#he was DESPERATE to control her and see her gone

[elisysd]

12. Don't give me up, cause what about, what about angels

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: What About Angels - Birdy

Charles saw you tensing after your mother’s cold greeting. He hated how you flinched as she was reminding you that being late was disrespectful towards your dad’s special day, that being away from home and in a big city had made you lose sight of the values they had taught you. But he hated even more how you simply smiled and apologized. He needed all his self control to not take your side, he knew how anxious this whole situation was making you feel, he didn’t want to make it worse by saying something he knew wouldn’t be well received.

The first thing he noticed in the house’s hall was the amount of family pictures, but instead of four people on them were only three. He recognised your mom, assumed the man beside her was your dad and when he thought he would notice you, it was instead your little brother. He couldn't be wrong, he looked exactly like you. The pictures were cut in a certain way that didn’t take him a long time to understand that you had been cut out of them. He felt a wave of rage hitting him. Why make you come here if your parents had gone to such an extent as to erase every trace of your existence? It was a twisted joke.

“You don’t even call anymore, Y/N. I knew it would happen, I’ve always said that being in a world full of sparks and empty promises would change you. You’re too gullible. You don’t even have time for your own family anymore. Not that you ever had.”

“You’ve never tried to ask questions about my job…” you mumbled as Charles put a comforting hand on your hip.

“I don’t need to. I know exactly what you do, you’re the talk of the town. The small town girl made it to the TV. There is no reason to be proud, playing a pretty face on tv… that is not what I raised you to be. And now you’re associating yourself with fair-weather friends…” she said, darting judgmental eyes on Charles. “I know exactly who you are.”

He didn’t have the time to reply as your dad entered the room and sat on the chair without a word. You sat too, Charles close to you as your mom joined your dad’s side. 

“How nice it is to finally see you alive.” he said, making you gulp.

“I’m Charles, your daughter’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you.” he introduced himself in a desperate attempt to drive the conversation away from you and the relieved sigh you let out made him think that you appreciated it. 

Lunch was awkward, punctuated with snarky comments here and there that you tried your best to ignore. Charles was trying to do the same but it was getting harder and harder for him to keep his calm. But it was when cake was brought that resentment and unspoken words finally came out in the open. You had taken your phone out of your pocket, wanting to show your parents all the beautiful landscapes you had the chance to witness. 

“Aren’t you ashamed?” your mom muttered.

“Why?” you turned your head to look at her in disbelief.

“Ashamed of following the sport that killed your brother. Ashamed of being with the man responsible for his death.” she sternly said.

You felt like a million daggers stabbing your heart all at once. You took a deep breath, putting your hand on his thigh, squeezing it lightly to indicate to him  not to react. It was something you had to do alone.

“F1 and Charles didn’t kill Luc, it was his leukemia, not anything else.” you replied, feeling a lump in your throat.

“If you had not introduced your brother to that stupid sport, he wouldn’t have been a fan and his illness wouldn't have turned that bad so quickly. He wasn’t talking about anything else than that sport and you. Until his very last breath. His last words were about Formula 1. It took my baby away from me and this is your fault. Both of you.” she finished, turning to Charles this time.

“If I can add something… I know I have no right to comment on this situation but even if I understand your pain, Y/N is not the one to blame. She…” Charles started, quickly shutted up by your dad.

“You’re right, you have no right to say a  thing. You don’t know what it is like to lose a son.”

“Maybe I don’t, yeah. But I know exactly what it feels like to lose a parent. I understand your pain. Truly. But with all due respect, you’ve already lost a son, you should be more careful to not lose a daughter by pushing her away and making her feel like a stranger in her own family.”

“We’ve already lost her the minute she decided to not show up at the funeral.” your mom spitted, making you close your eyes, trying to not cry. You wouldn’t give that pleasure to your parents.

“I think it’s best if we leave. It was a bad idea to come here, anyway.” you ended up saying, standing up, Charles following you. “You shouldn’t have invited me in the first place, if it was to treat me that way.”

You took Charles’ hand in yours and dragged him out of what had been once your safe place. Without a word you made your way to his car and rushed inside and it was only when the door was closed and that he had taken place behind the wheel that you broke down. He didn’t hesitate to pull you on his lap and let you cry on his shoulder, holding you tight.

“It’s okay, babe… you’re okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to feel bad, you have nothing to feel bad about. If you were believing your mom’s lies, I understand why you were so mean to me at the beginning now.”

“She is not entirely wrong, you know.” you sniffed in his neck. “At least about one thing, I should’ve been there for Luc’s funeral. But it was too hard for me. I didn’t want to face the fact that I would never see him again. I didn’t want to make the nightmare I was in real. because if I was going, it would happen exactly that. It would have made the pain real and permanent. I couldn’t.”

You put your forehead against his, trying to find a way to ground you. Charles drew small patterns on your hips, comforting you the best he could. 

“Let’s get some fresh air, okay?” he whispered against your ear.

You got out of the car and hand in hand you started to wander the streets of your childhood, telling him anecdotes and facts of any buildings and streets you were walking on and seeing.

“Tell me about Luc.” 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Everything. Whatever you want. Whatever you feel comfortable sharing with me.”

“He was passionate. About many things. History and art mostly. He wanted to work in a museum. And passionate about F1 of course. He knew a lot of mechanical stuff, more than I did. He taught me as much as I did, I swear. Maybe more. I was spending my weekends at the hospital with him to watch the races. When he was hospitalized, it was what kept him going. It was our thing, you know. Wait, I think I have a picture to show you.”

She took a photo out of her wallet and gave it to him. If he didn’t know it was a hospital room, he would have had a hard time guessing it. Everywhere were Ferrari and monegasque flags as well as a lot of merch. He was recognising one of his caps on the bedside table. Posters of his podiums were hung on the walls, his Monza’s win right above Luc’s head. Small replicas of his trophies were there too as well as miniatures of his helmets.

“A real fan.” he smiled.

“The best.” you sighed. “ You don’t know how happy he was when you won in Monza. It brought so much joy in his life. Even if it wasn’t for long. It was a tough time, he had just started to get hospitalized, he was very sick and pale and the shell of what he once was. And suddenly, he was feeling a little more alive. Because of you. Then, time went by and I had to leave for New York. It was the toughest decision I had to make in my life. At some point I was ready to take a year off so I could be with him…” 

“What made you change your mind?”

“Him. With time my dream became his. He wouldn’t have forgiven me if I was giving it all up because he was sick. He was talking about how amazing it would be if I was interviewing you. I bet he is the happiest up there.” you smiled, looking up. “One of his dreams was to meet you.”

“Maybe it is not too late?” Charles hesitantly said and you looked at him curiously. “Is he buried here?”

You nodded and he felt you stiffened.

“I've never been on his grave.” you confessed after a moment of silence. “It’s too hard and too painful to go there alone.”

“Good thing you’re not alone anymore, then.”

As you were making your way to the graveyard, Charles had to hold you closer to his chest with each step you were taking. You sobs were getting louder and your legs were shakier. It was breaking his heart, trying to see how much you were trying to keep it together.

When you finally reached the grave, at the back end of the graveyard, you fell on your knees in front of the black grave. Luc hated black. A black and white picture of him was also in the middle of the gravestone. It made you shiver. It was well kept, your parents were coming often. The lump in your throat had not gone away in the slightest, it was even bigger now, making you choke up on your own saliva. Charles wanted to hold you, wanted to get you out of here. The emotional devastation you were in was making him want to join you on the ground and cry with you. But he also knew you needed it. It was the closure you needed to move forward. He took a few steps away, giving you privacy.

“I’m so sorry, Luc. So sorry. Sorry about how I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most, sorry to have let you down, sorry to not have stepped up and measured up when I should have, sorry to not have been the sister you deserved. There is not a day that goes by when I don’t regret not being by your side. There are so many things that I should have done differently, so many things that I feel guilty about but none of them compare to how guilty I feel to not have said goodbye. I acted like a coward and I know how much you felt scared about dying. And how I promised you I would hold your hand until the end. I didn’t. I chickened out and I failed you. If I could go back in time, I would, just so I could look into your eyes one last time and hold your hand tight. I wouldn’t hesitate. I would trade anything for one last smile of yours. I hope you can forgive me, I sure can’t do that alone. But despite everything I’m happy and I’m not sure I should be. I fell in love and you would be ecstatic to know who I share my life with. He is supportive and kind and perfect for me. I wish we would have had enough time so you could have met him. But maybe after all, it’s you I should thank. Maybe it’s you who sent Charles on my way. Maybe it is your way of telling me that you are not mad at me. That you want me to be happy. If only you could give me a sign. I just want you to know that everything I do, I do it for you. Because I love you. Forever.”

You felt Charles’ arms around your shoulders as he crouched down beside you.

“Hey, Luc. I know we don’t know each other but your sister talks about you so much that I feel like I already know you. I would have loved to meet you, I know how big of a fan you are of F1. I would have loved to show you around the paddock, maybe I would have let you sit in my car. Anything to make you and your sister smile. You are brave and strong and I have nothing but pure admiration for you. I wish I could have met you. Don’t worry about your sister, I take good care of her and I don’t want to let go of her. I’m here for her for as long as she lets me but I hope it is a forever kind of thing.” he whispered as you looked at him with big and glossy eyes.

He helped you stand up, asked if you were alright and if you wanted to leave. He didn’t mind staying but he wanted to make sure you were alright, the day had been emotionally draining enough. When you nodded, he took you in his arms, engulfing you in his jacket so you weren’t cold and kissed the top of your head as you headed out.

“I’m so proud of you. So proud.” he said as you finally reached his car.

“Thank you. For being there. I don’t think I would have been able to do it alone.”

“You’re the strongest person I know. You would have done it at some point.”

“Did you mean it? What you said up there… About us being forever.” you shyly asked.

“I’m sorry it was not the best time to say it. But to answer you, I do. I’m not kidding, Y/N, I swear I can’t explain it. I don’t know how either but I just know. You’re the love of my life.”

Author's note: In laws meeting incoming... how do you think it will turn out? .

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[slaymitchabernathy]

Coming Home

| a companion to 'His & Hers.' |

Coriolanus anxiously taps his foot on the pavement. Around him is the sound of trains pulling in and out of the station along with the shouts of family and friends reuniting with one another after a trip. Loved ones throw their arms around each other, pressing kisses to cheeks and murmuring words of relief for their safe travels.

His loved one isn’t here yet.

She’ll be here any minute now. Unless the train has gone off the tracks and she’s died a sudden and gruesome death. But that hasn’t happened, he tells himself. Besides, he would have been alerted if such a thing was to happen.

Soarynn and several other Capitol ladies took a luxurious trip to District Four to visit one of the many resorts that the Capitol has. Soarynn had been so excited to see the ocean for the first time. She talked about it for weeks on end once he finally agreed to let her go. And Soarynn didn’t need his permission. Not when the trip was already paid for and she was simply to be an invited guest.

But she cared about his approval. His trust. Coriolanus knew that she wouldn’t go if he hadn’t been okay with it. And he wasn’t okay with it. A million horrible things could happen on this trip. The worst part was that he couldn’t protect her from any of them, not when she was outside the safety of the Capitol, out of his reach.

But all had been well according to Soarynn’s very detailed phone calls he got every night when she called him before going to bed. Soarynn had been nervous in her own way. Mostly because going on this trip meant leaving the most important thing in her entire life behind.

Petunia.

Coriolanus had rolled his eyes at the detailed checklist his girlfriend had written for him. Petunia was a cat, not a human. The list was ridiculous but Coriolanus made sure to follow each thorough instruction. Even if it meant brushing the feline three times a day. He didn’t even brush his own hair three times a day.

Soarynn had also been nervous to her lack of travel experience. She’d never left the Capitol before, not even before the war. Coriolanus hadn’t traveled as extensively as some of their other friends but he knew what lay out there in the Districts. Danger, hunger, desperation. And Soarynn was in the thick of it for the past five days.

A small part of him hoped she’d call him crying, asking for him to get her home immediately because she was scared but it felt as if he was given the opposite reaction from her new experiences.

“Oh, Coryo it’s beautiful! We went swimming today! We’re going to the spa tomorrow! I caught a fish today!” Soarynn had the time of her life.

Coriolanus was happy that she had a good time, that she hadn’t fallen ill or gotten attacked by a psychotic District citizen. He checks his watch again and frowns when he sees that her train is now two minutes late. The Capitol’s train schedule is known for its promptness. Not today it seems.

Coriolanus glances around the platform and pins down a Peacekeeper who looks like he’s doing a whole lot of nothing. He strides over to him, chest puffed out, head held high. “Excuse me, I came to inquire about the train schedules,” he says. The man turns around and grunts, “Of course sir. What train were you inquiring about?” Coriolanus pulls the neatly folded piece of paper out of his coat pocket which has all of the details about Soarynn’s trip written in her neat handwriting.

“It’s the three o’clock train,” he reads, “coming from the District Four Costal Resort.” The Peacekeeper nods and looks down at his own watch, “Hmm. Running late I see. A bit unusual.” Coriolanus nods but the man’s words do nothing to calm his nerves. “Let me go ask,” the Peacekeeper says before walking off to what must be the train control center. Coriolanus leans towards the white line that’s clearly painted along the edge of the platform. There are several large signs around the entire station that read: “Please do not cross the white line for the safety of all passengers.”

He hasn’t really paid it much mind in the past but now it seems to be quite the bother. How can he not cross it once he sees the love of his life? And as much as he loves her, Soarynn can be quite slow when she wants to be and he knows that she’ll take her sweet time getting off that train rather than leaping off and running into his arms.

He’ll just have to be patient.

The past five days have been short of torture. Waking up to an empty bed, to an empty apartment has been the worst. To know that she won’t be there when he gets home, won’t be smiling up at him and giggling. He found himself looking into their closet, expecting her to be getting dressed for the day only to find it dark and empty. Soarynn was his other half, the missing piece.

“It appears there was a weather delay.” The voice pulls Coriolanus from his nagging thoughts and he looks back at the Peacekeeper, “Weather delay?” He repeats, knowing that he’s never heard of such a thing. “Yes, there was some severe weather in Four. The train should be arriving shortly.” The man gives him a curt nod before walking away again and leaves Coriolanus with even more troubling thoughts. He’s definitely going to have a word with Festus Creed who organized and paid for this trip. Festus is dating Aurora Windsnap who’s a good friend of Soarynn’s and Coriolanus highly doubts that Festus has been as concerned as he’s been about his girlfriend’s wellbeing.

Clearly not considering the train station is lacking a certain Festus Creed or any of the other boyfriends for that matter. Once again, Snow lands on top.

He reaches into his pocket once again and feels the stem of the single rose he’s brought for Soarynn, and it gives him some comfort to know that it’ll soon be in her possession.

Then he hears it. The whistle of a train. He looks down the tunnel of the station and watches as the front light of the train gets closer and closer until it’s slowly pulling into the station. He tries to catch a glimpse of Soarynn through the train windows but he can’t see her. He tries to step closer but a sharp whistle prevents him from doing so. He looks in the direction of the whistle to see a train attendant pointing at the white line he just so recklessly crossed.

Coriolanus resists rolling his eyes and takes an exaggerated step back for good measure. Clearly, this train attendant doesn’t understand the severity of the situation. He watches people slowly descend from the train, luggage in hand. People are wrapped in their winter coats and scarves, and women hold onto their hats and gloves.

He holds the rose behind his back.

He can hear the girls before he sees them, shrieking about something that probably isn’t that funny. They’re also bundled up in their winter coats and they oh-so-slowly descend the train steps. Coriolanus is both impressed and somewhat concerned at the amount of luggage they’ve managed to bring for a five day trip. Soarynn is no better though, in fact, he had to put his foot down when she tried to take a sixth trunk of belongings.

“You’re going for five days, not five years darling,” he’d said to her as he took the trunk from her hands.

The girls notice him immediately although he’s hard to miss considering he’s the tallest person at the station. They all whisper and giggle as they point at him, the wonderful, devoted, and doting boyfriend who’s come to collect his girlfriend from the train station. He doesn’t doubt that their boyfriends have sent for cars to take them home but he didn’t want to wait any longer than he had to.

He cranes his neck and tries to see Soarynn but she has yet to make an appearance. Has something happened? Is she not on the train? Did they confiscate her Capitol documents?

Coriolanus had been very adamant about making sure that all of Soarynn’s Capitol documentation was in order before she left for this trip. The documentation included her Capitol citizenship papers, her birth certificate, her proof of residency and her citizens license. Soarynn has teased him about how thoroughly he’d gone about it but he would never forgive himself if for some reason she was detained for not having enough documentation. Better safe than sorry.

Finally, he sees her blonde head of hair. She’s wearing a light pink coat with a matching scarf and cream colors heels. She looks beautiful. She says something to her friends as she gracefully descends from the train, unaware of his presence. Her luggage follows behind her in the arms of a struggling attendant who clearly underestimated the weight of his girlfriend’s belongings. Soarynn is only carrying a small handbag, one he bought her specifically for this trip. Clemensia points in his direction and Soarynn finally sees him.

Her face immediately brightens up and she breaks into a big smile before she begins running towards him. Normally, Coriolanus Snow would behave with decorum and not run across the train platform. But he doesn’t quite give a fuck about manners right now. He takes long strides towards her, and his own smile grows bigger and bigger until she’s flying into his arms. Soarynn’s giggles fill his ears and they’re the sweetest melody he’s ever heard. Her arms are thrown around his neck and he wraps both arms around her waist, slightly lifting her off the ground and spinning them around.

He heard a few whistles and clap but all of their surroundings fade away the second Soarynn pulls away from the embrace and he lays eyes on her beautiful face. She looks even more tan which makes her eyes pop. The weather was clearly warmer than it is now in the Capitol. “Hi,” she says, unable to contain her excitement. Coriolanus chuckles and gently sets her down, “Hello my darling.”

He wastes no time in cupping her face with his hand and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It feels like it’s been an eternity since he’s felt her lips against his. Soarynn sighs into the kiss, her fingers carding into his hair. They stay like that for a moment, re-familiarizing each other before they pull away. “I missed you,” is the first thing that leaves his mouth. He did. He really, really did. Soarynn being gone reminded him of a life before he knew her. When even though he had a place to live, he didn’t have a place to come home to, someone to come home to.

Soarynn was his home.

Soarynn smiles sweetly and nods, “I missed you terribly as well. I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire trip.” Her words make his heart swell. To know that he was constantly on her mind is all her needs to know that this is the girl he’s going to marry. He pulls her closer against him, “Then we should never leave one another again,” he decides before leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. Soarynn giggles and gives his cheek a playful pinch, “You mean to tell me that you were without anything to do while I was gone?”

Coriolanus thinks back to how he’s spent the last five miserable days without her. Most of his time was spent at work. It had gotten to the point where his boss had to tell him to leave and get some fresh air. Coriolanus felt that work would serve as a good distraction from thinking about Soarynn every minute of every hour until she came back home.

