#I did try to do better lighting but it was giving me trouble so I scrapped that

[luvst4rc0r3]

HII so idk what's going on with the whole pregnant reader thing but I feel like u stabbed me bcz why u gotta make it so sad😭 but I thought about the idea that after reader's miscarriage and Jinx takes in Isha, she gets a taste of what it's like to be a mom and it gives her the hope to try again. But then after Isha dies, everything all goes to shit again (events of act 3 play out), but then after Jinx gets out of jail and teams up with Ekko, she goes to reader and says something like "once this is all over, we're getting out of here." And they move to bildgewater together and have an actual child there in a more healthy and happy space :)) maybe for a time skip part but idk lol, anyway just thought I'd leave this here!! Live laugh love Jinx

request: Your “I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

It was super interesting.

And also made me cry😭😭

Can you write a happy ending for it?

TY if you do

request:I'm gonna need a good ending where Jinx and r have the baby and live happily ever after because that last ask fucked me up😭😭😭😭

"But good things don’t always last forever"

Jinx x F!Reader

WARNINGS: DEATH, MENTIONS OF MISCARRIAGE!! WC: 3165

NOTE: erm I hope yall are ok now.

Summary: After a heartbreaking miscarriage, you fall into despair, but Jinx—determined to bring light back into your life—unexpectedly finds a little girl named Isha, who needs a family just as much as you both do.

PT.1

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The hideout was quiet. Too quiet.

Jinx hated it.

She sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing her leg as she watched you, curled up with your back to her, shoulders trembling under the blanket. You’d barely moved in hours. Days. It felt like weeks.

Jinx wasn’t great with words, but she knew that whatever she said wouldn’t make it better. The grief sat heavy between you, thick and suffocating. She wanted to tear it apart, blow it up, do something—but this wasn’t something she could fix with bombs or bullets.

So, she stayed. As much as she wanted to run from feelings, from pain, she stayed.

She reached out, brushing her fingers over your arm.

“Hey, toots…” Her voice was softer than usual. Hesitant. “Y’wanna get outta here? Just for a bit?”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t even stir.

Jinx sighed. She pressed a quick kiss to your shoulder before getting up.

“I’ll be back,” she muttered.

You didn’t respond.

Jinx wandered the streets of Zaun, hands stuffed in her pockets, trying to ignore the ache in her chest. She hated seeing you like that. Hated knowing there was nothing she could do to take away your pain.

She needed to find something. Something that could help.

It had been weeks since everything fell apart—since the baby was gone. Since your heart had shattered into something unrecognizable. You barely left the bed, barely ate, barely breathed.

Jinx never said it, but you knew it scared her.

She’d always been the reckless one, the impulsive one, the wild one. But now, you were the one slipping away.

And Jinx? She didn’t know how to stop it.

So, she did what she always did when the world felt like too much. She ran.

Jinx wasn’t looking for a kid.

She was looking for a fight, for trouble—something, anything to pull her out of her head. Out of you and the way you wouldn’t even look at her anymore.

But what she found was a girl.

Small. Filthy. Silent.

Fell on top of her while some guys chased her.

Once Jinx shot off the guys she crouched in front of her, frowning.

“Hey, shorty. What’s your deal?”

No answer.

The girl just stared.

Jinx clicked her tongue. “Oh, great. You’re broken too.”

Still nothing.

Jinx was about to leave—she wasn’t in the business of picking up strays—but then she saw it.

A fresh bruise, deep and purple, blooming along the girl’s cheek.

Jinx’s stomach twisted.

“…Shit.”

She wasn’t good at this stuff. She wasn’t you. But you… you would’ve stopped. You would’ve helped.

And maybe, just maybe, if she brought this kid home, you’d look at her again.

Jinx sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

“follow me or not. I don’t care”

She followed.

She studied the kid. Dirty, scared, alone. Just like she used to be.

Maybe… maybe this was it. The something she’d been looking for.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

You didn’t know what to think when Jinx came home with her.

You sat up in bed, blinking blearily as Jinx strolled in, dragging a small, silent child behind her.

“Babe, meet Isha. Isha, meet Babe.” Jinx grinned like this was normal. Like she hadn’t just brought home a whole person.

You just stared.

“…What?”

Jinx flopped onto the bed beside you, throwing an arm over your waist.

“She fell on me. Didn’t say a word. Figured, y’know, she could use some better company. We could use some better company.”

You looked at the child.

She was thin. Too thin. Her hands were curled into tight little fists, her lips pressed together in an unreadable line. She looked… wary. Not scared, not trusting. Just waiting.

For what, you weren’t sure.

But you knew that feeling.

Jinx sighed against your shoulder. “You’re not mad, are ya?”

You swallowed. No. You weren’t mad.

You were just… tired.

But when you looked at Isha—really looked at her—something deep inside you cracked.

Maybe it was the way she wouldn’t meet your eyes. Maybe it was the way she stood, stiff and defensive, like she expected you to tell her to leave.

Or maybe it was the way, despite all of it, she still stayed.

“…She can stay,” you murmured.

Jinx made a triumphant noise.

Isha didn’t react.

But when you got up and grabbed a blanket, draping it over her tiny shoulders, she didn’t flinch away.

That was enough.

For now.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The first few days were quiet.

Isha barely made a sound. You barely spoke. Jinx bounced between watching you both like a hawk and blowing things up in the dead of night, like movement could stop her from thinking too hard.

But, slowly, something shifted.

It started small.

You’d wake up in the morning, roll over, and instead of being met with an empty bed, you’d find Isha sitting on the floor, drawing.

She wasn’t great at it—her little hands were too shaky, the colors smeared—but it was something.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you wanted to do something, too.

So, one day, you sat beside her.

She tensed—always waiting for rejection—but when you picked up a crayon and started drawing next to her, she hesitated. Then, slowly, she handed you a blue one.

That was the first good day.

Jinx practically vibrated with excitement when she saw the two of you, sprawled out on the floor, doodling nonsense.

“Holy shit, progress!” she cheered, flopping onto your back. “Babe, you’re alive again!”

You snorted, nudging her playfully.

“This is a miracle!” Jinx gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Someone get me a camera—this belongs in the history books!”

Isha watched Jinx’s antics with wide eyes, and when you turned to her, you swore you saw something flicker on her face.

Something close to a smile.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

You couldn’t sleep much anymore.

ever since everything.

And tonight? Tonight was bad.

She woke up to the sound of you breathing too fast, fingers twitching in your sleep.

She didn’t hesitate.

Sliding closer, she brushed your fingers through your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Babydoll,” she murmured. “Wake up, love.”

you gasped awake, eyes darting wildly until they landed on her.

She didn’t say anything. Just held you.

Your arms wrapped around you tight—desperate, grounding—and for a while, you both  just stayed like that.

Then, small movement.

You looked up.

Isha stood in the doorway, blanket clutched in her hands, staring with wide, uncertain eyes.

Jinx let out a breath, forcing a smirk. “Hey, shortstack. Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

Isha hesitated, then shook her head.

You lifted the blanket, silently inviting her in.

For a moment, she stayed frozen. Then, carefully, she climbed onto the bed, curling up between you both.

Jinx snorted. “Well, well. Looks like we’re officially outnumbered.”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to Isha’s hair.

And for the first time in forever, you slept through the night, peacefully.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It started with a rainy day.

Zaun’s skies were always grim, but today, the rain came in heavy, flooding the alleyways and making the apartment feel even smaller.

Isha sat by the window, watching raindrops race down the glass. Her little fingers traced them, following each droplet with quiet concentration.

Jinx groaned dramatically, sprawled upside down on the couch, legs hanging over the backrest. “I’m bored.”

You smirked, looking up from your book. “And whose fault is that?”

“Yours,” she shot back immediately, flipping onto her stomach. “Entertain me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not my job.”

Jinx gasped, hand over her heart. “Wow. Rude.” Then, she perked up, eyes gleaming. “Wait. I got it.”

She jumped to her feet, startling Isha, who turned and blinked.

“Pillow fort.” Jinx grinned, pointing dramatically at you. “Right now.”

You raised a brow. “Aren’t we a little old for—”

Jinx was already tearing cushions off the couch.

Isha watched her with wide, curious eyes.

Jinx caught her staring and grinned. “Whaddya think, shortstack? Wanna help?”

Isha hesitated. Then, slowly, she nodded.

Jinx let out a victorious whoop! and tossed a blanket over her head. “Welcome to the chaos, kid!”

You couldn’t help but smile.

Within half an hour, the living room was transformed.

Blankets draped over chairs, cushions stacked like castle walls, fairy lights strung across the ceiling. It was warm, cozy, perfect.

Isha crawled inside, eyes wide as she ran her hands over the soft fabric.

Jinx flopped down beside her, arms behind her head. “Not bad, huh?”

You sat across from them, watching as Isha slowly, carefully, curled up between you both.

For the first time all day, she relaxed.

Jinx smirked, nudging you playfully. “See? Told you it was a good idea.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Alright, fine. You win.”

Jinx puffed out her chest. “Damn right I do.”

Isha watched your banter, something soft in her expression. Then—carefully, hesitantly—she reached out and took your hand.

Your breath caught.

She turned to Jinx, then did the same.

Jinx’s eyes widened.

Neither of you spoke.

You just squeezed her tiny hands, warmth blooming in your chest as the rain pattered softly outside.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It started with Jinx.

Because of course it did.

She thought it would be hilarious to put blue dye in your shampoo.

You stepped out of the bathroom, dripping wet, staring at her with murderous intent.

Jinx, sprawled on the couch with Isha in her lap, burst into laughter.

“Oh—oh my god—babe, you look—” She was wheezing, wiping tears from her eyes. “I—I’m sorry, I can’t—”

Isha, sitting innocently beside her, covered her mouth, eyes shining with amusement.

You crossed your arms. “You think this is funny?”

Jinx gasped for breath. “Babe, c’mon, you’re literally blue!”

Isha let out a small, breathy giggle.

You smirked.

“Alright, Powder,” you said sweetly. “Game on.”

Jinx’s laughter stopped.

“…Wait.”

By the end of the week, it was war.

You switched Jinx’s sugar with salt.

She short-sheeted the bed.

You put hot sauce in her morning coffee.

She filled your boots with glitter.

Isha, watching the chaos unfold, was delighted.

And then—

The prank truce.

Because somehow, somehow, Isha got caught in the middle.

Jinx had set up an elaborate bucket trap for you, but you weren’t the one who walked through the door.

Isha did.

The bucket tipped.

Flour everywhere.

A long, long silence followed.

Jinx paled. “Oh. Shit.”

Isha, completely dusted in white, blinked.

You braced for tears.

But instead—

She grinned.

Then, the softest, most mischievous giggle bubbled out of her.

Jinx gasped. “Babe.”

You were already smirking. “She’s one of us.”

Jinx wiped a fake tear from her eye. “I’m so proud.”

And just like that, Isha became the ultimate prank war champion.

You had created a monster.

And honestly?

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Your life finally feels complete again.

For weeks you felt alone and scared. 

Scared that you failed Jinx.

You saw Jinx actual feel like she has a purpose again.

But then—

when you both were finally settling in your guy’s new life.

she was gone.

But now—

you guys have Isha

finally feel full again.

but good things don’t always last forever.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It happened too fast.

One second, you were all together—fighting, running, surviving.

The next—

Isha was holding a gun.

Your breath caught in your throat, legs moving before your brain could catch up.

Jinx screamed.

“Isha!”

Jinx lunged.

She almost made it.

Almost.

Isha’s eyes met yours—And then—

She was gone.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

And then—nothing.

Silence.

it wasn’t fair.

Not again.

Not her.

Not your baby.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Everything burned.

Piltover was drowning in smoke, fire licking at the streets, sirens screaming in the distance. The air was thick with dust and blood, and the world felt like it was cracking apart.

And maybe it was.

Maybe you were.

Jinx stood beside you, gun smoking, eyes wild. Her fingers twitched on Fishbones, but her grip was steady. It always was in a fight.

She turned to you, breath ragged, face smeared with dirt and sweat.

“Once we’re out,” she rasped, voice raw from screaming, “we’ll get the life we always wanted.”

You swallowed, gripping your own weapon, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Jinx—”

“I mean it.” She reached for you, gripping your wrist like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. “No more running. No more fighting. Just us, babe. We’ll leave. Start fresh. We’ll have—”

She choked on the words.

But you knew.

She meant Isha.

She meant family.

She meant the life that was stolen from you both.

Your throat tightened. “Jinx…”

“I swear.” Her eyes burned, desperate, pleading. “Just hold on a little longer. Please.”

You exhaled shakily.

Then—slowly—you nodded.

Jinx let out a breath, pressing her forehead to yours.

For a moment, just one, the war didn’t exist.

It was just you and her.

Like it used to be.

Like it could be again.

If you survived.

If you made it out.

Jinx pulled back, smirking despite the blood on her lip. “C’mon, babe.” She lifted Fishbones. “Let’s finish this.”

And so, you did.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The war ended in fire.

You made it out.

Barely.

With nothing but your weapons, the clothes on your backs, and the weight of ghosts in your hearts—

you both flew away.

Flew away from the wreckage. From the war. From everything.

And when you stopped running—

You were in Bilgewater.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

The first thing you noticed was the salt.

Bilgewater smelled like the sea—like salt and spice and damp wood. The docks groaned under the weight of ships, traders shouting over each other as people bustled past.

It was chaotic. Loud. Messy.

It was perfect.

Jinx stretched, arms high above her head, letting out a long, satisfied sigh.

“Smells like fish and crime,” she said, grinning. “I love it.”

You snorted. “You would.”

She turned to you, nudging your side. “You sure about this, babe? New place, new start—no more blowing stuff up for fun. You ready for that?”

You exhaled, looking out at the ocean.

The wind was soft here. The sun actually touched your skin instead of hiding behind smog.

You turned back to Jinx, taking her hand in yours.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I’m ready.”

Jinx’s grin softened.

She squeezed your hand.

“Then let’s go home.”

It wasn’t much.

Just a small shack near the docks—rickety, barely standing, but yours.

Jinx spent weeks fixing it up, scrounging for parts, muttering about “engineering genius” and “making this place badass.”

You just watched her work, heart full for the first time in what felt like forever.

Because she was happy.

You both were.

No more war. No more running.

Just waking up with Jinx tangled around you, her hair messy, her breath warm against your neck.

Just late nights on the rooftop, watching the waves, talking about nothing and everything.

Just peace.

And one day, as Jinx lay beside you, fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm, she whispered—

“We made it.”

You turned to her, brushing blue strands from her face.

“We did.”

She smiled, soft and real, and for the first time in a long time—

There were no ghosts.

No war.

No grief.

Just you and her.

And the life you always wanted.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

Bilgewater had been home for a couple months now.

The war was a distant memory, just a story told in whispers between you and Jinx when the nights stretched too long and the past felt too close.

Life had settled.

Jinx still tinkered, still got into trouble, still stole things just because she could. But she was happy. She laughed more, slept easier, held you like she was afraid you’d slip away in the night.

And you?

For the first time in your life, you were at peace.

But something was missing.

Something you and Jinx didn’t talk about out loud—not for months, not after what happened.

Then one night, as you both lay tangled on the couch, a storm raging outside, Jinx spoke—soft, hesitant.

“…Do you ever think about it?”

You didn’t have to ask what she meant.

You turned to her, fingers brushing absentmindedly through her blue strands. “Every day.”

Jinx swallowed.

She sat up, looking at you—really looking—and her voice was barely a whisper when she said—

“What if we tried again?”

Your breath caught.

Jinx rushed ahead before you could answer.

“Not—not to replace her,” she stammered. “Never that. Just… I dunno. We had a good thing. A great thing. And I think we could—” She exhaled sharply, eyes darting away. “Forget it. Dumb idea.”

You caught her chin gently, making her meet your gaze.

“It’s not dumb,” you said. “It’s perfect.”

Jinx blinked.

Then—slowly—her lips curled into a small, hopeful grin.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

BONUS!!!!!

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It took time.

But one day, finally, you held her.

Tiny. Fragile. A weight so light it barely felt real in your arms.

You stared down at the baby, throat tight, heart pounding in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

Jinx hovered beside you, practically vibrating.

“D’you think she’s defective?” she muttered.

You snorted. “Jinx.”

“She hasn’t said anything.”

“She was literally just born.”

Jinx huffed, poking the baby’s cheek. “Still. I expected more personality.”

The baby let out a soft, sleepy sigh.

Jinx melted.

“…Okay, that was kinda cute.”

You shook your head, smiling. Then, quietly, you whispered—

“Isha.”

Jinx froze.

The boat went silent, save for the distant sound of the waves against the docks.

You looked up, meeting Jinx’s eyes.

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then—slowly—Jinx exhaled, her lips curling into something small, soft.

