Norris who is absolutely flying down the straight in sector three, followed by Y/N at 1.4 seconds. Still doing a phenomenal job so far!” Oscar continued, his eyes glued to the screen. “Approaching turn 14, can Y/N manage the hairpin this time? What?! Oh, no! It’s Lando that locks up this time… Oiiioii, mighty turn 14 proves to be too much for both of our star drivers.”

Jarv kept a close eye on the interval time, and thanks to Lando’s mistake, the gap had already shrunk to 1.1 seconds. “Okay, now use the extra power from the ERS to get closer,” he instructed.

You did as you were told, pressing the correct button on the steering wheel, which gave you an extra boost to get even closer to Lando.

“Y/N gaining on Norris! And she’s now back within DRS at 0.9 seconds. Whoa, what a truly remarkable performance by someone who has never driven a race car or a sim like this before! I’d vote for her as driver of the day…”

“No one asked your opinion,” Lando cut off, sounding a little strained.

“Whatever,” Oscar shrugged, unbothered. “Lando Grumpy-Ass Norris struggles to maintain the gap between him and his girlfriend, hitting the curb a little enthusiastically right there. Oh, Y/N faces the same issues! It’s all about keeping the focus now, ladies and gents. Will Y/N be able to close the gap? Will she be able to attack Norris?”

Marion stood behind the cameras, watching gleefully how you and Lando raced each other around the virtual Shanghai circuit. Oh, you were even better than she could have ever anticipated. Better than anyone in the room could have ever anticipated, really. The whole crew was watching the race with baited breath. 

You were almost equally matched. With you, a real diamond in the rough, having received some training beforehand, and Lando, an experienced driver, essentially going in blind—it was a golden match.

Were you going to be able to do the unthinkable?

“We’re going into the penultimate lap, and even with Lando strategically using his batteries, Y/N has managed to close the gap to 0.7 with DRS. And there she is also clocking the fastest lap. Wow!”

“You can win a little bit of extra time in sector two,” Will analysed. “Turns 9 and 12 are crucial. You need a good exit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando said. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Does he?” Oscar cut in. “We’ve got track limits for Norris in turn 9! He’s getting desperate now, with Y/N coming for him at 0.6 seconds. Is she going to—yes! She’s attempting to overtake Norris ahead of turn 11 but… fails… Oh, that was a bold move by Y/N! She lost a bit of time with that one, but she’s still within DRS range and knows she will be able to get close again for another attack.”

Your knuckles were turning white from how tight you were gripping the steering wheel. You couldn’t make a mistake, not now. You were so close… On the other sim, Lando was in a similar state. Although he was clenching his jaw in concentration instead. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep you behind him.

“Final lap,” Oscar announced. “And Norris crosses the white lines again! Turn 3 this time. Yep, there it is. Second track limits for Norris. He is feeling the heat, and not the good kind.”

Jarv’s mouth twitched. “It’s been five years since Lando raced here, let’s use it to our advantage,” he spoke to you in a hushed tone.

You nodded, your eyes never wavering from the screen in front of you.

Jarv checked the data, both yours and Lando’s, then leaned in. “Okay, here’s what you’ll do: instead of following the race line at–”

Will was closely observing you and Jarv from the other side of the room, but he couldn’t make out what Jarv was saying over the sounds of the simulators’ engines and Oscar still commentating to his heart’s content. He looked down at his driver, who was fully focused on the task before him.

“And then use the charged batteries after exiting turn 13. I know Lando’s defending tactics, this should work. He won’t see it coming,” Jarv finished. 

You simply nodded again, trusting your engineer’s judgement. You would give it your all to try and execute his strategy as best you could.

“As we’re nearing the chequered flag, all bets are off. Lando is fighting for his position with everything he has, but Y/N is not ready to call it quits just yet!” 

Your heart rate was off the charts, but you managed to stay calm, hitting the apexes, the metres between you and Lando’s car in front dwindling with each passing second.

“0.5 seconds, 0.4 seconds…”

“Flat out, Y/N. Let’s go,” Jarv said, his own heart rate ticking up.

“She’s chasing him, with DRS… There she comes. There she comes… round the inside! Y/N overtakes Norris!” Oscar roared. “Diving into the infamous turn 14… and… and she makes it! Hell yeah! What a mega move from Y/N! Now into the final corner. Can she stay ahead of Norris? Can she…? Yes!! Yes, she can!”

You passed the chequered flag, your mouth falling open in shock.

“Y/N wins the Chinese Grand Prix!”

“OH MY GOD!!”

Jarv's laugh pierced the room. “Get in! I told you!”

He managed to stop himself just in time before he started jumping up and down like an overly excited little boy. You shared his enthusiasm though, unable to control the slight tremor in your hands at seeing your name next to the word WINNER displayed boldly on the screen in front of you. 

Holy fuck, you did it. You actually did it.

Lando sank low in his seat. “How the hell…”

Will patted him on the shoulder, consoling. “You did your best mate.”

“Clearly it wasn’t enough,” he grumbled.

Will glanced at their celebrating opponents, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Get your mind out of the gutter, mate, and look on the bright side.”

“Which is?”

“Your girlfriend just showed you the perfect overtake manoeuvre for Sunday.”

“Ha-ha, very funny…”

Although, you really did. 

Lando turned to see Jarv help you out of the simulator, still grinning from ear to ear. You were reeling, the adrenaline of the fight and win coursing through your veins. Suddenly you understood what it must feel like to come out of a real F1 car, and to stand on the podium, basking in that feeling of winning a race.

As soon as you were out, Jarv high-fived you. “Solid race. That’s some potential, that is.”

Oscar came up next. “Awesome job, Y/N. Seriously. Great overtake at the end there. Perhaps you’ll be my future teammate,” he winked.

You giggled. “Thanks, guys!”

Even Will smiled at you, giving you a thumbs up as you walked over to Lando who was still seated in the other sim, sulking.

“Oh, come on,” you pouted, reaching out your hand, a peace offering. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Sure thing, it was,” he muttered, but he accepted your hand anyway before jumping out of the car. 

When he stood in front of you, he took a moment to look you up and down, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. His ego may have taken quite the blow today, but there was no denying he was also extremely proud of you. Jarv had been right after all, and Lando was happy he hadn’t taken the engineer up on his bet.

He shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?”

You shrugged, smiling. “Need to keep things fresh and exciting, don’t I? Otherwise you’ll tire of me in no time.”

“Never,” Lando scoffed, wrapping his arm around your waist and giving your lips a soft peck. “However, as much as I’m proud of you… this footage will never see the light of day.” 

You laughed, your eyes locking with Marion.

She sent you a wink. “We’ll see about that.”

***

a/n: thank you for reading <3 feedback is adored. 

by the way, should i make a taglist for future f1 fics? is that something you’d be interested in? or perhaps for specific drivers? let me know!

also posted on ao3

[the-writer-arrived]

Voice lines and habits that give me unholy thoughts

Synopsis: it doesn't need much for your cute little brain to go haywire with desire for him... (un)fortunately for you, he's quick to catch on the signs and use them against you.

Characters: wriothesley, alhaitham.

Warnings: afab!fem!reader; explicit smut; established relationship; a bit of plot since i like the build up to the horny part; use of handcuffs, oral f!receiving, fingering & overstimulation (wriothesley); semi-public/office sex & oral m!receiving (alhaitham).

A/N: wrio's teaser and web event messed with my brain :D hoyoverse def knew what they were doing when they created him.

This work has sexual themes and is not suitable for minors. If you click on read more, I am not responsable for any discomfort you may feel reading this. You have been warned.

"...Sweetheart, did you hear me or were you too busy staring intensely at my hand?"

"...Oh! I, uh... was just thinking about an answer to your question!"

"Does my question of whether you want more tea or not need that much pondering over?"

Wriothesley rests his cheek on his hand, not even trying to hold back a smirk as he watches the redness of your cheeks becoming more proeminent.

Shit. So much for thinking you were being discreet about it.

You decide to exercise your right to remain silent, taking the teapot and filling your own cup, promptly ignoring the chuckle coming from the man before you.

At the corner of your eyes, you see the handsome bastard has the audacity to return twirling and moving that dastard pen again, as if to taunt you.

...Is feeling jealous of an object too concerning of a sign?

----------

Wriothesley was seeing you out of his office, a stack of documents in your arms that needed to be delivered to Neuvillette about the recent happenings of the Fortress, a task that you were more than happy to do for him.

As you were finishing your conversation, you hear a commotion coming from the Coupon Cafeteria. With a shared glance between you two, the warden walks towards the scene to investigate, you following a few steps behind.

There, you see a group of inmates-- no, it's more like one inmate is causing a ruckus while the others are trying to cool him off... without much success apparently. In fact, things are quickly getting out of control when the riled up man begins to fight anyone opposing him.

Your boyfriend is known to be level-headed, always trying to resolve internal conflicts by talking things out to reach an agreement. Cases like this one, however, require a more... on hands approach.

It all happens too fast. The prisoner turns around to hit the next person that dared to touch him so casually, only for his sloppy attack to be dodged with ease by none other than the Duke himself. One could easily see the color draining from man's face, any trace of his anger disappearing in a flash.

You gasp at the scene ahead of you, having to lean on the large pipe next to you as your legs suddenly feel weak.

Make no mistake, your reaction isn't fear by the violence you witness, far from it. Rather, it is because of the sudden wave of arousal you feel as you watch Wriothesley pin the troublemaker underneath him, pulling his arms behind his back to cuff him.

Fuck. For a split second, you wish you could trade places with the inmate.

'...What in the world. Get a hold of yourself!'

You shake your head in an attempt to clear the indecent thoughts... Which proves to be futile at the way the stern and cold look of your lover melts into a soft and warm one when his eyes turn to you. All while 'adjusting' his loose tie, aka pulling it lower and revealing a bit more of his scarred skin that you adore kissing it.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? Sorry, did that scare you?"

His duality makes you crazy horny-- t-that is, deeply in love with him!

"No! No, no, I wasn't scared! I was just, um... feeling a little faint due to the heat, yes!"

You wave a hand in front of you make it more believable... which don't seem to be working very we'll, seeing the frown on Wriothesley's face. So you start your plan B: run away.

"Ah, I-I better go deliever this documents to Monsieur Neuvillette then. Seeyouathomeloveyoubye!"

Wriothesley watches as you scurry off to the elevator, clutching the files in your arms like a lifeline. He shakes his head, a hand covering the grin.

"Oh darling, you're too easy to read."

----------

"Y-You mean-- ahh, that you k-knew all along?!"

"How could I not, when your eyes were almost begging me to fuck you? You should reward me for my self control, sweetheart."

Any retort you had dissolve into a shaky moan when Wriothesley curls his two fingers inside your core, hitting that deep spot that turns your brain into mush.

You want grasp the sheets, you want to scratch his back, you want to cover your face, ANYTHING. But you can't, not with your hands locked with his handcuffs to the bedpost. You hate it and you love it.

"Wrioooo..."

"Now, now princess, don't tug the handcuffs so hard, it'll hurt you and we can't have that." His free hand trails up your arms, lightly dragging his nails to make you shiver at the ticklish feeling, until he holds your wrists in place. "Be a good girl and focus on me, yeah?"

Jokes on him, that's what you've been doing the whole day. Thinking about your dear boyfriend, his sweet personality, his cute adoration for tea, his godly body, his great strength and how you wished for nothing more than to be bent over his desk and--

"C-Close, close... Gonna-!" Your babbles are interrupted by a gasp, Wriothesley's fingers speeding up and his palm brushing against your clit over and over that it takes just a few seconds for you to see white, body taut, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure washes over you.

The Duke slows down his movement until his hand stops completely, kissing your temple and cooing at you when you whine at his fingers leaving you empty.

You sigh when his mouth meets yours in a languid kiss, helping your heartbeat return to normal... until it races again when you realize his lips going down, down and down your body...

"W-Wrio... what are you-- Ahh!" You squeal at the sudden cold sensation in your sensitive pussy, attempting to wiggle your hips away. Your very mean lover just chuckles, wrapping his strong arms around your thighs and drags you back to his face, the asshole shooting you a smirk after he uses cold tongue to lick your folds again.

"Surely you didn't think I'd stop at one round, after you used your bedroom eyes at me the whole day, right? So..."

"Don't run away now, sweetheart."

"W-What did you say?!"

"...I said, don't let any of it, the treasure, roll away now."

Your lover looks at you with a quizzical look, not comprehending your unusual reaction to his words. You, on the other hand, are silent praying to all the Seven archons for your face to not be as red as you think it is.

In any case, you decide to turn your back to Alhaitham to get the rest of the treasure inside the chest, while he keeps on look out for any other hilichurl or abyss monsters lurking around.

You see, it's not common for you two to go adventure together around Sumeru, much less to see the scribe in action with your own eyes. So, you can't be blamed when you've been too distracted by the way his toned arms flex as he swings his sword(s), his cape gracefully flowing at each movement, the focused expression as the Chisel-Light Mirrors cut down the enemies...

Anyway, you were far too busy gawking over your boyfriend and how unfairly hot he is to actually notice the chest spawning right in front of you. And those words that he had said? It's no surprise your mind went to the gutter.

You just hope you weren't acting so obviously down bad for him as you fear...

----------

"So good... Always so good to me. Fuck, I'm getting close...!"

You really don't know how you got here. The memories from returning to Sumeru City from adventuring in the wilderness to being on your knees, sucking on Alhaitham's cock while in his office are a blur.

But, honestly? You can't bring yourself to care about these minor details.

You drag your head back slowly, torturously forcing the man above you to feel every inch of your mouth until only the tip, angry red and drooling pre cum, remains inside.

The harsh suck you give at the sensitive area earns you a groan, a growl almost, that leaves you rubbing your thighs together. Looking up at your beloved, you watch his chest rise and fall rapidly, a pretty flush on his cheeks and eyes sending you a glare.

A side of you wants to be mean, to give him a taste of paradise before taking it away, just like he so adores to do with you. You want him to be frustrated, to beg you for release, a taste of his own medicine...

But you can't. You shouldn't.

Regardless of the locked door, anyone might come knocking, requiring the presence of the scribe for some unimportant business and, archons forbid, hear what is happening inside the office.

You try not to acknowledge the dampness of your panties from this thought.

And then you feel it, three taps of his fingers on the back of your head, the sign you two came up with to tell the other when you're about to cum.