He had dinner with some friends, all of whom were also missing their girlfriends since they were also on the trip. He also spent some time with Petunia which was awkward for the both of them. Soarynn was their common ground and Petunia was constantly pacing the apartment, meowing for Soarynn. She’d be happy to have her home.

He shakes his head, “Absolutely nothing.” They both grin and Soarynn gives his cheek a peck, “Well I’m home my handsome boy. You’ll never be without me again.” If only she knew how much those words meant to him. Coriolanus is quick to present the rose to her and Soarynn softly gasps, “It’s beautiful Coryo. Thank you, it’s the perfect welcome gift.”

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus feels himself teeming with pride for a job well done as they leave the train station. All of Soarynn’s belongings follow behind them on a large cart. Soarynn herself has been collected and is safely pressed to his side as they walk out onto the cold Capitol street. “Are you hungry?” He asks, looking down at his girlfriend who’s looking up at the gray sky. It’ll probably snow tonight. “Hmm? Oh no. We ate on the train,” she says, shaking her head. Coriolanus figures they should just head home then, let Soarynn get settled back in before it gets too dark. Maybe he’ll take her out to a nice dinner tonight to celebrate her homecoming.

He makes sure Soarynn is tucked away in the car before watching two attendants attempt to fit all his girlfriend’s luggage into the trunk. They manage it eventually and Coriolanus rewards their work with a generous tip before getting into the car himself. He nods at their driver, “We’ll be going home.”

Soarynn rests her head on his shoulder as the car pulls away from the curb. “It’s so strange being back home. I feel as though I’m a completely different person than I was when I left.” Coriolanus can’t stop from smiling at her innocent claims of being a completely new person after five days at a Capitol resort. He knows for a fact that she never left the property or interacted with any District citizens for that matter. Still, it was a big journey for her and he listened to her talk about all the things they did on the drive home.

Soarynn is still rambling when the elevator doors open up to the familiar sight of their front doors. “I can’t wait to see Petunia!” She says, bouncing on her toes. Coriolanus hums as he digs through his pockets to locate the keys. “She’s certainly missed you.” Soarynn being gone has to be the closest thing Petunia will ever come to as neglect. Five head scratches instead of ten, heaven forbid!

The moment he unlocks the doors Soarynn darts in, calling out Petunia’s name. Coriolanus brings in all her luggage, setting it down in the foyer before he ventures further into the penthouse to find Soarynn.

He finds her in their bedroom, lying on the bed with a white ball of fluff lying on top of her. “You two are the most dramatic women I have ever met,” he tells them, ignoring the hiss he gets from Petunia.

Soarynn is quick to soothe over any wounds, “Shhh. Don’t pay attention to him my darling. He doesn’t know how hard it’s been for the both of us,” she tells the cat. Coriolanus scoffs and walks into the closet, his coat is beginning to feel too heavy and he doesn’t want to sweat through a good dress shirt.

When he comes out he finds them in the exact same position he left them in. Petunia looks like she’s gloating from his point of view. She looks all too smug as Soarynn showers her with pets and kisses. “You remembered to feed her right?” Soarynn asks, looking up at him, “And to brush her?” Coriolanus hums, “It was quite hard to forget to do anything with that wonderful list you left for me.” He eyes the detailed list that sits on his nightstand. He'd followed the instructions religiously because he just knew that Soarynn would find out if he skipped a step.

Soarynn blushes but nods, "Well there's no harm in being overly prepared. Isn't that right Petunia?"

Coriolanus decides to leave the bedroom since they clearly aren't done with their reunion. Besides, he has a few things to go over in his study that relate to work.

꧁ ꧂

His study is as impressive as his office at work, filled with mahogany furniture, books lining the shelves, and comfortable armchairs. There's a small loveseat pressed against the wall across from his desk, right under the window. Soarynn and Petunia will often curl up on the loveseat, resting their heads on the window seal to watch the people below them. It's moments like that where Coriolanus feels that Soarynn most definitely could be a cat in the way she perches herself on the furniture.

He pulls out the files he's brought home from work and begins to go over them, making notes when needed. He glances at the clock that sits on his desk but his eyes travel to the framed photograph of him and Soarynn from a year ago. He loves the photo, loves how big Soarynn's smile is while he presses a kiss to her neck while she tries to pull away even though she loves neck kisses. He loves the way his large hands wrap around her small waist perfectly. They're perfect together.

A soft knock at the door reminds him of where he is and what he's supposed to be doing and he looks up at the door to find Soarynn peeking her head in, "Come in darling," he says, beckoning her to enter. Another thing he loves about Soarynn, she never enters his space without permission. The last thing he needs is a girlfriend who snoops.

Soarynn changed into some more comfortable clothes, pajamas to put it plainly which lets him know that they won't be going out to dinner tonight. Fine by him, that just means he gets her all to himself. "Are you busy?" She asks, stopping at the side of his desk, her blue-gray eyes scanning the documents that lay before him. He shakes his head, "Not at all. Is there something you need?" Soarynn bites her lip and rocks back and forth on her heels for a moment which is a tell that she's going to ask for something she probably shouldn't ask for.

"Well...Clemmie just called and I thought maybe she might have left something behind but it turns out that the girls are already planning another trip, and this time our boyfriends are allowed to join us!"

Coriolanus blinks once, twice. A trip with several Capitol couples sounds like somewhat of a nightmare to him. But he can see how excited Soarynn already is at the prospect of traveling together. "And this time you'd be with me," she quickly adds, "to protect me and keep me out of harm's way." Coriolanus chuckles at her convincing words, she's clearly put some thought into this proposition.

He rubs his temples, "Well I'd have to think about it Soarynn. It might interfere with my work schedule. And you know how I feel about the Districts."

Soarynn slightly slouches but she doesn't lose the smile on her face, "Alright. I just thought I'd bring it up." Coriolanus nods, "Thank you for letting me know." He turns back to his work but Soarynn doesn't make any moves to leave his study.

"Can I sit with you?"

Her question brings a grin to his lips and he pushes back from the desk, baring his lap to her, "Can't get enough hmm?" He teases as Soarynn carefully straddles him, her legs slightly dangling on either side of the chair.

Soarynn scoffs and gives him a knowing look, "I'm not the one who constantly demands physical affection." She's got him there. Coriolanus has always been the more physical one in the relationship. He craves it really, absolutely needs it from her and Soarynn has always given it to him without complaint. He knows she enjoys it too but she's not as forward as he is about it which is why occasions like this can be often rare. He gives her waist a gentle squeeze and presses a soft kiss to her lips, "Well after five days of being apart I wouldn't expect any less from you."

They both settle back down and Soarynn rests her chin on his shoulder while he continues to work. He keeps one hand wrapped around her at all times, even if it makes working a little more difficult. He doesn't mind. The smell of vanilla overwhelms his senses with Soarynn right on top of him. She feels so soft and warm. He really does have the perfect girl. He knows she'll fall asleep soon as she always does when they're in this position.

To have her back in his arms is the greatest gift he can be given, to know that she's safe and loved, all under his watch. Even though he wasn't the one who left, it still feels like coming home.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[rbdbrainworms]

ok right, let's think about this from diego's perspective for a moment

lets start at the baseline that ur the spoiled son of one of the most powerful man in the contry, the ✨hottest prettiest most popular coolest boy in ur whooole rich kid elite school✨, and you just started dating this rly hot girl

except u also went out on a date w some older girls on the side and got drunk and totalled a car and ended up in the hospital and now u have to do community service and ur powerful dad is manipulative and crazy and overbearing and u dont know how stand up to him and ur home life is a disaster and ur actually really unhappy with your lifestyle and you very likely have a precocious alcoholism problem and you feel u have to hide the things youre most passionate abt - like music - , repress who you might actually want to be and bow down to your father's pressures. but its fiiiiine as long as you dont think abt it too much, right?

right, anyway! the girl ur dating complains abt this annoying new girl in you ~elite~ school, the daughter of a famous singer. apparently shes weird, and mean, and combative, so tacky and rude and unfiltered and disruptive. this new girl heard some mildly incriminating things you and your girlfriend talked abt, and now shes worried. your attitude is, of course, to go up to the new girl and threaten her for no real reason

and she is, well. much like described: strong-minded, agressive, irreverent, no filter. says and does whatever she wants. talks back to you and then some. you grab her and shes like. who tf are you. no i cant get u my moms autrograph. you threaten her right out and shes just, im sorry, are u chapolin colorado?? i think u forgot ur antennas sweetie

(sorry just. her dialogue >>>)

(she also lights up a sinalizer inside as bus beside u bc of it, but you never find that out)

ok,. you go on to your little rich kid school club. you get attacked and stabbed on the way to ur secret community service - yknow, over the drunk driving, - and a little child has to live on the street bc ur dad arranges that his brother is wrongfully arrested over it. youre not happy abt it, necessarily, but also youre not the type of person who would do anything to stop it, especially against your dad

your dad humiliates you and tears you a new one and you're all very frustrated w life. but you bow your head to him and move on, as always, because what else can you do?

you get drunk, again, and ends up kissing your girlfriends' best friend

the next day you stumble upon that girl in the hallway, and provoke her - like before, she claps back immediately. didn't she realize already this is your place, and the rest of your friends', and not for people like her??

heres the answer: she starts fighting your friend for calling her mother a slut (in not so many words) and you get in the way - and she reads you and your dad for filth. then, she gets her finger right at the center of the wound - she'd much rather have her people and her mother's artist crowd and revealing clothes and ""lack of class""" over having a corrupt father who'd sent someone to jail for a crime they didnt commit.

see, she is the type of person who wouldn't let something like that happen without consequence .

you dont really have much to say to that, or much to do really, except. seethe

you say to your friends, the best thing to do is to ignore her!

and then, well, you dont

by the way, you are the ✨prettiest, hottest, most popular boy in school✨ and this girl, as established, is inconvenient, weird, shameless, uncontrollable, she has no class or respect for you or your friends, her makeup is too dark, her hair is strange, her humor is cutting, her bad temper is obvious. you, well, you can have aaaany girl you want - so you're definitely not and would NEVER be attracted to her at all!

anyway, a gossip rag comes up and talks abt you kissing yours girls best friend. even though it makes absolutely no sense for this new girl to be the one to do it - she doesnt even know you all, and really doesn't seem like the kind to say something behind the back rather than in your face- and even though you've talked a grand total of two (2) times (and "talked" here is being generous), you're suddenly Convinced , it Has to be her. bc....... her mom is a famous singer. so. irrefutable proof. right there.

that, ofc, justifies you throwing her overboard into a lake, even though she doesnt know how to swim. all your friends think you exaggerated, after all you couldve really hurt her, maybe even killed her - you shrug and laugh it off.

"roberta is very rough" you say. SOMEONE has to show her whos boss, someone has to show her who REALLY has the power here, you tell them. obviously that someone has to be you

could it be possible that you're trying to feel powerful after your recent fuck ups and your dads latest humiliation? is it possible you overdid it bc this girl pushes aaaaall your buttons ? that it irritates you that she's so strong-minded and defiant and you're not?🤔naah don't worry about it

so, she finds out you couldve KILLED her. and then she throws ur 15k guitar into the water as retaliation . as one does. and you are LIVID. it is a 15k guitar, and also the one thing you really actually love - music

as the very not-unhinged person you are, you threaten to drown her, (again). she says she isnt scared of you, and you insist that she is. you tell her you have A LOT of power (do you?) and if she "continues with the gossip rags", which she denies writing, you will certainly "put her in her place"

she clearly has no framework for what she should or shouldnt do, or who she should or shouldnt mess with. but that should show her

so she's actually pretty freaked out. and leaves. you don't see her for three weeks

do you take this is as a win?

nope! you, the ✨ hottest, prettiest most popularest boy in school✨ apparently did not have much better things to do these 3 weeks than obsess over her, bc the first thing you do upon coming back is going out to find her, threaten her (you have to cuddle her to do that, for some reason) and put in place a questionable plot to try to get her expelled

see, you tell her, you always get what you want (do you?) and the thing you want THE MOST is for her to leave the school

why do you care SO much abt expelling her? you've talked what, 3 times. you've certainly had worst, more violent altercations with other people in this meantime. you don't know that she would mess with you again. if you're SO powerful and able to show her who's boss, why worry so much about making her , in particular, leave? weeell, don't worry about it

you're so happy about this plan and managing to screw her over, that you get drunk again! in celebration, you toast to the girl who made you the happiest lately - roberta pardo! . you kiss a pillow as if its her. when your actual girlfriend hears you, she thinks it means youre cheating on her - and who can blame her?

and then! the plan fails. bc ur a villain and the power of friendship defeats you!

also, she's extremely clever. you'll realize in the near future, its rare that you manage to outsmart her - and the times you do, you usually regret . but let's not get ahead of ourselves

you're furious. you vow shes "going to pay" ;.

pay for what? she hasnt actually done anything, other than respond to your attacks - all of the times you've met, she's always been answering your own agressiveness, standing her ground instead of bowing her head.

you have so far: threatened her on sight, insulted her family, thrown her in a lake, accused her without evidence, threatened to drown her, and tried to frame her for theft and get her expelled. she has... insulted you back, thrown your guitar on a lake after you threw her, and outsmarted you, defending herself against your accusations

now, not only did she escape your little plot, meaning she will stay in school, where you'll see her everyday, she doesn't even have the decency to be intimidated anymore! now she has the audacity of saying she's not scared of you, that you're the one who is going to pay, and this has just begun.

you hear all of that very closely, by the way, because you're pushing her against a wall

youre even more ... furious and dedicated to ~~bringing her down

you've known her for what ammounts to one (1) week.

[bitchfitch]

If this is helpful I do think of your OC couples as that "you two are perfect for each other just never involve anyone else in the fucked up shit you have going on" reddit comment so seeing content for a non-OC ship w that dynamic would be neither disturbing nor surprising

ye i think the issue I'm having is that Mohg/Miquella is a ship i wouldn't normally go within a mile of based on the tags and archive warning that apply to it by default. It's two things that squick me out so bad i can't read a good portion of the fics for them on ao3 because some authors enjoy leaning into those aspects of their relationship a lot more than i do. which like, not shaming them but boy howdy is the back button important for their tag.

so i worry folk would have the same assumptions about them I would have had if i had just like, saw a fic and associated tags without a 100hr game worth of context

[luvrxbunny]

hold it

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Pussy Slapping

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, piv, unprotected sex, praise, subspace but miguel doesn’t bring her back (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.4k

A/N: a few things- not a lot of Spanish cus people made me too nervous abt it. the prompt doesn't really factor into the story that much imo, sorry- not feeling super good abt this one tbh :( (not proofread)

He slaps you again and your teeth dig into your lip to keep your cries in. “Keep it in, sweetheart. I’m not breeding you so you can waste it all.” You nod frantically at him, aiming to please him as you clench all your muscles and try your best to hold his cum inside. You watch a satisfied smile spread over his face and his fingers come down to your pussy and spread your lips, watching your hole twitch. “That’s it. There we go, good girl.”

Your entire body is sensitive from how he’s been using you. He came home desperate to breed you and why would you refuse? Once he came in you though, he told you to hold it in, to keep all his cum inside you to ensure it takes, but your weak, post-orgasm body and your post-sex hazed brain couldn’t keep up. 

You’re laying back on the pillows, one leg over his thighs and he’s sitting halfway between your legs. His eyes are stuck on your pussy, watching the way you quiver to hold his load in, especially with how he’s been teasing you. He’s mesmerized by the sight, some of his cum already leaking out, a small stream breaking through as you whimper at your lack of control. 

You try to hold it in but eventually, your body gives up, too over-stimulated by his repeated slaps over your clit, the wet sound it makes when his hand connects with your pussy. He has this teasing, amused smirk on his face every time your body trembles after he hits you. You couldn’t handle it. Miguel grabs your thigh that’s in his lap and spreads you open further, watching as you twitch and let go, letting his cum slide out of you and onto his sheets. Then he slapped your pussy the moment he could see his cum sliding out of you. 

“I told you to hold it.” His voice is stern, non-negotiable, and sends a shiver down your spine as you tense all your muscles again. He laughs quietly, low and teasing. “I’m just gonna have to fill you again.”

He tuts at you, gives a disappointed sigh, and crawls back between your legs. You’re deep in subspace, wanting nothing more than to please him and taking his sigh as real, genuine disappointment. Tears well in your eyes and you whimper your apology as he lines himself with your entrance. “M’ sorry, Miguel. I-” You’re cut off by him sliding inside you, forcing a sob-like moan to fall from your lips. His eyes snap to your face at the sound, he’s climbing up your body and cradling your face within seconds.

“What’s this? You wanna stop, sweetheart?” You shake your head vigorously and wrap all your limbs around him, holding him close to you, pressing all his warmth against yours, and leaving pleasured cries in his ear. “C’mon, talk to me, amor.” He hasn’t moved inside you but his hands haven’t stopped caressing your body. He slides up your back to the base of your neck and gently pulls you away from him. Your eyes are closed, little tears resting on your lashes, chipping away at his heart. You sniffle once and try to tilt up into him, forcing his cock to slide against your walls in the way only he can. Instead, he forces your hips back to the bed with a soft grunt and looks back at you expectantly. So you give in.

“Jus’ wanna be good for you, Miggy.” Realization, sadness, and relief course through him. He hadn’t noticed you were so far gone, too caught up in his own mission, his need to fill you again and again, but the fact that he missed your needs because they were clouded by his own sends a pang of hurt through his heart. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, nose then lips. You moan sweetly against him, hands instantly coming up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer to you. He pulls away and gives you one more kiss before looking deep into your eyes. “You’re always good for me, sweetheart. You’re doing so well for me, baby.” 

He feels your clench on him at his words, a soft smile coming to his face at your predictability. You pull him closer to your face, just centimeters from his lips, and grind yourself up into him, earning a gentle moan from his lips. “See? So perfect, amor.” He thrusts into you, deep and hitting your G-Spot on his first try. His name comes out of your mouth as a shout, your nails dig into his back as you try and stabilize yourself. 

His hips speed up, starting their more brutal pace, knocking any stray thoughts loose from your head. He’s fixated on your face, hyper-vigilant to your reactions, making sure you’re enjoying yourself, that he’s giving you everything you need. He’s already desperate to cum in you, his cock still sensitive from the load he gave you a few minutes ago. You’re letting out high-pitched, passionate moans into his room, filling the space with sounds of you and your soaked pussy. His cock twitches inside you at the sound and you feel it. 

You let out a desperate moan and slam your lips into his, wet, needy, and messy. His spit ends up all over your face, you’re just trying to lick at him, into his mouth, over his lips, anything he’ll give you. Your desperation has his moaning raggedly into your mouth, his hips slamming into you harder, his tip bruising your cervix as he abuses it. “I love you so much, Miggy.” Your words stab arousal through him like a hot knife, slicing through his entire being. He collapses over you, groaning your name into your neck, almost deafening you with their volume. 

You’re always so soft for him, it’s almost painful how much it turns him on. He’s been slapping and abusing your pussy all night and you’re still so in love. You re-angle his head, forcing him to focus on you, watching the love that you’re pouring into your gaze. It’s making his balls tingle, and tense when they slap against your ass. “Te amo más bebé” His moan is smooth with the words as they slide from his mouth.