She reached out, tracing a gentle finger over the baby’s tiny fist.

“Isha,” she repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

Like it was something sacred.

You nodded, eyes stinging.

“She deserves to be remembered…both kids need to be remembered”

Jinx swallowed, blinking rapidly.

Then, suddenly, she grinned.

“Well,” she said, nudging your shoulder. “Let’s just hope this one doesn’t start a prank war.”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to Isha’s tiny forehead.

“No promises.”

Jinx smirked.

Then she leaned in, brushing her lips against yours, whispering—

“We made it.”

You smiled.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “We did.”

And as Isha let out a tiny yawn, curling into your chest, the past finally let go.

The war was over.

The ghosts were gone.

And the life you always wanted?

It was here.

It was real.

And it was yours.

I love making angst and fluff stories!! They are so fun to craft!!

I want sleep.

[spittyfishy]

Pokémon Masters gave Lillie a new outfit and teamed her up with Solgaleo so I wanted to do this redraw of a screen shot I took of the game! Lillie has been my favourite Pokémon character since I first played Sun and Moon so I love when Masters gives her a chance to shine!

[bodybaggage]

Ghostly Heir or Batty Custody?

DP X DC

———

The Justice League Watchtower was an advanced piece of technology, housing the world’s greatest heroes. But even in a place dedicated to protecting the Earth, some things were simply unavoidable—like gossip.

It had started innocently enough, as these things often do. Superman, having just returned from Gotham, was discussing the latest developments in the Batcave with Wonder Woman over a cup of coffee. The conversation was meant to be private, but when you have people like the Flash who can be in and out of a room before anyone notices, privacy is a relative term.

“So, Batman has another kid?” Superman had said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Wonder Woman raised an eyebrow. “Another one? Are we running a daycare now?”

Superman shrugged. “Not sure. But he’s different from the others. White hair, glows a little. Bruce is being… secretive.”

“Bruce is always secretive,” Wonder Woman pointed out.

“Yeah, but this one seems—” Superman’s words were cut off as the Flash zoomed by, pretending to be busy with something else. The two superhumans exchanged a glance but said nothing more, knowing that once the speedster got wind of something, the whole League would know within the hour.

And they did.

Back in Gotham, Bruce Wayne—better known as Batman—was oblivious to the brewing storm. He sat in the Batcave, going over the latest reports on Gotham’s criminal activity with his usual intensity. Beside him, a ghostly figure floated lazily, occasionally glancing at the screens with mild interest.

Danny Fenton—known to most as Danny Phantom—had been in Gotham for a few weeks now, lying low while he figured out how to deal with some supernatural issues back in Amity Park. Clockwork had suggested Gotham as a good place to lay low, citing the city’s reputation for attracting all sorts of weirdos. Besides, Clockwork had argued, Batman wouldn’t care as long as Danny didn’t cause trouble.

And for the most part, Danny hadn’t. He’d stayed out of Gotham’s wayward criminal elements, kept his ghostly powers under wraps, and only occasionally wandered the streets at night to stretch his legs (or float, as it were).

Of course, he hadn’t counted on the Bat Family.

Damian had challenged him to a duel within minutes of their first meeting, insisting that he prove himself worthy of staying in the Batcave. Danny had countered by turning intangible and letting Damian tire himself out, which only seemed to frustrate the young Robin more.

Tim had interrogated him about the nature of ectoplasm and ghost powers, scribbling notes furiously as Danny tried his best to explain without giving too much away.

Jason had simply grunted, muttering something about “another brat” before disappearing on his motorcycle, while Dick had been the only one to offer a somewhat normal welcome.

“You’re like, what, the seventh kid Bruce has taken in?” Dick had said, clapping Danny on the back. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“I’m not staying here permanently,” Danny had replied, but Dick had just laughed, as if Danny’s words were the punchline to a joke only he understood.

Things had been relatively quiet since then—until now.

It started as a low hum, a barely noticeable vibration in the air. Alfred, the ever-watchful butler, was the first to notice something amiss.

“Master Wayne,” Alfred said calmly, setting down the tray of tea he’d just brought in. “We appear to have… company.”

Bruce looked up from the Batcomputer, his eyes narrowing as the hum grew louder, evolving into a low rumble that seemed to shake the very foundations of the Batcave. Danny, who had been floating upside down, lazily spinning in midair, suddenly snapped to attention.

“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Danny muttered, his expression turning from bored to annoyed in seconds.

“I’m afraid I cannot,” Alfred replied, his tone as even as ever, despite the growing disturbance.

The rumble turned into a roar, and suddenly, with a burst of green light, a swirling portal opened up in the middle of the Batcave. The vortex crackled with energy, and from it stepped a towering figure clad in ghostly armor, a crown of ectoplasmic fire atop his head.

Pariah Dark, the Ghost King, had arrived.

“BATMAN!” Pariah’s voice boomed through the cave, rattling the glass cases that held the old Robin suits. “I, Pariah Dark, King of the Infinite Realms, have come to challenge you for the custody of my heir!”

There was a moment of silence as the words hung in the air. Danny facepalmed, groaning audibly. “This is not happening.”

Bruce, for his part, remained as stoic as ever, though his eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. “Your heir?”

“Yes, my heir!” Pariah bellowed, his eyes glowing with ectoplasmic energy. “The boy you have taken into your care! I will not allow this—this mortal to usurp my claim!”

Bruce’s gaze flicked to Danny, who looked thoroughly unamused. “Is there something you forgot to mention?”

“Oh, come on!” Danny threw his hands up in frustration. “This isn’t what it looks like! I’m not his heir, and I’m definitely not up for custody!”

Pariah seemed undeterred by Danny’s protests. “You defeated me in battle, boy. By the laws of the Infinite Realms, that makes you my heir! And now this Bat-creature seeks to claim you as his own! I will not stand for it!”

Bruce’s expression remained impassive. “I’m not trying to claim him.”

“See?” Danny gestured to Bruce. “Totally not trying to claim me. So you can just go back to the Ghost Zone, Pariah. No custody battle needed.”

Pariah’s eyes narrowed, his fiery crown flaring. “The only way to resolve this is through combat! Batman, I challenge you to a duel for the boy!”

Bruce glanced at the portal, calculating the odds. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I will take the boy by force!” Pariah declared, raising his massive sword, which seemed to materialize out of thin air, crackling with ectoplasmic energy.

Danny floated down between the two, trying to keep the peace. “Guys, let’s just calm down. No need for a duel. I’m fine. No one’s taking anyone by force.”

Pariah looked down at Danny, his expression a mix of paternal concern and royal indignation. “Do not worry, my heir. I will defend your honor.”

Danny groaned again. “I don’t need my honor defended. I need you to stop making this weird.”

Before Danny could protest further, Bruce stepped forward, his voice as calm as ever. “Very well. A duel, then.”

“Seriously?” Danny looked at Bruce, incredulous. “You’re just going to agree to this?”

“If it ends the situation quickly, yes,” Bruce replied, his tone as dry as ever. “This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with an overprotective guardian.”

Pariah raised his sword, clearly satisfied with the outcome. “Prepare yourself, mortal! I will not hold back!”

“Hold on, hold on!” Danny zipped between them again, clearly exasperated. “We don’t need to do this! Pariah, go back to the Ghost Zone. Batman, you don’t have to fight him.”

Pariah looked genuinely perplexed. “But… the honor of the Infinite Realms demands it.”

“No, it doesn’t!” Danny insisted. “The Infinite Realms don’t care about some weird custody battle! Besides, I’m not a kid, and I’m not staying here permanently! I’m just crashing for a bit!”

Pariah frowned, lowering his sword slightly. “You… are not staying?”

“No!” Danny said, exasperated. “I’m not staying! I’m not your heir! I’m just Danny, okay?”

The Ghost King looked around, as if trying to process this information. “But… you are under his care. It was reported by reliable sources.”

“Reliable sources?” Danny echoed. “Who told you that?”

Pariah seemed to hesitate for the first time. “A rather talkative sorcerer in a trench coat. He mentioned it while muttering about ‘bloody bats’ and ‘undead nuisances.’”

Danny blinked, realization dawning. “Constantine. Of course.”

Bruce’s expression remained unchanged, though there was a faint glimmer of irritation in his eyes. “This… Constantine has been spreading rumors?”

Danny sighed heavily, feeling more tired by the minute. “Look, can we just forget this whole thing happened? Pariah, you go back to ruling the Ghost Zone. I’ll handle Constantine. And Batman, you can go back to doing… whatever it is you do.”

Pariah Dark seemed to mull this over for a moment before finally lowering his sword completely. “Very well. But know this, boy—if ever you require my assistance, you have but to call.”

“Sure, sure,” Danny muttered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With one last, dramatic sweep of his cape, Pariah Dark stepped back into the swirling green portal, which closed behind him with a final, ominous crackle.

For a moment, the Batcave was silent. Then Danny turned to Bruce, looking both sheepish and annoyed. “So… I guess I should have warned you about that.”

Bruce simply nodded, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Next time, try to keep your interdimensional family disputes to a minimum.”

“I’ll do my best,” Danny promised, floating back toward the Batcomputer. “But with my luck, that’s not gonna be easy.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Bruce replied dryly, already turning back to his work. “And tell Constantine to keep his mouth shut.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Danny muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he floated back to his usual spot, thinking about the supernatural messes that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

As the Batcave returned to its usual state of brooding silence, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Gotham wasn’t the best place to lay low after all. But with the alternative being another encounter with Pariah, he figured the Batcave wasn’t so bad—at least, not until the next interdimensional incident.

[rainbowsmagicandshit]

Arthur repeals the magic ban! Yay! Druids, Catha, and all others come to Camelot to live peacefully under the reign of the Once And Future King! Yay! The Golden Age is starting! Yay! Merlin still hasn’t told Arthur about magic! …He’s just waiting for the right time. Things have just happened so fast and he just doesn’t know how to bring it all up.

Well, as Arthur and the rest of Camelot get more comfortable with magic, Arthur makes a decision. He’s tried teaching Merlin every type of weapon out there, and he’s hopeless with every one of them. But, Merlin still insists on coming with him on dangerous quests. So, Arthur decides to have Merlin try his hand at magic so he has some sort of self defense.

Merlin: ...You want me to what?

Arthur: I know! I know, Merlin! Magic can be dangerous! But I found a wonderful teacher for you. Say hello, Wallace.

Wallace: Hello

Arthur: He's perfectly trustworthy! And, it'll all be perfectly safe!

Merlin: Arthur, there's something you need to know. About me and magic--

Arthur: I know what you're going to say, Merlin, and--

Merlin: I really don't think you know--

Arthur: --please, for me, just try this. I know you don't really like magic. But please, Merlin. And, you know, even if you're crap at it--which you likely are like everything else--you could probably at least get your eyes to do the gold thing. That'll probably scare off some people from hurting you. Like a rattle snake.

Merlin: Arthur, really, you need to listen to me--

Arthur: I'll even do it with you!

Merlin: Arthur, really...Wait what?

Arthur: I'll do it with you! To show you how not dangerous it is! You have no reason to be scared of learning it, Merlin. It'll be easy.

Merlin: ...You're going to try to learn magic?

Arthur: Yes. How hard could it be. You're going to learn it.

Merlin, crossing his arms: Okay, then. I'd like to see this. Let's see you do magic, Once And Future Prat, Mr. Magic King

Arthur, smug at getting Merlin to agree: Good. Our first lesson starts now.

They both look to Wallace. Arthur happy, Merlin raising a judgmental eyebrow. Wallace starts with the history of magic and the theories behind using it. They don't get to the actually magic using part of the lesson day. Wallace does give them both some texts to study.

Their next lesson does get to the magic part.

Wallace: You want to really feel into the magic of the world around you. Feel the earth. Feel the connection you have to that earth. Feel the power that runs through it.

Merlin's enjoying it, letting the magic wash over him, and also peeking at Arthur who seems to be struggling with it. When asked, Merlin says he doesn't feel anything either. He wants to keep watching Arthur struggle.

Their next lesson, Wallace tries to teach them some basic spells. Lighting a candle. Moving a small object. Merlin laughs at all of Arthur's attempts.

Arthur: Well let's see you do better, Merlin!

Merlin just keeps laughing.

Their lessons keep getting interrupted by this or that. Merlin also has a very busy job. One would think that he'd have less work now that magic was legalized, but no. Now he just has more magic beasts roaming the lands, and people freaking out and attacking those magic beasts, leading to fights and stuff. He's always having to slip away to resolve the matter. He has gotten very good at calming dangerous magic beasts and relocating them. But, relocating takes longer than just killing, so he's still just as busy and gone just as much as he was when dealing with vengeful sorcerers.

Every single start of magic lesson:

Wallace: Did you do the homework I assigned?

Arthur, proud: Yes, I did. I did all the reading, but I did have some trouble with the spellwork.

Merlin, who was up all night settling a griffin family into a new nest on a tall mountain: Uh. No. Didn't have time.

Arthur: Merlin, this is your lesson!

Eventually, Merlin has his fill of watching Arthur struggling with magic, and decides that this time is better spent doing other things. So, during one of the lesson, when Wallace tells them to make the flower bloom, without looking up from the report he's going over, he waves his hand and his pot explodes with the force of plants that grow out of it instantly.

Wallace: ...

Arthur: ...

[mattybsgroupie]

— fitting ★ chris sturniolo

— CONTENTS: handjob (m receiving); mommy kink; milf!reader; virgin!chris; sub!chris

— NOTES: hi my loves! sorry i’ve been a little m.i.a, some stuff happening at home and not really in my best mood BUT i’m here! you give me strenght to keep going and doing what i love. did you guys miss him as much as i did :( chris my beloved!!! inspired by this blurb, thought i’d show how shy chris was before their first time! — btw this fic is part of the milf!au but you can it on its own! — not proofread, i apologize for any mistakes. enjoy ♡

walking around the mall after a busy morning at work, you spotted a familiar figure across the alley. it was quite impossible not to recognize chris — his long hair falling over his big eyes, wearing his shabby jeans and his old converse as he typed frantically on his phone, oblivious to his surroundings.

you approached him slowly, standing in front of chris and expecting that he’d notice you soon. when he raised his head, a smile spread from ear to ear, his blue orbs sparkling. it had been over two weeks since you last saw each other due to stacy staying at her father's place, therefore, chris had no excuses to visit you.

“chris? what are you doing here?” you asked in your usual sweet tone. he scratched the back of his head, as if he was a bit embarrassed about the situation he found himself in. “huh... actually, i was supposed to meet stacy” chris admitted, tucking his cell phone back into his pocket and standing up beside you.

“but she won’t make it” he said. a puzzled frown appeared on your face. it’s true that you couldn’t always keep track of your daughter’s schedule when she wasn't at home, but she wasn’t the type to miss dates or hangouts. 

“cheer practice” he explained. you nodded, realizing that the game season was about to start. it felt so wonderful to see chris again. “well, would you like a ride home? i just have to look for something real quick and then i’m all done”

“sure, c-can i keep you company?” he asked, eager for a positive answer. “absolutely, sweetheart”

you led the way to the store you were going to visit. a lingerie shop. chris gulped when he saw the bright sign, the pink lights contrasting with the black interior and then sighed. he knew you missed him just as much.

“that’s not fair, mama” he mumbled after a while. chris had been following you like a puppy, interlocking his index with two of your fingers, as if he could lose his way at any second. 

“making me so needy” he complained again. you stopped by a red, lace lingerie set and happily brought it to your chest, turning to chris. “what do you think of this one, chris? pretty, right?”

“mhm— really pretty” chris shook his head as he sunk his teeth on his bottom lip. he looked away from you and the way the bra rested perfectly against your chest. “what’s up, baby? are you having a little trouble down there?”

“mama… don’t do this to me” chris whispered. his hands started to get sweaty and he could feel the blood rushing to his cock. he was about to get hard in public just because he thought of you in lingerie, which was ridiculous, since he had seem you naked previosusly.

“i’m not doing anything, sweetie. i’m shopping and you’re keeping me company, isn’t that right? is it my fault that you can’t hold yourself back and got all worked up just because i got some lingerie?” your warm tone sent a shiver down his spine, his chest immediatly inflating with air. “‘m s-sorry i just keep thinking… of you wearing it” chris tried to explain himself as you chuckled, enjoying his embarassement.

“yeah? you wanna see me wearing a nice set for you? which one do you like better?” you asked, handing him three pairs of bras and panties in different colors.

“the red one” chris spoke, still not daring to look at you in the ways. you walked in slow, seductive steps towards him, the sound of your heels taking over the empty store.