You release his shaft with a "pop" and Alhaitham is ready to question your cruel actions, but whatever words he had wanted to say get thrown out of the window when you swallow him again without warning, taking as much of his cock as you can.

With one, two shallow thrusts of his hips, he paints your throat white with his release, head thrown back, eyes tightly shut and a moan that most certainly would be heard by everyone in the Akademiya halls had the scribe not covered his mouth.

You try, you swear to Celestia that you try your hardest to swallow every single drop of cum, but there's too much and you can control your breathing only for so long. With much dismay, your mouth lets go of the slowly softening member, covered with a mix of his seeds and your saliva.

Chuckling at your dejected look, Alhaitham raises your chin to make you look at him, thumb gathering the very same mix that has escaped from your mouth to smear it over your lips, his next words making you shiver in arousal but also embarrasment of the knowledge that he had known all along what had gone through your mind during your adventure earlier.

"Don't let any of it roll away now, my love."

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

red wriothesley and alhaitham banners (smut) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Bully x Reader x Yan!Freak Pt 2

"Boys Night Plus One."

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Bullying, name calling, degradation, violence, non-consensual photos, nonconsensual touching, male pronouns for the yans, mentions of school, general perversion, toxic behaviors, creep behavior, cum, masturbation, male and female genitalia.

Part 1 here

(AN: This one is for you, anon who sent me a bullet-point list of some ideas for Ahmed and Patrick which were better than anything I could have come up with. I love you.)

You groan, struggling to yank off the cotton top you had taken to wearing for PE class. You had been sick for a week or so, and in order to stay up on your grades you had been doing classwork after school. Today, you are making up some time for gym class using the school's exercise facilities. Once you finally get it off, you unlock your locker and put your gym clothes inside, reapplying your deodorant and putting on your school shirt. Just as you shut your locker, you hear the door of the girl's locker room flap shut, and you perk up at the sound. That's odd, after a few days of working out after school, you've never run into anyone else using the facilities.

"Hello?" You call out, peering around the row of lockers. Suddenly, a fist slams into the locker behind you, making you shriek. You whip around, to see Patrick, the schools most notorious bully laughing his ass off at how spooked you got. "Patrick!" You yell, smacking him lightly. "Ooh, feelin' fiery, huh?" He takes a breath, calming himself after laughing so hard. "What's got you so pissed off?" You roll your eyes.

"You scared me, and you're in the girls locker room!" He fakes shock, and looks around. "Really, the girls locker room? Huh, wonder how I wound up here..." He muses, playfully leaning up against the lockers. "If it was the boys locker room, why would I be here?" You ask. He shrugs. "I don't know, maybe you were tryna' sneak a peek at some dudes after football practice." He grins, leaning over you a little more. "Or maybe you wanted one of them to sneak a peek at you." You blush, and push him away. "Go away, Patrick, there's no reason for you to be here right now." You try to quickly gather your things, and make your way to the door.

"Woah, woah, hey, where ya' going? I'm just checking on you. You haven't been to class lately, I was getting worried." He uses your moment of surprise to grip your wrist and gently pull you back over. "I was sick, just needed some time away from class. Why does that matter to you?" You ask, confused. He's always enjoyed tormenting you, and you would think you were special if he didn't also torment everyone else. Of course, Patrick knows where you've been, because he's had Ahmed posted outside your bedroom for the duration of your absence, both to get photos and make sure you aren't hanging out with anybody else. He shrugs again. "I missed seeing you in these." He reaches into your gym bag, gripping one of the pairs of gym shorts and pulling them out. "Y'know, I don't think these follow the dress code..." Admittedly, you needed to get some new shorts. These ones were small, but you just hadn't gotten around to buying new ones. "Gym class is already fuckin' boring, especially when I can't see your sweet little ass bent over, trying to do toe-touches or yoga or whatever the fuck we're supposed to in that sweaty shit-hole."

You only blush and grab the shorts from him, stuffing them back into your bag. "Well, I'm sure you managed fine without me. There's plenty of girls to perv on that aren't me." You whimper. Patrick chuckles, and shakes is head. "Yeah, but I don't want any of them." He pauses, then clicks his tongue. "That reminds me though, I did make a friend while you were gone. I had a lot of free time since you weren't around to play with." You glance up at him. "Another member of your gang?" You ask. The last thing this school needs is even more assholes hanging out with Patrick. "Nope. It's someone I knew before you left, but I've made amends with them. Patched things up, self-improved." He brags. He looks down at you smugly. "You should be proud of me, I'm a changed man."

"What do you mean?" You aren't sure what previous acquaintance he's referring to. Due to Patrick's widespread terror, it could be pretty much anyone. "You know that new kid, Ahmed?" Your mouth opens in shock. You had heard things about the new boy, with dark hair and wide eyes. You had noticed him a few times in English class. He was always quiet, only occasionally speaking when he was being picked on by the other kids, quietly protesting the abuse. You had traded poetry a few times for an assignment. He seemed very creative. You weren't really sure why the other kids picked on him so much, but you suspected it was because Ahmed was Patrick's new favorite. You had heard of the things he'd done to Ahmed, robbing him, beating him, stealing his classwork. You didn't do anything, how could you? Patrick hated when people stood up to him, and you didn't want his attention on you anymore than it was.

"You're... friends with him now." Patrick nods. "That's cruel, Patrick. You can't do all that stuff to somebody, then force them to play friends with you. It's not right!" You exclaim, boldly defying him for a moment. He only exhales lightly, and puts his hands up in surrender. "You got it all wrong, baby. We are friends, me and him. We've made amends. I told you, I'm changing. I'm a reformed juvenile." He looks up to see if you're buying it. He pouts when he notices you still seem skeptical. "Alright, I guess I'm not 'reformed', exactly, but me and him really are friends now." You only nod, hoping he will drop it and go away. This reaction makes him scoff. "You still don't believe me? Fine, I'll tell you what. I'm going over to see Ahmed at his house tonight, to hang out. Why don't you come with me?" He offers.

You shake your head no quickly. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Patrick." You exclaim. "Well, if you do go, and see me and him are friends, you'll know I'm not such a bad guy, and you might like my new friend. If you don't go though..." He chuckles lowly. "Me and this guy may not be friends... and by not going, your risking this kid getting beat up in his own home. Do you want that on your conscience?" You bite your lip, but shake your head. "No, you don't. I could handle that, but you couldn't, pretty thing. So come on, grab your shit and head over there with me, alright?" You make no movements, and Patrick groans, grabbing your gym-bag. "Fine, since I told you I'm changing, and I'm a gentleman, I'll carry your stuff." His free hand grabs your wrist. You both walk out of the school doors towards the bus stop. As you stand waiting for the bus, he leans in, his lips almost brushing your ear. "We're taking the city bus, and it's late enough that it's gonna be crowded." You nod, not sure where he's going with this. "Lots of hard working people want a seat, and we should give it to them. Being good members of the community and all that shit." He sighs. "So whether or not there's a free seat for you, I expect that ass on my lap for the whole ride, you feel me?" You blush, and look at him with wide eyes. He chuckles, leaning back from your ear. "Gotta save some room for everyone else. Besides, I'm plenty comfortable."

Ahmed is sitting on his bed, foot bouncing at a pace so rapidly it practically shakes his whole scrawny form. He stares at the clock, counting the seconds until Patrick shows up. He promised, promised he'd have a way of getting you here. After weeks and weeks of photographing you from a distance, Patrick promised he would finally get to be near you, talk with you. Ahmed wasn't exactly sure how Patrick was going to accomplish this, but he knew given his reputation it would be easier for Patrick to get a hold of you than him. He just hoped whatever Patrick did, it wouldn't be as severe as what he endured before Patrick and him entered a truce. He didn't want you in his house for the first time, scared and unsure why you were brought there. No! He wanted his new house guest to be comfortable. His room was dark, with books, figures, and posters strewn about. He did his best to make it homey though. He opened the curtains, cleaned out any trash, (hid his camera and photo collection). He was sure Patrick was going to laugh at him for all this, seeing as Patrick had seen the state his room was in before. Ahmed shakes his head. He wasn't worried about Patrick right now. No, he was ready to see you, talk with you. Maybe... maybe even get to touch you.

The door creaks, and Ahmed hears footsteps approaching. Heavy boots, followed by the light patter of smaller feet. He bites his lip to the point it almost breaks skin. Patrick had done it. You were waiting just outside his room.

He hops back onto his bed, trying to look as casual as possible as the blonde menace he now called a friend traipsed in, with you behind him. "Ahmed... looks like you cleaned up a little in here. Huh." Patrick looks around, hands in his pockets as he leans against Ahmed's bed frame. "Ahmed, I believe you know my new friend." Patrick motions at you. Ahmed nods quickly. "Uh, yeah. We have an English class together." He says. "It's nice to actually meet you Ahmed, you and Patrick are-" You sigh. "Friends?" Ahmed nods. "Yeah, we actually have a lot in common..." He chuckles, shrugging. "Crazy, huh?" He coughs awkwardly. You nod, still not fully convinced.

"See, baby? I told ya' there's nothing shifty going on here! Me and Ahmed are just best buds." Patrick flops onto Ahmed's bed, bouncing the boy up a little as he wraps an arm around him, his grip rough on Ahmed's shoulder. 'Best buds' wasn't really a term Ahmed would use, especially considering two days ago Patrick was pounding Ahmed into this very bed, making the scrawny outcast cry and beg for his cock to go just a little deeper, just a little faster to give him that relief. Of course, Patrick was a jerk, and didn't let him reach that peak for at least three hours into the session, when Ahmed's parents came home. Patrick enjoyed making the boy finally cum on his cock, while trying to muffle his cries knowing his parents were just downstairs.

"So, w-would you like to watch a movie, or play a game? I've got Mario Kart, and Mortal Kombat-" Ahmed lists off a few more games, hoping something would catch your attention and endear him to you. You smile awkwardly, but shake your head. You hadn't really planned on staying, considering you were so sure that Patrick was just tormenting this poor boy. "I actually should get going, it's a Friday night, I don't want to intrude on your boys time." You move to grab your gym stuff, and Ahmed's face falls. He looks at Patrick, glancing at you and silently begging Patrick to do something. Anything, just to keep you here longer. "Calm down, I'll fuckin' handle it." Patrick whispers, before running a hand through his hair and turning back to you. "C'mon, baby! We don't mind you hanging out. Besides, Ahmed's had kind of a rough time in our school. I'm the only friend he's got." Ahmed blushes, not realizing the strategy was to make him look like a pathetic loser. "Patrick-" Patrick shoves his shoulder and continues. "Don't you wanna help him make at least one more friend?" You hesitate at the door, before sighing. It certainly isn't healthy for someones only friend to be Patrick, so you nod. "Fine, I'll stay..."

Several hours go by, and after two movies, four rounds of Mario Kart, and one two-liter of Sprite later, you are on the verge of passing out. You aren't really sure what happens in the next few minutes, but all you know is you are now laying in Ahmed's bed, with Patrick to your right and Ahmed squished on your other side, between you and the wall. Patrick fell asleep first, oddly enough. For a guy with so much energy, he gets sleepy quick. Now it's just you and Ahmed.

"Sorry about this, I didn't realize it was so late..." Ahmed apologizes. He isn't sorry. He imagined hundreds of ways this evening could go, but none of them ended with you pressed up against him, in his bed. God, you were getting your scent all over his sheets and his t-shirt. "M' never gonna wash these sheets again." He mumbles to himself. "Mm- what?" You ask groggily, making him jolt and blush. "Nothing, sorry." You go back to trying to sleep, and eventually pass out.

Ahmed tries to sleep as well, but just as he closes his eyes, he feels a weight on top of him. He gasps, and opens his eyes to see Patrick on top of him. "Come on, freak. We've got work to do." He sits back on the boys lap, allowing him to sit up. "Wha- I thought you were asleep." Patrick scoffs, and shakes his head. "Nah, just knew she wouldn't want to fall asleep around big bad me if she thought I was awake. But, I am. Now go find your camera." Ahmed looks confused, making Patrick roll his eyes. "Come on, you didn't think we were just gonna have a sleepover, did you? Tell secrets and make friendship bracelets like a fuckin' girl scout troop? We have a chance to get some close-up shots we could never get otherwise right now. Maybe even get a feel of her, now hurry up." The plan now confirmed, Ahmed scrambles as quietly as he can off the bed, practically throwing himself onto the floor as he blindly feels around under his bed for the camera. He knocks some stuff around, making Patrick his. "Shut the fuck up!" He whispers harshly. "M' sorry! It's dark." Ahmed whines. Finally, his fingers close around cold metal the camera, and he climbs back onto the bed beside Patrick.

"I'm ready. Just tell me when to snap a picture, and I'll do it." Patrick nods. "Heh, I've always wanted to see what's under this shirt." Patrick carefully slides the thin cotton up, not removing it from you but placing it just under your chin, exposing your breasts to the two boys. "Why doesn't she have a bra?" Ahmed asks. "She was coming back from the gym, already took off her sports bra, I guess. It's in her back over there, if you wanna smell it or some shit." Ahmed blushes. "S-smell it?" He stammers. "I don't know, you're the freak here. I'm just guessing that's something you're into." He isn't wrong.

"God, she's got a nice little pair, huh?" Patrick motions for Ahmed to snap a few photos. "Get one of my hands on em' too." Patrick's large hands cup your breasts, his thumb barely brushing past the nipple. Once Ahmed get's the photos, Patrick begins to gently rub his thumb and fore-finger over the nipples, watching as the delicate buds harden. "Fuck, I always like them better when there hard n' shit. Seeing them poke through t-shirts. I caught her out in the cold once, took everything in me to not make her pop em' out right there in the alley behind the school." Patrick smiles and the memory. Ahmed squirms, causing his friend to take notice.

"Gimme your camera." Patrick orders. "Wha- no! This, this camera is everything to me!" Patrick just groans at the boys pleading. "I'm not gonna' break it, freak. Just giving you a chance to free up your hands so you can play with her tits too." Ahmed looks between Patrick and your breasts, which are now peaking in arousal at Patrick's teasing. He sighs. "Okay, fine." Patrick takes the camera, and Ahmed places two hands on your breasts, squeezing ever so gently. "Wow, they're really soft, except for her nipples, I guess..." Patrick restrains himself from laughing so loud he'll wake you up. "God, you are such a fuckin' virgin. Do something photo-worthy, for fucks sake." Patrick eggs Ahmed on, and in a moment of boldness, the boy places a kiss on your collarbone, before slowly trailing his way down to your left breast. After a bit of careful kissing and teasing, his chapped lips find your nipple, latching gently.