(“I love you more, baby”)

His muscles draw tight as he cock twitces inside you. “M’gonna fill you up. Gotta-” He tilts your hips toward him, forcing his cock deeper, pressing into your cervix almost painfully and he whimpers at the feeling. “-llegar tan profundo como pueda. Make sure you can keep it all in, bebé.” His hips begin to stutter and shake against yours as you tighten endlessly around him. You’re so out of it, all you can feel is the pleasure he’s giving you and your orgasm that’s about to snap in your stomach. Miguel grinds into you one more time, shaky, slow, and hard. You’re cumming around him. You moan a garbled version of his name, so loud and wrecked you barely recognize your voice in your ears. The sounds are ravaging Miguel though, they’re sending shocks through his body and he suddenly can’t hold on any longer. 

(“-get as deep as I can”)

He hunches over you, forcing his cock deeper, sending a new explosion of pleasure through your body with the sensations. He’s flooding your wet heat, painting you, coating your walls completely in his seed as he moans your name into the sex-scented air. He mutters love notes to you on repeat as he lets out rope after rope of cum into you. He’s breathing in his shaky breaths along with the scent of your hair as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head and pulls out slowly. You whimper at the loss of his stretch and it oddly warms his chest, that you still want him after he’s been with you since he got home. 

He grabs a little towel on the side of the bed and wipes himself down before turning to do the same to you. Only to find you with your fingers buried deep inside yourself. He would be hard again if he had anything left in him. He basically runs back to your side, wanting an explanation but instead getting an even more erotic scene. Your eyes are on his, looking like you’re pleading for something and he can’t decipher what. “What is it, baby? Are you okay?”

You nod at him eagerly and little tears well in your eyes. “M’keepin’ it all in for you, Miggy.” He’s stunned to silence at your words, unable to believe how deep you are. “Tell- Tell me I’m good—? I’m- Am I being good?”

He almost passes out. He feels his sensitive cock fattening up again. Apparently, he does have something left in him. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[lucilleslore]

buzzcut!coryo being mean bossy and DIRTY and his dogtags slapping the readers face as he fuck her PLEASE I NEED THIS

fucking peacekeeper coryo! is always downright filthy. this is a man with tension, with frustration built up inside of him waiting to be let out and where does all that emotion go?? it fuels him when he’s fucking you, let’s it all out into that sweet little pussy of yours that grips him like a glove. half the time that’s the sole reason he seeks you out - he needs an outlet - and he’s barely even taking the time to prep you before he’s got you face down in whatever surface was closest.

when he does want to drag it out he’s a tease. sits back on his haunches and drags the fat head of his cock up and down your folds, letting it circle around your clit for a second before dipping back down, the tip sinking into you for just a moment before he’s bringing it back out. his favourite is slapping that swollen little nub until you’re jerking around like mad, likes the way the strings of your arousal cling to his cock. when you start to sob, teary eyes gazing up at him coryo just laughs. ‘think you can just turn on the tears and you’ll get what you want, huh?’ he’d tut, hand coming up to close around your throat. ‘my pretty little crybaby. such a whore she cries to get her pussy filled.’

blinking wearily and gone half mad with desperation, your hand would find his cock between your legs, hoping to urge him into you. ‘go on then, baby. let me in,’ coryo would sigh, ultimately giving you what you want - for now - and letting out a fuck when he does enter that wet heat of yours. ‘you’re soaked. such a wet fuckin’ pussy for me, yeah? touch yourself, go on, show me how bad you needed a cock in your cunt.’

‘gonna fuck you stupid,’ he’d say as he came over you, big hands coming down by your head. coryo likes you messy, likes the way your clammy skin sticks to his and how if he pulls back enough he can see the gleam that your pussy is leaving on his dick. seeing that always makes him pick up the pace, makes him bottom out with an extra harsh punch of his hips, abusing that sensitive spot inside of you that makes you blubber nonsense. it’s then that he’d stick his thumb in your mouth, letting you get it all wet before he takes it out, smearing your spit all down your chin.

‘what a messy little slut you are, doll.’ he’s breathing heavy, silver dog tags swinging by your face and something about that, something about seeing him lose some of his precious control has you clenching down on him. ‘you like that don’t you? watch it.’ pulling you into his chest with a rough grip on your nape, you’re forced to watch him bullying his way into you, coming back out with a damp squelching noise that makes your cheeks turn red. the metal of his chain feels cold against your cheek and it’s then that you realise coryos gaze is on that, on his dog tags on your skin.

he’s hasty to pull them off only to put them around your neck instead. his hand finds your throat again, shoving you deeper into the pillows. ‘you’re my girl, aren’t you? all mine and this is my pussy.’ the words are exaggerated with a slow rut of his hips into your spot, a harsh bite to your collarbone. you’d repeat it all back to him, probably too half gone to realise what you’ve said, so desperate to cum. ‘exactly, doll. you’re all for me, no one else. so be a good girl and cum on my cock. show me i’m yours as much as you’re mine.’

[apomaro-mellow]

Steve gets the wrong number and starts texting an interesting guy. Steddie, modern au, no upside down

Steve had been feeling pretty good. He’d gone out, had a nice conversation with a girl at the bar and gotten her number. He didn’t feel sparks but she was nice and cute. They didn’t talk about anything too deep but when Steve had asked for her number she put it in and then left with her friends.

He tried not to be too desperate. But he wanted to let her know he was serious and that he would (eventually) be good boyfriend material. So a little before midnight, he shot a text to her to make sure she was alright.

[11:47] Hey this is Steve just making sure you got home okay 🙂

He had debated on the emoji but figured it was harmless and innocent in the end. He put his phone down and got ready for bed, expecting her to text back after a couple of minutes. Unless she didn’t get home safely. Steve tried not to think about that.

After changing his clothes and brushing his teeth he checked his phone. He lit up when he saw that Misty had replied.

(11:52) Sure did Steve-o (11:53) Thanks for your concern 🫡

Misty texted a little different from the way she talked. A bit more…well he wasn’t sure how to describe it. Misty seemed like a really straight-laced woman. She was in the process of getting her education degree.

Steve shot back another message, saying that he had a good time tonight and he really hoped to see her again. There it was. A clear intention. If she responded positively, he’d ask her out right then. But the reply didn’t come as quick as he wanted. When it got around 12:30, Steve finally called it a night. Misty had probably gone to sleep as well.

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

[11:47] Hey this is Steve just making sure you got home okay 🙂

Eddie stared at the text he just received. He racked his brain for whoever Steve must be and what he had done all day today, wondering if he met someone but their name just slipped his mind.

But nope. He had spent this lovely Saturday at home, lounging around in his apartment on his day off. He hadn’t gone out. And he hadn’t met anyone named Steve. The message came when he was in the middle of making his near-midnight dinner of mac and cheese. Whoever this guy was, he was clearly checking in on someone.

Eddie looked at his surroundings. Decent place, a bit cramped but big enough for just him and for anyone who needed to crash on his couch. He had popped out earlier to get some cigs and he had in fact made it back safely.

(11:52) Sure did Steve-o (11:53) Thanks for your concern 🫡

And who said he didn’t have impulse control? He thought about it for at least two minutes before sending the message.

[11:55] I had a nice time tonight. Hope to see you again.

Eddie looked at the new text, his chewing slowing to a stop. This Steve guy had met someone, spent some time with them, and was now trying to set up another date. There were a few ways to go about this. For just a moment he considered what a rational person would do, just a moment though.

A rational person might’ve said right away ‘wrong number’ or ‘wires crossed’. But Eddie’s brain didn’t function on rationality. So even though Steve clearly meant to text someone else, Eddie thought of the best way to reply. It did take him a bit to send it, the macaroni was calling to him. But by 1, Eddie had sent something back.

(1:07) You saw me?  (1:09) From my apartment?  (1:10) Creepy

He went to bed, thinking he’d wake up to a very confused man and when morning came he wasn’t disappointed.

[8:13] What are you talking about? It’s Steve? From the bar?

Eddie checked his clock. It was ten in the morning. Who got up at eight on a Sunday? Eddie’s first thought was a church-goer. Those folks were early risers. But they didn’t frequent bars too much.

(10:29) Sorry man (10:30) I think you got the wrong number (10:30) I didn’t go to a bar last night.

Once he sent it, Eddie belatedly hoped the words weren’t too blunt. It couldn’t feel nice, getting a number error. But after a moment of thinking, he started coming around to the idea that maybe Steve wasn’t such a catch. People didn’t give wrong numbers after a good time. Maybe he actually was a creep.

[10:36] Oh. Well, I’m sorry to bother you.

Eddie rolled from his back onto his stomach. Curse his soft heart. He didn’t know anything about this man and somehow he felt sorry for him. But he wasn’t about to go gushing to a stranger. Who knows what kind of interactions Steve had with this mystery number? So instead, he went the typical Eddie route and tried to lighten the mood.

(10:38) Probably dodged a bullet (10:38) They could’ve been a serial killer (10:39) Or worse someone who jogs in the morning

He put that little dig there just to feel out Steve. If he wasn’t at church, maybe he was the kind to go and workout in the morning. In the middle of making his coffee, Eddie realized he was trying to learn about the dude and thought he might be courting danger. Then he heard a ‘ping!’ and any ideas of caution were thrown to the wind.

Leaning against the counter, the only sound was the percolating as he read what Steve had said.

[10:46] Okay confession. I did actually go for a jog this morning. Is that weird?

Eddie started to visualize this man and another alarm went off in his mind that he promptly shooed away.

(10:47) No not weird at all (10:47) It’s perfectly natural for an insane person (10:48) Didn’t you go drinking last night? (10:48) And then you went for a jog this morning? (10:49) You might just be more scary than a murderer (10:50) Scratch that (10:50) This seems like text book serial killer behavior (10:51) Bet this is how you scope out your targets

The coffee finished brewing and Eddie starting pouring it and it was only then he realized the wall he’d sent Steve accusing him of being a killer. It looked like texts from a crazy person. He looked crazy. His friends had complained more than once about him sending these streams of texts instead of keeping it all in one response. Steve was going to see that and leave him on read, or just block his number.

[10:57] Damn guess I better come up with a new tactic.

Eddie didn’t realize how hard he was smiling until he tried to drink and spilled hot coffee on himself. Alarms were ringing in his head again but he might as well be deaf.

Part 2

[after-witch]

Bus Stop [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Title: Bus Stop [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve escaped from Geto–but for how long?

Word count: 3200ish

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, noncon sex scene, female reader, degradation

Despite everything that has happened to you within the last year, your hands have never shook so much; your breath has never been this ragged, this desperate; your chest has never heaved and pleaded with the most fervent of thoughts: please, please, for the love of everything I used to believe in, answer your door!

It feels like your knuckles will begin to bleed against the wood grain but then, the door opens so swiftly that your hand falls forward and you nearly stumble over the threshold.

A man is standing in the doorway. A man with a button down sweater and a concerned, fretful expression--well, no wonder, with the way you’d been rapping on his door.

The man is your psychologist. Mr. Mayeda. You’ve been going to him for several years–or at least, you were going to him, before everything happened. Before you were taken and kept and–

His eyes widen. He takes in your state. Oh, how you must look. Forehead beaded with sweat, eyes round and pleading.

And then there is the matter of the collar around your neck.

“Come in,” he says, sounding dazed and concerned all in one breath. “Tell me what’s happened.”

–

“Will you miss me, pet?”

You nod, and keep your eyes downcast. He likes your eyes downcast when you’re in the presence of anyone else–like now. Unless he tells you to look at him. But even when you’re alone with Geto, you’re prone to keeping your eyes glued to the floor, your lap, the ceiling. Anywhere but his face.

“Do speak up,” he says, trailing a finger possessively along your cheek.

“Yes, master Geto,” you murmur. “Please return quickly.”

He pats your head. Like a dog, like a pet. Because that’s what you’ve become, isn’t it? His pet. You even sit at his knees when he’s addressing his legions of followers, most of whom you can’t stand; and the ones you can stand only possess that particular description because you haven’t really met them yet. 

This one, the woman Geto is leaving to monitor you while he’s off on some awful errand, is not someone new. She’s someone who dislikes you out of jealousy or supremacy or perhaps a bubbling mixture of both.

But there’s an advantage in that. She doesn’t try to talk with you, like some of the milder ones do. As soon as Geto is gone, she throws a disdainful glare your way and gets out her phone. She doesn’t even bother staying in the room with you; she goes into the next room and slides the door shut. She’ll talk to her boyfriend until she hears the telltale sound of Geto’s footsteps leading up to the room, then pretend like she’s been happily watching over you the whole time.

Which means she won’t notice when you pry open a loose floorboard and retrieve a backpack you’ve stuffed with papers, with cash, with a few necessities. 

Which means you’ll have an easier time escaping. 

Which means you’ll finally be free.

It almost seems too easy, when you make it out of the compound. You expect Geto to pounce on you at any moment. But you make it out,  you do, and you make it to a bus station and slide some of the money you stole from Geto’s room over to the ticket counter.

You could call the police. But Geto would look for you there first. He would know you’d run, little rabbit that you are, to the only authority you could think of; but they couldn’t protect you. Not from him. 

So your mind drums up the only address you can really remember–that of your psychologist’s office–and you ask the ticket taker for the next bus to the city.

–

Mr. Mayeda does not say anything at first. 

Even though what you’ve told him sounds wild. And crazy. And wholly made up. That is to say, you’ve told him everything. About how Geto Suguru can control monsters, only they’re not simply monsters, but curses. About how he sees them and eats them and hoards them, like he’s tucking them away for some awful winter. About how he kidnapped you and kept you, how he treated you like a pet, how he wouldn’t let you go. 

About how you escaped and didn’t know where else to turn.

“I know,” you say, leaning forward, arms crossed over yourself. “I know it sounds crazy. But you have to believe me.”

Mr. Mayeda frowns. 

You pull your backpack into your lap and rummage through it, until 

“I didn’t believe any of it myself at first.” Memories come flooding in. Those early days,, spent crying, gritting your teeth so hard that your jaw ached for a week, unbelieving everything Geto told you in the calmest, most horrible tones. “But it’s true. And–and I don’t know where to go or what to do. He’ll try to find me, and, and…” Your breath begins to quicken, your heart pounds. How could you think you’d be free? Oh, he’ll find you, and kill poor Mr. Mayeda, and then where will you be? What will he do? 

You’re only barely aware of your hyperventilation when Mr. Mayeda places a firm hand on your shoulder. He says your name. He says it again. And again. And when you look at him, eyes bleary with tears, he speaks again. 

“You have to calm down. I can’t help you until you calm down.”

His voice is an anchor in the storm. Help you, he said. Help.

 Your hand shakily goes up to clasp his; it’s a foreign touch, the first person that you’ve touched since Geto took you. No one else was allowed to, except Manami, but that was only in case of emergencies. 

“You don’t think I’m crazy?” Your voice is a hoarse croak. 

Mr. Mayeda gives your fingers a squeeze, and then lets you go. He stands up and looks down at you with a sympathetic smile.

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re very upset, and need someone to listen to you.” He sighs and looks you over. “I’d like to grab your file from my office. Would you like anything? A glass of water? Food?�� 

“Oh–oh yes, water, please. If it’s not any trouble.” Your stomach growls, but you don’t think you could keep anything down right now, anyway. 

And what does food matter, when he’s going to help you? When he believes you? You’d imagined this conversation so many times. In some of them, he escorts you out of the building and slams the door in your face. In others, he has you picked up by ambulance and committed to a hospital for delusions. In others, he yells at you for wasting his time.

But instead he doesn’t think you’re crazy and he’s going to help and it’s the best possible outcome. One that you, in your hopeless state, didn’t even foresee.

By the time he returns with a glass of water, your breathing has returned. You smile wearily and wipe your clammy hands before you take the glass. The water is cool and refreshing down your sore throat. 

Mr. Mayeda gives you a few moments before he begins to speak. He has your file now, and opens it up on his lap.

“I need to ask you a few things. Just to get an idea of how we should proceed, all right? Please let me know if you feel uncomfortable.”

You set the empty water glass down and nod. What’s a few questions, compared to the hell you’ve been living?

“Have you been to your home, since you’ve left this mysterious compound?”

“No.”

He scratches the answer on the pad.

“Did you call anyone else, or contact anyone else except for me?”

“No.”

Scratch-scratch.

“So no one else knows you’re here?”

“No.” You bite your lip, and ask questions of your own. “What are we going to do? Where can we go? Do you know anyone that can help?” 

He raises his hand.

“One thing at a time. First, I’d like to get everything straight on your end.” 

You nod, and bring your knees up on the chair, feeling like a child in a doctor’s office for the first time in ages.

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry, I’m just…” You don’t finish.

Mr. Mayeda simply smiles, pity in his expression. You don’t need to explain to him what you are “just,” because he’s confident and calm and he knows exactly what to do.  “That’s all right. I understand this is stressful. I’m going to go make a call, and then we’ll talk about what we can do next. Okay?”

You nod. You don’t want him to leave you–he’s going to help you–and worries begin to creep in about Geto somehow finding you here. Maybe you had a tracker on you that you didn’t know about. Maybe there was a curse attached to your shoulder and he’d simply sniff it out. 

Maybe you were too anxious to think straight.

By the time he returns, your knee is bouncing. He regards it with a frown, and you force yourself to stop.  You don’t want him to be mad at you–you want him to help you. He said he’d help you. You just don’t know what he can do to save you from Geto. What anyone could do. 

But he sits down, and gets out your file again. Then he begins to go through every detail of your story, confirming, questioning, writing down notes. It’s hard–you start to cry, thinking about everything–but it’s necessary to create a plan of action. Right? 

In the midst of all this, the doorbell buzzes.

He sighs, and his frown deepens. He must have forgotten an appointment–you can’t blame him, with your sudden arrival.  “Let me get that. I’ll just have them reschedule the appointment.” When he gets up from his chair, he looks older in the moment; more tired and slow. Well, the stress of you dropping your predicament in his lap can’t exactly be easy to take. 

You wipe your teary eyes, and grab a tissue to blow your nose. You hope he doesn’t have to reschedule too many clients because of you. You don’t want to be too much trouble.  You just want to be safe and free and–

Geto and Manami walk through the open doorway of the office, and your stomach drops to your shoes. 

Behind them, Mr. Mayeda looks remorseful. 

“I had to,” he says, voice quavering. “My daughter–she… she’s used his services, you see.” 

Geto looks back at Mr. Mayeda, who immediately shuts up and stares at the floor. 

Ah. So he threw you back to the wolves to protect someone he loved. You can’t begrudge him for it. Not really.

But it doesn’t change the loss of your short-lived freedom. 

–

Manami drives. You don’t have the strength to look anywhere but your own lap, at your hands curled up so tight that they hurt, resting on your thighs. 

Geto hasn’t said a thing since he collected you. 

“Suguru,” you say, voice shaking through the words. “I… ” You’re about to lie. He knows this. You know this. But he’s never minded you lying, before, as long as you said what he wanted. “I won’t do it again, I promise.” Still, he says nothing. 