“c’mere,  i’ll try it on for you” you continued, undoing the first button of your silk shirt. chris got a peek of your bra, it was the leopard print that drove him insane and made him kiss you for the first time, months ago. “but first we gotta fix this, hm?” you cooed, placing your palm against his boner and applying some pressure to it.

once again, you led the way towards the fitting rooms. chris followed you obediently, holding a bunch of hangers. you gaze scanned the store and with a naughty grin, you opened one of the curtains and quickly went inside, pulling chris by his wrist.

he didn’t even had time to hang your underwear. you pushed him against the mirror, smashing your lips together in a desperate, hungry kiss. a loud groan left his throat as you moved to his neck, gently sucking on his skin. “mommy i missed you so much” chris rolled his eyes, his hands going to your hair.

“i missed you too, my good little boy” you whispered, palming his cock over his jeans. chris squirmed against you, a moan slipping from his lips. you opened a satisfied smile as you pulled away, sitting on the stool next to the mirror.

chris whined in protest, already missing how you hand and your lips felt on him. “got all hard for mama? you poor little thing” he pouted, nodding “c’mon, touch yourself for me” you instructed him.

his eyes widened in surprise — you had never asked him that. he didn’t know how to do jerk himself properly. chris was a virgin and the first time he was actually able to reach an orgasm was with your help. how was he supposed to do it on his own, and in public?

“mhm, unless you wanna go out with that pathetic boner” you teased, crossing your legs. the red heel started to slip from your foot as you finished unbuttoning your shirt, fully displaying your bra. chris whined again, silently pleading.

“mama… i n-need your help” chris spoke under his breath. “can’t cum without you”

“you’ll have to learn how to take care of yourself, chris” you said, pulling chris by his belt. you helped him to undress, freeing his shaft, almost slapping against his own tummy. you wrapped your knuckles around his length, stroking it in slow motions. “do you expect mama to be there every time you get hard? what are you gonna do when i’m not around, hm?”

“nhng— can’t— can’t be without mama” chris whimpered, more to himself than to you. he twitched inside your fist, placing both hands on the mirror to hold his weight, knowing his knees would ultimately give up.

you moved your thumb to his tip, pre-cum leaking from his slit as you circled it. his hips bucked forward as he leaned his head down, trying to hold himself. chris didn’t want to cum too soon, it was humiliating. he wanted to last long for you, he wanted to get used to the feeling your fingers around him, to the sound of your voice whispering praises and calling him a good boy, but no matter how hard chris tried, he pathetically failed.

“cum! mama, cum!” chris whimpered. you tightened your grip around his cock, pumping it faster. “please!”

“cum for me baby” you allowed him. you knew chris would need a long time to get used to your touch. in fact, it was adorable that he couldn’t even last five minutes.

chris threw his head back, moaning as he came on your hand, thick spurt messing your fingers and his jacket. you didn’t move your hand, continuing to gently stroke his wet, sticky cock.

that’s until your phone rang. you reached for your bag, quickly picking it up and seeing the name on the screen. “i think stacy is back home” you told chris, whose dick immediately became soft at the mention of your daughter’s name. “would you like to join us for dinner?”

chris masterlist | milf au masterlist

[mejaemin]

trained him well - choi seungcheol

wc: 0.8k

summary: chan calls about his relationship problems, surfacing memories of a time where seungcheol used to cause the same trouble

warnings: light cursing, suicide mention (as a joke), fluff, cuddling, pet names

an: i literally just wrote this in like 30 minutes bc i got random inspo for it. i lowk hate doing things like this, including readers from one fic in one with a “different reader” but i felt like it’d be fun to do this pov !!! i hope evb enjoys my coups debut !!!

(this is a second pov to my other work 6 hours !!! i don’t think it’s necessary to read it but things would probably make a little more sense if you did)

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

you’re laying with seungcheol in bed, his obnoxiously loud snores filling the room as he sleeps on top of you. his cheeks are puffy and smushed, and his lips are parted with the way he rests his head on your chest. every once in a while he’ll subconsciously snuggle into you a little more when he feels your nails scrape his scalp, soothing him even when he’s in his dreamland.

it’s your boyfriend’s day off, the office going on a company wide vacation for some holiday. all of his friends have off too, and after their late night celebration yesterday he’s been sleeping all morning into the afternoon. you couldn’t complain, knowing that with your allergies to working this fits right in with your everyday routine. his body is heavy on top of yours, going fully dead weight in his slumber but it’s just the right amount of pressure to feel comfortable, lulling you back to sleep.

just as your mind slips from its last bit of consciousness, it’s brought right back by the loud, annoying screech of a phone ringing. sifting through the sheets for whoever’s it is, you pull out seungcheol’s phone. it’s chan who’s calling, and you really couldn’t be bothered to let your boyfriend know, especially when his ringtone didn’t even wake him up. declining the call, you set it back down and try going back to sleep before it rings again.

accepting defeat, you gently push the man’s shoulder. “cheollie, get up..” you whine, just as displeased as he is when he picks his head up.

he squints, looking up at you. “hm?” he looks incredibly displeased, and you almost want to pinch his cheeks at his furrowed brows and pout.

“chan is calling.” you hand him his phone, and he sighs heavily at the disturbance.

“so? i’m too tired for this-“ the call ends, having taken to long to pick up. it starts right back up again, his caller id paired with a photo of him while drunk filling the screen.

“that’s the third time, honey. maybe you should answer?”

he sighs, letting his head fall back down against you before putting it on speaker next to his face. their conversation is brief, seungcheol too comfortable and tired to keep it up any longer than necessary. it makes you laugh, chan whining and panicking as he vents to the elder about his relationship issues. apparently he’s been given the silent treatment, and he’s so distressed he could ‘actually throw up’ over it. your boyfriend asks why, and when he learns how stupid the situation is, yet eerily similar to one he’s been in before, the only advice he can give is “you did that to yourself, man.”

truthfully, the situation is a bold parallel to one you and your boyfriend have been in yourselves. chan ate the last of his girlfriend’s food, and is now receiving the silent treatment among other consequences. though, you’re different now, and your cheollie knows better than to mess with you or get you angry. sometimes, you think he’s actually scared of you when you’re mad. regardless, chan’s predicament makes you laugh, feeling relief that you don’t experience stuff like that anymore.

he eventually hangs up the phone, turning to you. “how familiar does that sound, hm?”

you hum, “it sure is similar to how we used to be, isn’t it?” he nods, “you wouldn’t do that to me now though, right?”

your expression turned serious, and he’s almost too quick to nod and kiss the clothed skin between your breasts in confirmation. “of course not, i’d never eat your food, baby. now, should i actually call his girlfriend, or..?” he trails off, now feeling almost as if he’s in trouble too, uncertain as to whether or not he should meddle in their issues.

you nod, shrugging. “go ahead, i don’t see why not.”

he nods, reopening his phone to search for chan’s girlfriend’s contact. once he finds it, he calls her and reluctantly relays the news. he reiterates as many times as possible that he’s on her side, agreeing that chan is wrong and he’s only relaying his ‘dying message’ they share a laugh, and she apologizes for dragging him into their mess. you say hello as well, laughing about the similarity together before the call ends.

he throws his phone to the other end of the bed, sighing as he finally relaxes into your skin again. “i’m so happy that’s over. i was scared as if i was the one who did something..”

you kiss his crown, his face hidden in your body. “you’d never, though. i trained you well, didn’t i?” you giggle, running a hand over his hair like you would to a pet.

he nods. “after that one time where you literally sent death threats, i nearly had a heart attack. and getting silent treatment? don’t even get me started, not talking to you for three days straight over a donut had me almost killing myself. i definitely know better than to fuck with you like that.” he goes on, already in a nervous ramble at the idea of receiving a punishment like that again. you may have been a little harsh, but that’s what happens when your girlfriend’s buttons get pushed. at least he’s better now, and isn’t making mistakes like his friend lee chan.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

[whisperofwonder]

Wife Guy

The wife guys of Haikyuu

(The term does have some negative connotations but I don't mean it like that here. They're just some dudes who really love their wife. Cool? Cool.)

Featuring: Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime, Sakusa Kiyoomi x wife!reader - ~300 words each

(if someone else needs to be here, tell me. I might write it.)

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

Come on. He's the ultimate unironic wife guy.

You, his wife, are the light of his life. He adores you. He doesn't shut up about you. Your friends and family know this, the Jackals definitely know this, even his fans know this because he can't resist posting about you even when the social media managers get on his case. The moment your name or the words "my wife" pass his lips, anyone within earshot knows that it's all over.

He never misses an opportunity to tell you how much he loves you. You need to know that, in his eyes, every little thing about you is perfect. Not only that, but he's a really touchy guy. He loves holding your hand, putting his arm around you, barraging you with kisses, any form of skin to skin contact with you. You and everyone around you have gotten used to the constant PDA over the years. He's just so pure and sweet about it that no one can even say a thing about it.

One of the things he loves about being a professional athlete is that it gives him the means to spoil you. Designer items, the latest tech, lush vacations, whatever it is that catches your eye, he's already got his credit card out. He's not trying to buy your love, he's showering you in his. No matter how often you insist that all you need to be happy is him, he can't resist a little treat every now and then.

The day you agreed to marry him was one of the best days of his life. Every time he takes notice of the ring on his finger, a little jolt of joy goes through him, even after all this time. The mere fact that he gets to spend the rest of his life loving you is simply unmatched.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

There's a reason that Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer is written as a knight in every single medieval AU. He's chivalrous, hard-working, and utterly devoted to his wife. He might be quieter about it, but his love for you is an undercurrent to everything. From the kiss pressed to your forehead when he gets up to start the day to the moment he pulls you against his chest in bed each night, there are a hundred little moments when he shows just how much you mean to him.

Most obvious to everyone around him is the small smile that comes across his face every single time he talks about you. "Oh, my wife picked it out." "Yeah, she did make this." "I'm taking her to dinner tonight, actually."

You will never walk closest to the street on his watch. Forgot your jacket? No you didn't, he tossed it in the back seat. When you're washing dishes after dinner, he's right there with the towel to dry. Craving ice cream at 10 pm? The corner store is only a few minutes walk for him, no it's no trouble, don't be ridiculous. It all just goes to show that he's constantly thinking of you - what you might need, what you might want, what might make you smile. If it's within his power, why wouldn't he do it for you? It's just inconceivable.

You make his life better. All he wants is to do the same for you. He might never say it out loud, but being married to you is the fairy tale life he hadn't dared to hope for. Spending every day by your side is enough to make him the happiest man in the world.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

His wife is his person. The world is full of irritants, uncomfortable situations, people who rub him the wrong way. You are the one that soothes it all away. His safe space. Coming home to you every day feels like a weight sliding from his shoulders.

He took to the simple day-to-day of married life so well. Dating was never his scene. Truth be told, you've felt married long before he put a ring on your finger. Everyone says the pair of you are the token old married couple. He might scoff, but to him it's the best kind of compliment.

He takes real pride in the home you share together. It's a sacred place that deserves to be kept neat and clean and comfortable. No matter what kind of day he has, he'll always spend at least a little time making sure everything is running smoothly for you, keeping up with the small things that he knows make your life a little easier.

His favorite moments are the quiet ones you share together. When either of you has had a less than perfect day, it's an unspoken rule that you'll be spending the evening together, curled up in your own little world where nothing else matters. Nothing is more comforting to him than the feel of you in his arms, breathing in your familiar scent. Everything else simply melts away.

Marrying you was the easiest decision he's ever made. There was no alternative. In the course of his life, he knows that he's doing something right, because with you by his side, he knows he can face anything else that may come.

[honeyhae-svt]

sorry kisses (mwuah)

hwang hyunjin x gn!reader

genre: romantic comedy, domestic fluff, light angst warnings: minor argument/conflict between characters, slight miscommunication, excessive amounts of kissing (if that counts), playful teasing, mentions of surprise, planning and gift-giving tags: hyunjin x reader, romantic comedy, domestic fluff, soft boyfriend hyunjin, miscommunication trope, apology scene, reader insert, light angst with fluff, relationship drama wc: 931 a/n: random drabbles cause its cannon that hyunjin hates it when he's being called by his full name lol (lazy drabbles cause im a little tipsy)

the slam of the kitchen cabinet echoed through the apartment as you stood by the counter, arms crossed tightly against your chest. hyunjin paced in the living room, running his hand through his hair for the third time in the past five minutes. the tension between you both was sharp enough to slice through the air.

“i told you i didn’t mean to forget, okay?” his voice was low, tinged with frustration, but his eyes softened, betraying the guilt he was trying to hide. “it’s not like i did it on purpose.”

“not on purpose? seriously, hwang hyunjin?” the moment his full name left your lips, his head snapped up, his expression a mix of surprise and irritation.

“oh, come on! don’t call me that,” he snapped, stepping closer. “you only use my full name when you’re mad, and it’s weird. you’re my girlfriend, not my mom.”

“well, maybe if you acted like a responsible boyfriend, i wouldn’t have to sound like your mom,” you shot back, your tone biting.

he let out a dramatic groan, throwing his head back. “this is so unfair. you’re making it sound like i don’t care about you when i literally spent all day yesterday planning that stupid surprise.”

“wait, what?” your arms dropped as confusion replaced your anger.

his cheeks flushed pink as he avoided your gaze, scratching the back of his neck. “y-yeah. that’s why i forgot to pick up the thing you asked for. i was trying to… you know… make you happy. but clearly, i suck at it.”

your heart softened at his confession, though a small part of you remained stubborn. “you could’ve just told me that instead of letting me think you didn’t care.”

“i was going to! but then you called me ‘hwang hyunjin’ and it all went downhill from there.” his pout was almost comical, but you bit back a smile.

“you really hate it that much, huh?”

“of course i do,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “you’re supposed to call me something cute, not make me feel like i’m in trouble.”

despite yourself, a small laugh escaped. “okay, fine. i’ll stick to cute nicknames. but only if you promise to communicate better next time.”

his lips twitched into a sheepish smile as he took a tentative step closer, his hand brushing against yours. “deal. just… no more full name. it’s terrifying.”

you let him intertwine your fingers, the warmth of his touch easing the last remnants of your frustration. “fine. but if you mess up again, all bets are off.”

he leaned in, his forehead gently bumping against yours as his voice dropped to a whisper. “guess i’ll just have to make sure i never mess up again.”

you barely had time to react before his lips found yours. the kiss was soft at first, an unspoken apology that made your knees weaken. his hand came up to cradle your face, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, leaving no room for doubts or lingering anger.

“so… am i forgiven?” he murmured against your lips, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“maybe,” you whispered back, capturing his lips in another kiss before he could protest. his hands moved to your waist, holding you as if afraid you’d pull away.

“you know,” he said between kisses, “if this is what happens every time i mess up, maybe i should do it more often.”

you pulled back, playfully swatting his chest. “don’t push your luck, jinnie.”

his grin widened at the nickname, and he quickly pulled you back in, pressing his lips to yours again, this time with more urgency. “i really am sorry,” he murmured, his kisses trailing to your jaw and down to your neck. “just wanted to do something special for you.”

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumbled, your hands tangling in his hair as he continued peppering your skin with kisses.

“lucky? no, i’m just smart. distracting you with kisses is a foolproof plan,” he teased, his lips finding yours once more.

the next evening, you returned home to find the apartment dark except for the soft glow of fairy lights strung across the living room. a faint, familiar melody drifted through the air, and as you stepped further inside, hyunjin appeared from behind the couch, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“what’s all this?” you asked, though your voice had already softened.

he smiled shyly, holding the bouquet out to you. “my apology. properly this time.”

you took the flowers, your heart swelling at the sight of him—all awkward yet so endearing. “you really went all out, huh?”

“of course,” he said, stepping closer until he could brush a strand of hair from your face. “i wanted to remind you how much i love you.”

your cheeks warmed, and you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was sweet yet demanding, a silent reminder of everything you both felt but couldn’t always put into words. he responded instantly, his arms wrapping around you as the flowers fell to the side, forgotten in favor of the moment.

“so,” he said when you finally pulled apart, his voice breathless. “does this mean i’m forgiven?”

“we’ll see,” you teased, tugging him down for another kiss. this one was slower, deeper, as if to say everything words couldn’t.

by the time you finally settled onto the couch, tangled together under a blanket with snacks and a stack of movies waiting, you couldn’t help but smile against his lips. “for the record,” you murmured, “you’re not allowed to mess up just to get out of trouble like this.”

he laughed softly, kissing you again. “duly noted.”

and as the night unfolded, filled with kisses and quiet laughter, you couldn’t imagine ever staying mad at him for long.

a/n: tenchu for readinggg ! first stray kids fanfic <3

[azrielsdove]

Nothing but Hate: Azriel x Rhysand!Sister!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Smut, 18+, Slight Eris x Reader

***

You grinned wickedly at the male in front of you, a dagger held tight in each hand. His golden eyes flashed with warning, hands lit up blue. You circled each other slowly, each sizing up the other.