"Shit... there you go." Ahmed is so lost in the taste of your soft skin that he doesn't register the camera flashing a few times as Patrick snaps some pictures. What he does hear however, is the soft, wanton moan that escapes your lips. He pulls back, eyes wide as he looks at Patrick. Patrick seems just as shocked, but this is quickly replaced with a toothy grin. "C'mon, clearly your making her feel good. Grab at her shorts, I wanna see if she's wet from us just playing with her girls." Patrick insists, and Ahmed obliges. Trembling fingers pull at your shorts, slowly inching them down your relaxed thighs. "Hurry up-' "I'm trying! It's hard when she's asleep, not exactly cooperating." Ahmed eventually gets the thin shorts down your legs, just above your knees in case they need to move them back up in a hurry. To his delight, he managed to hook your underwear down with them, leaving your soft mound exposed to the two boys.

Ahmed's nimble fingers move to spread your lips, the strings of slick breaking apart as he parts them, coating his fingers. He almost finishes right there, seeing the light of the camera as Patrick snaps a picture reflect off of your slick, letting them know just how soaked you are. "Fuckin' soaked... just from a bit of teasing." Patrick groans, making sure to get a picture of both your holes and Ahmed's fingers parting the folds around them. "Is that not normal?" Patrick shrugs. "I don't know, some people are more sensitive than others, I guess. Especially when they haven't been touched." Ahmed's eyes light up at that, and he whips his head towards Patrick.

"You- you think there's a chance she hasn't... y'know..." Ahmed trails off. "We're literally taking nudes of her cunt right now, just say 'had sex', 'fucked', anything. Jesus." The weaker boy shrinks into himself at the blonde's words. "I mean, it's possible. I've never heard of any guy doin' her, and I've never seen her with another guy around school." Patrick continues. "Isn't that your fault?" Ahmed asks, making his new friend chuckle. "Maybe. You're the one who's been outside her window for the past month, ever seen a guy over?" Ahmed shakes his head no. "Then maybe she's just been waiting for the right guy to come and show her a good time." Patrick moves a little closer to Ahmed, pressing himself against the boy's back. For the first time, Ahmed isn't bothered by Patrick towering over his smaller frame. "Well, right guys, y'know." Ahmed doesn't respond, his mind filling with ideas of what might happen, that night when him and Patrick finally get to be your firsts.

Would you be scared? He'd comfort you as best he could, but Patrick wouldn't be much help with that, (though he knows Patrick can be gentle when he really wants something.) Ever the anxious mess, he can't even focus on his fantasies without worrying. He needed to get condoms, and were you on birth control? Patrick should definitely get tested first, who knows what he's got going on. If Patrick takes you first, what should he do? He's content to sit in the corner and play with himself, but he know's Patrick would only make fun of him for 'not getting any'. A final thought strikes him. Would he be jealous? Would you like Patrick better? You've known him longer, and he's definitely more popular. He's pretty, whereas Ahmed is skinny and feral-looking. He's drawn out of his panic by the sound of a zipper.

"Whatcha thinkin' bout, 'Mhed?" Patrick asks. He can tell when his little freak-friend is spiraling. "You wanna touch her, huh?" Ahmed nods. He can feel the rough, calloused hands of Patrick palming his cock through his boxers. He shudders. "So much. I want... god, can I take her first?" Ahmed begs, gasping as Patrick pulls down his waistband, letting his cock stick out. Patrick gently rubs his thumb on Ahmed's tip, collecting a bead of pre-cum. "Maybe. You still' passing science?" Ahmed furrows his brow at the odd question. Why was Patrick asking about classes while he jerks him off over your sleeping form. "Yeah, I'm doing p-pretty well in all my classes..." He replies. He tosses his head back into Patrick's shoulder as the strong delinquent begins to stroke his length with quick, tight strokes. Patrick's free arm wraps around Ahmed's stomach, pinning the boy's back to his broad chest. "Gimme your notes for all your classes then. If you're good for me, n' keep proving you're worth something-" Another harsh stroke. Ahmed is on the verge. "Then maybe I'll let you be the one to break in her sweet little hole." Ropes of white, hot cum spill from Ahmed's cock as he cries out, before quickly biting his lip to try and silence himself. If you woke up now, there would be no way him and Patrick could make an excuse to get out of this. Just the thought of being your first leaves Ahmed so emotional that as his cock twitches in pleasure, he can feel himself tearing up.

"Are you fucking crying?" Patrick presses his lips to Ahmed's cheek, getting a taste. "You get jerked off one time thinking about our pretty girl and you fuckin' cry. Maybe you aren't ready to be her first." Ahmed gags, and turns around. He moves his arms, frantically whispering, begging. "No, no! I won't cry then, I'll be good. I'll make her feel good, please. I- I've gotta be her first, you don't-" Patrick shushes him. "You've got a long way to go. I think you and I will have to practice some more, making sure you last longer than you did just now." Patrick leans to the side, taking in the sight of your nude torso now decorated with Ahmed's cum. He grins. "Alright, here's the deal. You take some photos real quick, make sure we can see the pretty paint-job you gave her." Ahmed blushes as Patrick stands. "Where are you going?"

"Gotta go get some wipes, and I gotta be quick about it."

[littledollll]

Ok but manipulative obsessive ballet teacher larissa keeping her star student after hours so they can focus on her technique in more ways than one

AND YOU JUST KNOW SHE’LL HAVE HER HANDS ON HER STUDENT AT ALL TIMES

It’s to help your form she says, definitely not just to see how flustered you can get

Private lessons

Ballet teacher!Larissa x ballerina!reader

A/n: is this becoming a thing? I think it’s becoming a thing. I’m kinda obsessed, could be a little AU for us?👀 also I’d like to note that while I’m not gonna specify age in hopes of inclusivity, reader is around their mid 20’s.

HAH I wrote that back when I thought I was gonna have the ideas and motivation keep writing. Anyways, this is my last draft. Hope you enjoy!!

Warning: unhealthy teacher/student relationship, touching, sexual undertones, little bit of mean Larissa

_______________________________

“I will say this once and only once. At this level none of you should not need me walking you through every little step like the girls from baby ballet!” Larissa spoke loud enough to fill the room, before signaling the pianist to begin playing.

Everyone ran to form a line across the back of the room, you ending up fifth in line for the exercise. Perfect spot. Only four in front to watch, and be done quickly.

“However you’d like to start, give me four pique turns to the center, four changing fouettés, pas de bourree and close with a triple.”

One by one each student went. Some being sent back to start from the beginning if they messed up, some going without comment, very rarely did she praise anyone.

Your turn came, you started in a simple fifth position, spotting towards the diagonal which just so happened to be exactly where Larissa was standing. You had no trouble keeping your eyes on her.

“Thank you!” She said in a very clearly annoyed tone. “Finally someone who knows how to spot correctly. The rest of you should learn a little from this starting position. Go on, my dear. I apologize for interrupting your start.” You gave a short nod and began your sequence. Everything was going perfectly until the final part, where you failed to complete the third turn, but saved it by landing on fifth.

You quickly got up and were about to scurry back to the beginning but Larissa spoke up. “No need. You were perfect till the very end and at least saved it. Back of the line.”

You smiled, Larissa smiled back, giving you- a wink? Oh you must have been seeing things. She wouldn’t. What an odd thing it would be for her to do. Regardless, you nodded, looking down as you walked past her only for her to stop you in your tracks and tilt your chin up with her pointer finger. “A ballerina walks proudly. She floats with a straight back and gentle steps. Chin up, my dear.”

Surely she could see the dark red blush covering your cheeks, she nodded you off to continue walking, a smile still on her lips.

When she turned to continue the class, her smile fell, and the strict teacher was back.

When everyone was done with diagonal, she called back to center. “That will be all for today. Applaud yourself for the effort and I will see you all tomorrow.” She locked eyes with you as she spoke, before turning to talk to the pianist while everyone packed up and left.

“You. Stay back, my dear.” A few girls looked back, but she was very clearly talking to you. Her direct tone made it seem like you were in trouble, making your heart race.

“O-okay. Should I keep my pointes on?” You spoke as you stopped in the middle of untying the ribbon. “Yes, please do.”

“Is something wrong, ma’am?” You asked softly as you noticed her staring, watching you. She shook her head with a smile. “Nothing at all, darling. You’re a great student, I’d just like to give you a few pointers.”

By the time you finished tying your ribbons back on securely, and stood, walking over to her, everyone else was already gone, even the pianist. And Larissa had closed the door with the last one out.

“I’ll start with how you failed that triple turn. It shouldn’t be much of a difficult thing for someone of your level…” she mutters.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” You said, lowering your head.

Larissa stepped in front of you, so close you could practically feel her breathing as she once again tilted your chin up. “What did I say about ballerinas, sweetheart.”

You blushed at the closeness, this woman was beyond beautiful, and talented. Having her this up close felt like an honor. You felt so small next to her. “They walk proudly.” You answered.

“Good girl. So you do listen.” She stepped back and you immediately missed her presence so close to yours. “Fortunately for you, I do know what happened.”

She rounded you. “Get into fourth, give me a clean double.” You did as told, a clean double pirouette, finishing back in fourth position.

“Good. Now give me a triple, this time focus on what you’re feeling.” Again, you did as told and just like last time fell on the last turn.

“Do you see the problem?” “Yes- I think so.” She nods. “Tell me.”

“My heel is on the floor by the time I’m in the third turn.” She looked at you proudly for a moment. “Very good. You’re dropping your heel. When you do a double it’s no issue because you’re still high on pointe. But you’re turning in demi at the third. No dancer of mine turns in demi at this level. That’s for the little girls. Tell me miss, are you a little girl?”

“I- well- no of course not.” She hummed, bringing a chair in front of the mirror, centered in the room. She pointed at you to move to the center as well as she sat down, crossing her gorgeously long legs.

Any dancer would die for those. You’re sure she was the envy of the whole school back when she was just a student. “You’re acting like it. You turn like it.” Her voice brought you back in the moment.

“Anyone can do a simple turn. I’m sure the damn pianist could come do one for us. Anyone can do a double too. Any one of the juniors at this establishment could. You’re failing, at this age and this level. I mean you can do it, but you don’t do it well.”

“I can. I promise you I can. I’ve done it before!” You rushed to prove yourself to her. She was the last person on earth you wanted to disappoint.

“Well of course you have. You wouldn’t be in this level if you couldn’t pull off a simple triple turn. So what is it? Are you finding the easy way? Is this you being lazy, in my class, miss?”

You wanted to cry at just the idea of disappointing her.. and this was how she saw you? Some lazy brat in an advanced class while she was God herself to you? That wouldn’t do.

“I’ll help you, my girl. You dance beautifully, you move and project emotions the way no other can. But you’re falling at the basics. All the talent and emotion in the world won’t save you if you can’t pull off a good turn. Try to think of any important role to dance which doesn’t turn.”

“There’s not many..” you said quietly. You wanted to bring your head down again, truly, you felt shameful. You could do it, both of you knew that. But you weren’t, why is that? Larissa wondered.

“Not any, my dear.” She sighed, walking behind you. “I want you to try for four turns with me here. I will spin and support you. Just keep that heel up.” You nodded, getting into fourth, and doing a plié before starting your turns.

Larissa’s hands moved quickly around your waist, guiding you through every turn and stopping at the four count. “You’re very capable. You can spot well, you could turn ten times with me here, I bet. But I trust you know that there won’t always be a pas de deux in every show or every dance. There won’t always be somebody to help you turn.”

“Yes I know, ma’am.” She smiled. “Of course you do. You’re a smart girl, my dear.”

“You trust that I won’t let you fall, yet you’re not trusting yourself.” She said, squeezing your hips lightly as she kept her hands in place. “You have the strength to stay up, no doubt. Trusting yourself is just as important.”

“Let’s try to balance on pasé for a few, hm? Get your body comfortable with staying up for a longer time.” She stepped back.

Her eyes were racking over your body. You could feel it, it only made your blush grow deeper. “Slowly. Take your foot from the ground up to your ankle first.” You moved as she spoke, she seemed to approve of that.

“Up your calf… and above your knee. Do not rest it, now hold.” You were perfectly still once she told you to hold position, settling all the shaking in an instant.

“Your breathing cannot interrupt you. I want it to look like you’re not even breathing. Keep that rib cage closed tightly and focus. Imagine there is a string going straight through the center of your body, pulling you up toward the ceiling.”

You breathed slowly, barely. Not even thinking about uttering a word at this moment. “Turning is much easier than balancing. You have more momentum to stay up, and as long as you don’t move and exaggerated amount you can get away with not being perfectly in center with your body. Though you should be.”

You felt the warmth of her hands again. You could see her blurry in the mirror, trying to keep your face straight. You stared right into your own eyes.

Her hands were under your breasts for a moment, pressing down on your rib cage gently. “Tightly closed. Very good, my darling.. very good.” She whispered.

Larissa’s hands caressed your thighs before reaching your knee, spreading your leg a little more open. “I should be able to see you in one line if I were to look at you from the side. Keep your knee aligned with your shoulder.” She spoke softly, having no need for loud words as she was practically pressed up against you.

Your balance shook as she adjusted you, but she didn’t let you fall. Instead helping you find your balance once more before moving on. “You’re focusing too much on me. I’m not even here. Now rest.”

You sighed in relief as she gave that command, letting your pointe trail down your leg the same way it trailed up, until you reached fifth position and got off pointe, allowing yourself to rest.

“That was very good.. I would’ve been a little disappointed had you not done that. Half the girls would rush, out of sheer desperation but you.. you did that stunningly. A very good girl, you are.”

“Thank you, ma’am.. I’ll be honest, I do my best to impress you…” Larissa quirked her brow. “Is that right.. Well, lovely girl, you do a good job at it. Let’s get those turns right and I’ll be even more impressed, proud, even.” Larissa hummed as she traced down your spine with her long fingers, and then reached your skirt.

Shamelessly, she began untying it, removing the garment from your body and throwing it next to her chair. “That thing only makes seeing the things I need to see harder.” You nodded in agreement, feeling your skin heat up as she held your hips for a few moments much longer than necessary.

“We will work on your left side another time. For now I want to focus on getting that left heel to stay up.” She stepped back, moving around you to be in front now. “Give me a triple pirouette.”

You took a deep breath in, breathing out slowly. You moved into fourth position, doing a deep plié before you started.

This time, you stayed up longer, but let your heel fall by the end. Larissa sighed. “Again.”