“Suguru–” you try again. He finally looks at you, a slow, languid turn of his head. His lips curl just a little. Not in a way that makes you feel good. 

 His voice is soft and sweet as honey. His words are anything but.

“You think you have the right to address me right now?” 

He’s angry. Not just annoyed, not just mad, not just disappointed. Angry. It’s a heavy, dreadful feeling that glues you to the seat just as well as any bonds. 

Gravity seems to pull your chin down, until you’re once again staring at your lap.

This time, you clench your fingernails so hard that your palm bleeds. 

–

You don’t remember the walk back into the compound. You didn’t dare look up from the ground underneath your feet–walking step by step behind Geto, even though you wanted nothing more than to run in the opposite direction–to see the expressions of those devout followers. No doubt some were glaring as much as they dared.

It’s not until you’re back in Geto’s quarters and Manami has been dismissed that you hazard a glance at something other than your shoes, now dirty from your short journey outside these walls. 

You look up at Geto, who is standing, silent, head tilted just-so as he stares at you. When he finally opens his mouth, he issues a command.

“Go to the bedroom.”

They are words to be obeyed, and you do. 

He’s not yet in the room when he continues the orders.

“Disrobe. Lay on the bed. Spread your legs. Do not speak.”

Dread pools in your stomach, thick and slimy. It makes you want to run into the bathroom and hurl the contents of your last meal into the toilet. But you dare not deviate from what he’s said, not when the world feels so heavy; not when you know he’s angry with you.

So you slip off your clothing and lay on the bed and spread your legs. The cool air of the bedroom does nothing but increase your trembling as thoughts come one by one.

What does Geto intend to do? Something related to sex, surely. Maybe he’ll fuck you so hard that you can’t sit properly for days. Maybe he’ll make you lay here, naked, simply for his own amusement. Maybe he’ll hurt you, finally, and that underlying, coil-tight fear you’ve had since the moment you were kidnapped can finally release.

After far too long for your mental sanity, Geto finally does come into the room, stripped down to only an undershirt and thin cotton pants. Casual clothing he only wears around you, and no one else. Maybe he expects that to be flattering, but for whom, you can’t quite tell.

He crawls on the bed, his weight dipping the mattress. 

He places his hands on either thigh, and pushes your legs further apart. 

You wait for some pain–the pain of him entering you without preparation, perhaps, or something more insidious. The crack of his hand. The crack of a leather belt. 

But you wait in vain, because instead of pain–instead of something harsh and cruel–you instead feel the soft touch of his fingers against your folds. His thumb rests softly against your clit, and begins to rub, sending an unwelcome jolt through you. 

“Suguru?” You ask, and boldly prop yourself up on your elbows. 

“I told you not to speak,” he murmurs, and you press your lips together. Now, you think, surely he will hit you.

But no. Instead he returns to his former ministrations, gently rubbing against your clit, other fingers gently squeezing the flesh of your pussy. It almost tickles, pleasantly. After a while, the dull pleasure begins to heighten, and you can feel a mild orgasm beginning to reach its peak. 

He stops. The pleasure hovers for a moment, and then begins to fade. 

He begins again. 

You want to ask him what he’s doing; you want to ask him why he stopped. But his order to remain quiet thrums through your head and you merely keep your head back on the bed, staring at the plain ceiling above you. 

The pleasure is different now. Sharper. Wetter. Instead of a dull, mild orgasm, it begins to feel like the ones you’ve had with him before; the ones where he spends a while building you up, getting you wet, wanting to hear you moan. 

Your breath begins to catch in your throat, and you can’t help but squirm your hips. It feels good,  you don’t want it, but he knows your body well enough to make it feel good.

And like before, you can feel yourself starting to reach your peak, getting to the point when pleasure becomes sparks. And–like before. 

He stops. 

And begins again. 

And stops. 

And begins again.

Until you are wet, and sweating, and squirming. Until your breath is not mildly catching in your throat but coming out in desperate pants. Until your hands are clenching the sheets. 

Until you are crying out, not because of pain and a sharp slap against your skin, but the unbearable heat that has built between your legs. A heat which Geto has carefully stoked with his fingers and his mouth, and the unrelenting pattern of bringing you to the top, only to let you fall before bringing you there once again.

You know you’re not supposed to speak. But you can’t help it, you just can’t help it. Not with the way his thumb is idly circling your clit. Not with the sweat clinging to your back. Not with the way your head begins to turn side to side of its own accord, unable to deal with the teasing. 

“Suguru–” Your voice is a needy whine. “Please, please–”

“Apologize,” he says, simply. Calmly. All the while continuing to slowly rub your clit with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” you croak. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

His thumb pauses, and you can feel your clit twitching against it.

“But do you mean it?” 

“Yes!” You don’t hesitate. Tears leak from your eyes. Wetness leaks from in between your legs.

“Then beg.” He keeps his thumb hovered above your clit. “Beg like you’re my pet. Because that’s what you are, isn’t it?”

Your thighs tremble. Your lips quiver.

“Please, Suguru.” Your cheeks heat in shame, but what shame can you truly hold onto, when your pussy is this wet, when you’re gyrating against him so pathetically? You say everything you think he wants to hear. “I’m your pet, I won’t run again, I’ll do what you say–”

You feel half-delirious, raising your hips towards the air to try to get some friction against his finger. All you succeed in doing is humping yourself against him, teasing your swollen clit with the promise of an orgasm that can only come from his fingers.

After a while, your words trail off into a pathetic whimper.

It’s then that Geto crawls up further on the bed and plants a kiss on your forehead. 

You sigh in relief. 

“No,” he says. “Bad pets don’t get rewarded, do they?”

You have only a moment to think before he yanks your sweaty wrists up and ties them to the headboard with cuffs he must have put there before he even collected you from Mr. Mayeda’s office. You pull against them once before he gives you a harsh look that makes you freeze. Once he’s satisfied with your stillness, he begins to take off his own clothes. 

“I would make you sleep on the floor,” he murmurs, shrugging off his shirt. “But that would be a punishment to me, to deny myself your body, no?” 

You can only shake your head in response as you shift your legs, trying to catch the fleeting orgasm that has begun to fade even further from your grasp. Geto raises an eyebrow and places his palm firmly on your hip to keep you in place. 

Once you stop squirming–it’s useless, you realize–he sighs and cuddles against you. It might be sweet, if he wasn’t who he was; if you weren’t in the position that you’re in. If there wasn’t an aching, warm soreness between your legs that has gone unfulfilled. 

His voice is not so sweet when he whispers against your ear.

“If you ever try something so foolish again, I won’t be kind about it.”

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Three

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, nurse!reader. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Flirting. Emotional hurt/comfort. Panic attack. PTSD. Comfort. "You'll be with him?"

“-nna let ‘im die out here-“

“-is too risky without adequate-“ 

Johnny is drowning in a sea of shattered voices, whispers of words that sound like they might be coming from Gaz, or Price, hushed prayers and promises, jargon he doesn’t understand washing over him from unfamiliar, clinical mouths. 

It’s overwhelming. He can hardly get his eyes to open, and when he does, they stay half shut for what feels like hours, even though he knows, logically, it’s mere seconds. 

He’s no longer strapped into a backboard, but a bed, and the ceiling is not metal and rivets, but white and canvas, voices competing with the constant sound of beeping. 

“Soap.” Price leans into his line of sight, hat gone, exhausted. He’s holding a sat phone, the one they usually carry during missions in one hand, a file folder in another. He looks his age, Johnny thinks, for the first time in his career. Looks like he’s spent eons in combat, like he hasn’t had a full night’s rest in a decade. “John. You’re in the hospital on base.” At the use of his government name, Johnny tries to straighten on instinct. The soft, floating feelings he’s been having for the past who knows how long have faded, and his body is starting to feel like it’s been pumped with gasoline, and then lit on fire. From the inside. “Are you with me, Sergeant?” He tries to vocalize, tries to say yes, or nod, but can hardly get his neck to work, bones and ligaments and everything in him screaming in agony. “They want to take you in a flight for life, get you home to a top hospital. Simon's already agreed, but he- he wants to speak with you.” Price wrenches his fingers open and lifts the clunky satellite phone to his face. “I rang him, on the emergency line, at home. Just… you need to-“ he stops, chest heaving with a desperate breath, an indulgence of emotion that Johnny has never seen. His captain wants to tell him- you need to say goodbye, just in case. But he can’t find the words, and Johnny can’t make it fit in his head, the reality, the stark reminder that he could not be here, in a moment. Or an hour. A day. “Open your eyes, John. Stay awake.” 

“Johnny.” The Manchester accent crackles through the receiver. Johnny can almost see him, cell pressed to his face, pacing in the living room. He wonders if he’s got the fireplace lit, if it’s chilly now that it's turning to winter, if there’s been frost on the windows of their little house. If Simon is wearing a pair of sweatpants, if he’s got the television on as he tries to make dinner. “Johnny. Sit rep.” The status check comes through harsh, but the truth is tucked away beneath the grit. Fear. Life altering, heart breaking fear drenches every syllable that spills from his partner. 

Pain sizzles through his muscles, across his brain, but he swallows it, shoves it down into a dark hole for another minute. 

“Pretty banged up.” 

“They’re going to lift you to a hospital,” He thinks he knew that. “and you’re goin’ be alright. I’ll meet you there.” 

“Ah love ye, Si.” It’s all he can say. All he can think about. The excruciating agony that is radiating through his body robs him of everything else. 

“I love you too. Hang on.” Johnny grinds his jaw, blowing short breaths through his nose to try to control his pain response, and then holds his breath when soft babbles echo through the phone. “It’s Da, Pen. It’s Da. Can you say Da?” 

“Da?” Penny mimics her dad, and Johnny wonders if they’re sitting on the couch, Penelope tucked up against Simon’s chest, wispy curls tickling just below his nose as she climbs all over him like a jungle gym. 

“Ma wee lamb.” Johnny whispers. “Ah love ye, Pen.” There’s more babbling, half strung together words, more than appropriate for a fourteen-month-old, and Johnny’s temples shine with tears that drip from the corners of his eyes. There’s talking, around him, people bustling back and forth. A hand brushes against skin, sharp pinch squeezing along the inside of his arm. 

“Can you say, I love you?” Simon encourages, but Johnny knows it’s a lost cause. 

“When she’s old enough to understand, ye tell her Ah loved her, loved her so much. Ye an’ her, is all I ever wished fer.”

“Stop.” Simon breathes. “You’re going to be fine.” 

There’s another poke in his arm, someone lighting a fire in his veins, and he loses the battle to his eyes once more. 

Your neck grumbles in protest when you try to twist it, working out tight muscle and tendon, rolling it across your shoulders and down, back and forth, over and over again.

You should go home. 

You know you should. It’s two hours past seven, you should already be home. Should already be in your flat, showering the workday off and crawling into bed. You could be having a tea, snuggled up in your sweatpants, moving playing on low in the background. Warm, safe. Nearly asleep.

Johnny twitches beside you. His fingers clench in the blankets and then relax, face smoothing out in his dreams. The mask is gone, replaced with the cannula that loops beneath his nose, and the monitor beeps in soothing, reassuring, stable tones. One chime right after another, relaying his vitals to where you sit in Simon’s chair, feet slung over the side, kindle in your lap.

You made a promise. 

And even without that promise, for some reason, you couldn’t just leave Johnny here to wake up alone. The idea of him coming to and being confused, or scared, again, made your stomach twist uncomfortably. Even before you promised Simon to stay earlier, you already knew.

You wouldn’t be leaving.

“He’s had a seizure.” Simon’s eyes widen above the mask and then flatten into something harder, something almost distrusting. “Neuro’s done an exam and they’re of the opinion there will be no long-term deficits, but we’ll need to wait until he wakes to be sure. They’re still trying to figure out what caused it, but most likely it's a result from surgery.” He moves to shoulder by you, no doubt trying to beeline back to Johnny’s room, but you hold your hand up with a pause. “I can’t let you go back in there yet.” 

“Why not?” 

“He’s not awake.” 

“I don’t-“

“Simon, this is the ICU. I don’t know who or what strings you pulled to even be allowed to sit with him in there twenty-four seven, but it’s not the norm. You won’t be allowed back in that room until we are sure he is stable.” You don’t tell him that you don’t want him to be there when Johnny wakes in case there are deficits, that you’re trying to save him from the pain, the heartbreak, of seeing things that patient’s loved ones are not meant to see. 

He regards you silently, and you fidget under the scrutiny, waiting for him to speak, trying to ignore how your mouth is going dry. This isn’t the first he’s watched you like this, stared at you like he’s trying to pick you apart, and you swallow your grimace until the long moment passes, his voice low, gritty with stress. Exhaustion. 

“I’m supposed to go home today for a bit. I… don’t want to leave ‘im.” 

“You can still go. He’s sleeping for now, and when he wakes, they’ll have to do some more tests that you won’t be allowed in the room for anyway.” He looks down the hallway towards Johnny’s room, before his eyes find yours, heavy with grief, indecision. 

“You’ll be with him?” He can’t hide the hopeful inflection at the end of his question, his need for a light in the dark of this situation. 

“I-“ The thought didn’t occur to you, to not be there. You imagined you’d wait until Johnny was cleared by neuro and Simon was allowed back in the room, but the morning has dragged on, and he’s been sleeping peacefully. There’s been no desire to wake him unnecessarily. “Yes. I’ll stay with him. I promise.”  

“He go home?” Johnny’s voice, scratchy from sleep and medication and everything else, startles you from a half doze, spine straightening into a rod before you’re leaping to your feet, leaning over his prone figure.

“You’re awake.” You find his good hand, slipping two fingers into his grip. “Can you squeeze my hand?” When he does, tightly, more strength in it than you were expected, you give him an honest, happy smile, and retreat to the end of the bed, flipping up his blanket to poke at the bottom of his feet. “Can you feel that?”

“Aye.”

“And this?”

“Aye.” He huffs at you, impatient. “Did he go home?” You sigh in response, hand on your hip.

“Yes.”

“Finally. Been tellin’ him he had to. The man’s back ‘s not made to sleep sittin’ up.”

“Well, I’m sure he didn’t want to leave. I told him I’d sit with you.” You reach over to press the page button, looking intentionally away from where those bright blue eyes track you, sweet and soft and open, lips slightly parted. “How’s your pain? I’m not on the clock any longer, so I can’t page the neurologist, but they’ll have come and do a few tests.”

“Ye wanted to sit with me, pretty girl?” Your face gets hot, blood pooling beneath your skin, pit of your stomach liquifying into something honeyed and potent that flows through your veins until you swear you can feel the room getting warmer.

“How’s your pain?” you repeat your question, words dumb on your tongue.

“A five.” You raise an eyebrow. “Alright, a seven. And a half.” The days nurse knocks with perfect timing, all hustle and bustle, bright and cheery, and asks Johnny the same questions, keeping up a perfect stream of small talk between you and Johnny until Neuro is standing at the foot of his bed, and you’re excusing yourself.

“Okay, I’m-“

“Dinnae leave.” He protests, voice quiet. Your stomach lurches at the vulnerability there, and you’re quick to reassure him.

“I’m just going to get a tea.” You promise, even though you know he’ll probably be half loopy by the time you’re back, and the dayshift nurse gives you a nod, acknowledgement of his state, an understanding that she’ll be here with him.

Not an hour later, your pocket chimes with a text from the dayshifter as you half sip your tea, letting you know that Johnny’s exam is done, and as you pass her in the hallway, she gives you verbal confirmation of what you were hoping for: his brain function is normal. He’ll have to go for CT later, but she’s just given him another dosage for pain management. You yawn in the middle of her pass-on, and she tells you that she'll keep an eye on him. You can go. 

She's not wrong. 

You need to go to bed. 

You know your presence at your patient's bedside won't be viewed as unprofessional, since others have done it in far less severe situations, but the pendulum your emotions swing on every time you step foot in that room leaves you with a sinking feeling that's starting to crawl across your skin.

You wanted this. You wanted to stay with him. 

Simon asked you stay with him. 

Yeah, but for how long? He cannot expect you to spend all day here. You have to go to bed. Are you just going to leave him all alone? Are you going to wait for Simon to come back? 

The dread spiral is easily answered when you slide open the glass door and lay eyes on the very handsome man from the other night, the younger one from the chair vigil, now sitting beside Johnny, the two of them softly chuckling.

When Johnny spots you, he manages to fire off your name as a half-effort introduction, more than expected considering his slowly slipping state of consciousness.

“I’m Kyle. Soap an’ I work together.” Soap? Who is Soap? 

“She doesnae know me b’ Soap, only calls me Johnny.” He explains your confused look, to which Kyle raises an eyebrow.

“Wow. Letting your nurse call you Johnny, eh? Simon better-“

“Ach, stop.” He rolls his eyes, but sleep tugs his lids downward.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You give Johnny and his monitor a once over, catching yourself on his sweet, sleepy gaze, flushed face and lazy smile, before directing your attention back to Kyle. “I told Simon, I’d sit with him for a bit before he got back, but…”

“I’m here in his place.” Kyle explains, motioning to the chair, and you breathe a small sigh of relief. You will get to go home and get some sleep, after all. 

There’s a woman with a confused look on her face just outside the elevator. She looks exhausted, skin raw under her eyes, clutching a baby who’s maybe a year, or a bit older, in her arms, glancing up and down the hall before she spots you.

Fuck. You’re still wearing your scrubs. 

“Hi.” You smile, and she visibly relaxes, obviously relieved. The baby tucks her face into the woman’s chest like she’s shy, coyly looking at you from corner of her eye. “You look lost.”

“I’m looking for the nurse’s station. My husband was supposed to meet me here but he’s running late and I-“

“It’s all the way down, take the first left, and it will be at the end of that hallway.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much.” She glances at your ID, punctuating her gratitude with your name, and you give her another smile, leaning to extend towards the baby as well.

“So cute.” You tell her, pressing the elevator button with a ding.

“Cute. But she’s a little terror, especially when she’s missing her Da.” She grumbles, and then waves, setting off against the white tile as you laugh to yourself. Pretty much sums kids up. Cute little terrors.

A week passes easily, beds and rooms changing over, room two sixty-eight remaining a constant. Johnny takes his battles on the chin, burn debridement on his side, casting for his wrist, removal of his chest tube, a third surgery. 

“He’s a fighter.” Simon tells you one night in the dark after he’s slipped off to sleep. “Always has been. He's strong. Spirited.”

“I can see.” You agree, holding out the extra blanket you’ve pulled from a cabinet. When Simon takes it, his eyes meet yours, something soft shining in them, and you give him a smile in return. 

“Thank you.” He murmurs. “For everything.”

A few days later, you’re surprised, and secretly pleased, to find Simon in the café.

He’s standing in front of the counter, paying for what you think might a baked good of some kind, sweet lady behind the register eyeing him up suspiciously as he deposits the note into her hand, and you stay on the outside of the doors, lingering in the hallway, watching.