You moved first, flinging a dagger towards his stomach. A flash of blue met the blade, disintegrating it in front of your eyes. Your smile dropped from your face, and you threw the second one rashly. It missed, as you knew it would. You groaned, hands coming up to cover your eyes.

“You’re up here to train,” Azriel chided, “so why don’t you act like it?”

You dropped your hands and turned to glare at him. “Has it ever occurred to you I have more important things to do than this?”

He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Like what? Organizing your pretty little ball gowns? Polishing your countless tiaras?”

“I provide valuable intel to this Court,” you said, slowly looking him up and down. “Something you could learn a thing or two about.”

His eyes narrowed. “I do my job well. Your brother would not keep me employed if I didn’t. Or do you doubt the judgement of the High Lord?”

You gave a dramatic pout. “Oh, did I hurt your feelings? I care not what my brother does with you and that other brute. I was raised to gather information under the guise of a sweet, innocent lady.” You made a show of batting your eyes, lips in an exaggerated pout. “Males crumble far too easily.”

Rhys had been trying to get you and Azriel to get along for the better part of the last century. Something about him irked you to your bones. Cassian wasn’t much higher ranked in your mind, but you could at least tolerate him. You felt you would never know why your brother had latched on to these two idiots.

“You think rather highly of yourself, princess.” He spoke your title like it was an insult.

“I don’t see any great cause for why I should not,” you shot back, head high. You knew exactly what you were worth.

“Stuck-up brat.”

“You enjoy being my brothers bitch?”

Azriel opened his mouth to retort when he was cut off by a sharp yell.

“Enough!”

The two of you turned to see Rhys storming into the training ring. “I cannot think with you going at it like little children!”

“Well if he-“

“Rhys, she’s-“

“I said, ENOUGH.” Rhys stopped in front of you, hands coming to massage his temples. “You are being insufferable. I will not listen to your ceaseless bickering any longer. Figure out how to get along, or you will both be reassigned to the training camps.”

You and Azriel gave sounds of protest, quieted by Rhys holding up a hand. “I do not wish to hear it. I’m giving you one last chance. If you complete this mission without trouble I will allow you to yell at each other as much as you want. Otherwise, say goodbye to your nice little lives here.” He looked pointedly at the both of you. “Am I understood?”

You both grumbled your agreements, waiting to be given instruction. “Good. Now, I need you to go to Autumn. Beron is hosting a ball this coming week, and I need intel on what it is he’s doing. I do not trust the Vanserra’s, especially with Lucien’s recent departure.” He frowned deeply. “His father is a truly evil man. I want eyes on him.”

You and Azriel nodded, understanding the importance of this mission. Regardless of how you felt about each other, Rhys was right about the evil that runs the Autumn Court.

***

You stared at yourself in the mirror, a deep dread weighing down on you. You ran your hands over the front of your gown, watching the minuscule diamonds in the black fabric sparkle in the light. It was a stunning garment by all accounts, with the flowing skirts and romantic off-shoulder neckline. You looked every part the Night Court Princess, simply attending a ball as a Lady should.

Accompanied by…Azriel.

A knock at the door reminded you of his irritating presence. You walked over to open it, silver heels tapping on the ground.

“Are you-“ He began, stopping as he looked you over. You couldn’t help the smirk that made its way onto your face.

“Speechless, Shadowsinger?” You quipped, winking at him. That brought him back to reality and he rolled his eyes before begrudgingly holding an arm out for you to take.

“I would almost say you’re beautiful, but then you had to go and open that annoying little mouth of yours.” You pinched his arm under your hand, though you noted that the usual bite behind his words wasn’t all there.

This night was extremely important to the both of you. You had to figure out a way to work together. Neither one of you wished to go to the training camps, far away from your home. It sent a chill down your spine to recall the ways you were treated anytime you were at them, and you didn’t dare to think what it would be like if you were there alone. Truthfully, you were a little angry with Rhys for this level of threat. Was the punishment equal to the crime?

“Let’s just get this over with, Azriel.” You were looking forcibly ahead, otherwise you would have seen the worry that flitted over his face.

***

Evil as Beron was, he knew how to throw a party. The ballroom of the Autumn Court castle was dressed to the gods, golden elegance dripping from every inch. The male himself sat on an intricate wooden throne, a crown sat atop his head. His sons stood in a line next to him, each dressed in varying shades of orange and red. You carefully surveyed the room, putting on a show like you were admiring the decor.

Beron took note of you quickly, standing to loudly welcome you. “Princess! Come, let me introduce you to my sons.” You gave a shy smile and made your way over to him, playing the role Rhys had instructed you to. “Your brother tells me he is interested in a possible match between our Courts,” Beron continues, too loud for comfort. You knew the offer of your hand would go to his head. The elusive, dark, Night Court heiress betrothed to one of his sons? How could he resist?

You gave a small nod, glancing over at his sons lined up like prizes for you to select. “I am honored that you would deem me a good match for any of your sons, my lord.” You could almost feel the laugh Azriel held back at your demure tone.

Beron smiled widely, placing a hand on your back to lead you to the line of males. “Eris, my eldest and likely heir, would be your most advantageous match,” he drawled. Eris held his hand out for yours, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“It is an honor to be considered by the Princess of Night.” His voice dripped with honey-like sweetness, a gleam in his eyes that drew you in. You couldn’t help the light blush that crossed your cheeks in his presence.

“The honor is all mine,” you said with a curtsy, biting your lip when you looked back up at him.

“Would you like to dance?” He asked, as gentlemanly as expected. You bowed your head in agreement before letting him lead you out to the dance floor.

A shadow swirled briefly around your ankles, a subtle sign from Azriel. As annoying as he was, you knew you could trust him to keep you from danger. You made a point to catch his eye over Eris’ shoulder, a silent gesture that you understood his message.

Eris placed one hand on your waist and held yours in the other, a proud smile on his face. You allowed yourself to be immersed in the music, following his every move like you’d spent hours practicing together.

“Have you been to this Court before?” He asked you, spinning in a circle. “You do not look familiar.”

You shook your head, giving him a small laugh. “My brother does not like it when I travel far without him.” A sweet, innocent answer.

“He does not trust you, then?”

“No, I would not say so. He simply…worries, doesn’t he?” You tilted your head in the direction of the other sons. “Do you not worry for your brothers?”

Something flickered in his eyes as he looked over, an unspoken pain. “Them? No.” He looked back at you. “Not those ones.” You understood what he was saying, the unspoken message behind his words. The brother he worried for was long gone, away in Spring. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, letting him know you understood.

Eris spun you out and pulled you in, your back hitting his chest as his arms wrapped around you. He bowed his head enough for his breath to tickle your neck, your body giving an answering shiver. “You’re not like the other High Court ladies,” he whispered in your ear, before spinning you back out and away.

You turned into him again, his hand coming back to its spot on your waist. “And you are not like other High Court lords,” you responded with a playful smile.

“How so?”

“Well, usually they hardly ever let me speak,” you laughed when you said it, playing it off like a joke.

“Hmm,” he said, the hand on your waist sliding to the small of your back as he pulled you in closer, “then they do not know the enjoyment they are missing.” 
The song had ended, the two of you left standing there improperly close. You were lost in his eyes, in the secrets he held in them. He leaned down and for half a second you believed he was going to kiss you.

And you were going to let him.

Instead he moved to whisper, “Would you like to see something special?” You nodded, and allowed him to lead you off the dance floor and out of the ballroom. A small voice in the back of your mind warned you that running off with a male you did not know was not the safest choice, but Eris made you feel safe. You could only hope his actions matched his words.

You were pleasantly surprised when he lead you to a library, books up to the ceiling. Everything was made of dark wood, shelves as if the trees simply grew that way. A roaring fire warmed the room, the smell of cinnamon and old parchment welcoming. “Oh, Eris,” you said in awe, “it is beautiful.”

He came up behind you as you stood in the center of the room, lost in the beauty around you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, hand splayed flat over your stomach, the other resting on your arm. He bent his head again, lips millimeters from the bare skin of your shoulder. You couldn’t help the way you leaned into him, the mission you were on long forgotten.

“I thought you might enjoy this,” he hummed, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Not many care to come here. My father especially.” You felt the angry twitch in his fingers at the reminder of his father. You turned your head to look up at him, recognizing the longing in his expression.

“I am sorry,” you began, “about Lucien. I imagine that has been hard on you. Being forced to pretend you do not care.” He stayed quiet, looking at you with an intensity you had never experienced. Like it was the first time anyone had seen him.

“You are not what I thought you would be,” he whispered, before leaning down and capturing your lips with his. He kissed you with the passion of a thousand suns, his mouth moving with yours in their own dance. You turned in his arms to press your chest flush against his, your arms twining around his neck as you pulled him closer. Eris groaned at your touch, one hand coming to tangle its way into the hair at the back of your head.

He started moving the two of you until your back hit one of the bookshelves, never breaking the kiss. Tongues created art as the two of you lost yourselves in each other. “Eris,” you moaned when he moved his lips off yours, instead running them up and down the skin of your neck. He growled in response, one hand slowly gathering the skirts of your dress. Your breath was coming in fast spurts, his teeth dragging along your skin making you forget everything you were supposed to be doing.

“Say my name like that again,” he murmured against your skin, your skirts up high enough that he could slide one hand onto your thigh.

You opened your mouth to oblige when he was suddenly ripped off of you, the stark coldness of reality washing over you. You were stunned, still panting against the bookshelf as you took in the scene in front of you.

Eris was thrown backwards, slumped against the shelf across from you. You started to rush towards his unconscious form, concerned for him. You knelt by his side, gently laying his limp body all the way down as you looked over him for any serious injuries.

“Oh, give it up,” came an angry voice, and you shot your head towards Azriel.

“What is your problem?” You yelled, standing once you ensured Eris was otherwise okay.

“My problem? My problem? Maybe it’s the fact that we were sent here on a job, and you are too busy whoring yourself out to care!” He was glaring at you, shadows swirling angrily around him.

“You’d better rethink your words, Shadowsinger,” you warned, dark lightning flickering at your fingertips.

“Relax, princess. Rhys is calling us back.” He looked over at Eris on the ground. “Sorry to interrupt your little…moment,” he said, sounding not very sorry at all. You looked sadly back at Eris, worry still creeping in your mind. Azriel noticed, rolling his eyes. “He’ll be fine. We will not be if we do not go,” he emphasized, grabbing on to your arm.

“Fine.”

The two of you hastily winnowed back home, Azriel flying once your powers grew weary. You did not inherit the Illyrian wings from your mother, much to your dismay. Especially in this moment, in which you had to be in Azriel’s arms as he flew you high above the ground.

“What did you see in him?” He asked, breaking the chilly silence that had ensued since you left the Autumn Court.

“What?” You asked, shocked by his question.

“I mean, they’re evil, aren’t they? The Vanserras?”

You looked out over the night sky, quiet for a moment. “I believe some of them are. I believe Eris pretends to be.”

“I see,” Azriel mused. “But…why choose him?” You turned to look at him, puzzled.

“Azriel, are you jealous?” You teased, waiting for him to act disgusted.

Instead he remained silent, his arms tightening around you ever so slightly. You stared at him for a long time, processing the underlying meaning in his actions. “Az?”

He reacted then, looking at you sharply. You had never called him by that name. “I do not know what you mean,” he finally said.

The rest of the flight was done in silence.

You were thankful when you finally landed back at the House of Wind, the marble under your shoes a welcome feeling. A cool nights breeze blew through the balcony as you turned to Azriel.

“Well, thank you for not abandoning me in the Autumn Court,” you joked, trying for a smile.

His expression stayed stoic. “I would never have left you.”

You blinked at the intensity of his words. It was then that you noticed how closely he was standing to you, how he was looking at you. It was rather similar to the way Eris had looked before he had…

You backed away abruptly, stumbling slightly in your heels. Azriel caught you smoothly around the waist, hand burning you through the fabric of your dress.

“Azriel,” you whispered, “Rhys did not call us back, did he?”

“No.”

“Ah.” Your body was trembling in his grasp, a barrier dangerously close to being crossed as he tugged you flush against him, his nose tracing the slope of your neck. “Then why did you say he did?”

His hands fisted the material beneath them as he inhaled your scent. “I couldn’t stand it.”

You hated the way you were reacting to him, the fire coursing through you. It was entirely different than the way you had felt with Eris. This was more. Much more. You took a shaky breath before asking the question you already knew the answer to.

“Couldn’t stand what?”

Azriel brought his head up, eyes boring into yours. A century of untold feelings swam behind them. “I couldn’t watch him touch you any longer,” he began, one hand coming up to caress your throat. “It was driving me crazy. His lips on your skin, his hands on you.” His thumb rolled across your pressure point, pressing down ever so slightly. An embarrassingly needy noise fell from your lips. “Gods,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “I’ve held back for so long. Forcing my feelings down,” he started kissing down your throat, down your shoulder. Following the same path Eris had left a mere few hours before. “I chose to become your enemy instead, someone you couldn’t stand,” he bit down on your shoulder, dragging a soft moan from you as his tongue soothed the marks his teeth left. “But watching him touch you? The way I should be? No,” he laughed cruelly, dropping to his knees in front of you. You looked down at him in shock, heart racing at the hunger in his eyes. “I couldn’t let him have you.”

You reached behind you for the railing of the balcony, grasping onto it like it was your lifeline. “Azriel,” you whispered, watching him lift the bottom of your skirts. He kissed your bare ankle, eyes catching yours once more.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Yet the both of you knew you weren’t going to. His lips continued their transgressions up your leg, painfully slow. He was leaving dark marks in his wake, a reminder that he was there. Your hand twisted in his hair when he reached the top of your thigh, leaving one final mark for you to see in the morning. “Az,” you gasped, feeling as though you were going to erupt into flame at any moment. “Please.”

He smiled wickedly at you, tearing your underwear off of you a moment later. You gave a small shriek at the action, eyes wide as you looked at the torn garment. He allowed you no chance to comment, his mouth on you before you even knew what to say.

“Oh,” you moaned, head falling backwards. His tongue swirled around you like you were the most delicious desert he had ever tasted. He sucked onto your clit, ripping a loud cry of his name from you. You were lost in the haze of lust and pleasure, all the years of anger and hate gone as if they never existed.

He continued the sins he was committing with his tongue while his fingers ran up to join. You moaned his name again and again as one pushed inside of you, curling in the exact spot you needed it to. Cool shadows swirled around your burning skin, a sensation so intense you weren’t sure you could handle it. He added a second finger, stretching you pleasurably. “Azriel, I, oh, Az,” you gasped out, unable to form coherent thought. He kept his movements steady as one shadow wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to moan again.

Eris was long gone from your mind.

Azriel continued working you, clearly pleased by the increasing volume and intensity in which you were saying his name. You knew you were close, forcing your orgasm at bay as long as possible. You wanted to live in this moment forever. He touched you like he had studied you for years, like he knew exactly what would make you tick. In his hands you were nothing but clay for him to mold, creating the beautiful sculpture that was this moment. Your body began to shake as he kept steady, thrusting his fingers in and out of you while humming against your clit.

That was all you needed to explode against him.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, your head thrown all the back, mouth open in a silent scream. Stars exploded behind your eyes, the sensation of your orgasm rolling through you. Azriel pushed you through it, prolonging the feeling as long as possible. He didn’t cease his actions until you were gasping for air, his name falling from your lips like a beautiful song. Only then did he slowly pull away from your wrecked body, standing to hold you steady.

One hand came to gently cup your face, thumb running lovingly over your cheek. “How long?” You asked, leaning into his touch.

“Since the first day I met you.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Then why lie? Why battle me for so long?”

He looked guilty, moving to rest his forehead on yours. “You are his sister. I was scared.” He took a shuddering breath. “It was too risky. You were off limits, you see. He had explicitly told Cassian and I to not even think about it,” he gave a humorless laugh. “Being around you was overwhelming. Everything in me was screaming for you. I had originally decided to just be friends, that I would settle for that.” The arm around your waist tightened. “But even that was too much. I needed you, and the longer I went without you the more i began to lose it.” His eyes turned sad. “I had to push you away.”

You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. “Sometimes I hate my brother,” you whispered, a century long confession on the tip of your tongue. “For it has been the same for me all these years. So long, in fact, I forgot why I started to dislike you in the first place.” With that, you closed the remaining space between you, pressing your lips to his.

A hundred years of lost emotion poured from the both of you, holding on to each other like you may disappear. You kissed Azriel like this was the only chance you had, allowing him to open your mouth with his.

Passion flowed between the two of you, the taste of yourself on his tongue reigniting the fire under your skin. He whispered your name over and over against your lips, like a prayer he had been longing to say. In that moment the two of you were the only ones who existed.

“Well, this is most certainly not what I meant when I said I wanted you to get along.”