It went on for some time. Each time you would get closer to doing it right, finally. “Again.”

“Let’s try something. Think about doing four. Set your mind, we’re doing four turns, but remember you’re closing, cleanly, on the third.” You nodded, feeling anxious about how many tries this has already taken. No doubt you felt Larissa was tired of this.

With the thought cemented on your mind, you went for four. Just keep the heel up for four.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three, close it!” You landed it right as she finished speaking, closing on a tight fifth position, your arms rounded and lowered around your bellybutton.

“Absolutely perfect. You did perfect, my dear. That was the cleanest I’ve ever seen you turn.”

“Why’d you count?” You said in a whiny tone and Larissa couldn’t help but chuckle. “You all hate it when I count. But it helped you, didn’t it? I’m just guiding you, my beautiful girl.”

You smiled, “yeah it did help..”

“Come, sweet girl.” With hurting legs you walked to her, standing in front of her with little idea of what exactly to do. But she grabbed your hand and pulled you towards herself, wrapping you in a soft hug.

It was certainly an odd thing to do, but her warmth was something you seeked.. and God, was being in her arms delightful.

She rubbed your sides gently, caressing over your soft leotard. “You did very well, my star. I want to see this progress shown in the next class, yes?” You nodded, nuzzling yourself against her neck without even thinking about it. And breathing in.. she smelled expensive, a little woody but also floral. You wanted to bathe in whatever perfume it was she wore.

“Very good, my girl. It’s time for you to get home.” You almost whined as you pulled away from her, and Larissa hushed you. “Change out of your pointes, and don’t forget your skirt. I have to close up here soon.”

You nodded, going over to your bag and quickly changing into your street shoes and some shorts. “Um, thank you, ma’am. For helping me and everything.”

“It’s a pleasure to help such a delightful student like you, always.” You blushed, waving a quick goodbye before practically skipping out of the room.

Larissa smiled as she saw it written clear across your face, she had you wrapped around her little finger. What a good girl you truly were.

[beababoobies]

Hope this is alright, I'm new to requesting ! But per chance could you write some sir pentious x warm!reader ? Like the reader is warm to the touch and the snake man likes to stay close since hes cold blooded.. up to you if want them to have an established relationship or have it as a crush !! Totally understand if you dont wish to write it/gen

Have a lovely day!

THIS IS CUTE GAHHHHHHH !1!11!1! YEAHHH!!! I love snake man and one of my special interests is reptiles and they silly little heat lamps. Absolutely. I went with an established relationship for this one and I hope you don’t mind. Enjoy! :)

Warmth

words : 1k pairing ; Sir Pentious x Reader

Pentious loved touch in general - it was reassuring, nice, and it made him feel human all over again. But he loved when you touched him. Hell was already a pretty warm climate, but he loved how warm it was in your arms. Your skin felt comforting, like his own personal heat lamp.

Every time you slept in the same bed, he would always slither into your arms with you wrapped right around him like a koala. He loves feeling the body head from your chest straight against his, considering how cold it got in the hotel some nights. You were always warm - his little furnace. 

Sometimes, even while just doing rehabilitation exercises, he’d ask you to cup your hands around his face for a couple seconds, which would always turn into a couple minutes, until Charlie called you two back to keep participating in trust falls or sharing circles. When you two cuddled, he’s always quickly to put his hands under your shirt. Not even in a sexual way, he just loves how warm it is right under there.

There are times when you have to pry him off you, but it’s not often enough for you to care. Sometimes you’ll be eating dinner and he’ll try to nuzzle up to you, rubbing his cheek against yours, only for you to gently remind him you’re trying to eat. 

One time during trust falls, he wouldn’t let go of you after he caught you. Charlie and Vaggie had to convince him that he’d get you back in a second, but it was his turn. It took him ten minutes to get off. And even then, he would only do the trust fall if you caught him. You can’t lie and say that went very well.  

One of your favourite memories; a warm Sunday afternoon, his tail wrapped around one of your legs and hands under your shirt, on the bare skin of your back, head nestled into the crook of your neck, and chest pressed up against yours to get the maximum warmth. The sun is peeking out from the window and making you even warmer. He’s practically in heaven. 

You were already asleep, snoring softly as your  body, heavy with sleep, radiated all the warmth he swears he could ever need, chest rising and falling softly against his. He wants to look back, see how adorable you look asleep and out of it, but the warmth of your neck against his cheek is too much to miss out on.

It goes by like this for a few hours - cuddled up to you and listening to your pulse and soft snores, not even daring to fall asleep and miss out on how comfortable and at peace he feels, until you wake up. You sit up, immediately hearing his sleepy protests from behind you before you get pulled right back into his arms.

“Well, good afternoon to you too.” You mumble sleepily with a giggle, as he mumbles your greeting back into the skin of your neck, and you gently place your hand on the back of his head, softly petting him and feeling him relax back into you, his cold scales pressed up against your warm skin making you smile.

“Do you love me or how warm I am, huh?” You joke with a smile on your face, only to watch him pull back with worry in his eyes, shaking his head rapidly. “I love you for sssso many other reasssonsss!” He says, concerned as your burst out giggling, watching as his expression turns from concerned and panicked to confused.

“I was joking, baby. I’m happy to be your little heating lamp, my love.” You mumbled softly as you press a kiss to his forehead, watching him relax his head onto your chest, letting out a sigh of relief as he closes his eyes again. 

“You’re my favourite heat lamp…” he mumbles out quietly as you feel him start to fall asleep, body becoming sleepy weight in your arms as you feel your eyes flutter shut, snores slowly syncing up with your lovers. 

Or maybe even when you woke up in the middle of the night to him talking to his egg boys before you got together, knocking on his door just to find him complaining about how cold it was.

You wrapped him up in your arms under your blankets, egg boys being sent to their own bed, while you cuddled up to him. You remember so distinctly how rigid and timid he was at first. Not knowing where to put his hands, how to approach the situation.

“I - isss thisss okay?” He hissed softly as he put his hands on your back, head laid out on your chest, as you hummed out a small ‘mhm.’ tiredly, feeling him slowly start to warm up in your arms, body slowly relaxing. 

“.. can I put them under your sssshirt?” He asks quietly; so quietly you can barely hear it, actually. You smile softly to yourself, before giving him another small but affirming ‘mhm.’ His hands were so cold you almost flinched away from them as he put his hands flat against the warmth of your back, letting out a sigh of relief.

You lay like that for a while, feeling him slowly relax under your hold, no longer shivering. His head properly laid on your chest, instead of the awkward slightly raised just above your skin it was doing before, listening to your heartbeat. His chest was fully pressed against yours, like his own personal radiator.

“Better?” You ask quietly, gently petting his head, one hand on his back rubbing small circles into it as he nods, not caring to open his eyes. He looks so lovely and satisfied in this state - you can’t bare to get up and move once he was warmed up like you originally planned. 

That’s the first night you really started to fall for him. Maybe the first night he started to fall for you. Falling asleep with him holding you so tightly yet so softly, soaking in the warmth of your skin as he slept. Falling asleep the sound of your heartbeat slowing as you fell asleep too. 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Training

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Zećira Mušović x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You train with Zećira 

You put your foot up on Momma's knee so she can lace up your new boots. You're very excited and can't stop wiggling around. You've already got your gloves on. You've been wearing them since you got up this morning and snuck into the Big Bed to worm your way between Momma and Morsa.

Morsa's pacing in front of you, muttering under her breath and waving her hands around. Every time she calms down, she looks at you and it all starts up again.

"Momma," You say," Why is Morsa being weird?"

Momma laughs as she taps your leg to get you to drop it. "Morsa's just a bit jealous," She says.

"But why?"

"Because your wearing Zećira's Chelsea shirt."

You look down and tug at the hem. It's true. You are wearing Zećira's black Not-Wolfsburg shirt but you've paired it with your Wolfsburg green shorts so it balances out. "I don't have Zećira's Rosengård shirt."

Momma laughs again as Morsa moves to open the door. She helps you stand up and puts your training backpack on your back.

"Looking good, y/n," Zećira says, hand out for a high five as you run to greet her.

You spin on your heel. "It's your shirt!"

"I can see that! Are you ready to go and do some training today?"

You nod quickly, head bobbing up and down before you reach to take her hand.

Morsa clears her throat. "What's going on? You wear Zećira's shirt and suddenly you're too cool to say goodbye to us?"

You drop Zećira's hand to hug Morsa and then Momma. It's barely a hug though. It's more of a quick squeeze before you're running to hold Zećira's hand again.

"I want her back in a few hours," Morsa says in her captain voice which means Zećira has to listen or else. She tried to use that voice on you once but you just giggled and gave her a little kiss.

"Yes, captain," Zećira laughs before taking your hand more firmly and leading you out the door.

Her car is parked out the front of the house but you don't get in. Instead, you cross the street and walk down it to get to the park.

There aren't many people out because it's a Wednesday and normal people are at work so it's just you and Zećira at the goalposts and a few people walking their dogs.

"Okay." Zećira dumps hers and your bags by one of the posts. "Do you remember what the most important thing to do is before we train?"

"Warm up!"

"That's right. So, we're going to jog from this goal to the ones over there. Ready?"

"Ready!"

Zećira runs with you. It's a lot easier for her because she's got longer legs but you make sure to keep up even though you have to take more strides than her.

She makes you do it twice - there and back before showing you how to stretch properly and then how tight to do up your gloves. By the end of it, your face is all sweaty and your flyaways stick to your forehead as you pant.

Zećira lets you take a water break so you guzzle down enough water to feel full before arriving at her side again.

She sits in front of you, legs spread with a ball between them. "Okay, so today, we're going to go very slow. One step at a time."

"Okay!" You sit in front of her, legs spread like hers.

"So, I want you to stand in goal and then I'm either going to roll or throw the ball at you. I want you to get it in your hands and lay down on top of it, okay?"

"Okay!"

You hurry to go stand in goal, bouncing on your feet because Zećira once told you at Not-Wolfsburg training that keepers need to be light on their feet.

She rolls the ball to you. It's kind of slow but you grab it in your hands before tucking it into your chest and moving to lay down on the ground.

"Very good!" Zećira praises," Now we're going to try a high one."

She throws it underarm at you and you reach out to grab it before lying on your stomach again.

"Well done! Do you know why we do it like this?"

You shake your head as you kick the ball back to her and she repeats the exercise.

"Well, if we just catch the ball, there's always a chance that we drop it so if we cover it with our whole body then the other team can't kick it in while we're distracted. It's a surefire way to keep the ball while you recover a bit. Sometimes if you catch a shot then it can wind you and you need a little moment to breathe properly again."

You nod along as you make another little save.

As time goes on, Zećira stops rolling the ball and starts kicking at you. They're not her proper goalkicks that she does at matches but they're still kicks and a few of them catch you off guard.

Your face falls as it happens again and Zećira pats you softly on the shoulder as she collects the ball.

"It doesn't matter if you miss a few," She says to you softly, brushing some hair out of your face," All that matters is if you try, okay? Always try your very best. It doesn't matter if it goes in, just as long as you try.

You nod.

"Ready to go again?"

"Ready!"

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Town Ghosts

Ok, so this is inspired by this post.

Danny almost lost his balance as he turned on Casper High’s street corner. Catching himself in the nick of time, he resumed his uncontrolled dash down the streets of Amity and finally made it to his locker just in time for the first bell to ring. As he looked up from his locker and noticed how sparsely populated the halls were, Danny frowned. First bell indicated they had 5 minutes before the actual beginning of class, and usually that meant a decent amount of stragglers were still chilling around.

“Damn it, do we have an exam?” Danny mumbled as he took out his phone to text Sam and Tucker.

Wheres everyone? He sent

Assembly, came the answer from Tucker to which Sam added, We saved u a seat

Danny didn’t bother answering and instead quickly gathered his things from his locker before hurrying down to the assembly hall. Everyone was talking which meant he wasn’t late, and he managed to catch Tucker waving him over. Danny maneuvered his way to his friends before sagging into the promised saved seat.

“I swear, if Boxy wakes me up at 2am again to rave about packing peanuts one more time I will put him in Soup Time for a month.”

Sam winced. “Rough night, huh?”

Tucker patted his shoulder in commiseration.

Danny closed his eyes. “At least tell me assembly is taking Lancer’s period?”

“We still have half of it afterwards,” Tucker answered.

Before Danny could groan, the teachers started shushing the crowd. As he looked up to the shoddy stage, Danny could see a blonde woman wearing all black.

“Nice boots,” Sam whispered.

“Hello everyone,” started the woman on stage. “My name is Black Canary, you may know me as a member of the Justice League.”

At that Danny sat up straight, suddenly way more aware. Simultaneously, a wave of whispers started amongst the crowd which was quelled by the numerous teachers shushing everyone. Once silence had been more or less reestablished, Black Canary started again.

“I am here as a spokesperson in our efforts to raise awareness about discriminations against meta humans. This initiative started as a personal project of a lot of the founding members of the Justice League. Did you know that recent studies that show that violence against meta humans is disproportionately more frequent than violence against baseline humans? In fact-”

And one she continued for the next half hour, after which she had some students distribute some pamphlets with different phone numbers on them. There was a little more time dedicated to a few exercises and a video of a testimony from a former meta human criminal. As the presentation progressed, Danny started relaxing more and more, to the point that he was half asleep when time for questions was announced.

“What about ghosts?” Paulina’s voice came through the mic the teachers had passed around, “Are they covered by all those fancy laws you mentioned?”

And yep, Danny was fully back to being awake now.

“Ghosts?” repeated Black Canary, in an even tone but before Paulina could answer, another voice cut through the room.

“Ghosts aren’t people, Paulina.” Valerie’s voice came through sharp and clear.

Paulina’s eyes narrowed in on her former friend. “Says who?”

“Says science!” Valerie exclaimed. “Though I shouldn’t expect a Phantom groupie to understand that.”

“You’re just jealous.” Paulina flicked her hair dismissively.

Danny sank into his seat as he tried to block out the very public argument happening in front of him. Black Canary seemed to be observing the exchange with curiosity, while the teachers were trying to reach Paulina to get the mic out of her hand. There were a few students with their phones out, filming the whole debate and Danny would bet it would be on the school forum by the end of the day, probably sparking yet another Phantom debate.

Just then, as if it wasn’t enough, Danny could feel his ghost sense activating. As he turned his head, he caught a green shimmer at the edge of his vision zooming past the window.

“Come on,” he mumbled. “Gimme a break.”