At least he’s eating something. He’s still wearing the mask, and although it’s not uncommon, especially in a hospital setting, it does give you pause. Does he wear it all the time? Is it just because this is a hospital? He observes the room, steadily taking in all of the people meandering about, some eating, some standing, making their selections, engaging in conversation, and you notice how his hand slides to the back of his neck, distractedly rubbing the hair at his nape before he makes his escape, long legs eating up the distance between him and the door, him and… you.

“Hi.” You squeak when he steps into the hall, turning the corner to find you standing there like a deer in headlights, your water bottle clutched in one hand, phone in the other. His head tilts, eyes narrowed, and you manage to give him a half smile. “Getting something to eat?”

“It’s for Johnny.” He notes. “I ah, had something to eat earlier. When I was home.” Oh, good. Being in the hospital twenty-four seven isn’t healthy for anyone. Not even patients. 

“Cool.” Cool? What is this, a pub? You swallow your embarrassing, awkward acknowledgement, breezing past the word like it didn’t happen. “Well, I’m about to badge in, so I’ll see you in a bit?” He nods, eyes still trained on your face, and you beat back the heat that’s spreading through your body like a fever when they drift down to your shoulders, and then to your badge.

“Cute sticker.” He points to where it’s clipped to your top, shiny bunny sticker from a patient’s child still there, holographic print sparkling in the dusk.

“Oh, thanks. Another patient of mine has a little kid. I was hanging out with him for a bit yesterday.”

“Suits you.” His gaze dips downward, glancing over the curve of your hip, plush from the swell of your ass, taut pull of your scrubs all of the sudden feeling too tight, too stretched across your waist, and you scramble to make sense of his comment. 

“A bunny?” Your brows raise in disbelief, confusion, but he only nods, head tilted slightly, posture broad. Your brain turns over, frantically trying to think of a response, something clever, but he continues to talk, clearing his throat with a question.

“What do you call a line of rabbits hopping backwards?” Huh? 

“What?”

“A receding hare-line.” Wait. What? Is he… joking with you? Your mouth drops into a little o of part surprise, part confusion, before you squint at him in disbelief.

“Oh… my god. That’s…”

“’s not that bad.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, giving you the impression that he might be smiling beneath the mask, making you wonder if you’re hallucinating.

“It’s pretty bad.” You croak, nervous laughter bubbling up in the back of your throat. “Well, I… uh-“ His phone dings, pulling his focus to the screen, and he swipes out something quickly with his thumb.

“I’ll see you up there.” He jerks his head towards the elevator, and you mumble out a mild, flabbergasted reply.

“Alright... yeah.”

Your first break comes up fast. Your morning, everyone’s evening, is busy, with a code, a tricky vent, and a needy, elderly man in two fifty-two. It goes from busy to worse, an argument with the pharmacy heating your blood, spurring anger through your veins and you have to physically bite your tongue to keep from berating the poor tech at the window. Useless. You seethe in your mind all the way back up to your floor, frustration driving you to seek solace, eager to escape the eyes of the hospital, running away from the possibility of being noticed.

But supply closet 2b is occupied, a frazzled resident huffing into a pillow in the back, hyperventilating with tear-stained cheeks.

Without even fully realizing, you find yourself inside two sixty-eight, Simon’s sharp eyes falling upon you with scrutiny. He looks at Johnny’s monitor like something might be amiss, relaxed posture straightening into something tense, structured. There’s a card game in progress on the swivel tray table over Johnny’s lap, the glaring reality of your interruption, and you blanche.

You���re immediately incredibly embarrassed. What are you even doing in here? 

“Miss me already?” Johnny coos, beaming, and your throat feels dry. He’s feeling the best he has since he got here, albeit not great, still in awful pain, still staring down the barrel of more surgeries, but the pain medication from earlier is working its way through his system, and you’re happy to see it’s taking the edge off it all for him, allowing him comfort and conversation with his partner.

“My um… usual break spot is occupied?” You don’t know why you phrase it as a question, it just comes naturally. Like you’re seeking permission. Agreement.

“Ye want to sit with us? While ye eat?” Johnny asks, somewhat pointing to your yogurt cup, and you shrug, but Simon motions to the extra chair, the one that now sits on the other side of the bed, across from him. Guess facilities finally brought down that recliner you requested. 

“Would… would that be alright?”

Johnny looks to Simon, and Simon nods. Slowly.

Your yogurt goes down easy, light chit chat bouncing around the room, Johnny nodding in and out with drawn out answers to your questions, until a noise startles you from the chair, pushing you onto your feet to peer out the door.

It’s a man, yelling, screaming, from a room down the hall, not from sadness or despair, but rage, and your mind goes haywire when security is paged over the PA system.

Deep breath. 

This happens sometimes. Patients, or loved ones, become disruptive. Secrets and lies all come out in the wash in a hospital. Custody agreements, battles, DNRs, last wills and testaments, any of these things are a perfect tinder box. One match, and it all goes up.

A siren blares.

“Code black, code black.” echoes through the hospital, each room on every floor, down every hall.

Johnny startles from his near sleep stupor, eyes alert, the outline of his muscles solid beneath his gown.

Security risk. Lockdown. 

You straighten your spine.

Deep breath.

This is your job. 

Part of your job is being able to handle things like this. Protect, take care of your patients, and their families. Keep them safe.

The man shouts again, sharp tone of anger snapping through the air and across your frame, forcing your muscles tense.

You slide the door lock into place, pulling the curtain to only allow a small line of sight.

“What’s going on?” Simon stands, turning towards the door, and Johnny pats his hand, like he’s trying to soothe him.

“Oh, uh. It’s… just a lockdown. I don’t know.” You’re vaguely aware of the numb feeling that’s spreading from your chest down into your hand, and the sound of the irate man gets closer. Fuck. 

“Ye okay?” Johnny’s voice is gentle, and when you glance over your shoulder to reassure them, you realize they’re both watching you, Simon’s eyes locked onto your now trembling fist, as Johnny regards you softly, with kindness.

“Um. Yeah.” You suck in a quick breath, forcing yourself to steady, gritting your teeth against the frozen, involuntary fear that’s trying to overpower you. You think Simon might be frowning beneath the mask, confusion shading his question.

“Why are you standing at the door?”

“It’s standard operating procedure. If there’s an issue, or a disturbance. If you’re in a patient’s room, if I- I’m in a patient’s room, I’m supposed to act like a… barrier. Just in case.” You keep your eyes fixed out the glass, watching for any sights, listening for any sounds. The door is locked, and glass is thick, and security would be here if anything were to happen, they’re already down the hall, everything is fine. Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep-

“Go sit with Johnny.” Simon's standing just behind you, voice pitched low, sweetened into one of those softer hums, the kind of tone he usually uses with Johnny. Not with you. He’s so close, you can almost feel the heat radiating from his body, and you shake your head with a refusal.

“I have to stay-“ He cuts you off, not even letting you choke out the rest of your quivering protest.

“No. Go sit with Johnny.” He pauses, stepping around to angle his body in front of yours, looking down at you over his shoulder, and you think, for a moment, you see a glimmer of the tenderness there that’s reserved for Johnny. “Please.”

“My wrist hurts.” Johnny calls hopefully to you, mischievous smile and eyes sweet, his good hand outstretched with an open palm. “Need ye to rub it.” Simon nods, serious look quashing any rebuttals you might have, protocol and procedure slipping far from your mind as you let yourself drift to Johnny’s side, settling back into your seat previously abandoned. Johnny offers you his wrist, smile fading when he looks closer at your curled fingers. “Ye’re shaking, pretty girl.”

“Low blood sugar.” You lie. The man in the hallway shouts again, closer, loud and awful, roiling with rage, and you inadvertently tense, jolting minutely in the chair.

“Hey now.” Johnny reaches for you, gentle touch against your skin, warm fingers holding onto yours. You look down to where he tries to give you comfort, where he tries to soothe you, instead of the other way around, as it has been, as it should be, and you get lost in it, the idea of comfort, the feeling of care. It makes your heart stumble in your chest, almost like you can’t breathe, staring off into space, trying to pretend like there isn’t a man screaming down the hall, like you’re not the person you are, buried beneath the insurmountable weight of scars, memories of pain and fear etched into the very tissue of your brain, the backs of your eyelids, every strand of hair.

Ingrained inside of you, forever.

Someone says your name, and you blink back to the face of your patient, who looks to Simon, his expression unreadable until it shifts into tender warmth, re-focused on you. “What is it?”

“I-“ You picture yourself, letting your lips go loose, entrusting your secrets and worst fears to these strangers, these men who you don't even know, who don't know you. “I’m exhausted.” You offer, and shadow flickers across Johnny’s eyes. It’s not a lie, not technically. You’re always exhausted.

“Ye-“

“Code black lifted. Code black lifted. Lockdown complete. Resume normal operation.” The PA system drones, tension between your shoulders draining, and you jump to your feet, palms and fingers smoothing over your scrub top.

“Well, I’ve got to check in at the nurses’ station now. Protocol.” You explain, nearly tripping over yourself on the way to the door. Your heart is still raging inside your chest, beating faster than it should, and you steady your breathing with a mental count. One... two... three... one... “I’ll check in on you later.” You promise over your shoulder, slipping by Simon to disappear down the hallway. 

[highdefhoetry]

in the library.

cw: nsfw!! female reader, public sex in library (discreet), penetration (vaginal fingering), handjob, blowjob

summary: you’re desperate to stay quiet. he’s determined to make you scream.

There are only a handful of people in the library when you run into Zayne. You cross paths in the last aisle, where the “adult” novels could be found. You were trying to take a Nora Roberts book from the shelf when your hand brushed against something cold yet familiar. When you looked up, your eyes met those of your classmate. Well, former, back when you two were in the same gen ed course. He stood calmly on the other side of the shelf with a piercing gaze that sent chills down your back. 

“(Y/N),” he greets you with a slight nod of his head. 

“Dr. Zayne,” you awkwardly return his greeting, but when you look back to the empty space on the shelf, you find he’s already gone. He appears at your side in a heartbeat, his hazel eyes focused on the book you’re holding. 

“I’m not a doctor yet,” he corrects you.

“Haven’t you skipped a bunch of courses, though? You’re pretty much set to be one by the end of the year.”

“Unlikely. I still have a ways to go.”

Suddenly you become hyper aware of how close he’s standing. His shoulder brushes against yours as he takes the book from your hand in one smooth motion. You watch as his elegant fingers sift through the worn down pages, gently tugging each one at the corners. 

“For Now, Forever,” he reads the title. “An excellent choice.”

“You’ve read Nora Roberts?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“Well, yeah. I thought you only read boring medical texts.”

“That’s mostly true. But even I need breaks from my studies.”

“Breaks to read smutty novels?”

Silence. It seems you’ve caught him off guard. He clears his throat, and you notice his ears reddening a little.

“I was only curious about this one because it involved characters in the medical field,” he gives you a weak excuse. “I’m not a connoisseur of erotica, unlike some people.”

“Hey! Don’t say it like that. You make me sound like some kind of pervert.”

He chuckles softly at your expense.

“If I’m not mistaken, this novel in particular has a number of… graphic scenes,” he comments, his eyes drifting to your face in the process.

“I mean, yeah… all of her books are like that,” you say, trying to sound casual despite your heated cheeks. It was embarrassing having him comment on things like this so candidly. And by the way he was smirking, you could tell he was doing it on purpose. 

“You must have enjoyed these lewd scenes, too. Or else you wouldn’t have read it.”

A sudden streak of mischief takes over. You take a small step forward, closing the gap between you. His lips part as if he’s about to say something, but he remains silent.

“Speaking of that…” you tease. “Do you remember the part where they’re in the library? I think it went a little something like this…”

You place your hands on his chest, running them over his iron-pressed shirt to feel the muscles underneath. The hem is tucked into the waistband of his pants; you tug on it ever so slightly until it comes undone, allowing you access to his bare skin. He doesn’t stop you when you sneak your hands under his shirt, nor does he protest when you run your palms on his stomach. You hear his breath hitch slightly when you wander a little too low; as soon your eyes drift down and fall on the tent poking through his fitted pants, he suddenly grabs your hand and holds it firmly.

You look up again, locking eyes with the doctor in training, whose stony expression still hasn’t cracked. Although, he is looking a bit more strained…

“Zayne…?”

He pauses for a moment. Then, you see the corners of his lips curl up in a tiny smirk.

“...I remember it going a little differently.”

His steely eyes meet yours once again. You sense something deep inside them, struggling to break free, yet his demeanor remains as cool and controlled as ever. How many times have you wanted to break through that cold facade of his and curl up with the warmth of his heart? He hid it so well, but even the strongest armor had cracks. 

While you’re lost in thought, something flutters against your thigh, snaking up the hem of your skirt. The feeling makes your skin quiver, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle a small cry. Meanwhile, his fingers reach the lace edges of your panties and tug them down until they’re right above your knees. The sudden rush of cool air makes you shiver.

“Zayne…” you whisper, trying to keep quiet so you don’t garner the attention of the other visitors, or worse, the librarians themselves. You look around anxiously to make sure no one is nearby while his hands grope your thighs and hips. He takes his time feeling you up before finally caressing his cold hand on your outer lips. It makes you jump, but soon you feel a warmth spread through your body, fueled by his gentle circling of your clit.

“Shhh,” he leans forward to whisper in your ear, right before sliding a finger inside you.

You let out a tiny gasp, forcing back a moan as he curls his finger upwards, seeking out the elusive spot he knows will make you cum hard. He finds it and begins to stroke the spongy walls, slowly at first, then with a bit more force. All while pumping those beautiful fingers of his in and out, in and out, in a steady rhythmic fashion. It’s taking everything in you not to scream and moan. He chuckles as he watches your face twist in pleasure and your strained efforts to silence yourself.

“Mmm… mmph!!”

“Calm down,” he croons. “You need to stay quiet in the library.”

It’s the same thing the male lead had said to the heroine of the story. You remember it vividly, for you had pictured yourself in this exact scenario, with this exact same man. Zayne’s hands are quick and skilled; his thumb continues massaging your clit, putting just enough pressure on it to warm you up without bringing you over the edge. It’s driving you mad, how gentle yet forceful he is. He stares down at you from his massive height, lips slightly curved upwards in an amused smile while you fight to remain silent as his hands and fingers roam your body. Your heart has begun to pound so intensely you wonder if he can actually hear it.

You’re close. He can sense it, too. He chuckles again when you grab onto his arms, as if bracing yourself for impact. You squeeze your eyes shut as wave after wave of electrifying pleasures surge through your body. It’s taking everything in you not to scream. You force back every moan, only letting little gasps and groans escape when he hits you in just the right place. And from the grin on his face, you can tell it amuses him to no end.

A few moments later, you finally cum. You bite your lip, feel your eyes roll in the back of your head, let out fluttered sighs as you squirt all over his hand. He caresses your waist and hips, relishes the way you twitch and shudder under his hands. The orgasm made you extra sensitive, so every touch feels like cold fire. You open your eyes to meet his, letting your lips part as you take in large gulps of air while trying to regain your composure. His soft gaze makes your heart dance. He doesn’t say anything, opting instead to admire the sight of your flushed skin and relieved expression.

But his own expression soon turns to one of restraint. His gaze falters when he feels your hand grope the tent in his pants. You rub the tip with an increasing amount of pressure and smile when you hear stifled grunts emerge from his throat. His brows furrow slightly in determination, as if he is focusing all his attention on retaining his composure. But you see the mask slip when you unzip his pants and let loose his stiff member.

Still covered by black boxers, you sneak your hands into the slit in the middle and take hold of his shaft. He grunts softly, almost losing it when you begin caressing the tip and teasing the length of his cock. You start off slow and take your time fondling him, noting what makes him sigh and gasp and when his breath becomes more erratic, more desperate. 

You pause briefly to look around, once again making sure that no one is looking, before falling to your knees.

Before he can protest, you take his cock in your mouth and run your tongue along his shaft, stopping only to kiss and lick his tip before going on. The muffled sounds he’s making are delightful. His grunts start off quiet, but the longer you suck him off, the louder they grow. He grabs fistfuls of your hair, firmly but gently so as not to hurt you, and pulls you close until his cock is hitting the back of your throat. You suppress the urge to gag; it won’t be much longer until he cums.

After a few deep thrusts and more teasing from your mouth and tongue, he erupts his load into you, gasping quietly while still holding onto your locks. You taste his cum and swallow it all, savoring the warmth he’s given you. You slowly guide his cock out of your mouth and stand back up, smiling at him while his heavy breathing subsides. He zips up his pants with a relieved sigh, as if he just released a lifetime’s worth of stress.

“Well?” you whisper. “How did it end, again…?”

Zayne looks down at you with eyes full of affection, taking your chin in hand and gently pulling your face up.

“I believe it went like this.”

He kisses you softly, and his icy exterior melts in your hands.

[ambrosiagourmet]

Did Laios have a plan

... when he made his deal with the Lion? How much of it was intentional and how much of it was out of his control?

Well. If I'm being honest I don't really want to try and provide a definitive answer to that question, because I think the ambiguity is, itself, part of the story. I've gone back and forth a few times myself, and I don't think either category - "fully intentional" or "fully coincidence" - is entirely true.

That being said, I would like to point out a few things that I've seen taken for granted as true. Things that, imo, are much more about the character's perspective, or about what the character WANTS people to think (well, that's really just the Winged Lion).

Consider this not exactly an argument for "Laios masterminded everything from the start and saved the world with his cunning," but more... "Laios considered what he was doing more than people give him credit for." Make sense?

Alright then, let's go:

So to start with, I want to show every time (that I could find, at least) that the question of 'does Laios have a plan' gets brought up. This is specifically after his Ultimate Monster Form is revealed, to be clear - the question isn't about if he has a plan in general, it is if he has/had a plan when he made this specific deal with the Lion.

Here they are:

-

-

You'll notice, in all of these instances, there never really is an answer given to the question. Either because there is no way to get one, or, with Kabru at the end there, because he explicitly doesn't let Laios answer. There's even a bit of an arc here: we start with a sort of desperate 'I've mostly given up but maybe this isn't as bad as it looks,' then get a more optimistic 'maybe we really are saved,' and finally end on 'it all worked out in the end, so we maybe don't need to know.'

But, as much as there is some genuine growth in Kabru's 'accept the outcome, rather than dissecting the truth,' I also think it says a lot more about him than about Laios. Kabru is the one trying to handle his questions and his uncertainty - as he said, he wants to confirm his judgement of character. He wants to feel like he had control over things.

And he lets that go! But he also doesn't actually get the truth, either, and his implied assumption here (that Laios, the wide-eyed monster-lover, probably just followed his desires), still relies on his judgements and assumptions about Laios.

But okay, these bits are all focused on the characters theorizing about Laios. How about we look at the character who actually tells us the facts ("facts"): the Winged Lion.

The Winged Lion has quite a bit to say about Laios and his monster form.

He says that Laios hates humanity, and would rather be a monster

I've talked about this a bit already, but the Lion makes a lot of claims and assumptions about Laios that aren't necessarily true.