Your eyes shot open as you pulled your lips from Azriel’s, looking widely at your rather angry brother. “I, uh, hello, Rhys,” you stuttered, taking a step away from Azriel. Who, in fact, was having none of that, and immediately pulled your lips from back into his arms.

“Rhysand,” he said coolly.

“I would be careful with your tone if I were you, Azriel,” Rhys warned, anger simmering in him. “That is my sister.”

Azriel simply tightened his hold on you, capturing your lips in another kiss. “So she is.” He looked back at your brother. “Yet she is also my mate.”

Mate. Mate?

No.

Surely you didn’t spend a century warring with your fated mate, because your brother was too much of a hard ass to allow you to make your own choices?

No.

It couldn’t be.

And yet, at his declaration, you felt it in your soul. The golden bond tying the two of you together.

You glared at Rhysand.

“Brother, you and I will speak tomorrow.” Azriel leaned his head down to press a kiss against your neck, mumbling “or in a week.” You swatted him away, ignoring the laugh he let out. “But for now, you will go. I do not care where, but you will leave us be. Do you understand?”

Rhys stared at you in disbelief, not used to having someone else boss him around. “Well, I, but,” he spluttered, looking around the balcony as if for someone to save him. “You’re my sister!”

You gave him an exaggerated nod, speaking slowly. “Yes. I am. I am also fully grown and capable of making my own choices. Now, I suggest you leave.” Azriel happily began peppering kisses over your skin again. “Immediately.”

***

AHHHHHHH i absolutely LOVED writing this. happy 2025 friends. i hope you enjoyed <3

[cherry-leclerc]

million dollar man ☆ toto wolff

genre: age gap, porn with plot, angst, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature, mentions of homicide, bits of humor, child neglection, divorced!toto

word count: 16.5k

Toto Wolff, self-made billionaire, is on cloud nine; he has all he’s ever wanted. A beautiful wife, family, a great team. But when that starts slipping from his fingers, he desperately tries to keep hold of what is not his anymore. As a possible solution to cure his blues, Lewis kindly invites him to a place he runs off to when times get tough; to relieve some stress. But he just never expected a cosplaying angel, dancing around a metal pole, to be his salvation. And also, his cruelest life lesson. 

nsfw warning under the cut! 

18+…dry humping/ thigh riding, sexual tension, penetrative sex, oral sex (m!receiving f!receiving), size kink, breeding kink, praise, foreplay, riding

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

Typically, we keep it light here: occasional minor angst fics, but light, nonetheless. That will not be the case this time around. Because of that, I firmly believe that it is necessary to give a few warnings. There will be mentions of drug-use and homicide and if that is not something you are comfortable with then that is totally okay! I have more options for you to read over at my masterlist! This is purely fictional. With that, this story is based and inspired by Million Dollar Man and Yayo by Lana Del Rey (*run*)—what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending. 

cherry here!…toto is like—a special appearance, here in this blog. probably won’t write for him all the time, but hey! we love him!originally this was going to be named yayo but have since changed my mind to million dollar man. IT WILL MAKE SENSE AND I’M SORRY, ANONS. please don’t hate the villain in me. consider yourself warned. 

There was no room for love when it came to the world of motorsport. Toto’s first marriage was a transparent reminder, given its falling out. The Austrian didn’t seem to care, almost; Mercedes was at their prime, but by then, when Susie came along, he felt a gist of hope. She must’ve known the sacrifices that would be made—the expectations. 

And yet, he sat there, signing the divorce papers once again. What had he done wrong this time? He had given her everything she could have ever wanted—spent time he didn’t even have—with her. 

Neither of us were happy anymore, she would whisper apologetically, eyes trained downwards. But I’ll always love you, Toto. You must remember that. 

Suddenly, he was fifty-two and with no true purpose in life other than to stabilize his broken team. If it wasn’t false accusations from other team principals, then it was trouble with the hydraulics, and if it wasn’t that, then it was losing his World Champion. Mercedes was already dwindling down to a mess, but with Lewis leaving—it felt like he was losing his mind. 

“You understand where I’m coming from, right, Toto?” 

Looking up at Lewis and Penni, his manager, the Austrian sighs, forcing a tired smile. No. He didn’t understand—did not want to understand. But he had no right to prevent the Brit from expanding one final time before retirement. I just feel like I need to do this for myself, but thank you for the infinite support. Mercedes will always be home to me. 

Promises. Fuck them, they meant nothing at the end of the day, so why bother? 

“Do what you need to do. I’ll always be here for you; no matter what.”

It was a bittersweet feeling to have. On one hand, the brunette felt optimistic. Maybe this was a chance to start over, perhaps offer up the golden seat to Carlos or Kimi. They had proven themselves in their own way and maybe that could bring better opportunities towards the team.

On the other, he felt like this was it. Maybe it was time to move on, retire with a sorrowful smile and live out the rest of his years. He could try fixing things with Susie. The thing was, he just re-signed as team principal, so none of that would work out even if he wanted to. 

Running a large hand through his brown hair, he groans and takes a sip of whiskey. Wincing at the taste, he jumps up in alert from his seat when there’s a knock on the glass door. May I? He nods.

Entering with an easy smile, Lewis raises his dark brows in a teasing manner. “Drinking ain’t gonna help, I promise you that.”

The brown eyed man grins. “You have something else in mind, cause if so, I’d like to hear it.”

The Brit hums, tilts his head to the side. Lewis had been with Toto for as long as he can remember; he was there when Toto and Susie met, and long after when they tied the knot. He swore they were happy, and that may have been once true, but he also knows sometimes even that can’t be enough. So, when news came out to their inner circle that the two were getting divorced, he felt sorry for him. He knows what it feels like to have it all, to suddenly go to sleep alone every night. But there was always one place that always helped— even people like him.

“You up for Vegas?”

-

He should have said no. He was too old for any of this nonsense. Too mature. Only, one thing led to another, and before he knew it, he was entering one of the top-tier stripclubs in all of Las Vegas. He knows that while there is nothing wrong with the profession, he can’t help but feel sinisterly dirty. He blames it on the fact that Lewis was beaming right besides him. Maybe if he hadn’t once been his boss, then the feeling would be different.

“Oh, c’mon. Ease up. No one will even know that you were in here.”

It’s true. While the club was a part of the infamous Vegas strip, it was also exclusively exclusive. No one could get in if there was no form of proving to be millionaires, and even that was ridiculously low. NDA’s would be signed as if it were something normal. Made him wonder what kind of things occurred between these four walls. 

Toto chuckles deeply, dark eyes roaming the entire room, loud music blaring. “How did you even know this place exists?”

Lewis winks, lousy arm waving at the bouncers. “You know how everyone thinks Formula One drivers are players and are up to no good?”

“Yeah?”

He smirks. “Well…they’re fucking right.”

After a couple of drinks, a few new friends—who would make great potential business partners—and a bit of gambling, the fifty-two year old found himself having a decent time. The atmosphere was a tad bit suffocating, but one time won’t kill him. He deserved it. 

“Oh, oh, you might want to take a seat,” Lewis chants excitedly. “People get pissed if you block their view.”

Abruptly, the stage lights up. It was a bit alarming, the sudden speed these men took to claim their seats, trampling over each other to get front row. Carefully, he crouches down onto the couch of giddy men. This wasn’t a normal setting; girls were caged behind glass as if to protect them from these males and their slithering actions. A red head professionally swings around the steel pole, black skirt flowing, adding to the illusion men love to taste. 

Whoops and hollers echo the red room as the Brit nudges Toto’s broad shoulder with a wicked grin. “Good, no? She’s my favorite.”

The Austrian scrunches his nose, half joking, half not. “Is this why you were always dozing off during our meetings?”

“Exactly why.”

It was an impressive art, he’ll give credit where credits due, and his eyes were bulging out of his head, but that’s about it. When he stood up to go and order a new drink, a string of boos were thrown at him. Even Lewis shook his head with disapproval. Man, you’re missing the show! He sends a sly grin. “I’m tough to win over, but they’re great, don’t get me wrong.”

The bartender shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s what they all say. Until they lay eyes… on her.”

“On who?” He’s quickly hushed as soon as the room changes gears. The once red club enhances into a soft yellow glow, the fast paced music slows down to an angelic piano intro. 

A round of applause for everyone’s favorite girl—Peaches!

If the fifty-two year old ever thought he’s heard it all; loud cheers from fans, loud cheers for the other dancers; then he must have been mistaken, and awfully foolish. His ears ring with the sudden howls from everyone in the room. Turning around, he’s found with a girl, standing with golden angel wings. A shiny reflection colors her hair as she delicately bows, shy smile sewn onto her pouty lips. White dress wrapped around her figure as if it was tailored for her, and only her. 

Yayo.

The way she pranced inside the glass box like a butterfly makes the men grow wild as they pant feverishly. She’s barely doing anything—hasn't even done half as much as what the other girls had done—and somehow, all eyes are drawn on her like a sticky potion. Toto’s heartbeat gets stuck in his throat as he tries his best to swallow it down. Sad eyes flicker throughout the club as she spins, dress fluttering like a flower in the summer breeze. 

You’re someone desirable in all senses, and it appears as if you know it as well. 

Let me put on a show for you, daddy. 

Dropping down to your knees, you crawl towards the glass as you draw your soft brows together, as if pleading to be let out. Hot breath paints the glass before you press a kiss. 

Then, you’re looking at him, and it’s as if you could point out all the fucked up shit he’s ever done. His heart speeds up as you tie your shiny legs along the pole, sensually spinning as you throw your head back. Like a signal, water sprinkles inside the box as it lubricates you down, dark mascara trickling your features. 

Arms toss your hair back before sharing a quick wave as you step out, red lights turning back on. And just like that, Toto is left empty and alone once again.

“That shit was insane,” the Brits voice shakes him away from your spell as he flops down on the stool right next to him. “She must be new because I for sure wouldn’t have forgotten a pretty face like hers. What’d you think?”

Toto blinks. “She might be my favorite.”

-

Thank you, Ro, you say as you sign on the bottom x, waving him off as he tilts his head in agreement. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be outside, like always. 

Even after all this time, you still got trepidatious. There came times where the connection was completely off, that you just wanted to bolt away, screaming like a baby. But you needed this job to survive, plus, it paid a pretty penny. 

“Where do you want me?”

Once you spot the massive businessman, manspreading on the couch that he made out to look like a toy, you gulp. You had caught a glimpse of him already, basically performed for him, but you didn’t think he was the one who called for you.

He’s strikingly handsome in a way you couldn’t quite comprehend. Dark, untamed hair covers his face. Long nose catches your attention as you squirm. His hands are practically the size of your face and you could only imagine what his thick fingers must feel like. Curiously, your eyes dwindle down to his lap as you picture what rests between his legs.

“Oh, right. Um…”

You grin. “First time?”

He winces. “It was a friend's idea.”

“Hmph. Heard that one before.” Inching closer, you pour a glass of water. “Here. It’ll help.”

His hand swallows you whole as you gape down at the difference. Electricity zaps you as you flinch and he catches on. Bringing the cup towards his pink lips, he closes his eyes, lashes fanning his tan skin. Being taken care of by a beautiful, young lady, made him cringe in all kinds of ways. He felt like a child, then like an old man. To be fair, he sort of was.

“I’m not here for…you know.” You quirk a neat brow. You don’t want to fuck me? Your question has him choking on the ice as he raises his hand up. “N-no, I just th—”

“I’m afraid you’re just wasting my time, and time is money. Have a good day, Mr. Wolff.”

Gaining his composure, Toto storms over to you, grabbing your hand. “I’ll still pay you. Triple what you make, but please don’t go.”

Your cheeks are dusted light pink when you turn around, wings brushing against him. If you’re lucky, you reach his toned chest, but the height difference was scary. Enticing. You almost wish he would fuck you like a pornstar. 

“You know what a girl wants to hear. I’m in.”

Turns out, he just wanted a companion. Someone who wouldn’t pity him. Didn’t hurt that you were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, either. Narrowing your eyes, you click your tongue. “She said that?”

He sighs. “Maybe I was changing.”

“Perhaps, but that’s what a marriage is for. You change, sure, but you change together. Things can’t possibly stay that same, that’s just stupid.” Tucking your legs beneath your butt, you continue. “And what? Your number one driver decides to leave out of the blue? Even after it was mutually decided that he would stick around at least until 2026?”

That was something no one knew, but who were you going to tell? Toto grimaces. “It sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“It fucking sucks.”

The Austrian chuckles deeply at your outburst. You blush at the cunning sound. “You’re a terrific listener. I’m glad you stuck around to talk.”

“I’m glad I did, too.” You play with the hem of your dress. “You’re a kind man, Toto. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

-

He slips away that night with a tranquility he hasn’t felt in quite a while. On the way back to Monaco, he wonders if you were some kind of guardian that he had to meet in order to move on from his bittersweet feelings. Because it sure did feel like it since he felt he now knew what it is that he had to do in the upcoming season. All thanks to you. 

“…Toto….Hello?” Bono smacks his hand against the table and the Austrian flinches. They were in the talks of what position he would stay in now that Lewis was departing from his life-long engineer. “Do you want me to continue or?”

The brunette clears his throat, awkwardly. “We have a few weeks of break before the new season begins, correct?”

“Correct.”

He stands up to his full height. “Then let’s talk later. Enjoy your break, Bono. See you soon.” Then he’s walking out the sliding doors, with a dumbfounded engineer piercing his eyes at his large back.

Elizabeth, Toto’s rough voice speaks to his personal assistant. Clear my schedule for the next few weeks. Oh, and also; get me the first flight out to Las Vegas. 

-

Cursing at the dusty wind, you huddle your way into your beat up car, fingers sliding your Dior glasses down the bridge of your nose. They were a gift from a recent client, and you never shamed them away. Taking a sip of your sparkling water, you sigh in relief at the refreshing taste. Screw Nevada for being annoyingly hot. 

Tap tap. 

Squinting your eyes at your window, you only catch a glimpse of a man’s clothed crotch as you yelp. Swinging the door open, you take out your pepper spray. “Go away creep, I will use this if necessary!”

"Warten! Warten!"

“Huh?”

“I said wait,” a thick accent clarifies. You bite back a smile. “Hello.”

Bringing your hands up to your hips, you giggle. “Hello, Mr. Wolff. Back for more?”

He can try and pretend that he was better than crawling back to you, even if all you both did was have a meaningful conversation, but he doesn’t have time for lies. 

“I just wanted to thank you.” Your lips separate, slowly. “For everything. You helped me figure out lots of things.”

“Oh, wow… I, umm… You’re welcome?”

Intaking your soft aura, he closes his right eye due to the bright sun. “Can I take you out for coffee?”

-

You didn’t go out for coffee at a local cafe, but rather at his mansion he just blew his money on without batting an eye. Inhaling the yummy scent, you swoon. “This smells amazing.” 

He smiles. “It’s from Germany.”

“Authentic. How’d you get it?”

“Don’t underestimate power.” Your eyes grow wide at his cold tone and the Austrian laughs. “Relax. I’m from Germany. It’s my favorite, so I always carry one with me. Call me old-fashioned.”

“Let’s just leave it at old.”

He flashes a devious grin, lines tracing his face. “Ha-ha. But seriously, thank you for helping me out of my little…crisis.” Midlife crisis, you correct him as he glares. You snicker. 

“I’m glad I was able to help.”

“Can I ask you something?” Sure, you cheer as you sip on the hot drink. He fixes his glasses. “How did you end up working at Machiavellian Nights?” Your stomach drops. “You don’t have to answer.”

“No.” He nods. “I’ll tell you, because oddly enough, I trust you.” Okay, he whispers. “Are you close to your parents?” 

“What?” Are you? He nods again. You smile sadly. 

“That’s lovely, Toto. Appreciate that.” You release a shaky breath. “My father passed away when I was fifteen and my mother pretends to not know me.”

He gulps and you continue. “It was not always like that, though. We had a close relationship. She would braid my hair every night before bed. I would curl hers before every date. She was an amazing woman. One I could admire.”

“What happened?”

You lower your head, lips wobbling. Letting out a wet laugh, you brush a hand up against your nose. “Men are deceiving. Men are shit. Men are a complete waste of time and— I miss who my mom used to be.”

Handing you a napkin, you silently thank him. “She met him when I was only seventeen. It was fine at first; I was so happy for her. I would be moving out for college eventually, so I felt relieved that she had someone to rely on. Connor was great.”

The fifty-two year old is momentarily lost. Nothing sounds as bad as it seems, but he refrains from telling you so. “Then she got pregnant. Oh, Toto, I was so excited. A baby sister. Could you imagine? I bought everything my first job could afford. Onesies, blankies, pampers, I bought it all. And I never once expected anything in return.”