“Do you want backup?” Sam asked.

“I got it,” Danny grumbled. “Cover me.”

“For sure, dude,” Tucker answered.

Danny stood up and shimmied his way down the rows of chairs to a teacher with Paulina and Valerie still arguing in the background. When Danny reached the nearest teacher he asked for leave to go to the bathroom and by was granted it after which a teacher finally managed to get the microphone away from Paulina. As Danny walked out of the room, he could hear Black Canary’s fading voice asking a question as he got further and further away.

“What do you mean by 'ghosts'?”

[misctf]

‘Aren’t personal trainers supposed to be buff?’ Joe thought as he followed behind Richey, ‘Or at least work out a little?’ He wondered as he looked over at the short, skinny blond guy leading him through the gym.

“So we’ll start with some basic stuff just to get an idea where you’re at.” Richey’s high voice caused Joe to wince, “But before we start, I like to know what motivates my What really drives you.” Richey turned and stared deeply into Joe’s eyes.

“Well uh...” Joe averted his gaze slightly, taken aback by the intensity of the stare, “I want to get in better shape.” He chuckled a bit, “I just graduated college and was on the swim team, but two years of working and drinking kinda caught up to me. It’s tough man, ya know?” He adjusted his loose shirt a bit, which hid the slight pudge that covered his abs, “I’ve tried to get back into it but I don’t know...”

Richey nodded, “I definitely don’t think you’re in bad shape.” He winked and Joe couldn’t help but smirk. Was he really getting hit on by his personal trainer? Ashley would get a good laugh at that, “But I can respect that. So you lost your drive. Gave into some unhealthy habits.” Richey clapped his hands together, “Well you came to the right place! I know how to help all my clients reach their goals through both body and mind!” Richey led Joe into a different part of the gym, a private room with a cabinet, free weights, a bench press, and a squat rack.

“From what I’ve heard, if there’s anyone who could its you.” Joe replied, taking in his surroundings, “I’ve heard great things from all the reviews.” Richey smirked as he walked to the cabinet and began to rustle through the contents. Joe raised an eyebrow, “So uh, what’re you looking for?”

“Ah there it is!” Richey said with a grin, turning to face Joe, holding a few candles, “I know this is unorthodox, but I believe creating a peaceful environment while working out is key.” Richey said, placing candles around the workout room and lighting them, “Go on, let’s start with a basic bench press.”

Joe nodded and scrunched his nose at the smell of the candles. He could smell a hint of pine, tobacco, and leather. And it smelled pretty good.

‘Unorthodox, but okay.’ Joe thought, as he sat at the bench and got ready to start his set.

Richey stood above to spot, “Okay now you know the drill, just up and down. We’ll start with a light weight, okay?” Joe nodded and started just as Richey instructed. Up and down. Barely difficult, “You’re doing so well.” Richey cooed, “Remember, deep breaths.” Joe continued, taking in deep breaths, the smell from the candles entering his nostrils, “Wow look at those. What nice pecs you have.” Richey said, grinning down at Joe.

“Uh thanks man?” Joe replied, finishing his set and sitting up, “Appreciate the comment, but just want you to know, I’m not gay.”

Richey chuckled, “Of course, of course!” He held up his hands defensively, “Sorry, I can’t help but admire my work.” Joe raised an eyebrow but before he could say anything, Richey cut him off, “Okay I think we’ve done enough with the bench. Let’s focus on your biceps.”

Joe nodded. It felt odd to move so quickly to the next exercise but his chest felt sore. He chuckled- he must’ve really been out of shape. As he walked over and grabbed some dumbbells for curls, he noticed Richey lighting a few more candles. Again, the smell of pine, leather, and cigar smoke intensified in the room.

“Just some basic curls and transition to shoulder press.” Richey instructed. Joe did just that, curling the dumbbells with ease, a grin forming on his face.

‘Fuck this feels really good.’ He thought, observing himself in the gym mirror, ‘Huh I thought I shaved today.’ Joe could see some stubble across his face. But before he could think more of it, Richey walked over and gave his biceps a squeeze.

“Very good, drop the weights. I think you’ve done enough for now.”

“Hey man, don’t touch...” But Joe stopped before he could finish. As he looked at Richey, his wide blue eyes, tan skin, and cropped blond hair, he felt an odd infatuation for the cute man, “Uh never mind dude.” His voice sounded a little hoarse and he cleared his throat, “Hey its getting a bit hot in here, mind if I lose the shirt?”

Richey smiled, “Oh please do.”

Joe smirked and pulled off his shirt, revealing a pair of nicely sculpted pecs and bulging arms and shoulders. He looked over at himself in the mirror, catching a glimpse of his improved physique.

“Wait...” Joe said aloud, trying to process his bulging muscles, “That’s not...”

“Let’s get you doing some crunches.” Richey interrupted, “I’ll support your feet, okay?”

Joe was about to interject, but he caught another whiff of the candles and simply nodded. He got to the ground, placing his arms behind his head and began his set of crunches. And with each crunch, the slight pudge that covered his abs seemed to reduce until a perfect set of abdominals graced his features.

“I’m very impressed.” Richey commented, “When I saw your application I was a little worried about you.”

“Yeah? Why’s tHAt?” Joe’s voice cracked as he did another crunch.

“Well men of your age tend to have less exercise capacity.”

Joe chuckled, “I’m only 45.” His eyes widened... why’d he say that? He was 24! He cleared his throat, “I’m 45.” His voice sounded deeper, more gruff.

“Oh exactly. But I think the extra years add maturity. Less excuses, more personal discipline.” Richey replied, “You know how to make a routine and actually follow through.”

And as Joe came up from another crunch, Richey leaned forward and gave the man a kiss on the lips. Joe’s eyes widened and he quickly stood up, glaring at Richey. He wanted to chastise him, to scold him. But the kiss felt kind of nice. And the way the young personal trainer looked... with those blue eyes and fat ass. Joe didn’t know what to say, so he quickly darted toward the bathroom, mumbling that he needed some water. Richey smirked and watched as Joe’s blond locks fell from his head and hair sprouted from his face and chest. He was turning out nicely, but Richey wasn’t done. He grabbed a candle and approached the bathroom.  

When Joe finally got to the bathroom, he ran to the mirror with wide eyes. Staring back at him was an older man- buff as hell but certainly not him. His hands quickly darted to feel his new body, silently confirming it was indeed very real. And when he heard the door shut open and close behind him, he jumped.

“Oh daddy, don’t worry.” Richey cooed, placing the candle down and removing his shirt. Joe watched as the slender twink sauntered up to him. Richey smirked and placed a hand on Joe’s hairy pec, causing the older man to shudder, “You’re soooo perfect.”

“No... this isn’t right.” Joe whispered, feeling blood rush to his cock, “Get away from me.” The smell of the candle made his head spin.

“It’s okay now daddy.” Richey moaned, rubbing his hand across Joe’s pec and abs, and then down his pants, “Mind and body. That’s my mantra.”

Joe moaned as Richey grabbed his fat cock and began to pump it, slowly increasing the speed. Before he could finish though, Joe suddenly pushed Richey against the wall, breathing heavily and looking down at the smaller man. For a brief second, nothing was said before Joe crushed his lips against Richey’s, the two passionately making out. As they made out, Richey removed Joe’s pants and slowly knelt to the ground. He smirked up at Joe before wrapping his lips around the older man’s cock.

“Fuck!” Joe moaned as Richey continued. He couldn’t believe how good this felt. He’d never had a better blowjob. Not even from his... girlfriend? Joe’s head started to hurt as his prior memories came rushing forward, trying to encourage him to resist. To push Richey off of him and escape. But before he could gather the energy to do so, he felt Richey begin to suck more vigorously. And before he could stop it, he came. And with it, Joe felt his desire for his former life fade away until it disappeared. All he wanted now was to be here, with Richey.

“How’re you feeling daddy?” Richey asked, wiping his mouth, “You happy with the results?”

Joe looked over in the mirror, flexing his biceps, “You bet your ass, boy.” He replied, turning back to Richey, “So when’s our next session?”

[skipper1331]

Silent Treatment // Ona Batlle

a/n: based off this request. Hope you enjoy it :D

You were talking to Ana-Maria, one of your closest friends at Barcelona as Ona showed up. She had a wrinkle between her brows, a sign that she‘s mad or concentrated but If she was concentrated her tongue would stick out too which wasn‘t the case. The spaniard went immediately to Aitana, not sparing you a glance. You frowned yet not giving it too much thought. Maybe she didn‘t see you.

Spoiler: she did see you and ignored you, who would‘ve thought.

Practice wasn't too exhausting, it was mostly in the gym due the intense sessions you had the last few days.

As you finished your exercise you saw your girlfriend standing next to the medicine ball about to do her next exercise. Quickly, you walked over to her, "hey, do you wanna grab some food later? There is this new little restaurant" you asked. The spaniard didn‘t answer, just walking past you as she brushed you off. Helplessly, you looked around, Ana reacting with a shrug. Your palms started to get sweaty as your breathing got faster. You hated it when people ignored you, especially If it was your girlfriend, she had never done it before.

Being ignored had always stressed you out. It started early in your childhood. If you did something wrong, your parents would punish you by ignoring you for days if not weeks. They weren't the nicest parents but made sure there was food on the table and that you had everything you needed. Their punishment was for sure questionable, you still suffered from it.

You hated silence, it made you feel ignored - punished. When you had your own apartment, the radio played 24/7. Music was constantly playing in the car and when you were somewhere else where you didn't know if it was going to be quiet, you always had two pairs of headphones with you, in case one pair wouldn’t work. But sounds like birds chirping, leaves rustling in the wind or other people’s conversation calmed you down. You loved these kind of noises.

Silence was your biggest enemy.

Again, Ona was talking to Aitana as they did the drill together. Ona was upset about something, gesticulating out of rage while Aitana tried to calm her down - with no success. You were standing lost in the middle of the gym as your teammates looked confused at you, your eyes drained on your girlfriend, her friend sending you a mean glare. Your thumb started to count your fingers, a habit of yours. You‘re getting anxious.

Thumb to index finger.

Thumb to middle finger.

Thumb to ring finger.

Thumb to pinkie.

And the other way around.

The next time you saw the brunette alone was in the changing room, your teammates were still outside while Ona went to grab something. You followed her.

"Ona?"

She was startled, her hand resting above her heart as she breathed loudly, "Is everything alright?" Without even acknowledging you, she walked right past you. Again. Grumbling angrily under her breath she marched out of the locker room, leaving you alone. In silence.

Your mind was spinning, what did you do wrong? Why was she ignoring you? Was she about to break up with you?

Thumb to index finger.

Thumb to middle finger.

Thumb to ring finger.

Thumb to pinkie.

Not liking the silence you left, your studs making noises on the tiles.

"Did she say something?" the swiss international asked as you joined the group again. You shook your head as reply. "It‘s gonna be fine" pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, she hugged you. What you didn't know was that Ona was watching you closely, feeling jealous but not jealous of Ana. She knew she’s like a big sister to you.

When training was called to an end, everybody made their way to the changing room and showers. "Do I see you at home?" you tried one last time, not much hope left that she would answer. As she looked away you had your answer, you grabbed your bag, said a loud goodbye to the girls and left.

Why wasn‘t she talking to you?

The whole way home you thought about what you could have done wrong, the music only playing very quietly in the background, almost inaudible.

As you arrived at home, you dropped your bag on the floor, not caring If it was in the way. You sat down at the kitchen table but didn‘t turn on the radio like you normally would when Ona wasn‘t there. You sat there in silence, accepting your punishment.

Ona was mad at you - you must get punished.

Your brain was working overtime, your mind was spinning, your anxiety got worse and your heart felt pain.

Thumb to index finger.

Thumb to middle finger.

Thumb to ring finger.

Thumb to pinkie.

Two hours later, Ona finally came home. She had expected to hear music, instead there was silence. A strange feeling came over her. Are you not at home?

You heard the keys in the lock but didn't turn around. Ona would ignore you anyway. When she entered your home the silence was loud, too loud. Your girlfriend stared at your back, slowly taking off her shoes. You heard her walking further into the room, the silence gone. For once you didn't know if that was a good sign.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

Silence.

She stopped in her tracks. "¿Qué?", it was the first time you heard her voice this day, it was as beautiful as always.

You couldn't take it anymore, you started crying. Your body shook violently, her heart aching seeing you like this. "Mi amor," with a few quick steps she was beside you, her hands pulling yours out of your face "no, no, no" she said as she placed herself on your lap. "But-"

"I‘m an idiot"

"You ignored me the whole day, why?" you looked so sad, the spaniard wanted to slap herself. Why didn‘t she talk to you? "I don‘t like being ignored"

The defender wanted to slap herself twice as hard. She knew about your childhood but she was too caught up in her anger that she forgot how ignoring you made you feel. "lo siento, mi amor, i was just so angry"

"At me?"

"Sí, lo siento" your crying had stopped but why was she angry at you? Your hands were resting on your stomach, not knowing if you should touch her or if you wanted to touch her. "Why?"

She sighed, leaning her forehead against yours, "Last night, you didn‘t give me a good night kiss and this morning I had to wake up alone. I feel like ever since i’m back I just live in your home. That you liked our long distance relationship more" she admitted.

Ona and you‘ve been a couple since two and a half years. You met at United, her first season while it was your last.

Since you were little you wanted to play for Barcelona and as they approached you, you couldn’t reject them. Your transfer to Barca was settled. However, that wasn't a reason for you to break up, her plan was to return home anyways at some point - which she now did.

It felt surreal to you. She was back here, in your arms, "I‘m sorry. This is all so new to me. We live together, I've never lived with anyone before and I need to get used to the fact that you're really here. Sometimes i‘m afraid when I wake up that you‘re not here. That you’re back in Manchester. I‘m sorry for making you feel like I don‘t want you here. Because I do, I really do."

Her hands caressed your cheeks, your hands finding their way around her torso, wanting to feel her touch. You looked in her eyes, then to her lips and back to her eyes. You wanted to kiss her. "I‘m not going anywhere." she declared as you leaned forward, connecting your lips for the first time since yesterday.

The kiss was soft and gentle, unspoken words spoken. "Te amo" the spaniard whispered as her lips ghosted over yours, about to re-connect them.

"I love you too"

That night, Ona promised herself that she would never ignore you again, she loved you too much to see you cry.