First of all, let's just make sure we clearly establish that the Lion is being manipulative here. That may seem obvious, but it's important to understand that there is a difference between 'the truth' and 'a version of the truth specifically framed to prey upon your deepest shame and insecurities about what you really want.'

To point out a few quick-and-dirty contradictions here:

If Laios really hated all other humans, then the Lion wouldn't hinge so many of his other arguments on Laios' love for Falin and his friends.

the Lion claims that Laios "[doesn't] even care enough about the future of [the] world to express an opinion about it," even though Laios has literally expressed opinions on what he wants for the world, to the Lion's face.

In general, the Lion does not make a distinction between urges and choices (see, for instance: him using Marcille's subconscious fear of the canaries as a way to keep her from stopping the monsters from attacking in chapter 86).

I'm not saying there is not a piece of truth here, but also... we are not our darkest thoughts, and we especially are not those thoughts as defined by someone who wants to hurt and control us.

But let’s move on to the stuff the Lion claims about Laios once he has been turned into his monster form.

2. He says that (or rather, acts like) Laios is under his control

The Lion really enjoys grandstanding about how Monster Laios is an ultimate tool he has control over. He gloats about making Laios fight the others, and has him smash through the magical barrier.

But smashing the barrier is kinda the only thing that Monster Laios actually does for the Lion. He doesn't attack anyone. He doesn't hurt his friends, despite Chilchuck thinking that Laios has "turned completely into a monster." And he certainly doesn't simply let the Lion go through with his plan to eat everyone.

This barrier smashing is actually an interesting and odd thing for Laios to have done specifically, so remember that one. I'll come back to it later.

But, yeah, to the original point... despite the Lion's dramatics, all that Monster Laios does is pose, smash up a magic barrier, and then eat him. Not exactly under his control.

AND SPEAKING OF EATING THE DEMON...

3. He frames Laios attacking and eating him as thoughtlessly violent

This one is pretty funny to me, and the Lion keeps it up for the whole scene. I'm not sure how much of this is his genuine understanding of the situation, and how much is him intentionally framing things in the most insulting manner, but like... truly. The ego involved in this. To see someone who has, multiple times, tried to stand against you - someone who has literally wished for your non-existence, to your face - to see this person attack you, specifically, and have your first reaction be 'huh, I guess he's a reckless weirdo to the core???'

Incredible stuff.

And this part, too:

He claims that Laios can't recognize anyone, that he's out of control. And yet, the Lion is the only person that gets eaten here. He is Laios' singular target.

Hell, Laios even specifically attacks one of the bodies that is actively hurting Chilchuck. I don't know if that was entirely intentional on Laios' part, but I do think it's notable.

The Lion torments Laios' friend, and when Laios does something that interrupts that action, the Lion reframes it as unhinged violence. I don't know, there's something here about the way that cruel people only talk about the things people do to resist them as violent, and ignore the violence that causes such resistance in the first place.

In any case, the main point is that the Lion insists on treating Laios like an unthinking animal during this fight, despite the fact that Laios is clearly trying to accomplish something here.

And what exactly is Laios trying to accomplish? Well, the Lion isn't entirely wrong. Laios is trying to eat something. He tells us as much.

And truly, everything Laios does as a monster points to this. He had a goal. And he accomplished it.

Let me back up a moment. I need to explain smashing the barrier.

So, Laios first starts considering how to kill the Lion when he is confronted with the fact that his only other choice would be to kill Marcille. Immediately and entirely discarding that solution, because of course he does, he tries to wrap his head around what defeating the Lion would even look like.

He clearly continues thinking about this, as a nearly identical conversation happens a few chapters later, when Laios is once again told that killing Marcille is the only way forward.

Only, this time, he's started to come up with an idea for how to do this impossible thing.

Harkening all the way back to the Living Armor chapter, Laios draws on the same lesson - if the Lion has made itself part of the world, if it has made itself into something alive, that means he can kill it. And eat it.

But there's an important extra detail to this. If he's going to try and kill (and eat) the Lion, he needs to strike when it’s vulnerable. He needs to strike when it's eating.

This is why he smashes through the barrier. Again, nothing else he does as a monster really benefits the Lion. He doesn't attack anyone else. The only command he obeys is to smash the barrier. Because the Lion has to think he has won for Laios to be able to eat him.

Beat him. For Laios to be able to beat him.

The question of why Monster Laios wanted to eat the Lion is, I think, the most ambiguous part. Was he curious? Hungry? Did he fight for his own life, for his friends, or for all of humanity? Did he know how to win because he had planned everything from the start, or because he was driven by an unquenchable instinct to do whatever it took to survive?

I don't know that it is possible to say for sure. But I do know that the Lion underestimates Laios, through it all. He underestimates Laios as a human, and he underestimates Laios as a monster.

And in the end, after he is bested, even then I don't think the Lion ever gets Laios. I don't think he understands how much Laios means his words about the Lion being burdened by hunger...

or what Laios cares about most...

or what meaning there is in life, for him.

So I don't buy what the Lion is selling about Laios, generally speaking. I don't buy that Laios didn't ever know what he was doing, and I don't buy that he was nothing more than a hungry beast.

Well. I mean. He was a hungry beast. But he was a more than that too. He was the Devourer of All Things Horrible. And he didn't just happen into that title by chance.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Imagine sweet little housewife!reader making Ghost dinner after a long deployment. Ghost promises housewife!reader he'll wait till tonight to treat her good, but seeing her in her cute little shorts and his shirt is too much for him to control, so he decides a different dinner.. her tight, wet little cunt.

READ IT HERE

Oh you know exactly what I like Anon, cause anything that has to do with Simon coming home after a long deployment all ramped up and ready to see his sweetheart is right up my alley. I could literally write endlessly about this. 

There is something so fantasruc about having all that pining, all that buildup come to a head so that Simon loses himself and cannot stop himself because he desperately has to be inside you.

Cause, let’s be honest: this man pines for you when he's gone for too long. He never knew he could crave someone until he met you and now every time he goes on mission you are there in his mind torturing him. And he finds that he cannot wait to come home because he knows he has his beautiful girl waiting for him.

You are his little slice of heaven in a chaotic, fucked up world; his sunshine to help rip him out of the overwhelming darkness the surrounds him; the one who he wants to be better for so that your lives together can be good. And that makes him crave you even more.

Sure, to say he is obsessed may be a bit much, but he isn’t subtle about how much he adores you.

Especially his little wife? His sweet girl that he takes care of and in turn she takes care of him? Who keeps things going outside of his work so that he has a life to come back to? The one who makes his life so wonderful just by being in it? Oh yeah he is going to be so down bad to get back to all that that it's almost impossible to function until he sees you. 

From the moment he steps in the door and his eyes catch you working away in the kitchen to have a home cooked meal waiting for him, dressed in nothing but his baggy t-shirt, all that pent up longing is going to come spilling out in the most explosive ways. 

So, best get ready for dinner to be a little dry and maybe burnt because Simon is hungry for something else. And you should probably get ready for the table getting ruined too as he is going to need room to lay out his first course. 

Keep your eyes peeled for this one cause I am definitely going to make it happen as it’s own fic.

[pia-nor481]

Hearing your voice

Lando Norris x reader smut

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: “Daddy”, “Good girl”, “Slut” Lando being dominant, the word “Cunt” I guess. Idk

Lando had been away for a few weeks now, and so she was getting lonely, desperate for attention. They had almost no time for calls or messages; this left them with nine minute voice notes left on delivered for hours. Lando was was either racing or training for racing, and so he was missing her too. Usually this would hinder a relationship, but not them. There was so much pure love that they could handle the wait. She would watch all of the races, eyes never leaving the orange car, often adored in Lando's clothes. The worst part was the inconvenience of time zones; he would be a few hours ahead so he would be asleep when she was free from work, or he would be a few hours behind, and so she would be asleep when he was free from racing or debriefs, and he wouldn't dare interrupt that. So much so, that when he was streaming he'd often pull his mic closer, and opt to speak at a lower level. 

Night quickly approached Monaco as she laid in Lando's bed, the smell of him was long gone. She stayed still for a while, unaware of what she was thinking about. She didn't feel the first call, thoughts occupied with him, then when the bed began to vibrate again, she scrambled to the phone. "Hey, Babe." She could hear the smile through the call, just the idea of speaking with him perked her up. "Can we facetime, I need to see your beautiful face." Her smile soon dropped after processing his words. "I'm sorry, my camera has been broken for a while, but I've not had the chance to get a new phone yet." This answered his unasked question of 'Why hasn't she sent any images through out the day?' Lando was just as disappointed as her, they couldn't touch and couldn't see, it was devastating. "That's okay, I know how much you love my voice." If you had asked her one month ago is she would have confessed to her boyfriend that his voice alone would get her wet, she would have called them delusional. But now, after Lando's infamous twitch streams, it was something he would tease her about at any chance he could get. "I know you're blushing." He laughed out, pressing his phone closer to his ear and turning the volume up, not wanting to miss a sound. "Don't start, it has been far to long of a day for that, as much as I'd usually love it."  She huffed out the last of the sentence, head falling atop the pillow, well, Lando's pillow. "Are you sure? I could go all night." She shook her head as he laughed a little too much. "Oh I know all about that." 

"So what are you supposed to be doing?" She asked, knowing it is likely he will be in trouble tomorrow. "I should be going over data, but my girlfriend is more important." He smiled, making sure his hotel door was closed. "So, what have you been up to today? You only left one message, no voice notes either." She almost groaned at the question, "Nothing really, work and cleaning, but I have been sat in bed for a while, again doing nothing." Lando was surprised at the statement, usually she would be so busy that there was no time to rest for hours. "Feeling needy?" He huffed out, feeling the exact same. "For you? Always." There's no other reason for her to be in bed at such an hour. 

"Are you feeling a little bit turned on baby? Yeah, Need help?" Her only response was a whine. "Well, I'm going to instruct you on what I want you to do, and you are not going to cum until I say, do you understand?" It took many people far too long to realise that Lando was in fact a dominant man, they only began to notice this after an interview where he explained that he loved being in control, what he left out, was his love for controlling her. "Say 'Yes Daddy'." She did as she was told, fearing that if she disobeyed that she would be punished. "Good girl... Good girl." They had been together for long enough that Lando knew that praise was very important for her pleasure. "So, there's going to be lots of teasing and touching...But you'll only cum when I tell you, and i promise you baby, I promise you, it will be so fucking worth it." She squirmed just at his voice, just at his explanation, just because of him. 

"But now, just start teasing your thighs for me, don't get anywhere near your cunt yet, Do you understand?" His laugh at the end of the sentence echoed through out the hotel room. "You are such a slut." A small frown appeared on her face upon hearing the new name. "Only for you." She was right, this gave Lando a sign to be careful with his words. She was tapping lightly at the top of her thighs before running them lower as he began to speak. "Just tease the inside of you thighs for me, stroke up and down, and creep towards your cunt, but don't touch, just tease yourself; Imagine it's my hand, drifting up those sexy thighs of yours, willing you legs to spread open for me, and I know you would spread so fucking quickly for me." She did as Lando told her, moaning into the speaker of the phone. "Yes Daddy." she was quick to exclaim, not wanting to disappoint, he chuckled at her obedience. "Good girl, just one slow caress over your thighs and you open up for me, so eager." 

"That's it, really rub, caress those thighs...keep teasing your thighs with one hand, take the other and start teasing your breasts for me, ugh those beautiful breasts. Just tease them, pinch your nipples, squeeze." He chuckled out the last word. She was quick to pay her phone on the pillow and put it on loud speaker. "I am going to get you so wet, before you even touch yourself properly... This is all just a warm up. Mhm lets get both hands on your nipples now, both hands; Just cupping, pinching, pulling.  That's it, you see if I was there right now, id be doing exactly what you're doing right now, with one hand, yeah that's right, but on the other nipple I use my mouth; id lick and suck, Mhm, that's right baby, and you'd fucking love it, you'd fucking love every second of attention that I give you. But just as you are really enjoying the suction, and the attention from my mouth, I would just switch to the other nipple, only occasionally stopping, just so I can appreciate your sweet reactions." He paused to take a deep steady breath, giving her a second to strip of all her remaining clothes. "Good girl, now i want you to keep teasing one breast, but your other hand must slowly, and I mean slowly, to drift down towards your stomach, and I want you to stop, stop, at that little area just above your cunt. Now don't you dare touch that clit. Not yet." He moaned at a low pitch, a noise of satisfaction. "There's just that little area above your cunt, and I want you to push down on it for me, just push down because, if my dick was inside you, that's exactly he area id push. And when I do, it really stimulates your g-spot." He laughed at the brash statement as soon as it left his lips. Lando never thought he would be good at dirty talk, yet now, it just felt so natural. 

"That's right, baby. And as you push down on that spot, just realise how empty your cu t is, So push down and clench for me; clench your cunt around nothing.. and feel the urge to have something inside of you grow. Fuck it's so much fun to tease you, so much fun."  She moaned rather loud, not just at his verbal teasing, but the physical. "Back to your thighs, or your breasts, i don't mind, maybe both, as long as you don't touch that cunt. You have no idea how much i would torture you, just to make you so desperate. How badly do you want to touch your cunt right now? Come on, tell me." She had to bring her focus back from touch before speaking, "So much." He chuckled at her simple response, knowing she couldn't think about too much at the moment. "Say 'Please', say 'Please Daddy'." She did so immediately, already struggling with the teasing. "Say 'Please can I touch my needy cunt.'" Lando was getting drunk on the feeling of being in control, he could make her do or say anything he pleased, and he enjoyed the feeling of power. "Say for me, 'I am a good slut, with a needy cunt.'" She couldn't resist the urge to please him as the words came quickly from her mouth, and he laughed teasingly as he heard it. "I think.... Just hearing yourself say that would drive you crazy. Am i right? of course i am." 

"Okay Baby... It's time for you to touch your clit. but i want you to slowly, slowly and gently graze your hand over your clit. As you feel the pleasure from that needy throbbing clit of yours i want you to say 'Thank you, Daddy.'" He paused, waiting for her to follow the instructions. She let out a sigh before speaking, "Thank you, Daddy." And a moan once finished. "Good girl, my good girl. You're welcome sweetheart, I do love teasing you, and you are doing such a good job for me." Lando quickly recognised that she needed a little more praise after calling her a slut twice. "So well behaved, so patient, so needed, so desperate, so cute, I fucking love playing with you." Lando moved his phone to the other ear before speaking again. "Keep rubbing your clit, but keep the pressure gentle, for now. That's it baby." She whined, she so desperately wanted t cum, but she had to wait, knowing the punishment would be harsh. "Now i think its time for you to have something inside your cunt. What do you think? Don't you think it would feel better if your cunt was filled... Okay baby, you can grab any toy you'd like, or you can just use your fingers... Actually no, you don't get the choice baby. Your fingers are nowhere near the size of mine, go grab a toy." She practically jumped up from the bed and reached for the bedside table, he didn't begin speaking until he knew she was settled on the bed again. "But don't put it inside yet... You are going to do exactly what i would do with my cock, which is just tease the entrance, up and down...feel your body begging, the desperation to be filled." He was taunting with a sweet laugh and it was torture. "Now I want you to slowly slid it in, just the tiniest bit, just the tip of the toy... and then back out again, then go back to teasing up and down."

"all the while pleasuring your clit, in fact, you can speed up a little now. Just a little faster for me. Now a little bit further into your cunt...Mhm... and back out." She could hear the stupid smirk on his face, the satisfaction he was feeling from being in complete control of her, so she whined. "You just want to be filled don't you, just a little bit further this time." She whined again, not out of annoyance, but out of pleasure. "Aw its okay baby, you can go all the way in, i want that toy all the way inside. Just clench, clench around it. Good girl, clench around it, just as you would if you were around my cock. That's right, as if you were trying to pleasure me, by squeezing and clenching; i want you to do that exact thing. Now with your other hand, i want you to try and push down on that spot, just above your cunt, see if you can really start to get that g-spot going." Lando was practically laughing down the phone at how needy she was, yet every now and then he was pushing down on or squeezing his cock tight, trying to relieve himself of the pressure building up. But he couldn't lose his composure. "More pressure on your clit now, faster, get into a good rhythm for me. You feel full? Yeah? Good girl." She let out a quiet sigh at the name. It was all starting to go to her head. "There seem to be so many different ways to pleasure a slut like you. But I know you love all of the. Don't you?" Lando paused to catch his breathe, "Fuck, I'm so hard for you, just thinking about you, thinking of how needed you are. More pressure on your clit for me, faster... then you can just keep squeezing that toy, or maybe you can fuck yourself instead." He stopped to think, making her wait for his decision, tripping on power slightly. "Actually yes, fuck yourself for me. Good girl, always a good girl for me. Go faster for me, faster on your clit, faster with that toy; both of them working together, to make you um, but don't cum yet, don't you dare cum yet. But i know that the combination will make you cum, you'll cum so hard, my perfect girl, following instructions so well. Fuck yourself, fuck yourself so hard for me. That's it, Good girl." Her hips began to lift off of the bed slightly, breath becoming more ragged with her chest rising and falling so quickly. 

"Just let it all girl, any noise you want to make, let it go, just feel good for me. Just get faster; get more needy for me. Until the orgasm feels inevitable, so much so that you cant stop it from happening." She gasped loudly, voice echoing off the walls, Getting the permission to do such a thing only heightened the pleasure more. "Are you ready? Are you ready to cum for me? say 'Please Daddy, please can i cum.'" Lando paused, keen for her response, which he got almost immediately. "Good girl, I'm gonna count you down from five, when i reach zero, only then you can cum. Do you understand me?" Initially she nodded, forgetting that Lando could not see her. She was so overwhelmed at the feeling, and thought of cumming that she couldn't think about anything else, being on edge for so long just made the pleasure all that more powerful. "Okay...Five." He had already paused, one number in, to call her  a good girl. "Four....so fucking sexy for me......three, so desperate, so needy, yet so obedient." Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, the words that left his mouth only make her want to cum more. "Two...So perfect at following instructions .So close the the edge, its gonna feel so fucking good." He waited even longer to say the last number. "One...Are you ready to cum for me? Yeah, you are aren't you. Zero, cum for me baby, that's it, good girl, cum for me, let it all go for me. Let that orgasm overwhelm you, baby. Good girl, that's it. You deserve all that pleasure. So good for me." Lando practically whispered out the last sentence know she would not be able to understand his words, the orgasm so powerful that she could hear, only seeing stars. "Fuck, I love playing with you. So perfect for me." 

"I love you, baby." Lando waited for her to come back down from the high before speaking, it was so important that she heard such things, especially as he couldn't hold her in his embrace. "I love you so much, Lando" He shot up straight upon hearing his name. "Hey now, after all that, only 'Lando' unbelievable." He feigned annoyance, and she only laughed out a response. "Thank you, Daddy."

Masterlist

[propertyofwicked]

SECRETS part 4 - LN

content warnings: fluff, angst, drama (the whole shabang).

ur girl is going back to working full time tomorrow so if we have slow updates blame my place of work. also, im still recovering from the 4am wakeup and lando p3

part 1 -> part 2 -> part 3 -> part 4 -> part 5 -> part 6 -> part 7!