“That’s where things began to change. Connor swore I was trying to win my mom over and leave Rosie with nothing. Kicked me out before I even had a chance to defend myself. I thought —okay, I’ll just talk to her and explain that it was never my intention to do any of that. But she wouldn’t listen. She gave birth six months ago.”

“And you ended up...” You hum, bringing the mug up to your lips. 

“It was either that or fast food. Salary is shit in that industry. And the customers aren’t bad. I could say yes or no at any given time.”

The brunette fiddled with his watch. “So, you could have turned me away?” Laughing, you nod. He fakes a smug look. “And why didn’t you?”

Tapping a lazy finger onto your chin, you close your eyes before fluttering them open. “I had a feeling you had shit locked away. Just like me.”

-

He bids you farewell, claiming he was glad to have met you, even with such circumstances. The way he hugs you goodbye makes the pit of your stomach fuel with fire as you brush away the urge to climb onto him and kiss his pain away, even if he promises to not feel any. 

Take care of yourself, you beg, head resting beneath his heart. His breath hitches. You need to look after yourself, above all. Oh. And good luck with the new season. 

He wonders why such a pretty plea makes his heart break. Perhaps it was because even though your life was at rock bottom, you still looked out for others. Or maybe it was him, but he couldn’t pinpoint it at all. He wouldn’t try either because as stated before, he was leaving for good. He could make room to visit you the next time he was here for the Las Vegas GP. Even then, he wouldn’t risk you like that.

But like a kid at a candy shop, he finds himself signing the NDA once again. Welcome back, Mr. Wolff. The usual? “That sounds great, thank you.” Taking a seat, he watches the vivid room, hoping to spot you. Set after set, he’s torn when you don’t show up. Others seem to notice you missing as they violently spit slurs of; Bring out the pretty one! 

“Would you be kind enough to treat me to a sweet drink? Paloma’s are my favorite.”

Your sultry voice salutes him like a perfect hug as he looks down to where you bite down onto the inside of your cheek. Your eyes crinkle as you beam up at him. “You’re here…”

“I always am.”

He cringes, desperation humbling him as you take a seat. “Your act…you didn’t go on and I just thought you were out sick or something?” Leaning over to take a sip of his dark drink, loopy eyes train on him before sighing.

“Ugh, I wish. I’m on my period. I asked for the night off, but I’m still up to no good. Make a little bit of money, eh.” He clenches his jaw. “What are you doing here anyways, Toto? Oh shit—Mr. Wolff.” Smiling warmly at the bartender, you hug your red lips around the glass.

“I wanted to see you.”

Choking on the fruity drink, you clutch onto his thigh. He stiffens, but still pats your exposed back. You wore a silky red dress, just like the rest of the girls strutting through the busy club, but somehow, it looked better on you. Enhancing your soft features, tugging against your curves like an envelope. Perky tits begging to be licked— sucked on. 

“Why?”

“I…I don’t know.” You frown. “I have no idea, but you’ve lingered on my mind from the moment I saw you, dancing sadly. Why was that?” 

You purse your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He huffs. “Think a little bit harder, then.” His firm tone makes you sit up straight, drawing circles on his lap, as a tactic to not pull your strong gaze away. You don’t even notice his hard cock pushing up against the denim. 

“I had just received a restraining order against Rosie.” He deflates. “I’ve never even met my newborn sister and they got a fucking restraining order.” You scoff. “Unbelievable.”

Toto was lucky enough to be a part of his kids' lives, but simply picturing the idea of Stephanie or Susie getting a restraining order against him, crushed him. Seeing you so upset about it makes him want to track down your mother and Connor and yell at them for how they’ve treated you. But then he would probably find himself with a similar piece of paper.

“Just when I think they’ve done it all, there always seems to be more.” You laugh, taking another sip of your cold drink. “They’re getting clever.”

“How are you so okay with any of this?”

You narrow your eyes, offended by his question. “You think I am? Toto, I feel like the odd one out. My own mother makes me feel like a culprit for simply wanting to give my baby sister a pair of shoes.” The brunette furrows his brows. You giggle. “I got Rosie a pair of ballet shoes. They’re the cutest thing you’ll ever see.” 

His lips quirk upwards. “So, you’ve tried to meet her?” You shake your head, hair whiplashing. I called my mom, brought up the idea. I guess she didn’t like it because next thing I knew, hello, restraining order. It’s sick. “They don’t deserve you.”

Your mouth stays agape as you blink back at him, doe eyes ringing him in. “I’m done trying. I get tired too, y’know?” Edging closer to your seat, you cup your hands against his ear, getting a whiff of his musky, expensive scent. You almost let out a moan. “You have kids, right? Were they cute when they were babies?” 

He nods, enthusiastically. “They’re heaven sent.” Your eyes twinkle, and he feels bad for a split second. “Want to see?” He dangles his phone towards you as you beam. Do you mind? “Not at all. As a father, you must know, I like to brag about them.” Rolling your eyes, you swipe through his gallery as you coo.

“Oh my goodness! She looks just like you,” you point out when you spot a blond girl. He grins. That’s Rosa. Flickering your eyes up to him, you gasp. “Rosie.” 

“Huh? Similar…that’s funny.”

Your grin widens. “Oh, handsome. Just like his father.” Benedict, he informs you as he blushes at the comment. Swiping once more, you tilt your head. “Very cute—like insanely adorable—but he doesn’t resemble you at all.” He laughs, throwing his head back.

“That’s my youngest, Jack. He looks just like his mother.” He retrieves the phone from you before handing it back. Squinting, you analyze the older blond. “Identical. It’s almost as if you didn’t partake in the game, Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

Burning up, you rip your gaze away from the device, trying to erase your filthy thoughts. Especially of him and his ex-wife. “She seems nice. Beautiful, too.” He hums, slipping his phone back into his pocket. 

“I can tell you have a soft spot for kids.”

“I don’t want to scare you off, but it’s an obsession. I can’t wait to be a mommy.” He swallows a groan at your innocent wish. “I would try to be the best; I just know I would.” 

The Austrian rubs his arm. “It’s getting late. Are you still going to be around?” 

You yawn. “I think I’m out of here, too.” 

“Can I take you home?”

The sexual tension is as thick as thieves. It suffocates you whole as you stare out the window of his Mercedes Benz. His digits taps against the leather wheel, legs barely fitting from how massive he is. Head almost touching the roof of his car. I swear I’ll go back to school, God, but please help me keep the last bits of my dignity. 

“How tall are you?” Come again? You gulp. “What’s your height? Curious, that’s all.”

His head rolls back, Adam’s Apple jumping up and down. “Meters or in feet?” You bite down on your tongue. Smart-ass. 

“Feet, if it’s okay with you,” you reply sarcastically. He clicks his tongue in amusement.

“6’5.” 

“Oh my God.” You smile sheepishly when he frowns. “You’re huge.”

“They normally say that after I have sex with them, but thank you.”

Heat rushes to your cheekbones and the tip of your ears. “You know what I meant.”

“Oh, of course, my mistake.” Pulling into your small driveway, he blinks slowly. “You live here?”

“Yes, don’t drool over it, please,” you growl at his rude tone. His brown eyes spin towards you when you hurriedly grab your things. He grabs the back of your dress quickly and you freeze.

“I didn’t mean it like that, it’s lovely, but I just thought…you said you made good money?”

High heels crunch against small pebbles as you scowl at the fifty-two year old. “I want to go back to Uni and I’m saving up, is that so wrong?” He’s embarrassed now, fixated on the empty passenger seat. You scoff. “Glad we agree. Good night, dickhead.”

Toto lets out a quiet laugh. Your eye twitches at the sound. Marching over to his window, you click your fingers as he rolls it down. This is funny to you? “Not at all. You acting like a child is.” 

“I am not acting like a child—”

“Oh, you’re not? Fuck. Again, my mistake.” Grinding your molars, you glare at the brunette. He aims for a soft smile. “I wasn’t making fun of your living arrangements, please, do you really think that low of me?” You look away, wiggling your neat brows. “Come and live with me.”

“Excuse me?”

He climbs out of the car, making you stumble back. “In the meantime, while I’m here, which is not for long. When I leave, you can keep the house.”

You grow light headed from his delirious offer. “Are you asking me to have sex with you in return for a new home?” His jaw drops.

“No, I’m being a good friend. You’re a sweet girl who has dealt with some shitty people and I want to help. Please, accept.” His voice is soft but somehow demanding. As if he already knows you’re going to agree. 

Inching closer, you poke his chest. He raises his arms. “Are you real?” Super real, he states, rolling his chocolate eyes. What do you say? 

“But my things—”

“I’ll send for them.”

“My downpayment—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Cool!” you cheer. “Let me just go grab my boyfriend.” His smile falls. Letting out an evil laugh, you clutch onto your stomach. “Ha! You should have seen your face.”

He pinches your forearm and you yelp in surprise. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Too late,” you yodel as you skip around, back into the black Mercedes. “You’re going to regret it anyways.”

-

We still have to talk about the preparations required for the unveiling of the W15. Please tell me you haven’t forgotten? 

Massaging his temples, Toto grimaces. “I haven't, but also, we don’t have to. It’s all ready to go; George and Lewis just need to show up.”

Elizabeth gasps. “And you.”

“Elizabeth, that was implied.” The assistant hums sheepishly as she continues talking his ear off. He groans. “I’ll be there, don’t worry. You’re doing a great job, keep it up. And please, enjoy your break. You’re going to wish you had when the season starts.”

“Of course. Take care, Toto.”

Once they hang up, he picks up on reading through articles about everything and anything people have been saying about Lewis’ new contract with Ferrari. He was happy for his driver, but it still stung. 

“You look tired.”

Chocolate eyes direct over to you where you stand with an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. At least he hopes. “Oh, y’know. Catching up on work. Can’t be gone for too long, if not things get out of control.”

Rolling your eyes sarcastically, you slide your way closer to him. “Can I see?”

“See what?”

Squinting at the screen, your eyes glimmer brightly. “I love all things gossip. It’s my guilty pleasure.” Taking a seat on his thick lap, your delicate fingers start playing with the keypad. He grunts, placing both hands behind his head as his jaw ticks. “Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton: The Unstoppable Duo.” You giggle. “He’s cute. Take it back, they both are.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “You’re evil.” 

Tossing your hair over your shoulder, you shrug. It looks so soft, he’s itching to run his fingers through it. “I see why you’re upset about this whole—‘I want Lewis! No, I want Lewis!—thing.” His smile falters. “It’s brutal.”

Hauling you off of his lap, he places you on the chair next to him, hoping you wouldn’t notice his hard print. “Is it?”

“Mhmm,” you chirp, chin propped onto your knees. “You must not mind people talking about you.”

“I do mind. I mind a lot.”

Perplexed, you take in his exhausted state. You never wanted to be famous, and seeing him live like this made you realize you had made the right choice. With slight hesitance, you brush his hair back; he sighs in relief. “It’s good to take breaks in between. That way you don’t have a stroke, old man.” His eyes fly open.

“Just because you’re younger, that doesn't mean I’m about to drop dead, sweetheart.” You squirm, forcing his orbs back closed as he squirms at the clumsy action. 

“Wanna feel something nice?”

Toto’s mind wanders to a steamy place once you leap off your chair. His chest heaves up and down from nervousness, hearing your soft steps. Straddling him, you press a soft kiss onto his cheek. Relax, Toto. He nods, grips onto the sides of the wooden chair, knuckles turning ghost white. Digging your hands into his broad shoulder, you begin to massage him at a steady pace. He moans. “How are you so good at this?” Your lips curl.

“I like to think I was a masseuse in my past life, now shhh.” 

The brunette’s main focus was between two things; actually letting loose and enjoying the much needed massage and the urge to slide your panties to the side and fuck you senselessly. Both were pretty good ideas in his book.

“Stop grunting,” you whisper in the nook of his ear as he shudders. You bite down on your pouty lip, leaning all the way back, and his hands instinctively reach out to catch you. His brown eyes flutter open as he admires the way you tower over him, even as you lay back, but also the way your fingers push adamantly against the knots in his shoulders. He growls animalistically. “What did I say, Mr. Wolff?”

Cold stare. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

Grabbing his large hands, you place them over your hips, an inviting smile dancing across your pink lips. Squeeze if you have to. He almost comes inside his pants as you lick your lips once more before continuing your actions. And it almost seems like you want to get a rise out of him. To make him groan, moan, grunt, cry out— for you. 

Purposefully, you dig your knuckles extra hard before pinching down with your nails. He hisses, grasping your sides hard as he throws his head back, floppy hair hitting the chair. You force a whimper away as you feverishly grind against his crotch. That kind of hurt, Toto.

“Fuck…I’m sorry,” he spills out as he starts a massage of his own. You smirk, repeating the same painful actions, pushing him to do the same as before. This was no longer a peaceful massage, you both knew that. It really hurts, you whine as you place a small hand against his chest, hips moving feverishly against his rough pants. The burning sensation makes you let out a pathetic wail as you rest your head against his shoulder. “A-are you okay?”

Then, you press your forehead against his; lustful gaze challenging him while tears cover up your pretty eyes, making them shimmer even more than before. “Never been better.” With one last rub against his slacks, you’re climaxing as you plow your red nails onto him.

Gasping for air, you return to tracing soft circles against his wide shoulders as he’s left dazed and confused. His cock still hurts from how hard he is, but you don’t seem to notice. Or you ignore it. It doesn't matter, because you’re already jumping off him, lips bruised from how hard you had bit down.

“I thought your hands would hurt a lot less, Toto. You ought to be nice to me.” 

Then, you’re skipping away, back into your room like a shy rabbit.

-

After the encounter in the dining room, you pranced around as if nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had. Toto’s mind was probably playing tricks on him because there was no way you could act so nonchalant, hallowing your lips around the cherry popsicle. Is it red? You stick your salivating tongue towards him.

“That’s a dumb question.”

You frown. “Grump.” A beat. “Can I take the Mercedes on a spin?”

“No.”

The frown grows deeper. “Why not? I swear I won’t scratch it. In fact, I won’t let anything happen.”

“Tempting, but still no.”

“Fine,” you grumble, munching down on the icy treat. He smiles, fingers typing against his computer. Can I ride you? His digits freeze midair as he flickers his brown eyes over at you. Holding the car keys directly to your face, you hum playfully. Yeah. Why not, Peaches? Just take care of me! “Of course, my sweet Benz. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“You are worse than my four year old.” He inhales sharply, rolling up his sleeves as he tries to ease his crazy heartbeat with water. You giggle.

“He said yes.”

“The car talks now?”

You blush. “That’s what I’m sayinggg…”

Analyzing the strand of hair that hits your chin, he folds his hands. “How did you choose Peaches as your stage name?”

You swallow the last piece of your popsicle. “It’s not an interesting story. I have a co-worker who goes by Foxy because she once fucked a fucking grandpa in the woods and he died of a heart attack once he saw a fox. Pretty cool, huh?”

His jaw drops. “You’re crazy.” Shrugging, you kick your legs up on the armrest. He swallows. “But I still want to know. No matter how boring it may seem. I can guarantee you I won’t think the same, pessimist.” 

Gingerly squinting your round eyes, your lips for a thin line. “When I was younger, my mom would bring me a peach everyday after work. That way, when she would pick me up from school, she would have it ready. The sweetest ones were during summer, of course, but the ones out of season were still pretty good. Up to this day, I still don’t know how she got her hands on those.” He nods. “Simple as that.”

“I think it’s sweet.” His long legs stretch out to kick your chair away. You squeal. “Makes you seem a tiny bit human.”

“Hey!”

He smirks. “Way better than Foxy. That story is just a murder case waiting to be taken to trial.”

“She did receive a handsome inheritance,” you whistle and his eyes grow wide. You snicker. “I’m kidding.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets out a heavy sigh. “Do you enjoy your job? Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?” You shake your head.

“Wait, let me rephrase. I do enjoy pole dancing. So many outsiders assume we’re sluts, but it’s not like that. It’s an art, whether you believe it or not.” I agree. You grin. “I have fun, but no, I don’t want to do this forever. I want to be an elementary school teacher.”

“Really?”

You wince. “Seems inappropriate, I know, but I think I could be really good at it. I would cut them slices of sweet peaches any chance I get. I’ll even figure out where to buy some more once the season ends.” Scooting closer to the table, you flick your wooden stick onto his lap. He aims for a deadpan expression. “And I just want to make it clear that I do not sleep around. But when I do, it’s because I want to. I have needs too, Toto.”

The fifty-two year old grinds his teeth together. “I’m sure you do.”

-

Wobbling against the shiny tiles, you gasp before a warm hand saves you. You let out a breath of relief, turning to see Toto shaking his head in disapproval. 