—————————

[flowerandblood]

Equation without solution 

[ Michael • Gavey x painter student! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, trauma, mention of bullying, mention of physical and mental violence ]

[ description: Michael sees no point in worrying about anything, especially relationships, when all he needs is math. His calm, logical world falls apart when a female painting student asks him for help in calculating the best possible composition to create a portrait. Sexual tension, angst, a litte brat taming and domination kink, great childhood traumas. ]

The fragment with Michael in the trailer inspired me to write this. The whole discussion around this oneshot, whether it should be made at all, made me very tired. I don't think we'll get his backstory in the movie, but even if we did, I just felt like writing it - so here it is. Have fun reading.

Part 2 − Formula for perfection

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

Ever since he could remember, his father had explained to him that an intelligent man is not guided by emotions, but by logic – that's why he married his mother, that's why he went into the army. A long belt hung in plain sight in one of the cupboards of their house, so that he could use it to remind him this when necessary.

His father never hit him with his hand. He did not slap him, considering it humiliating for a man to do this to another man. Punishments were in the nature of a ritual, which he said he did not find pleasant either – he reiterated that only strong people survive in this world, that if a classmate beat him up at school he should not cry, but punch him back even harder.

He was afraid to tell his father when, once again after being hit by Creg, one of the school donkeys, his glasses broke in half. In panic situations he would run to his mother, who would look at him with terrified eyes and only repeat 'quickly, your father must not find out'.

He and his mother shared secrets, which she told him they could not tell his father so as not to upset him – such things were the sweets she had hidden in one of the containers that pretended to be flour, or the savings she meticulously counted when he was away.

She would say that one should always be prepared, but he didn't understand for what.

One day he found a container of sweets standing by his bedside table and his mother had disappeared, leaving him and his father with only a short note, which his father tore up and said they would never mention her again.

He threw away pictures of her, all her clothes, everything, even his toys or his books, which she was the one who bought and read to him. He only managed to hide one, which was a maths exercise book that had slippery, oiled pages from which he could erase the results of equations at will and fill them in again with a dry erase marker.

This book became his favourite; he would only take it out at night when he was sure his father was already asleep and fill in all the blanks one by one, knowing them by heart.

He created his own ritual.

This calmed him down.

Later, however, these tasks proved too simple and tedious, he needed a challenge and asked his teacher, Mrs Rosaline, to recommend something to learn. She did so willingly, surprised by his diligence, and when he came in the next day saying he had solved all the tasks, she started sending him to maths competitions.

Maths was wonderfully logical and cool – you couldn't interpret it in different ways like poetry, you didn't have to get into the mind of the author of an equation to understand the result. Everything was preconceived and safe, a wrong result could always be explained, you could get to the root of it.

There was no reason to be sad, nervous or happy.

He wasn't happy when he got into the best university in the country without any exams, he wasn't happy that he was one of the few to get his own dorm room and a big scholarship.

When, in high school, his tutor announced to his father that he was a genius and that he should start a career in science, his father was furious.

He said that mathematician was not a profession, that all his life he would remain the victim of fate that he had apparently always been destined to be.

His father told him that he was already a man and not a boy, that he would not beat him with a belt to explain to him that he was not a genius but an idiot.

What he had learnt from his father was not to worry about such words – he would grin at him when he tried to explain to him what a mistake he was making with amusement and satisfaction as he watched the man who told him that emotions were a sign of weakness become enraged.

His father was weak.

He was emotional.

Even the army and the fact that he beat him didn't change that.

He thought that this was probably what his father, that is his grandfather, had tried to instil in him, but he had failed miserably.

He truly believed, however, that his father was right.

He didn't need emotions.

Numbers were enough for him.

He could calculate the probability of whether or not he would be able to communicate with someone by analysing quickly in his head with what frequency that person spoke about things that did not interest him.

He didn't consider whether he liked them and didn't even have any idea how he would have known that. He recognised that deciding on the basis of chemical reactions in his brain about his acquaintances was absurd.

Just because he didn't feel anything didn't mean he wasn't laughing or enjoying himself – on the contrary, he smirked a lot, usually while listening to other people's discussions or when he managed to get someone off balance.

Wealthy alpha males who owed the place he had earned only to their rich parents reigned around the university like kings, pretending to be intelligent, studying law, medicine or banking without having a clue what they were doing were his most common victims.

"I could never defend a rapist or a murderer. I don't know, it makes me flinch at the mere idea." Said Kyle once when they were sitting in the library, them pretending to study, actually sitting over open books they weren't concentrating on and talking, distracting him.

When he needed real focus he would study in his room, but when he felt like a bit of entertainment he would go out to listen to them.

It was better than a comedy in TV.

"After all, every man deserves a defence lawyer, he's innocent until the court hands down a final verdict." Matt, a boy who read a lot and could memorise things, replied, throwing quotes from his sleeve without much understanding of them. Kyle snorted, shrugging his shoulders.

"So what? Sometimes you subconsciously know this person did it by looking at them or the evidence is incriminating enough." He replied with a certainty that surprised him.

He corrected his glasses on his nose with his pointing finger, wondering how this moron was going to defend anyone in court if he himself was constantly undermining his client's innocence in his head while he himself wanted to be the judge against him.

"If it was as you say, there wouldn't be so many innocently convicted people in prison. Evidence seems incriminating until one new clue, piece of evidence or witness comes along that changes everything. It is the duty of the defence counsel to look for such details to the best of his ability, and not to judge his client unless he himself wants to plead guilty." He heard a second, frustrated voice and lifted his gaze, noticing a girl standing by the bookcase who had heard their conversation while looking for some book.

He recognised her only by sight, and knew that she had studied painting, so her person did not interest him at all. However, what she said frustrated Kyle and disturbed his nepotistic sense of superiority, so he gave this scene his full attention.

"I didn't know kids drawing with crayons knew anything about such serious matters as criminal law." He said piteously, a mocking sweetness in his voice, his gaze feigning warmth, meant to bring her out of her funk.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and saw that she was looking at him like he was an idiot.

"I don't need to know this to realise that no amount of money will make you a good lawyer. I feel sorry for your future clients, because you will destroy them yourself." She replied, raising her eyebrows in amusement, completely unfazed by his insult.

It surprised him that she looked happy and pleased to see his angry face, not letting him get a word in edgewise, grabbing the book she was looking for and walking off towards her friends sitting at a table in the distance.

On his way out of the library he heard her voice, heard her laugh, light and unforced – he glanced at her and their gazes met for a moment before he walked out into the corridor.

He had forgotten about her until an incident when, sitting in the university restaurant, he noticed Kyle walking past her and pretending to stumble, the entire contents of his cranberry juice spilled on her dress, leaving big pink stains.

"Sorry, are you okay?" He asked, feigning seriousness and concern. She stood up, furious, without even speaking to him, walking away.

He watched curiously as Kyle sat down with his friends and high-fived Matt, clearly pleased with himself, putting his arm around some silly giggling girl.

After a while, however, that girl came back, dressed up, wearing only a man's long-sleeved shirt all soiled with paint, covering the small part of her thighs that she apparently used as an apron while painting, overknee socks and trainers on her legs.

He felt something strange seeing her soft thighs, thinking of the fact that he himself wore similar shirts, and took a sip of coffee from his cup, watching as she sat back next to her friends, saying something quickly, going back to eating her lunch, unconcerned.

She laughed.

He shuddered when their eyes met and quickly glanced at Kyle, who was watching her from afar, licking his lips, his leg moving in impatience, the girl he was embracing whispering something in his ear, but he wasn't listening to her.

He was thinking.

Usually when he had to move from one building to another he went through a side exit, so as to have a bit of peace and quiet, but on this day he decided to walk through the main square, walking on its right side, looking through the windows.

He was not at all searching for her with his eyes when he saw the rows of easels and people around the model, dressed in historic Renaissance costume.

He didn't feel the heat stroke at all and stopped involuntarily when he saw her sitting with her back to him, her canvas smaller than the others, she sat closer, focused only on the portrait.

He could see her underpainting, just an outline and a sketch, and the lines she had drawn to help herself.

The golden ratio.

He shuddered at the thought that she was deliberately using mathematical proportional division to achieve a subconscious effect of harmony in the whole composition, which was, after all, just a base for the actual layer with chiaroscuro and colours.

He gasped when one of his year mates slapped him on the back, asking what he was looking at, and when he saw what he was observing behind the window, he laughed.

"These artists. They will die poor, but at least in their mind they will have created something outstanding. Until a critic comes along who says what they've painted is ugly." He muttered with amusement, putting his arm around him as if they were good mates, although they were not.

He looked back and noticed with pounding heart that this girl was turning over her shoulder, looking in his direction.

His friend had said something about the Mona Lisa, about how ugly she was and that he didn't understand how that portrait could be considered the most beautiful in the world, but he was unable to focus on it.

The golden ratio.

The balance of the composition.

Her painting was thoughtful.

He was convinced that painters only recognised their own artistic intuition and thus created ugly paintings, which they then called contemporary art.

He didn't think about her, or at least tried to until his mates told him that Kyle was throwing a party, to which he was obviously not invited.

"Apparently he even invited the girl he doused with juice at the time as an apology. Bruce says he recently brought her flowers during her classes and that he seems to have a crush on her."

"Sometimes it's one step from hate to love."

He didn't like the uncomfortable feeling he experienced in his chest, a sort of sting and tightness in his throat – he went back to the equation he had just solved without listening to them further.

Even if someone didn't know there was supposed to be any kind of party going on, they had certainly heard it that friday night, the music, laughter and screams from Kyle's room echoing loudly through the dorm.

Even though women weren't allowed in there there were plenty of them that day – he could hear them running to the toilet, squealing and giggling, driving him furious as he couldn't concentrate on what he was reading. He pulled down his glasses, massaging the space between his eyes with his fingers, closing his eyelids, trying to calm himself.

His emotions wouldn't change anything.

He swallowed loudly when he heard her voice.

He shuddered when he heard a knock on his room and looked uncertainly towards his door.

He feared it was Kyle and his pack who had drunkenly decided they would have fun at his expense.

"Can I come in?"

He felt his heart start pounding hard, a multitude of thoughts running through his head. He tried to analyse whether he should do it or not, what she might have wanted from him, but nothing came to mind, there was a complete void in his brain.

God.

"Come in." He heard his own uncertain voice, and after a moment the door opened and there she stood.

She came in smiling and cheerful, happy for some reason, closing the door behind her, looking around his room as if she had come at his invitation – she was wearing a large long-sleeved sweatshirt with the university logo reaching halfway down her thighs, overknee light wool socks and trainers on her legs.

Fuck.

He wanted to say something, to ask why he owed this visit and what she wanted from him, but all he did was stare at her legs, at the small area of her exposed naked body between her sweatshirt and the material of her socks.

He felt a strong pulsing in his black sweatpants and swallowed loudly knowing what it meant.

He'd only fucked twice in his life, and this'd been fairly inept acts of physical intimacy between a man and a woman, where they'd pursued their fulfilment on him, not caring much about him, maybe even imagining he was someone else, some more handsome boy who just happened not to want to look at them.

It didn't bother him, because he didn't feel anything for them himself – they didn't even arouse his desire, but they were just very horny, and he decided that he didn't want to remain a virgin for the rest of his life.

It had been more of a relaxing than a pleasurable experience and he didn't understand why men were so overpowered by it, but now, looking at her, he felt his brain and his logic start to give up in favour of what was going on in his trousers.

"You didn't go to the party?" Her light, gentle voice snapped him out of his reverie, causing him to lift his eyes to her face, which, to his surprise, seemed very pretty up close, her eyes large and bright, framed by long lashes, her pink lips curved in a smile.

What made her so happy?

Why did she come to his room and ask such things?

"No. NFI." He replied dispassionately, lowering his gaze to her legs again, unable to contain himself, covering what was happening to him with a book. She blinked, furrowing her brow.

"What?" She asked with amusement and curiosity.

"Not Fucking Invited." He explained and she burst into soft laughter – he wasn't sure he'd ever heard anyone react like that to anything he'd said.

"Maybe it's better for you too. I went there for a while, but they act like pigs in a shed. A friend told me I could find you here so I thought I'd take the opportunity." She said calmly, walking over to his desk, leaning over his books. He wondered with a pounding heart how she had the confidence to just walk into a stranger's room and talk to him as if she had known him for years.

He chuckled and shook his head, running his hand over his face in an attempt to hide his nervousness and what his imagination was suggesting.

"Are you going to tell me why you came here, or are you going to continue wasting my time?" He muttered ironically, figuring that by doing so he would somehow discourage her or force her to stop pestering him.

He blinked and lifted his knees higher when she suddenly sat down next to him on his bed, as if just waiting for that question, excitement in her eyes.

"I've heard you're a mathematical genius and that's a very good thing, because I need someone to help me determine the right proportions for my painting."

She said quickly and he felt his heart beat harder, he got warm in his lower abdomen and all he could think about was wanting to back off and run away.

"Isn't the golden ratio and Fibonacci spiral enough for you?" He muttered, knowing that it was these two proportions that were usually enough for artists to create their compositions. She hit her knees with her palms as if he had said exactly what she assumed.

"No! I want to analyse it more, but I don't have the tools to do it. Nor an exact mind. I want you to help me, take a look at my sketch and tell me what you think could be improved. From a mathematical, compositional point of view." She said with an excitement that frightened him in a way, a gush of enthusiasm that he didn't know what to do, how to discourage her with.

"What's in it for me?" He asked, recognising that perhaps a materialistic approach would discourage her, yet she merely twisted in her seat, completely unmoved, apparently recognising that he was entitled to demand payment for his contribution to her work.

"And what would you like?" She asked lightly, and he swallowed loudly, his gaze involuntarily escaping to her thighs, to where he could see her bare skin.

He looked at her face again, hoping she hadn't seen it, but something in her gaze told him she had noticed it, her lips tightened. He his heart began to pound like crazy, he felt like he was just going through some kind of heart attack.

"Do you want this?" She asked softly, warmly, and he threw her a shocked look, wondering if she was implying what he was thinking, his gaze escaping to her thighs again.

Fuck.

Did he want this?

"What do you mean?" He asked coolly, trying to pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. He felt his pupils dilate as she corrected herself in her seat so that her sweatshirt lifted up slightly, he had a feeling that a little more would have been enough for him to see her underwear.

"You can touch me if you want. Just gently. Don't throw yourself at me." She said softly, a blush on her cheeks, her eyes warm and understanding – he thought she seemed slightly embarrassed, her words sounding innocent despite the obvious subtext.