“max pick up the damn phone,” y/n said, taking great strides across the paddock towards the car park. once again, the phone call had gone to voicemail. she clicked his contact details, ringing him again. only this time, it didn’t even ring. the phone went straight to voicemail. and to add to the matter, max’s car had disappeared from the car park.

y/n sat on the empty floor of the empty parking spot her brothers car had been in, opening up her phone to check the time and send a message to max, she probably should’ve waited for the mix of fear and anger to fade, but here she was, tapping aggressively at the screen of her phone.

if you think you can ignore me forever, you’ve got another thing coming

dont think you can jump to conclusions and throw a childlike strop about this.

but of course, the messages stayed on delivered for hours. it was at least 2 hours before lando’s caller id popped up on her phone, still with no word from max.

“hey, where did you go? mum said something about you walking off,” lando asked her the moment she answered the call.

“currently? i’m sat on the floor of the car park. where are you - ill walk over now,” she said bluntly. he stayed on the line until she entered the mclaren unit.

“y/n? what do you mean max has left?” panic rising in his voice as she walked up to him, his hands coming to rest on her waist.

“i mean he’s left. gone. driven off,” she said with a shrug, “he won’t answer my calls, hasn’t read my texts, he’s just gone.”

“he might be at the hotel? we’ll drive over in a bit and see?”

“i don’t think we should do anything, i think we might have done enough damage for one day.”

“y/n your brother has just driven off. you should at least try and check if he’s at the hotel.”

“fine, but i’m going alone.”

“let me try and talk to him first, you never know something might’ve happened with P?” lando said, still stroking her hips softly, desperately trying to think of any reason that his best friend had up and left.

4 unanswered calls later, and lando and y/n found themselves sat on the sofa in his driving room again, her head laying on her lap as he stroked her hair, trying to resolve the anxiety.

“i don’t care what he thinks, y/n. i feel so strongly about you and i think i have for years.”

“i think i have too. but i hate the thought of people disliking me, let alone my own brother.”

“i know, angel. he’ll come around soon, i promise.”

“that man held a grudge against me for years when i accidentally scraped the side of his kart when i was 12,” she said, laughing sadly at the memory of their parents having to sit them down in the living room and make them apologise to each other. the moment was quickly interrupted by her phone ringing, max’s caller id popping up on the screen.

“ma-”

“no. don’t talk to me. you two have lied to my face for years about this. lando promised me he would never even think about you in that way. and you, i don’t know what ive done to you for you to go behind my back and fuck my best friend but it’s not on.”

“max i-” lando tried to reason with him.

“oh, of course he’s there. just waiting for the moment i left to start fucking my sister, didn’t you?”

“it’s not like that, max.”

“no? then what is it like? ‘cos from where im standing it’s pretty clear he’s been waiting years to take advantage of my little sister,” he argued down the phone, venom rolling off his tongue.

“take advantage of me?” she scoffed, moving to sit up and hold the phone next to her mouth, “who the fuck do you think you are to talk to or about me in that way? who gave you the audacity to believe you have any control over who i choose to date? you couldn’t care less about protecting me, you only care about protecting yourself," she said, her voice raising and her finger moving to point as if he were stood in front of her.

“he’s not right for you.”

“that’s your opinion max. if you can’t trust me, or lando for that matter, then why should i bother giving you a moment more to talk down to me?”

lando sat silently next to her, playing with his own fingers. this was not his fight to fight right now. he’d speak to max privately later, right now, he knew y/n needed to stand up for herself, and god was she smashing it.

“why can’t you just listen to me?” max sighed, defeated, “i know what’s good for yo-”

“go fuck yourself,” she said, hanging up the call, and dropping her phone on the floor besides her. lando’s arms move to behind her waist, pulling her back to rest into him on the sofa. the room fell into silence.

“im sorry,” she mumbled.

“don’t be sorry. this is on him, and me. i should’ve told him the truth the first time round. hell, i should’ve told you the truth earlier.”

“i’ve ruined your big day, lan. p2 - you should be celebrating, not arguing with your best friend.”

“im with you - that’s celebration enough,” he said, happy to see her smile for the first time in hours. she moved to lay her head back down on lando’s lap, this time looking up at him. a knock on the door brought the two of them back to reality, and cisca walked in, adam trailing slightly behind.

y/n contemplated moving, jumping away from the boy who was currently running his hands through her hair, but it had only been 4 hours of hiding whatever was going on between the two of them and she was already bored of keeping up the pretence.

“y/n, love, did you find max?” cisca asked, eyes softening at the scene unfolding in front of her. had she secretly wished for this for years? maybe.

“yea, he um, he went home.”

“he’s not happy about this, is he?” adam said, pointing between the two of you, yet even he couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“not happy, fuming, absolutely raging - i guess you could say that,” she replied, laughing slightly to ease any tensions.

“he’ll come around lovely, he can’t stay mad at you. you’re his sister after all.”

“i love that you think so highly of my brother, cisca. he will go to the grave holding this grudge if he can.”

“ill talk to him later ang- y/n,” lando said, correcting himself quickly, not comfortable enough yet to be overly affectionate in front of his parents.

“good luck with that,” y/n joked, patting him on the arm sadly.

later that evening, y/n found herself sat on the floor of lando’s hotel rifling through her bag to find her pyjamas. earlier, her and lando had driven to her hotel room, to find that max had packed his stuff and left as expected. she didn’t want to be alone, and lando didn’t want to leave her alone. her phone began to ring, and she answered it praying it wasn’t max.

“y/n the videos of you are going feral on twitter right now,” her best friend, caitlin, shouted down the phone the moment she picked up.

“stop it - what are people saying?”

“erm, some people think it’s cute?” he friend responded, voice laced in slight worry.

“…and the rest of them think im a slut?” y/n added, but her friend only responded with a hum.

“what’s max said?”

“from what i remember, he drove off leaving me stranded at the track and then rang me to say i was making a mistake, i was a liar and he never wanted to speak to me or lando ever again.”

“taking it well then,” the girl responded, y/n could hear her eyes rolling. at that moment, lando emerged from the bathroom, with just a towel hanging around his waist. any words y/n intended to say got stuck in her throat. he took strides towards her, noticing she was on the phone and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, before moving to his own suitcase to find a change of clothes.

“y/n…are you in lando’s room right now?”

“maybe?” y/n responded in a guilty tone, quieter than she had before, glad lando couldn’t hear the girl on the other side of the phone. however, he seemed to clock on to the question from the small grin on her face.

“girl why did you answer the phone? go spend time with your new controversial boyfriend.”

“he’s not my b- you know what, i’m gonna go.”

“dont do anything i wouldn’t do, stay safe!” her friend added cheerily, laughing as she ended the call. cheery was the furthest emotion from what y/n felt at this moment in time.

once y/n was in her pyjamas, she moved her way back into the room, lando was sat up in bed, his back resting on the headboard, phone in hand. he looked up as she walked in, patting the spot next to him for her to join. her face fell into a look that screamed apprehension.

“y/n nothing bad will happen if you get into this bed and cuddle with me.”

“something bad already happened,” she said, climbing under the duvet next to him nonetheless. his hand reached behind her waist pulling her into his chest, her head coming to rest on him.

“im happy this happened, but im not happy about every thing that’s happening as a result," she told him, her eyes blinking slowly as the exhaustion from todays drama caught up with her.

“i know baby,” he responded, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “get some sleep. we’ll sort this out tomorrow, i promise.”

★ ☆ ✦ ✧ ✩ ✶

tag list: @harrysdimple05 @scopeiguess @hiireadstuff @landosgirlxoxo @natt9598 @phantomxoxo @val-writes @secretgal66 @ririyulife @littlehoneyfreak @leclercdream @mehrmonga @eviethetheatrefreak @thatoneembarrasingmoment @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @formula1mount @lottef1 @rayna-s @5starl1ght @cthgee

[slayedx]

Needy

summary: peter comes across sex pollen on one of his missions

cw: choking, fem! reader, squirting, choking, a little degradation, daddy kink, dom! peter

a/n: ITS FINALLY OUT AHHHHH

you were a nervous wreck

peter had gone on a mission and you had yet to hear from him since he told you that they arrived at the warehouse where the mission took place. he was usually very quick to let you know when he was on his way back and give you updates, but you haven’t heard a word.

it was a fairly simple mission with low level villains. it was a classic hideout bust which tony usually took you guys on to practice real combat. it’s been about four hours and you had yet to hear from him. usually the most difficult of missions would take two and a half hours.

you were pacing around the compound as you awaited their arrival; the other avengers attempted to comfort you but you were just worried sick.

it wasn’t until much later that you heard them arrive, and you ran quickly to the entrance ready to scold peter for not texting or calling however you were met with a frantic tony.

“get banner we have a situation” he pants out and you’re quick to do as he says; getting the scientist and bringing him to the ship.

however, as you attempt to hop on after bruce you are stopped by tony.

“sorry kid but i don’t think you should see him right now” he says as he blocks the door way.

“what the hell happened tony?” you wonder with a little anger at being stopped. you make out peters voice as you hear him whine.

“she’s here, i can smell her, fuck princess need you so bad, so hot fuck- baby need you” he groans and your eyes go wide at his tone of voice.

“so i guess i have to explain now huh?” tony groans as he steers you back into the compound.

tony then tell you the tale of him and peter’s encounters in the warehouse where in a last attempt to get away someone threw a bomb that was composed of a high end “sex pollen” which increases libido to the point of pain, and unfortunately your boyfriend was subjected to it while tony’s suit was able to filter it out.

“sooo, he just needs sex?” you piece together as you and tony sit across from each other.

“well, i would say yes but i’m not sure what the pollen combined with his genetic composition would entail, he might be in a frantic state of mind that would cause him to injure someone” he explains.

“and hopefully banner will find a cure” he sighs out as he moves to presumably find bruce and help with a cure.

“and where is peter now!” you yell after him.

“like hell im telling you!” he yells back causing you to groan.

and that’s how, with a few bribery’s on your part, you ended up pittering down the hall at the dead of night in nothing but shorts and a tank top on your way to fuck pollen out of your boyfriend’s system.

you can hear his panting through the door. soft whines and moans are all that can be heard through the door as you walk towards the room.

he was going insane, his hand pumping his cock at any thought of you he could conjure up: you on your knees pretty mouth wrapped around his cock, you on your back; legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you, you on your hands and knees as he fucked into you from behind.

what noises would you make? how would your cute little face look? could he get you to squirt on him? how-

his thoughts are interrupted when he hears a door open; and immediately as the door peers open his senses go into overdrive. his body heats up and his cock stands at attention.

he was consumed with the thought of you

“peter” you gasp out as you look at him. he looked desperate, sweat covering his body and his face. he had a red flush that trailed down to his heaving chest and it was hard to ignore his flushed cock that looked painfully hard; as it bobbed against his abs.

“baby” he whines out panting softly; he was so damn needy and he knew that if you stood in the room for too long he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

“princess fuck- you gotta leave or else im not gonna be able to control myself” he pants out as he closes his eyes throwing his head back. he releases small whines as he waits for your response; selfishly hoping you would stay and help with his issue.

“no baby im gonna help you; gonna make it better okay?” you respond as you inch closer to him. he groans at your words skin heating up further at your promises.

“o-okay baby, but i don’t know if i’ll be able to hold back” he mewls out breath picking up in pace; as his anticipation increases.

“it’s okay peter; just do whatever you need” you say as you approach him hands moving to him cheeks, and he moans at the small touch. he looks up to see a soft smile gracing your beautiful face;

he almost felt bad for what he was about to do.

he quickly moves his lips to yours before moving his hands to your ass, as he grabs handfuls of it pulling at the fat before slamming his hand down. you yelp at the contact and he groans into this kiss. your tongues are sloppily battling as need drives your actions.

he pulls away and leans over as he whispers a small “jump” and you comply. he catches your legs as they wrap around his waist and he moves you to the bed with ease before laying you down.

he leans to hover over you as he moves his lips back to yours again; his hands planted by the sides of your head. you two continue the intense exchange before he pulls away making you whine.

he moves to stand before pulling your shorts down; moaning at the sight of your bare cunt that was already drooling on the sheets.

“aww this poor pussy; look at her crying all over my sheets, she’s been missing daddy huh?” he smirks as he strokes his cock moving to position himself in front of your slit. you whimper at the filth that comes from his mouth; causing more arousal to soak his sheets.

“been missin’ your cock daddy need you in me” you moan out moving your hips as you attempt to catch the tight ring of your cunt on his cock.

“fuck- naughty thing, you know i’d eat that cunt but i need to be in you right now, okay baby?” he pants out as he explains his reason for skipping his usual extensive foreplay; even though you were practically begging for his dick he still assured you of his actions making your heart swell.

he waits for your agreement and when he catches you nod your head he moves his hands to capture your legs folding them back into your chest as he situates himself between your thighs.

he moves one hand from your leg to alight himself with your little cunt; he taps the fat head of his cock against your clit before moving to your hole and pushing in.

he moans as his tip sinks into you; you felt like heaven. he felt like he was gonna fucking bust, but fuck he needed more.

he continues to bully his fat cock into your soaked pussy as he inches into you. you moan at the stretch; your cunt struggling to accommodate him despite taking him many times in the past.

“shit baby- fuck so good, need you to relax so i can fuck this pussy right, need you to be good and take this dick, shiiiit” he moans out as he moves one of his hands down to rub at your little clit so you can take more of his dick. he feels you flutter around him and it allows him to slide into you with more ease, and with one surge of his hips he bottoms out causing you to squeal.

“ah- feel you here daddy” you babble out as you grab the hand that was on your clit, and moves it to your throat. he groans at your actions before tightening his grip on your neck causing you to moan.

“fuck- you’re such a little slut, just waiting for someone to pound this pussy; need someone to make you go fucking dumb” he groans out as he pulls his hips back leaving only the tip of his cock in your pussy before slamming his hips back into you; bottoming out again. he continues to repeat the process at faster intervals, as he moans at the clutch of your cunt. you almost scream at the rough treatment; drooling and babbling as he fucks you dumb.

“fuck yeah baby girl needed this fucking cunt” he moans out as he pounds into you. the quiet of the compound in drowned out by the squelch of your tight cunt as he fucks into it, your slick leaking from your cunt making his dick shine in the light as he pulls out of your heat.

“hear how fucking soaked you are baby? this pussy is so excited to see me” he mocks as you hear the obscene sound of your moans and the wet pats of his hips slamming into yours.

your body reflexively inches back from his brutal thrusts as your legs shake in his hold; your hips leaning away from his cock causing him to growl.

“nuh uh baby girl, be good and take this dick” he sneers as he grabs your leg pulling you back towards him as he continues to wreck your poor cunt. at the feeling of being manhandled your cunt flutters around his dick causing him to chuckle.

he moves his hand from your throat to your clit before pressing down and rubbing tight circles. your pussy squeezes down on him at the action and he knows you’re close.

“fuck! m’ gonna cum please daddy fuck, s’too good” you babble out as tears soak your vision. he laughs at your admission before leaning down over you.

“you better hold it baby” he smirks as he removes his hand from your clit. this causes a sob to leave your throat as he continues his brutal thrusts; the stimulation of his cock fucking into your pussy still leaving you on the edge of an orgasm.

“you’re gonna cum when i cum baby; this is about daddy after all” he sings as his hips still momentarily grinding into your g-spot causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head as you tremble in his hold.

though it doesn’t last for long and he resumes his brutal pace. he fucks into you with long hard thrusts as the tip of his heavy cock abuses your g-spot. he groans as he looks down at your cunt struggling to accommodate him; your cute little cunt twitching as you strive to be good and hold in your orgasm for him. you were his good girl and his good girl deserved his cum.

his moans become more frequent as his abs tense and he knows he’s close.

“fuck- baby be good and cum on this dick” he moans, and as soon as he finishes his sentence you cum with a squeal. your pussy gushes as you squirt on him in streams; soaking him and his dick.

at the sight he moans out before burying himself into your pussy and pumping you full of his cum, and for the first time in hours he feels relieved.

that is for a few seconds as you two come down from your highs before the tingling feeling returns and he stiffens inside you.

“sorry princess but it looks like we have more to do” he smirks as he softly rocks his hips.

the next morning

“y’know we worked really hard on that cure just for you horny kids to fuck all night and keep the compound up” tony remarks as he walks into the kitchen with you and peter in it.

“im so sorry mr. stark” peter stutters out; his face a bright red.

a complete contrast to how he was fucking you last night

“it’s fine kid as long as you’re alright” he says as he grabs a water and walks back to where he came

“and i hope you used a condom kid! i don’t want little spider-man’s running around” he yells on his way out causing both of you to groan.

taglist: @enthusiastic-french-toast @spideyslemons @ally0405 @scvrltparker @enaraism @guitarromantic @anonymously-nerdy @sunnyteume @hvnnibvni @hollandsgoodgirl @crazy4books1 @annesunlight @s-enku

[leonw4nter]

She Likes The Way It Feels When He’s Right There

ID!Leon x F!Reader

“Mom, for the last time, I don’t want to go on a date with him!” You emphasize for what seemed like the nth time that night. Inviting Hunnigan over for dinner with your mom causes regret to pool in the depths of your belly; she doesn’t need to be around to hear you and your mom argue over your love life. Work was already stressful and your mom is piling up on that tall tower of things that plague your mind. You keep your head hung low, gaze trained on a piece of quinoa on your plate with your fork poking at it as you feel your attention slipping away, making no effort to rein it back in if it means not hearing your mom ramble on about having kids and settling down with someone.

“Y/N? Y/N.” Your mom’s voice snaps you back to reality, bringing you back down to this godforsaken dinner. “Did you hear what I just said?”

You temporarily shut your eyes, fingers stiffly curling over your fork. Deep breaths, breathe in and out, don’t flip the table over like a crazy person.

“No, I didn’t. I was busy thinking about work,” you grumbled in a low voice.

“I was just saying that he makes a good amount of money, maybe a little more than you do. It’ll be greatly beneficial for you,” she urged you. You love your mom, you really do, but there's a time where she gets a little suffocating for you and still acts as if you’re 13, not 30.

“What are you suggesting, mom? My job is just fine and I don’t need a man to rely on for money or my future or anything at all!” You snap, forgetting that your friend is in the same room as you are right now. Hunnigan comfortingly places a hand at your back, causing you to jump a little bit before relaxing down and taking a forkful of your dinner even if your appetite is almost gone.

“Ma’am,” Hunnigan begins, placing her elbows on the table and interlocking her fingers together. “I think whoever Y/N should get with is entirely up to her– that is, if she wants someone in her life. You may be her mother but you don’t have control over how she lives and besides, she’s a grown woman.”

Your mom shuts up, her lips pressed into a thin, burgundy line. For the first time in what felt like forever, silence befalls over the three of you on the dining table. “I was her age once so I know what she’s going through. I’m just giving her suggestions on how to secure a stable future because that’s what I want for her–”

“Well, mom, surprise: I’m still not going to see him. I’m doing just fine and–”

“Y/N–”

“I’m seeing someone, okay? I have someone else!"