“This is why you should leave to work on time. Now you’re just a mess.” Glaring at him, you fix your rollers as you walk out onto the private driveway. You were excluded from the rest of society, but part of you liked that. “How are you even going to get there?”

Spinning around, you almost crash into his chest before you regain your composure, close proximity making you struggle to find the words. “Toto, I never told you this, but…I can fly.”

“I’m being serious.”

You shrug. “I’m going to take the bus. Go back to your precious emails.” As soon as you twiddle your finger, he scoffs. 

“I would take you—”

“But you’re busy— it’s fine.”

“Can you stop talking?” Beady eyes narrow up at him as he continues. “But I can’t because I’m drowning with work…You can take the Mercedes.” Your eyes light up. 

“Are you fucking with me?”

He wishes he was fucking you, but no. “You better treat it like your own.” You click your tongue. See, you shouldn’t have said that because now my alter ego just grew. He points accusingly and you scrunch your nose. I promise. Handing you his keys, he watches carefully as you pull away, blowing him a kiss. 

A few hours pass by before he feels the need to check up on you. He tries texting first. Busy night? Nothing. He tries calling. Nothing. He starts thinking you might've crashed on your way there, so he hurries out the door. 

Paying the taxi driver, he marches past the doors as he is handed a piece of paper. He smiles back politely. “Don’t you guys think we’re past this?” The men take a quick glance at each other before nodding. Have a lovely night, Mr. Wolff. 

Loud music makes the brunette wince, face twisting uncomfortably. Brown eyes study the club as he tries to decipher where you could possibly be. Maybe you didn’t make it and he was right after all. Jogging over to the bartender, Toto pants. “Peaches? Have you seen her?” 

The young man points to the glass box, where you start your set. He sighs in relief as he takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves as he admires. Everyone cheers as you smile erotically. The Austrian can’t help but be one of them too. 

Spotting him, you freeze. You narrow your eyes for a split second before you snap out of it, continuing your desirable movements. The music ends and just like that, you’re done. Hollering echoes the room when you brush past by. 

“What are you doing here?” 

A cheesy grin plays out. “I came to see you.” Weren’t you busy with work? He shakes his head. “Well, yes actually, but I thought you were dead in a ditch when you didn’t reply to my message or answer any of my calls.”

“Why could that be? Oh. Maybe because I’m working,” you hiss. “Listen, if you’re here as a client— fine. But if you’re here as Toto— leave.”

He narrows his eyes sharply and your breath hitches. “It’s Mr. Wolff, darling.”

You purse your lips. “Very well, Mr. Wolff.” Strutting away, you make sure you sway your hips. The brunette groans, falling back against his chair. 

The night flies by as usual, until they book you. “Mr. Straforx, sitting in the back booth,” Ro informs you as you suck on your bottom lip, listening attentively. “Interested?” 

“Very.”

“Actually, I am too.”

The rich accent makes your stomach flip as you muster up a stern glare. Toto’s lips form a firm line as he stands as tall as a sequoia. Fuming, you shake your head, perfectly done hair slapping your face. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wolff, but I already agreed to somebody else. But rest assured, if I have time left, then I will get to you.”

“Is money the issue here?”

Your jaw ticks, temples grinding together harshly. “You think that’s all I care about?”

He shrugs. “I could lie and say no, but who am I kidding? We all care about money.”

Flustered, you scoot closer to Ro, who stands amused with the entire interaction. “Ro, tell Mr. Straforx that I’ll be there in a minute, and make sure to apologize on my behalf.” The older man nods, tipping his head towards the Austrian as he strolls away. “What are you trying to do, Toto?”

His lips flip to a teasing smile. “Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, don’t you dare pull that card on me.” Your face pinches up. “This is an important client, I can’t say no.”

“How much do you want in order for you to come with me instead of him?” Your berry lips separate. “Name a price. I’m a self-made billionaire, sweetheart—a couple of millions are nothing to me.”

“I could never ask for you to do that,” you whisper, timidly fiddling with your necklace. “Deal with it. You’re not my boyfriend.”

His nose flares at the cruel reminder. “I never claimed to be. I’m a client.” Pause. “Two million.”

You gasp. “Are you insane?”

“You’re right, that’s childsplay. How about five?” When you still don’t say anything, he grins devilishly as he places a large hand on the lower part of your back. “Ro! Yeah, tell Me. Straforx that she’s coming with me. I’ll give you a bonus, don’t worry.” Your friend nodded happily. Press the button if you need anything. 

You roll your eyes, sourly. “Thank you, Ro. Thank you so much.” Pushing you into the private room, you yelp. “Let go of me!”

The brunette scoffs. “Calm down, I was barely even touching you.”

Shivering, you focus your attention on the luxurious drinking options. Half of these were probably worth what you make in a year, but the rich fed off of that. The brown eyed man hums. “Is that something you’re interested in?” You quirk a brow. A drink? He shakes his head. “Do you want me to touch you?”

You blink up at him swiftly, rubbing your thighs together. “You’re reading into it. I don’t.” Digging his large hands into his pockets, he clicks his tongue. Okay. Then ask me to leave. We can pretend none of this ever happened. A sad whine bubbles up your throat as you fear that he might actually walk out if you even dared to imply. “Just don’t be a jerk.”

A threatening chuckles booms past his lips as he serves himself a drink you can’t even pronounce. He takes a slow sip before he raises his glass up towards you. “You’re getting to me a  bit more than I’d like to admit. I mean, you must know that, right?” Demented, you play with your dress. 

Tonight, you were cosplaying a wide-eyed devil. There was nothing threatening about your appearance, not if you didn’t count your crimson red lips. Plump, round, tempting. Your black gartner drives him to complete insanity as you bite down on your bottom lip, nervously. Your red dress is too short for his liking, but only because others get to enjoy the sight of your heavenly legs. The ones he was drooling over to nuzzle his face in between. Then your horns tussle your hair messily as you pant. He hasn’t even touched you and you were already dripping.

“That’s not true, Mr. Wolff.” The grin widens.. 

“You can call me Toto when we’re alone, sweetheart.” You shiver, lowering your gaze. No, you were right. It has to stay professional in this setting. The brunette rolls his tongue before squinting his eyes at you, fine lines forming. The sight alone makes you melt. “You should have thought about that before you came all over my thigh.”

Shocked at his vulgar words, you bat your eyes, flustered by the reminder. You had done that. But you had the upper hand that day and that was long gone as he towered over you. Inching closer, he drops down to his knees, him still appearing taller even with the action. You squirm. 

“You were not playing fair that day. How come you only got to finish, and I didn’t?” You were hurting me, you cry out like a child as he scoffs at your weak attempt. Tugging you closer to him by your smooth legs, he droops them over his wide shoulders. Oh God. Turning his head to the side, he presses warm kisses. Your skin burns with every single one. “You know that’s not true.” Then, he’s hiking your tiny dress up.

Toto is hit with instant lust as he spots the wet patch of arousal. You whine, legs shutting around him. Do something—anything—but please, touch me. The corner of his lips lift up as he bites onto your red undergarment, pulling it down. Oh, you sigh at the intimate vision. Once you’re on full display, he groans. Your pussy glistens back at him, begging to be stretched out. “You’re…”

Humming, you place your soft palm against his cheek. “Toto…”

Like a starved man, he dives in, lips sucking on your clit as you fly forward, eyes screwed shut. He eats you out as if this was his true calling in life, the way he pinches your hips when you rock yourself against his face. He’s enjoying every second, every drop, as you find pleasure with the way his tongue swirls inside of you, finding new places you didn't know existed. The brunette nips quickly as you gasp, then he strikes his tongue. Warm sensation settles inside of your stomach. T-toto, holy fuck, oh my God. 

You can feel the way he grins against your pussy as he continues his handy work. Slurping your juices, his dark eyes find yours as you pant, light sweat fanning your face. His large hand presses your dress down, further adding to the friction as your tummy is pushed down as well. Wailing, you writher an embarrassing amount that would normally have you pouring out apologies if it weren’t for his strong gaze. 

“Taste so sweet,” he chants, kitten licks taking place. Your head rolls back against the couch, hand clutching onto his hair as he grunts. “Open your eyes for me, schatzi.” But you’re too busy trying to make this moment last, ignoring his command. Pressing his nose against your small hole, you squeal and look down. A coy expression takes over as he pulls away and rubs his fingers against your puffy clit. 

“You s-so fucking good at this,” you pant, chest rises up and down, horns sliding down a bit before he extends his long arm, pushing it back. Your chest tightens. “I know what you’re going to do…Go easy, please.”

Taunting circles edge you further as he bites the squishy part of his cheek. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to try and make your fingers fit.”

Your words come out menacing as you scrunch your eyebrows together, a worried look clear to the Austrian. Kissing the inside of your thigh, he nods. “You’re an extremely smart girl.” Another kiss. “I’ll go slow. You won’t even feel any discomfort, just pleasure.”

“Wait!”

Panic strikes his face as you disconnect his left hand from your breast. Bringing his hand up, you inspect the wedding band. Why are you still wearing this? He groans. “Publicity. No one knows yet. They won’t know for a while, so I can’t take it off until then.” You hum, then slide his ring finger into your mouth. You can taste yourself, long digits immediately hitting the back of your throat as you gag. “What are you—”

Then he feels it. Your soft tongue and the way it lubricated the steel before you gently bit down and started pulling his hand back. His cock grows more pained from how hard he’s become. With a pop you smile, eyes crinkling as you show off the metal. “Better.”

“You’re…” I know, you seductively whisper as you return his hand to where it laid. Is that not what you like about me? The man practically growls as he slams two thick fingers inside of you. Your body jolts as you cry out. So good, Toto. His cock twitches at you ragged praises. His fingers barely even fit inside your tiny hole, but it sure as hell reaches your g-spot. White splotches burn your eyes as you dig your nails onto the side of his thick neck. 

“Just like that. Oh, Toto.” He adds a third finger, and you hiss at the burning sensation. “That’s too much! Fuck.” He makes up for it, drawing figure 8’s between your velvety walls as you open up to him. Your legs start to slip down his shoulders as he spits. Keep them in place. You whimper, but obey, nonetheless.

The pad of his fingers continue assaulting your sweet spot, curling at a perfect angle. Your moans grow louder. Chocolate eyes flicker up to face your fucked up state. “Close?” You nod, vigorously. A warm strip teases your slippery lips. “Good. You’re doing so good, Peaches.”

Your hips buck suddenly as you suffocate him with your body, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Picking up on your candy nectar, he groans like a madman, greedy tongue swiping to lick every last drop. Shuddering at the feeling, you push his head away from in between your legs and grab him by the collar. For a second, he thinks you might kiss him, but when you don’t he realizes he’s disappointed. Instead, you plant a kiss on his cheek, hot breaths wrapping around his skin.

“Guess that makes us even, Mr. Wolff.”

-

“And then I rode a pony! I begged mama to let me get on a horse instead, but I just got a good scolding. But you would’ve let me, right papa?” Toto theatrically grins at Jack. 

“Don’t tell her, but yes. I would have let you because you're a big boy now, aren't you?” The four year old nods, blond hair covering his eyes as he brushes it away with powdered hands from his donut. I miss you. When are you coming back?

Pressure tugs at the Austrians chest as he sighs. Jack was too young—he wouldn’t understand that he and Susie would no longer be living together. It was a mutual decision to tell him when the time was right, but it still killed him to lie to his son. Especially when he beams back with bright eyes. Toto winces. “Soon.” A pin drops. “Have you eaten your vegetables for the day?” Jack sprints away.

A soft laugh is heard from the other side of the screen as Susie comes to view. “He has not, by the way. Hi, Toto.” The brunette waves. “Are you actually busy with work or are you trying to forget about all your fatherly duties?” 

“Is it that obvious?”

The blond chuckles. “Whatever it is, it’s great that you’ve taken time to yourself. Just don’t take too long.” Signing off, the fifty-two year old is left staring at his own reflection. 

“He’s cuter than the pictures.” Toto flinches with surprise. Standing in a summer dress, you lick your lollipop. “His voice is super squeaky; it’s adorable.”

“Do you need something?”

His question may seem rude, but it’s not meant to come off as so. His voice is filled with genuine concern as he furrows his brows. You shake your head. “I’m bored, that's all.”

The brunette scoffs. “And by all means, you came to bother me.” A giggle dances out of you as you brush your hair back. Your sweet scent reaches him, even though you stand far enough away to make a run for the hills. “But I do have time. What do you have in mind?”

“I want to talk to my mom.” Your words shock him but he listens attentively, watching you as you sit on top of the table, legs swinging with rigidness. “I want to try and fix things.” He frowns. But you’ve done nothing wrong. You shift in an uncomfortable manner. “Well…”

“What did you do?”

“Remember how I got a restraining order, but I’ve never stepped close to Rosie?” He nods. You nibble on your thumb. “I s-sort of lied.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve met her, kind of…” You pout, hazed expression carving out through your doll features. “But I can explain.”

He sighs. “Please do.”

Your cheeks flush. “A few weeks before I met you, Connor called me. And I picked up. He told me he was willing to let me meet my sister, but only if I let him borrow fifty grand. To be honest, I don’t care if I never get my money back— I just wanted to be able to recognize Rosie’s face. Of course I said yes.” The Austrian listens carefully, loopy eyes dedicated to you. “I bought her ballet shoes, the one’s I told you about.”

“She was perfect. She giggled like the most angelic thing and her eyes crinkled in a way that made me love her instantly. I asked why Connor needed the money and if they were in trouble, but he only ignored me. Then he tried to kiss me.”

“He what?”

A timid smile plays out. “It’s okay, he does that sometimes, but I’m always able to push him off because most of the time he’s drunk out of his mind. I don’t normally care, but he had Rosie… What if because of some stupid mistake he put her in danger? I gave Rosie her gift and paid an Uber to take them back home.”

“My mom found out about the meet-up and marched right to my work. Don’t ask me how she got in. She yelled at me with such anger that I almost wanted to cry. She said I wanted to steal both Rosie and Connor from her. I promised that wasn’t true, but she didn’t care. Then I got my restraining order.”

The brunette’s words get stuck as he gapes at you. Clearing his throat, he drums his fingers against the table. “You should have told me the truth,” he begins. Hurt slashes your face—you thought he would understand. He offers a friendly smile. “But still…you’ve done nothing wrong.” A beat. “I can help you. Well, my lawyers can.”

Tears form inside your jello eyes. “Are you serious?”

He nods. “Your sister can’t grow up in a household that doesn’t want her, but keeps her just to twist the knife. Connor will pay for what he’s done to you.” Leaping off the table, you cross your arms. No. You can’t bring that up. He sends a sharp glare. “What he did was wrong, can’t you see?” Your bottom lip wobbles. She’s going to hate me even more. Tenderly, he sighs as he strolls over, cupping your face. “She shouldn’t, but if she does, at least you’ll be free from him. Has he only tried to kiss you?”

Closing your eyes, you release a wet breath. “He’s touched me a couple of times.” The Austrains eyes darken. Pushing his hands down, you quickly take a step back. “But by then I was due to move out, so it doesn’t really matter!”

“It matters a little,” he growls. “None of this is normal.” You flinch at his strong tone. “Sweetheart, tell me one thing; what would you do if God forbid, he did the same thing to Rosie?” 

You gasp. “I would murder him.”

“So, you agree that we have to do something about this?” Hesitantly, you nod. “I’ll reach out to my attorney as soon as possible. I promise you that all of this will get taken care of.” Muscular arms drape over your shoulders as he hugs you. Bewildered, you blink as you stiffen. “You don’t hug much?”

“Nope.” 

He booms with laughter, chest vibrating as you smile at the feeling. Everything about this feels right, so then why does that scare you?

-

He vows to be back as soon as he’s done with the car reveal. I don’t care, you reply as you pop a mint into your mouth, getting ready for work. 

You’re going to miss me, watch.

And damn him, the fucker was right—you did. A part of you wishes he would rush past the doors, yapping about he thought you were dead and didn’t ask for permission to take the Benz. But he was across the world, smiling wide at media duties as you watched behind a tiny screen. It’s good that he’s taking time to see Jack, too.

“Why are you sighing so sad?” Roxy asks, fixing her combat boots. “Not getting any clients? Though I doubt it. They love you.”

You let out a forced laugh. “I’m not sad—tired.”

The red head furrows her brows suspiciously before hugging you. Your arms dangle lazily as you scrunch your nose. She giggles. “Does this have to do with Mr. Toto Wolff? He’s hot—crazy hot.” She untangles herself from you. “He must be the devil himself.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yeah,” she cheers happily. “But also, you’re totally in love.” Your stomach drops. No, I am not. Roxy rolls her eyes. “You’re a good liar, but you’re not that good. I’ve noticed the way you look at him. Like you want to eat him alive as you kiss him until your lips snap.”