He wasn't sure if his mind controlled the movement of his hand, the way it involuntarily rose and gently touched her thigh, stroking it in a slow, steady up and down motion. He heard her sigh softly and a shudder went through her, saw her lean back and close her eyes.

He wanted to tell her that she thought too highly of herself if she thought he was so desperate, but instead he just looked at her with his lips slightly parted, fighting with himself.

He glanced at her face again when, after a moment, she opened her eyes and looked at him with a warm, misty gaze, as if she had drifted away with her thoughts somewhere for a moment. She smiled, but there was no mockery in it, her expression had something of girlish innocence.

He couldn't focus on anything other than the thought of how soft and firm her skin was – he wasn't sure he had ever touched anything more pleasurable in his life.

He felt both shame and thrill at the thought of how painfully hard he was, swallowing with difficulty.

He didn't quite understand what was just happening between them – his mind wanted to classify this as a prelude to physical intimacy, but he wasn't sure he was right. He felt immense tension and lust, but also a sort of tightening in his pit, intrigue and anxious anticipation.

"If you want, we can kiss. You have such full lips." She said softly with some kind of admiration and sincere desire, from which he felt a squeeze in his throat.

He wasn't good at choosing his words when it came to this kind of discussion, and he didn't know completely how to act, so he just stared at her, her thigh under his hand seeming to almost burn him.

Seeing the lack of any reaction from him and the clear shock painted on his face she moved a little closer to him – there was something encouraging in her movement and gaze, some kind of comfort and concern.

She was close, but far enough away to still not invade his space, giving him the sense that she was waiting for his decision.

He stared at her, feeling that his erection hidden in his trousers was about to explode, all swollen and throbbing, and after a moment their lips pressed against each other in a sudden, wet dance of their tongues and teeth, their hands clenched in each other's hair, the loud, lewd click of their saliva echoing in his ears louder than the muffled music coming from several rooms away.

"Be gentle." She just whispered into his mouth between their drawn-out, sticky kisses, and he hummed at her words, smelling the pleasant scent of her shampoo in his nose.

He grabbed her softly around her waist and seated her on his thighs with his arm around her, throwing his book to the side, rubbing against her from underneath, letting her feel what she had done to him.

He heard her sigh in contentment at feeling how hard he was, both of them beginning to pant loudly as she began to roll against him with her hips, herself clearly taking pleasure from it.

He clamped his hands on her buttocks and drew in the air loudly feeling that she had no shorts on underneath, just her underwear alone, and for some reason it turned him on even more.

Had she planned this all along?

She moaned feeling his hands slip under the material of her panties and squeeze her bare skin with confidence – she ran her fingers through his hair as the tip of her pink, wet tongue ran over his upper lip. He felt a strong shiver run through his entire body and involuntarily began to pant along with her, having never experienced anything like this before.

Her touch, though filled with desire, was not cold and crude, focused only on her pleasure, her hands stroking his hair, his cheeks, his neck with tender, caring movements, her puffy, full lips merely teasing him, not wanting to give him any more full kisses, so he only growled, frustrated, pulling her forcibly tighter, sliding his tongue deep into her throat.

He didn't even feel the need to undress her, the very thing they were doing now, the senselessness and yet purposefulness of it made him shiver, her certainty of what she wanted.

Was she really going to do this?

Sleep with a total stranger?

What was the logic in this?

He shuddered at the thought that maybe there was none.

None.

She wouldn't let him think about it – he drew in the air loudly as he felt her nimble fingers untie his sweatpants, slipping them down slightly, exposing what was underneath them, his hard, twitching manhood enveloped by the cool air.

He saw her rise slightly, with a movement of her hand apparently pushing the material of her underwear aside, positioning herself above him as he grasped his length in his hand, automatically directing it between her thighs.

"− I'm taking pills − I'm clean −" She whispered softly and he just nodded, not knowing what more he could answer, looking at her with his lips slightly parted, feeling like his heart was about to jump out of his chest.

She lifted herself up with a loud click of her moisture only to fall back down, riding him in a slow, unhurried rhythm – he just leaned down and sank his face into the hollow of her neck, taking in her scent, pleasantly sweet and fresh, panting loudly.

They both moaned embarrassingly loudly and squeezed their eyelids shut as she lowered herself onto him, slowly pushing the fat head of his cock deep into her body.

He could feel how wet she was, how her fleshy muscles pulsed hungrily against him, how tightly they wrapped around his root on all sides miraculously enhancing his sensation.

She embraced him, stroking his hair, clearly sensing his uncertainty, terror and desire mixed together. Unwittingly, his hips began to respond to her movements with sure, deep thrusts, to which she moaned loudly, something of helplessness and delight in her sounds.

"− do you want to stop? −" She mumbled softly, kissing his hair with gentle, warm click. He lifted his face finding her lips in a greedy kiss before turning her onto her back, recognising that he couldn't take it any longer, that his cock was about to explode.

"− yeah − I want to stop very, very much −" He growled frustrated at the way she was teasing him, resting one hand on the backrest of the bed in front of him, the other holding her hip tightly, slamming into her with rapid, quick stabs of his hips from which she began to moan and pant loudly, startled, looking up at him with her lips slightly parted.

"− don't you feel it? −" He asked ironically, thrusting his cock so deep into her that he felt like he would pierce her stomach, her body arched backwards as if trying to escape from him, his thighs all sticky from her moisture, their bodies smacking against each other quickly with a loud, wet slaps.

"− please −" She mewled and he felt a shudder as well as heat in his lower abdomen, something in the way she said it, in the tone of her voice, in her gaze made him lick his lips feeling that just a moment more, a few more thrusts and he was about to come.

"− please, what? − can't you put a fucking sentence together anymore? − you like it when someone fucks you so rough that you don't have words, huh? −" He hissed and groaned low as he felt her walls clench tightly around his fat erection at his words, sucking it inside, her thighs spread wide in front of him, allowing him to slide into her as deeply as he wanted in a gesture of complete submission.

"− I'm sorry −" She mumbled, looking at him helplessly like a rebuked child looking at a parent, and he thought he could devour her whole right now, fuck her all night if she wanted to, if she would react the way she did now.

"− good you're sorry − fucking brat −" He growled, panting loudly along with her and suddenly, without even knowing why, he kissed her greedily, pounding his cock into her with quick, brutal thrusts.

He felt her come, her walls began to clench on him greedily, not wanting to let him go, her whole body was trembling – she tried to push him away, sobbing and moaning with pleasure into his mouth.

He fucked her through her orgasm until he finally gave in and cum inside her, panting loudly, not recognising himself, his sounds or his reactions.

"− oh God − fuck − fuck − fuck −" He mumbled clenching his eyes, coming down from his peak, still moving inside her, hearing her loud breathing underneath him.

What exactly was that?

He collapsed on top of her, completely powerless, smelling the scent of her hair, her hands embracing his waist. They laid like that in the light of his bedside lamp, breathing heavily, listening to the muffled music, the screams and laughter from the party taking place a few rooms away.

He swallowed loudly feeling that he wasn't sure where his body ended and hers began – they were both all sticky from her moisture, her insides hot, pleasantly enveloping him on all sides, giving him some strange sense of security.

He thought it was for some of the hormones that are released after orgasm designed to bring partners closer together and bond.

He shuddered when he suddenly heard her soft, quiet voice.

"So what do you say? Will you help me?" She asked shyly, and he sighed heavily, silent for a long moment.

No.

"Yes."

_____

Part 2 − Formula for perfection

@at-a-rax-ia @daemonskelitsos @alphard-hydraes-blog @travelingmypassion

[24hlevi]

— the bet

natalie scatorccio (yellowjackets) x gn!reader

genre: fluff

summary: being enemies with nat was eventful, to say the least. until a bet is made that you'll fall for nat by the time states come around. will that happen? or will you two remain enemies?

warnings: language, light nsfw, drug usage (marijuana)

wc: 3.5 k

my first yjs fic please don't kill me i lowkey hate this but here we go

natalie scatorccio was the type of girl you never imagined yourself to even speak to. not because she was a “burnout”, or because she was drunk or high the majority of the time, but because of the way you two were polar opposites. she was on the soccer team, she had a rough home life, and spent most of her time with the other delinquents on campus, while you were in the newspaper club usually taking pictures of the sports teams, had a decent family life, and spent all your time with school.

and for some reason, since the first meeting, you two had a strong disliking for each other.

maybe it was the way she always taunted you with that damn smirk on her face, or how she would sometimes blow her cigarette smoke in your direction just to get you irritated. you didn't know why, but you hated her. in the beginning, at least.

you were friends with the other girls on the team, which meant wherever they went, nat was there too. so you unfortunately were forced to deal with her annoying antics towards you. the girls noticed fairly quickly how much you two hated each other, and decided to do something about it.

…

“shauna i don't understand why i need to be here when it's for your team,” you said to your friend. you were currently in her car while she drove you to jackie’s house where the team was going to have a “bonding” exercise. for some reason, shauna insisted that you come with. you had no idea why, but were forcefully dragged into her car so you were stuck with going.

“because you're our friend too,” shauna replied, keeping it short with her eyes on the road.

“i know that but,” you let out a huff of annoyance. “i don't wanna see her.” you mumbled.

shauna glanced over at you for a split second before back at the road. “i honestly doubt she'll be there, it’d be a rare sight to see her in such an environment like jackie’s house,” she said in response. obviously she knew who you were talking about, it was incredibly clear when that scowl would form on your face just thinking about having to deal with nat again. which is exactly why she was doing this. well, the whole team. even jackie was for the idea, as long as it meant nat wouldn't be distracted on the field anymore. so, it was the whole team setting up you and nat.

you arrived at jackie’s house a few minutes later, seeing the other cars outside telling you that the others were already there, and you could feel yourself already getting irritated at the thought of having to communicate with nat.

“come on y/n, don't pout like a puppy,” shauna chuckled lightly as the two of you walked inside the giant house.

“i’m not pouting,” you grumbled.

“y/n!” jackie exclaimed, running towards the two of you. “i’m so glad you made it!” she smiled widely at you.

“it’s no problem,” you smiled back. “i wasn't doing anything tonight anyway, my parents are out of town.”

“perfect!” jackie clasped her hands together. “follow me and we will start!”

you followed behind jackie besides shauna, noticing the quick glance they gave each other but choosing to ignore it seeing as they always had those weird glances with each other. the three of you made it to the living room where the rest of the team was sitting on the couches and chairs. your eyes immediately landed on the one girl you didn't want to see, and a scowl formed on your face before looking away.

she was wearing that same leather jacket she always seemed to wear outside of practice, and you found yourself taking another glance at her only for her to already be looking at you, making you quickly avert your gaze.

“all right! now that everyone is here,” jackie stood in front of everyone. “i think we all know why we are here, and it's not for a team bonding exercise, sorry!”

your expression turned into confusion, and apparently you were the only one confused, until you saw nat with the same look on her face.

oh no. no. you thought to yourself. there's no way. if this was some sort of thing to make you and nat be friends you were going to kill shauna for forcing you into her car.

“so, there's been something we’ve noticed as a team dealing with one of us being…distracted, during practice and games,” jackie started, trying to look at everyone but continuously going between nat and you. “so, we need to fix that! nat, will you please stand?”

with a confused look still on her face, nat stood from her spot in the recliner. “what the hell is going on here, jackie?” she asked with a sigh.

“you’ll see,” van chuckled but quickly went quiet after tai sent her a glare.

“now y/n, please stand,” jackie said to you.

you rose from the couch and looked at jackie trying your best to ignore nat.

“come here, both of you,” jackie waved her hands gesturing for the two of you to come closer.

you slowly took a few steps forward, watching as nat stepped closer as well, until you both were standing in front of each other with jackie in between.

“jackie, i really don't understand what-”

suddenly you were cut off by being grabbed by the wrist by jackie who grabbed onto nat as well.

“follow me!” jackie said to you two before dragging you both behind her.

you opened your mouth to protest but caught a glance of the other girls’ faces and realized this is the “bonding exercise”. it wasn't supposed to be for the team. it was supposed to be for you and nat. you let jackie drag you down the long hallway, not listening to nat trying to pull out of jackie’s surprisingly strong grip before jackie opened a door to a guest room, pushing you two inside.

“you two are staying in here for an hour and you will become friends,” jackie told you both.

“what?!” you exclaimed. “that's what you brought me here for?!”

“you’ll be fine, y/n!” shauna said behind jackie, peeking her head over the other girl’s shoulder.

“jackie, i swear to-” you took a step forward and jackie immediately closed the door in your face, and you heard a click from the door. you tried to open the door, only for it now to be locked. “jackie!” you called, smacking your hand on the door. “jackie, i will kill you!”

“you’ll love me for this!” she said through the door. “it's just one hour!”

footsteps were heard leaving the area and you let out a long sigh. you turned around to see nat with her arms crossed over her chest, and you let out an annoyed huff.

“did you know about this?” you asked.

“of course not,” nat shook her head. “i didn't wanna be here in the first place,” she mumbled afterwards.

“well, that makes two of us,” you replied.

the room was filled with silence after that, and after a few minutes you felt like you were going to go insane. you glanced around at the bland room before your eyes landed on nat again, who was staring at you.

“do you have a problem with me or something?” you asked her finally.

“what?” she questioned, looking at you confused.

“you're always staring at me,” you said. “and you taunt me constantly, always blowing smoke in my face, or so close that i can practically taste the alcohol in your breath.”

“tsh,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “i do that with everyone.”

“bullshit,” you snapped. “you don't do it to your teammates and you don't do it to those two drunkards you hang around.”

“and?” she said.

“and?” you repeated, getting angrier at every response she was giving. “so what the fuck is your problem with me? is it because i don't take pictures of you on the field or something?”

“oh fuck you,” nat spat. “i don't need pictures taken of me.”

“you wish,” you replied with just as much venom in your voice.

“maybe i do, since you think everyone has some massive fucking crush on you or something,” nat took an angry step towards you.

“me?” you half-laughed, also taking a step forward. “don't you suck dick for some weed and booze?”

“at least i know who i am,” nat glared at you.

“you don't,” you retorted. “you don't have a goddamn clue who you are or what you want.”

“you don't know a fucking thing about me,” nat pointed her finger at you. “i’m at least not a fucking coward who can't admit what they feel.”

“oh you feel things?” you feigned shock. “what a surprise, natalie scatorccio feels things! like what exactly?”

“that i fucking hate you,” she told you and took another step closer.