Those words shock everyone, including you, even if you’re quite literally the one who said that. Your mouth moved faster than your mind could move, spouting nonsense in desperation to cut this draining conversation. Hunnigan reaches over for a napkin, blotting her mouth and trying to keep her coughing subtle and quiet after choking on her white wine. Even while dabbing at her mouth and still making an active effort to keep her coughing at a minimum, her eyes are wide and bore right into you with heightened interest.

“Who are you seeing then?” Your mom breaks the silence.

“Leon,” you promptly answered. All of a sudden you’re self-conscious, worried that she’ll sense your fib and call you out. You want to smash that bottle of wine against your head and knock yourself unconscious and wistfully get sent into another existence, going missing until everyone forgets you ever existed. It’s too late to take that back now, you really had to name-drop instead of saying “someone from work”. This is going to be one hell of a dinner and even more one hell of a talk with Hunnigan.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Were you being for real?” Hunnigan asked. She has her arms crossed, red glasses placed on her head amongst ebony curls.

“No… we aren’t anything. Just friends,” you regretfully admitted. You rest your head against your desk, cheek in contact with the cold surface.

Hunnigan giggles, grabbing the empty office chair beside you and scoots closer. “Really. ‘Just friends’, my ass. I see the way you look at him– heart eyes and all.”

You close your eyes and groan even louder, burying your face in your hands as you recall that fuck-up from last night. She wasn’t wrong about the heart eyes; you’ve harbored feelings towards that man for years now but you were always too much of a chicken to confess your feelings. Besides, this guy probably has someone in his heart– this fact shouldn’t hurt but it kind of does but who are you to dictate who he should love?

“You’re being so helpful right now, Ingrid. Thanks a lot,” you croaked.

“Why’d you even say his name in the first place? Could’ve gone with Patrick, he and Leon are in the same department.”

Boom. Could’ve said I was seeing Patrick instead… why’d it have to be that man with his stupidly pretty blue eyes and stupidly perfect, pink lips and his stupidly smooth voice and his stupidly charming smile…

“Well– Leon and I are friends, of course he somehow popped up in my mind first! And last night was not one of my brightest moments, okay? People make mistakes!”

Ingrid laughed like it was the funniest joke she’s ever heard, leaning back into the chair and crossing her arms.

“It’s not like your mom’s going to be content with just hearing you date someone. She’s going to ask for proof and probably ask to see him, knowing her.”

“I know! I know, it’s just… imagine going up to Leon and just saying the stupidest thing ever–”

“What stupid thing are you going to say to me?” Leon suddenly chimes in. You shoot up, almost stumbling backwards in the sheer speed you just exhibited. His sudden intrusion causes explosions of pink to burst on your cheeks, eyes to be wide.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” he chuckles. I wish I was a ghost right now. I need to be 6 feet below ground.

“You’ll be in charge of keeping Y/N company the entire afternoon, Kennedy. I’ve got papers at my desk,” Hunnigan explains with a sly smirk. “Catch you later.” Leon throws her a thumbs up and as he turns around, she shoots you a wink. I swear, Hunnigan, I’m so going to throw hands with you!

“Don’t you have work to do?” You ask Leon.

“Nope. Finished them all yesterday,” he replied.

“Briefings?”

“Just came out of the last one earlier.”

“Training the rookies?”

“They don’t have training today.”

“Missions?”

“Won’t be in one as far as I know.”

Fuck he’s going to be with me all day… but didn’t I secretly wish for this…?

“What’s up with all the questions?” Leon asks. “You’re being weird today but then again, it’s not like you’re never weird.”

“Oh shut up.” You exclaim. Despite his joke, you remembered that part of Leon’s job includes being able to read people in terms of their body language which means that he would pick up whenever you were nervous around him. This is not my day.

“Well you’re always busy. It’s just new to see you not doing something,” you retort. You try to adjust your body language, making sure you look a lot less secretive and tense than you were earlier.

“And you’re the one busier than me this time,” he observes, tilting his head to the papers stacked on your desk. “I can help out if you want. They’re just reports right?”

“Um, yeah. I could use the help. That one’s the finished pile, the one beside it is the one that needs checking.”

“On it, ma’am.”

Shit that was kinda hot.

He takes a pencil from your mug and sets it right in front of him before taking a portion of the unfinished stack and placing it on the empty desk beside yours. He distances himself from you, brows furrowed in focus. He gets up and takes off his navy blue blazer, draping it over the back of his chair. If you think that was hot, he also proceeds to roll the sleeves of his crisp, white button-up up until his elbows, veins deliciously adorning his arms. His arms are straining against the fabric, ripples of his muscle bulging beneath. Leon, I swear to God, I’m going to get nothing done if you do my paperwork looking like an absolute snack– no, a 5-star Michelin meal that I can never, ever afford.

“Sight-seeing, I see.”

His voice snaps you from your swirl of diabolical thoughts, grounding you again.

“I wasn’t.”

“Your eyes on my hands told me otherwise.”

“Fuck off! Just do the paperwork!”

He simply smirks and chuckles to himself before really starting on the paperwork, blue eyes focused on the dark ink on paper, occasionally marking things. Lord have mercy, please, I just want to get work done.

Taking a deep breath, you take your own stack of papers and start work; it would be hypocritical if you kept urging Leon to work but you were just busy shamelessly drinking in your friend’s arms. Right. We’re just friends.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Since two people worked on the papers, you managed to get them done faster than you thought. After dropping them off at your boss’ desk, you head back to your cubicle to get your things ready before clocking out for the day. Leon had already finished getting his things together and changed into black bootcut jeans and a black leather jacket over his white long sleeves, black helmet on the nook of his arm since he rode his bike home.

“You wanna ride?” Leon asks, which causes you to raise your eyebrows and smirk. “On my bike, I meant. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Of course I know what you mean, dumbass. And as much as I want to, I brought my car to work so… I’ll pass for now. Thanks though.”

He nods, before setting his helmet aside, and helping you pack your things even if they aren’t much. “Thanks again.”

“No problem.”

You two walk out of the dark office and make your way out of the building, heading for the parking lot. Just before you get into your car, he speaks up. 

“So… you know how Valentine’s Day is highly commercialized?” he begins.

“Mhm. What about it?” you asked.

“There’s this high-end restaurant downtown and they’ve got good food at the cost of a wallet-decimating bill. They’ve got a discount for couples who dine there and… I was wondering if you’d wanna come along with me as a fake date. It’ll be easy on the pocket with the discount they’re offering.”

Your eyes widen, warmth creeping up from your back and settle at the nape of your neck. It’s not like he’s even asking you out on an actual dinner date, the man just wants to have dinner that’s easy on the pockets… even if he’s out here riding on the latest model of a Ducati but he still asked you out, instead of other women in the agency– women who have fuller hips and better hair than you do. Women who you think have a better chance of catching his eye anyways.

“That sounds nice. Um, yeah sure. I’m free. I’m assuming that this is going to be on the 14th?”

“Yep. So uh… I guess that’s a date then?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

The air turned slightly awkward, you two just standing around awkwardly with gazes either downcast or focused on something else.

“I’ll- I’ll go now, Leon. Um, bye!” you say.

“Uh, bye. Get home safe and goodnight,” he responds.

With a small nod, you get in your car and start it. Buckling your seatbelt, you pull out of your parking spot and drive home. You noticed that Leon stayed behind, making sure he got to see you leave before you catch a quick glimpse of his bike’s lights from your rear-view mirror.

You still felt kind of awkward around Leon especially with last night’s mortifying cover story but luckily his chill demeanor made you feel less on the edge. You thought about all the times he made you feel flustered: when he switched places with you on the sidewalk so he’d be the one on the outer part instead; when he ran to a convenience store to get you pads and new underwear when you bled while at work; see him interacting with one of your coworker’s kids; when he pretended to be your boyfriend when several drunk guys were trying to hit on you at a bar; the endless pet names he’d give you. Sometimes it felt like flirting but you know that Leon likes to joke with anyone; maybe you’re just looking too much into things and this is just a manifestation of your growing feelings for him. It’s hard not to fall for your best friend when he’s more than just good looks and his stupid jokes and beneath those he’s a truly brave man– probably the bravest man you’ve ever met. He’s stupidly selfless; in most situations where you’d probably run away and save yourself, he’d stay behind to finish the job at the cost of his life. He’s still standing firm at the faces of mind-bending horrors, doing this because “if no one does then who will”, as he always said. He probably has someone to fight for that’s why he’s this dedicated, even if he was forced into this kind of work. With a sigh, you turn up the volume on your radio and force all your thoughts to the back of your head; you’ll bring them out again later when you get home, accompanied with a cold beer.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“So let me get this straight: Leon asked you out for dinner?” Hunnigan’s voice comes out of your laptop.

“Yep.” you respond.

“And you two will go as a fake couple to be able to get that discount because the food is normally expensive.”

“Mhm.”

“Listen, girl. I’ve known Leon longer than you have and it’s not like he’ll just ask random women out to be his fake date.”

“He didn’t ask me to be his fake date, he just asked me to come along with him.”

“Think about it: he could’ve asked anyone. He could’ve asked me or Ashley or Shen Mei but he chose to ask you! This is something!”

“It’s nothing. Besides, I was the only one at the parking lot with him so he asked since I was the nearest.”

“Dude! He was free the whole day! He had plenty of time to look for anyone else but he chose you!”

“He wasn’t exactly free since I had him help me out with reports.”

Hunnigan lets out an exasperated sigh at the other end of the call, probably frustrated that your negative thinking is getting the best of you. The both of you stay silent for a bit, nursing your beer before taking a small sip.

“Well, regardless of whatever he thinks of me, I’m going to enjoy dinner. It wouldn’t hurt to think about it as a friendly get-together, y’know,” you speak up.

“It would hurt, Y/N. I know you; you’ll probably get home and blast your greatest heartbreak hits or something,” Hunnigan points out. You bite your lip, not even making an effort to tell her she’s wrong when she’s painfully right– you’d sulk and just berate yourself for being so pathetic with these feelings.

“You know, you should just ask Leon what you are to him. Tell him you’re not happy with all the meaningless flirting if he’s doing that with non-romantic intentions. I’m sure he’d just apologize and beat himself up over it.”

You stay silent for a little longer, thinking about Hunnigan’s words. You’re an agent, for God’s sakes– you‘re supposed to be comfortable with confronting people and you are… just not with Leon but why? What are you so afraid of? For Leon to be distant from you and your friendship fizzling out into nothing? Maybe. Just maybe.

“Yeah. You’re right. Thanks girl, that was really good advice.”

“Hey, no problem. You can always count on me with your boy problems.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Several days after that call, you managed to get out of work quite early. There wasn’t much to do since all papers that you and Leon did a few days ago were already good and there weren’t agents under your watch that were on overseas missions so you got off early. Since Leon offered to give you a ride to work on his bike, you didn’t bring your car along so you’ll commute going back home if you were to clock out earlier than him. You looked around for Leon, telling him that you were going to go home early to get yourself ready for the dinner “date” later this evening. You spotted him in the break room with a few other agents, chatting with Patrick.

“Leon, hey. I’ll be heading home now since I don’t have anything else to do. See you later.” You say with a small smile as you peeked around the door frame. Everyone turned from their conversations to look at you, then looked back at him.

“I can send you home, since I’m free too,” he offered. Though your gaze was on him, you could spot other agents with smirks on their faces.

“Yeah, Leon. We can take it from here, you can go out with Y/N. It’s Valentine’s Day too,” Shen Mei adds. She gives the agent beside her a small nudge with her elbow, shooting them a knowing look before shifting her eyes back to you.

“Are you okay with it, Y/N?” Leon asks. Though his voice sounds relaxed, you can see a hint of something that flashed in his eyes that you can’t quite put a finger on.

“Yeah. I’d like that,” you respond.

You swear you see Leon’s face light up when you say yes, instantly moving from where he was and going closer to you. “Let’s go.” he softly says. You don’t miss the ghost of his touch hovering over your waist, causing your heart to relentlessly pound against your ribcage. You bite back a small smile, chewing on the inside of your cheek and hoping that your cheeks don’t turn pink.

Now you two are in the parking lot, standing beside his bike. He hands you your own helmet while he wears his own, offering you his leather jacket, which you take anyways. Protection, he says.

“Hey, I think it’ll be a bit boring if you just head home so why don’t we do some things before dinner?” he suggested, putting his gloves on.

“What things?” You mused.

He averts his gaze for a little bit before continuing on, looking a little shy with his movements. “Maybe a visit to the park would be nice,” he offers in a small voice.

His sudden shyness makes you smile a little, a quiet giggling bubbles from your throat but you take his suggestion nevertheless.

“Sounds like a plan,” you say.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The afternoon was fun; you two went to the park and took nice pictures of the view, though you noticed that Leon’s pictures were mainly of you but you didn’t mind it. You also suggested having ice cream and going to an empty playground, the sight of two adults on the swings and having the time of their lives both silly and wholesome. Of course, he sent you home safe and made sure to come back in 2 hours to pick you up for dinner. This time, he said that he’ll be using his car so that the wind won’t ruin your clothes. Immediately, you dashed to your room and picked out a dress and heels that you’ll wear for the dinner while also planning the make-up look you’re going for and figuring out what hairstyle you’ll be doing. An hour later, you shower and get dressed; the dress you chose hugged your body well, which made you feel a little more confident in yourself. You got your hair styled and your make-up done, opting to do it a little different than you usually do. After getting ready, you sent pictures of yourself to Hunnigan. In response, she sent so many voice messages of encouragement where she’s practically screaming. After a few minutes of waiting, Leon calls to let you know that he’s waiting outside.

You walk out and see him leaning on the hood of his car, an elegant arrangement of flowers on one hand.

“Hey,” you softly say. He turns around and faces you, taking a hand out of his trouser’s pocket. It’s as if his eyes have the moon and stars on them, his face lighting up when he sees you. He lets go of a breath he didn’t know he held, a subtle pinkness dusting his cheeks as he places a hand on your waist and leads you to the passenger side of the car. He walks over to his side and opens up the door, taking his time in staring at you for a little more.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mutters in a low voice that’s something else entirely, his words coming out with a slight rasp.

Now it’s your turn to feel flustered; why wear blusher on your cheeks when you have Leon to keep a blush on your cheeks all night long?

“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself, you know.”

He turns his attention to the steering wheel before he remembers to give you the bouquet, that dorky smile of his completing his look.

“Here, got you these. Just because this isn’t an actual date doesn’t mean I won’t put effort into it.”

Here we go again with another game of “is he into me or am I just looking into things too much?”.

“Thanks. These look really pretty,” you observe. You noticed that the flowers didn’t make you sneeze or cause your face to itch, much to your surprise.

“I remembered how you have allergies to flowers so I got ones that didn’t trigger an allergic reaction so I’m glad that turned out well.”

Oh. Oh.

Oh boy were you in deep. Leon Scott Kennedy, he’s really more than just a pretty face and dad jokes. He even remembers the little things. Gosh, I’m in deep.

“That’s… that’s really thoughtful of you, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. So… shall we?”

“We shall.”

He starts the car and drives you two to the restaurant he talked about. During the entire ride, you noticed how his eyes wouldn’t stop flitting from the road and to you. You joked about keeping his eyes in front of him and how they can take their time admiring you during red lights or when you finally get to the dinner. You two sat in comfortable silence, sweet music coming from the radio filling in for the stillness inside the car. He stops at a red light, fingers drumming on the sleek leather of the steering wheel.

“Can I be honest with you, Y/N?” he suddenly asks.

You nod, turning your head to face him. “What is it?”

“I don’t want this to be a dinner between coworkers or friends.”

His words yank the breath from your chest, the inside of your mouth feeling a little parched. You can hear the thundering of your heart in your ears, drowning out the song on the radio.

“Huh?”

“Does this seem fake to you?”

“Yes– well, no– I mean–”

“I’m going to say it now while we’re not there yet: all this isn’t just for a discount.”

You go silent, thoughts disappearing and trying to piece things together. What does he mean by “does this seem fake” and “all this isn’t just for a discount”?

“What are you trying to tell me, Leon?”

“I heard you and Hunnigan days ago. You like me. I overheard you talking to her about your mom wanting you to see someone and then you blurting out that you were seeing me as a way to escape being set-up with some dude.”

Shit! He heard! I’m going to dive head-first into a cement-mixer right now. Argrhaghrag–

“I knew and heard that, that’s why I didn’t press any further.”

Didn’t press any further? Didn’t press with– Oh. He didn’t press any further when he suddenly piped in with his “what stupid thing are you going to tell me?” question because he already heard all the context he needed. He was just polite by not telling me he heard Every. Single. Thing.

“Listen, Leon. I’m so sorry– I was not thinking when I suddenly blurted that, I hope you don’t feel harassed or anything–”

“I like you, Y/N. That’s why I asked you, you specifically. I could’ve gone to dinner with anyone else but I didn’t.”

He runs a hand through brown locks, soft strands sifted through slender fingers.

“I asked you to dinner under the guise of wanting to take advantage of this day’s commercialization but I lied. There isn’t even a discount, actually. I just want dinner with you. The food really is great but I don’t think it’ll taste as great as eating it with someone I love.”

And to think that you didn’t expect him to ever like you.

“I don’t just want us to be friends, Y/N. Unless you think otherwise, then I’ll respect it.”

You two just sit there in total silence, some 80s romantic song serving as background music for whatever magical moment is happening right now. Leon looks a little more anxious now, sapphires shifting between your eyes and lips.

“I feel the same way too, Leon, and I don’t just want this to be a fake dinner– not ever. I just didn’t think that you’d actually get feelings for me when there’s all those other women in the office,” you shyly admit.

“I’m in love with you and you only, Y/N. They’re not you.”

Those words set off a reaction similar to a factory reset in your mind and suddenly, you don’t have a single thought and you’re not thinking before moving. You lean in from the passenger seat and with a silent prayer that his windows are tinted (highly likely they are), your hand finds its way into his blazer. You bunch the fabric up and draw him in for a kiss, shutting your eyes. You feel him tense up a little bit before he relaxes into your touch, a calloused hand reaching to cup your cheek. The soft smack of lips can be heard inside the car before you pull away, half-lidded eyes staring straight into inky pupils that swallowed all the blue in his eyes. Your gaze is downcast, admiring the glossy smear of your pink lip gloss on his lips.

“I bet I look real good with your kiss,” he rasps with a small smirk.

“I bet you’ll look better without these later,” you hinted while eyeing his suit, giving him a wink.

“Oh?”

This was not how you thought your dinner night would play out but you didn’t mind.

NOTE - Finally done with 3/4 Valentine's fics!!! Personally, I don't think anyone's getting me anything for Valentine's Day but a girlie can continue to dream :') I finally got to see my grades and I'm really happy with how it turned out-- all my grades (except for one subject-- WHICH IS NOT MATH surprisingly) went up by several percent so I hope I get to do the same thing this quarter!!!! Anyways, that's it and thank you for reading this fic!!!!! I <;333333 U

The dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).