“i hate you,” you said in response.

you two stared at each other for a few seconds, then suddenly nat took one more step and smashed her lips on yours. your shock went by in a mere second, and you quickly kissed back with just as much passion. her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to her as your hands found their way to her hair.

when you both pulled away to breathe, you wanted to smack that damn smirk off her face.

“i knew you had a thing for me,” nat said teasingly.

“i do not,” you scoffed, shaking your head. “i have zero feelings for you.”

“i bet i can change that,” she challenged.

one of your eyebrows raised at that. “oh really? are you challenging me?”

“uh-huh,” she nodded. “i’ll bet you that by the time states come around, you'll have fallen for me.”

“and what are we betting exactly?” you asked.

“weed and booze?”’ nat flashed a cocky smile at you.

“i suppose, only since i can easily get some,” you nodded.

“easily? shit, i guess i should've done this sooner,” nat let out a chuckle.

“you wish,” you replied with an eye roll.

“oh, i do,” she whispered and leaned in to kiss you again.

that was how the bet started. you didn't think she was serious until the monday back to school and she found you during lunch period. now instead of the annoying antics, it was a whole new type of annoying behavior with her trying to convince you to smoke just one joint with her, maybe something crazier if she has it, and the flirting that she was now constantly doing.

one day, you decided to take the joint just to please her and shut her up.

you invited her over to your house, knowing she wouldn't want you at her place, and while it took a bit of convincing to get her there, it all worked out in the end.

the two of you were sitting on your bed, a random movie playing on your television you got for your birthday while nat was about to light the joint in her hand. you took your parents ashtray from their room for nat to use, and as soon as she lit it, you weren't paying attention to the movie anymore.

she immediately noticed your stare not leaving her as she took the first drag of the joint, turning her head to the side to blow the smoke out and avoid your face. then she came up with a bright idea.

“you wanna try?”

“what?” you asked, confused.

“just take one small hit from it, you’ll live,” nat said, handing the joint towards you.

with a minute of hesitation, you reached for the joint and held it up to your lips, inhaling the smoke and feeling it invade your lungs as you coughed and blew the smoke out.

“see? you're okay,” nat flashed a small smile at you, taking the joint back from you. “come here,” she said, waving her unoccupied hand.

you moved closer to her, and watched as she inhaled the smoke and held it in for a few seconds. she then held your face in her hands and leaned in, kissing you deeply while blowing the smoke into your mouth at the same time. your hands grasped her hoodie as you felt the smoke trail into your mouth, your eyes closing at the feeling of nat’s lips on yours.

when nat pulled away and looked at you, the way you opened your eyes and gazed back at her made her want to just kiss you over and over again. so with another drag of the joint, the process repeated until the whole joint was gone and nat was between your thighs making you feel things you had never felt before.

she never let you live that one down. proceeding to then ask over and over again if you’ll smoke with her again even if nothing happens, she just can't keep her hands to herself when she's high around you. she loves the way your warm skin feels against her cold hands, she loves gripping your waist to tug you closer to her, and god does she love the way you taste on her tongue with her hands clamped on your legs keeping them open. she couldn't get enough of you.

and you found yourself falling for her, just like you said you wouldn't. in the beginning it was easy to deal with her annoying behavior towards you, but over time you enjoyed it more, because you realized she was being genuine with you.

the night you realized you had indeed fallen for nat was when she came to you after a long day of arguing with her mom’s new boyfriend, drenched in the rain from walking the whole way.

“nat? it's like, midnight,” you said when you opened your front door to see the blonde standing there.

she looked like a puppy that had just gotten kicked out of their house, looking at you with sad eyes, her makeup trailing down her cheeks.

“come in,” you grabbed her hand and pulled her inside.

she was silent the whole way to your bedroom, even when you handed her a spare pair of her clothes she “accidentally” left the last time she was at your house. you let her take a shower as you stared at your tv, now completely awake and likely not going to get back to sleep until the early morning. when nat walked back into your bedroom, you waved your hand to gesture for her to come to you.

she stood in front of you as you sat on the bed, swiveling around to face her. your arms wrapped around her, gently pulling her closer to you as you peered up at her.

“you can always come here if you need anything, okay? i don't want you to have nowhere to go,” you told her in a soft voice.

“thank you,” she finally spoke quietly.

you nodded your head. “c’mon, you can sleep here tonight.” you tugged on the hem of her shirt.

“are you sure?” she asked.

“mhm,” you nodded again.

you scooted over so she could get in next to you and she slowly got in the bed, laying next to you awkwardly.

“are you okay?” you asked.

a head shake was the response you got.

“do you wanna talk about it?” was your next question.

another head shake in response.

“okay,” you nodded your head. “you don't have to.”

nat rolled over onto her side to face you, and you couldn't help but stare at her beautiful bare face without any makeup on. she could feel your gaze on her, and it made a red hue form on her face.

“why’re you staring at me?” she whispered.

“because you're beautiful like this,” you answered back in a whisper.

“you don't mean that,” she shook her head.

“i do,” you replied. “call me crazy but i like this version of you too.”

“mm,” she hummed, her eyes avoiding yours. “you don't think i’m some kind of burnout that's a burden to you?”

“never,” you shook your head. you carefully reached one of your hands to touch her cheek. “you will never be a burden to me, nat. i can promise you that. if you have nowhere to go, then i’ll be here. if you have no one else to rely on, i’ll be here. okay?”

“okay,” she said quietly.

you flashed a small smile at her before slowly wrapping your arms around her and pulling her closer to you. she quickly relaxed into your touch, resting her head on your chest with her own arms gripping you tightly as if she was worried you would disappear suddenly.

there was a nice, calm silence that filled the room now, and nat was close to falling asleep when she heard you whisper something quietly that made her feel something she hadn't felt before.

“i love you.”

she thought it was a dream when she woke up the next morning, not believing that those were the words you spoke to her thinking she was asleep.

nat woke up first due to the sun peeking through your curtains, making her groan quietly and open her eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the light. she glanced at you beside her still asleep and realized your arms remained around her through the whole night, making a warm feeling radiate through her body. she rested her head on the pillow again and silently stared at you while you slept.

she was thinking about what you had said before she fell asleep. she was unsure if she was just imagining it or if you actually said it. she didn't know if she should question it, not wanting to ruin the closest thing she had to someone who genuinely loved her. but, she wanted to ask so badly at the same time. she wanted, no, needed to know if you were being serious. it would tear her apart if you were lying or just saying it to make her feel better. nat shook her head at the thought of you lying about it. surely, you wouldn't lie about something like this.

“are you gonna stay staring at me or is a good morning too much for you?” you groggily asked nat, opening your eyes slowly.

nat’s face immediately turned bright red at your words, and she quickly averted her gaze. “sorry,” she mumbled quietly.

“chill, i’m just playing,” you giggled. “did you sleep?”

“yeah,” nat nodded. “thanks for letting me stay.”

“of course,” you smiled at her.

silence filled the room after you responded. nat kept giving short glances to you and quickly looking back away and back down at the bed. it was obvious that she was thinking about something, so you decided to question it.

“what’re you thinking about?”

she immediately shook her head slightly. “nothing.”

“i can tell it's something,” you moved closer to her, carefully pushing some of her hair out of her face. “what is it?”

nat avoided your eyes, looking down. “did you mean what you said last night?” she asked in a small voice.

you stared in silent shock for a few seconds, not knowing that she had heard you. “you…heard that?” you said slowly.

all nat did was nod as a response, still not looking at you. you didn't know what to do, either. this was definitely not the way you wanted it to come out, but it looks like you were going to have to work with it.

“i meant it,” you said suddenly, making nat now look at you. “i thought you were asleep which is why i said it but, i meant it. i love you, nat.”

she gazed back at you with slightly widened eyes, trying to process what you said and when she did, she felt her heart beating incredibly fast. “i love you too,” she whispered.

a smile quickly grew on your face and you cupped nat’s face in your hands, leaning in and kissing her. you could feel nat smile into the kiss, and when you pulled away, your smile grew bigger seeing the same one on her face.

“so, does this mean i win the bet?” nat questioned in a teasing tone.

“yes, you won the bet,” you laughed lightly. “i’ll get the stuff tomorrow.”

“wait, you were serious about getting it easily?” nat asked, now serious.

“yeah, my cousin gives me cheap prices,” you nodded, saying it nonchalantly.

“holy shit i think i just fell more in love with you,” nat grinned at you, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your cheeks. “are your parents gonna be home this weekend?”

“nope,” you answered with a smile. “so i’ll stash it all until you get here.”

“god, you're amazing,” nat responded, now starting to kiss all over your face. “we’ll have such a fun time.”

“you just want me to smoke with you again.”

“oh yeah, a hundred percent.”

[myscenic]

My Safe Place [Teaser]

Pairing: bodyguard!lee jeno x male!reader

Genre: fluff, romance, smut, slight enemies to friends to lovers

Warnings: swearing, top!jeno, smut (more to be revealed later), reader is very childish, cold jeno

Word Count: teaser (1k+) | full fic (?k+)

Started Date: 15.5.24 | Finished Date: ?.?.24

Synopsis: y/n's family is going on a trip for a month but decided to leave y/n at home because he always causes trouble. they told jeno to take care of him. y/n was upset, especially he had to live with his cold ass bodyguard for an entire month.

ʚɞ Note: i'm officially working on my first long fanfic! don't ask me about the jisung one LMAO. i'm really excited for this one :>> i barely see any long fics for male readers so I decided to do one so. and for the ppl who sent in the requests, i'm sorry i haven't worked on any of them yet, but i promise i'll finish them asap!!

y/n watched frustrated as the car carrying his family drove away down the long driveway. they were all waving goodbye through the windows, excited for their month long vacation at the beach house. all except him.

once again, y/n had been deemed too "troublesome" to join them, left behind instead with jeno, their family’s bodyguard. jeno stood next to y/n, his usual blank expression watching the car ready to leave.

"a whole month?!" y/n exclaimed, annoyance lacing his tone. he shot an irritated glare at jeno. "this is all your fault."

but jeno remained silent and stoic as ever. y/n knew he wouldn't get a response.

it's not like y/n caused that much trouble, he thought to himself. sure, he prank called a pizza place to send the school 20 pizzas on the principal's name. and he had set off a few stink bombs in class. but it was harmless pranks! his parents never understood.

the only one on his side was his brother junhui. as he got in the car, junhui ruffled y/n's hair affectionately and gave him an apologetic smile. "try not to drive jeno too crazy, okay?" he said with a wink.

y/n stuck his tongue out in reply. easy for junhui to say - he wasn't the one stranded for a month with the boring guy.

speaking of which, jeno had already started towards the house. y/n had to jog to catch up to his long strides. "so what, you're my personal jailer?" y/n grumbled.

as stoic as ever, jeno responded, "i'm doing my job to keep you out of trouble."

y/n sighed dramatically. "well your job sucks. this is going to be the longest month ever." but jeno just kept walking, cold and uncaring as always. ugh.

y/n stopped in front of jeno, blocking his path to the house. "entertain me mr. bodyguard!" he demanded with a smirk. "it's going to be just the two of us for a whole month, so you better find some way to keep me occupied."

jeno gazed down at y/n expressionlessly. "i'm not here for your amusement," he replied in a monotone voice. "i have a job to do - keeping you safe and out of trouble so your family can enjoy their vacation."

he tried to step around y/n, but the boy moved to obstruct him again. "come on, there must be something fun you can do!" y/n prodded, raising his eyebrows expectantly. "or are you really as boring as you look?"

jeno sighed inwardly. dealing with y/n was never easy, but now it was going to be a full time endeavor for the next 30 days. as much as he disliked encouraging the boy's mischievous behavior, he knew he had to find some way to keep y/n entertained and well behaved while his family was gone.

jeno's mind quickly ran through possible options. "if you accompany me to do evening training exercises, i suppose i could teach you some basic self defense techniques," he suggested. it would help fill the time productively, at least.

y/n blocked jeno's path once more. "training exercises?" he scoffed. “no thanks, i’m good. come on jeno, live a little!"

jeno simply rolled his eyes. "then stop interrupting me and let me do my job," he replied in an exasperated tone. he tried to step around y/n again.

but the boy wasn't done yet. "how are you even the same age as my perfect brother junhui when you're so boring?" y/n continued to needle him.

jeno could feel a headache coming on already. "i’m not here to entertain you. now move aside," was all he said evenly.

y/n threw his hands up with an overly dramatic sigh. "ugh, you're impossible. i'll be in my room if you need me, which you won't because you're the most boring person ever."

with that, he spun on his heel and stalked back inside, leaving jeno alone on the doorstep. the bodyguard let out a quiet breath, silently thanking whatever higher power gave him the patience to deal with this difficult charge.

later that afternoon, y/n was still lying bored in his bedroom after two hours of doing nothing. he was surprised when he got a text from his best friend chenle.

lele: yooo wanna hangout?

y/n: i cantttt jenos not letting me go anywhere!

lele: sneak out then? ;)

y/n felt a thrill of excitement at the suggestion. chenle had always been more of a rebel than him. before he could think better of it, he typed back.

y/n: omggg ur a genius! okay let's meet at 3pm at the park!

but as the time approached, doubts started to creep in. what if jeno found out? he'd be in so much trouble. y/n paced his room anxiously, debating whether to go through with it.

at that moment, there was a firm knock on his door. "it's time for your daily security check," came jeno's even voice.

he took a deep breath and opened the door, forcing a casual smile. "hey jeno. nothing to report, same as usual. boring in here!"

jeno's intense gaze swept the room before settling on y/n. "make sure it stays that way. no sneaking out while i'm not watching, understood?"

y/n gulped. with great effort, y/n kept his tone light. "yeah, yeah, i get it. you're in charge. i’ll be good, promise!"

for a long moment, jeno just looked at him assessingly. then with a stern "i mean it. leave the door open so i can check on you better," he turned and walked away, leaving y/n to wonder - how much trouble was he really in?

y/n hurriedly changed into some nicer clothes, excitement growing at the thought of sneaking out without jeno catching him. he peered out his window, ready to jump out.

just as y/n swung his leg over the sill, ready to jump, there was a knock on the door. "y/n, do you want something to eat? i can grab you some snacks-"

jeno saw y/n was at the window, he shouted, "hey!", y/n gave him a cheeky smirk. "see ya!" he called out confidently.

in one swift motion, y/n launched himself out the open window before jeno could react. he managed to stick the landing in the grass below, rolling to absorb the impact. already he could hear jeno shouting after him from the bedroom window.

"this kid..."