You wince at the image. “You have a way with words…”

She beams, thin brows raising up. “I’ve also noticed that you haven’t gone into the private room since he walked in through those doors. So what, you’re just going to keep pretending?”

“You’re such a creep!” you squeal, delicate hand slapping her thigh. She squeals lightheartedly. You’re missing out on a shit ton of money. We’re talking dough. And yet you don't bat an eye because you don’t want anyone but him. Did I nail it?

You pinch your fingers together as you huff. “You’re crazy. Crazy. There is no way I could be in lo—” Hey! The ringing sound makes your blood run cold as you fear to turn around. Look at me. Foxy stares back at you with anxious eyes. Do you know her? Looking down onto your lap, you nod. “That’s my mother.”

“Oh shit.”

A dry hand yanks you by the arm as she spins you around. “I’m talking to you. Why won’t you look at me?” 

You flinch. “I’m working, you can’t be doing this—”

“I don’t give two shits if you’re working or not, if I say we need to talk, then we need to talk.” Ro shakes his head, distressed as he apologizes. I’m so sorry, Peaches. She said she was your mom and I…I didn't know what to do. You smile back softly. 

“Don’t worry. Can you get me a room?”

As soon as your mother enters the dark area, she whistles. “Fancy, but really? Bending over for any man willing to pay you a couple cents? That’s disgusting.”

Your cheeks burn up as you fight back tears. “What do you want? Is Rosie okay?” Panic rushes through your veins as you grab her by the shoulders, shaking her violently. She’s so thin, you think you might break her. “Is she okay, I said?”

“She’s fine,” she yawns. “So…this is what you’re up to? It always…catches me by surprise. Not really.”

“I had no choice,” you whisper meekly. “You gave me no choice.”

The older woman smirks. “Don’t you dare blame me. No one makes you do anything— this was your decision.” 

You let out a tired sigh. “Just tell me what you want…”

Her eye twitches, as if she remembers why she was so angry to begin with. “I got your complaint; you’re suing me for being a bad mother and Connor for…assaulting you? Do you realize how stupid that sounds?”

“I’m not lying—”

“Really?”

“Why would I lie?” you yell back, acid sliding down your cheeks. “I would never make up such a thing. He assaulted me countless times as you never did a single thing.”

“I never saw anything.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “You walked in on it! You called me a slut! I was seventeen for fuck sakes. But no—you blamed me for sleeping with your husband instead.” You take a good look at her; dark undereyes, frail figure, needles imprints everywhere. “You can’t keep doing this. You need to think about Rosie—”

“Rosie, Rosie, Rosie—I could not care any less about her! She just bugs with all her crying. It’s exhausting.”

“She’s just a baby.” Grabbing her hands, you soften your gaze. “If you don’t want her, fine, let me raise her…I swear I can do it.”

Your mother perks up. “You would do that?” Yes. Of course I would, you respond instantly. You’ll never hear about us ever again. Her thin hand cradles your cheek warmly, and for a moment, you let yourself lean against it. Then she pulls away and strikes you harshly, causing you to stumble back. “Why would I ever please you like that?”

Bring your hand up to your stinging flesh, you sob. “I-I…what?”

“Here’s what you’re going to do; you're going to drop the charges against me and Connor.”

“No.” 

She clicks her tongue. “Are you sure?”

Rising up with shaky legs, you keep a firm face even though it begs to howl in pain. “I said no. You’re not going to hand her over willingly, okay…Then I’m taking you to court.”

“Like hell you aren’t.” Tugging your arm, she presses her face insanely close to yours. You wince at the smell of intoxication; you can’t even tell what kind. “I will fucking kill you, do you hear me?”

You let out a wet laugh, ripping your arm away from her tight grip. “I don’t care. I don’t care anymore, but I am saving my sister from you two—no matter what.” Her nostrils flare as she heaves. You let out a sad whimper. “When did you become so inhuman? You used to be kind, beautiful, ha—”

“Heartbreak does that to a person,” she simply states before walking out, leaving you to yourself as you finally come crashing down.

-

He didn’t expect for there to be a racket, but the house felt awfully quiet. He knows you weren't at work—he had checked. He thought maybe you could have been out with friends, so he sighs before resting on the couch. He sits there for an hour or so before heading upstairs to take a shower. 

As soon as he enters the bedroom, he finds you covered with thick blankets as you cry. Alarmed, he rushed to your side of the bed. Oh my God, you shriek at the anonymous person before squirting. “When did you get here?”

“That doesn’t matter—what’s wrong?”

You hope brushing your tears away would stop him from asking questions. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

A pinched up expression maps out. Your chin forms a peach seed as you let out a weak sob and stand on the bed, making you the same height as him, throwing your arms around his neck. He’s stunned, but snaps out of it as he hugs you back, calloused fingers playing with your soft hair. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom visited me at work. She said some nasty things, but that doesn’t matter to me, what does is that she won’t let me adopt Rosie,” you muffle against his neck, salty tears wetting his collared shirt. “She’d rather raise her out of spite. She’s not made for this, she's malicious.”

“What else did she say?”

You pause, sniffling before pulling back with a reindeer nose. “That’s it.”

The Austrian lowered his gaze with subtle threat. “No, tell me everything she told you.”

“I swear that’s all.”

His brown eyes scan your face, but you remain still, only shaky breaths being released. He clenches his jaw. “Where does she live?” Your face drops. Why do you want to know? “Where does she live?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Stop being so stubborn and let yourself be helped—”

“I don’t need your help anymore, Toto!” You purse your lips, trembling hands brushing your hair back. Anger rushes over him as he inspects the purple bruise.

“Who did this to you?”

Sitting back down on the bed, your nose twitches. “I’m moving out.”

“Who fucking did this to you?” His voice is lethal. Thank you for trying to fix things, but I’m sure I can do it myself from now on. “What you don’t seem to understand is that you don’t have to. It was your mother, correct?” Forlorn, you agree with your silence. “What have they done to you?” he whispers, pain lacing his raw voice.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this,” you whisper, salty tears sliding down. “I’m going to kill your image—they’re going to hate you because of me.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” the brunette ricochets back. “All I care about is that you’re okay. That you find the happiness you deserve to have.”

Grimacing, you sniffle, shaking your head. “I’m starting to think that doesn’t exist. Or at least I’m so unlucky that I won’t get a piece,” you joke. “The closest thing I’ve felt to that is when I met you.” His heart melts as he stares back, adoringly. “You’ve helped me in so many ways, Toto. Thank you for that.”

“But—”

“I know.” Rising up on the fluffy bed, you tower over him a bit, pressing kisses on his temples, cheeks, nose, neck. “You’re the only man who's ever made me feel something real. I can’t explain it, but I hope it makes sense.” 

He gulps. “It does. You want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve made me feel the exact same way from the moment you stepped into my life.” He closes the gap between you two as you stumble back against the mattress, but his large hands prevent you from getting away. “You’re not perfect—you’re flawed. You don’t have your life together—but you’re trying to. You’re not the tough girl you make yourself out to be—but that’s because you feel the need to build up walls to protect yourself from others.” Your stomach churns with every word he speaks. “And somehow…you have me wrapped around your finger.”

It happens so quickly, the way he presses his lips against yours. He can taste the saltiness but doesn’t dare to pull away. Like an animal, you move your mouth against his, whimpers flowing to his ears like symphonies. Toto knows why you never made the first move; you were scared to admit your feelings. But he was too.

Almost as if you read his mind, you run your fingers against his scalp as he breathes out, against your open mouth. “You won’t do the same, right Toto?” 

“What, sweetheart?”

Gloomy eyes reflect against his own. “Leave?”

“Unless you ask me to, then no.” He pecks your temple. “I can’t even imagine living without you anymore.”

That’s all it takes as you jump on him, silky legs wrapping around his torso like a piece of ribbon. He grunts loudly when you bite down on his bottom lip before letting go. “God, Toto, you’re—” As soon as he sucks on your throat, your sentence dies. Writhing against him, you try pushing him off as he chuckles, then he sets you down against the white sheets.

Immediately, you crawl back to the edge of the bed to where he still stands. Frisky hands tremble as you aim for his belt. Such a pretty girl, he thinks as you slip it off. You don’t have to do this. “I owe you, remember?” Then eager hands push his pants down, along with his boxers.

You knew he would be big, but that was an understatement. Toto was huge. Being 6’5 should have been a warning itself, but still. Drooling over his cock, you lick your lips, doe eyes fixating back to him. “I might not be able to take it all in my mouth,” you sheepishly state, red faced. The fifty-two year old has probably had a much better encounter; you were just making a fool out of yourself. Running his thumb against your cheekbone, the corners of his lips fly up. 

“I’ll walk you through it.”

Humming, you delicately wrap your hand around his length. Even just feeling it makes the heat in your belly grow. He clenches his jaw. Jerking him off, you wrap your lips around the pink tip. The Austrian releases a dirty groan, hips bucking as you smile around him. Pulling back, you stare up expecting the next step. Start off how you normally would. 

Pouty lips welcome him down your throat as you whine, the vibrations sending him into an orbit. When your palm slithers to what you can’t reach, he tsks. “You haven’t even tried.” Soft brows pinch together as if to say; Probably because I know I can’t either way. His nostrils flare. “Relax your jaw.”

Doing as you’re told, you gag as you squeeze your eyes shut and curl your toes. Your back arches, ass flying up as you struggle. A large hand reaches out to smack it. Yelping, you ease your mouth, thick member sliding down furthermore than you could have even imagined. There you go. 

Swallowing around him, you bob your head at a steady pace, reliving the steps, too scared to mess up. The Austrian throws his head back, sharp jaw in clear display as he pants. “Just like t-that, fuck. You’re doing so…shit.” While he’s enjoying himself, tears burst out as you clench your eyes, lashes becoming darker. The feeling is definitely getting him off, but he wanted to make things easier for you. 

Brushing your untamed hair back, he traces the bridge of your nose. Your orbs remain closed, and he finds himself missing them. “Breathe through your nose.” Ragged breaths fly out as your fingers dig against his thighs. He hisses. But gradually, it gets better. Glossy eyes stare up at him, lips stretch around his cock as you continue your filthy movements. 

As if to prove yourself to him, you deepthroat him even more as his head rolls back, floppy hair following along. Soft fingers brush against his legs as he shudders, face twisted with pleasure. Pulling away, you swirl your wet lips against his tip, feeding off of his precum before forcing yourself back down. 

Thick ropes of cum slide down your throat as you moan loudly. The brunette grunts, shaky breaths flying past his lips. With a teasing pop, you kneel up as you open wide. He moans at the sight of his release swimming inside your sinister mouth, then you swallow. Even though your throat is extremely sore, you still beam at him.

“Where have you been all my life?.” Climbing over you, he lays you flat, slipping your dress off. He’s stunned to find out you’re completely naked. Cherry red feathers on your cheeks. “Are you sure you didn’t know I was going to be back?”

Your lips curl. “No idea.”

He wraps his mouth against your bud as you whimper, hand massaging his head as he repeats his actions to the other. You could definitely fall asleep to this. When you open your eyes, you’re impressed to find out he’s completely stripped down, toned body exposed. The sight makes you grow excited, nervous.

“Are you on birth control?”

You curse softly. “I’m not. Crap.” Disappointed, you’re expecting him to climb off, but he doesn’t. Instead, he let out a raw chuckle. “I t-told you I don’t fuck men on the regular—”

“I don’t need the reminder,” he grunts. His brown eyes soften. “What’s your wish in life?”

Confusion paints your face. “To have you?”

“Cute.” Flustered, you focus on his contracting abs. Foaming at the mouth, you try to picture rubbing your core against them. “The other one,” he demands.

“Oh…” No. He can’t possibly mean… Your heart stops beating. “To be a mom.”

“There it is.” 

Briskly, he pushes into you as you wince in pain. I know, I know, he coos. But it’s better this way. It won’t feel so bad in a few minutes. Crying against his humid chest, your jaw hangs open. “It really hurts, Toto. Oh…it burns.” Hot tears reestablish themselves inside your orbs. “You’re too big.”

“Breath, sweetheart, breath.” His voice calms you down as your mewls lessen. “See?” You hum. “I’m going to move, alright?”

“O-okay,” you respond, dizzy. The feeling returns—less painful—but returns, nonetheless. Panic expands through your chest as you begin to think he might split you in half. His cock was just so thick and veiny. But it felt delicious between your velvety walls. “Fuck, baby,” you pant.

“I knew you could do it.” A warm peck lingers on your shoulder. “You feel so tight, schatz. So warm.” He sighs in relief as your tiny cunt compresses against his length, easing the pain from being as hard as a rock. Worse. Strong arms pick your legs up over his bare shoulders, making him travel deeper. 

“Toto, Toto, Toto—”

Eyes entertained against your slippery hole, he raises his brows. Yeah, baby? Getting a hold of his hand, you bring it over your stomach. His jaw clenches. “I can feel you.” Writhing in ecstasy, you toss your head to the side, small whines echoing between the vaporized walls. Pouding into you at a faster pace, he growls, bite marks being left behind on your legs. You hiss, clamping your eyes even harder, which makes you clench around his cock even more.

“Do that again,” he begs. “Do it—” You oblige, attention set on how he moans feverishly, hands adding pressure to your legs. For sure his imprints would be left behind. Taking advantage of the little power you have, you untangle yourself, greedily climbing onto his thick lap. 

“Looking good, Mr. Wolff.” 

He looked more than good—he looked eternal. The way his chest heaves, his soft pants, sweaty hair framing his handsome face, dark eyes praising you as if you were Athena herself. A confession finds into your brain as you halt. Beads of sweat cover his long nose as he appears concerned by the sudden break. Is everything okay? Rubbing your eyes as if you just had the worst nightmare, you blink hastily. 

Roxy couldn't have been right—she never was. Except, she is this time. It's as if a warm glow towers over him, your chest feels awfully vacant, but you’re not scared because you know your heart has found its home in the palm of his hand. You laugh in amusement as you touch his face all over. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “What’s so funny?”

“I love you, Toto Wolff.”

A lump forms inside his throat as he tilts his head. “You do?”

You shrug sheepishly. “I do.” Kissing his lips, you sigh with content. “I love you, I love you, I love you; I adore you.” He can hear the clock ticking as he stares back with his lips slightly parted. “You don’t have to feel the same, you dont have to say it back—I don’t care, but I can’t keep living a life of regret…”

“I love you, too.” Cartoon eyes blink back at him as he chuckles. “Do you believe me?”

“Uh…” Your lips stretch out. “Yes.”

Shifting on top of the Austrian, you make sure to slip him back inside as you moan in unison. Riding someone has never felt so addicting. Gasping at the raw feeling, you dig your nails onto his shoulders. When you look down at him, you are pleased to find him struggling to catch his breath. His fingers pinch your hips harshly as you bounce harder and faster, as if he would regret his words and leave you. “So big.” You drool, hair flourishing around you. “Stretching me out so good, Mr. Wolff.” He growls at you captivating words. “Making it so easy to ride you, huh? Cock brushing against the perfect sp—oh my God.”

Your face twists up with pleasure when the tip of his cock brushes against the mushy part that makes you almost black out. Movements slow down but it’s not long before he lifts you up and slamming you back down. “Toto!” you squeal, flimsy arms reaching out to balance yourself on his wide shoulders. Everytime he hauls you up and you look back at him, he represents like a giant. Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging wide open. “I-I’m close-e-e.”

“Me too,” he grunts. Like a devilicious man on a mission, he slaps your face carefully, forcing you to connect your glossy orbs with his loopy ones. “Gonna let me cum inside? Carry my baby, just like you’ve always wanted?”

“Yes,” you chant. “Yes—all of it—yes.” Cradling his cheek against your sweaty palm, you smile. “Cum inside of me, Wolff.”

With one final push, you both release loud moans, a strong wave of orgasms crashing violently against one another. Huffing, he makes a ponytail with your messy hair before letting go. “You think it worked?” You giggle.

“We’ll have to wait and see.” Leaning towards him, you kiss him gingerly. His mind grows blurry with how meaningful you make it seem. I’m yours—my heart is all yours—but please don’t break it, it seems to tell him as his enormous hands squish you closer to him, as if that were possible. 

“I know of a few ways we can make sure.”

-

Though you had mutually admitted your feelings to one another, there still didn’t appear to be a proper label to it all. Time was slipping, he would soon have no other choice but to leave and face all his responsibilities. 

But you can come back with me, he would desperately bring up as he fucked you against the wall. Tits would be bouncing at a hasty speed as you look back with your mouth in an O. I want you to. You won’t ever have to worry about anything, I promise. You can go back to Uni. You’ll get custody over Rosie, and Jack will be over the moon. We could have a family of our own, just you and I, Peaches. Huh? How does that sound, baby?

It sounded perfect; like a dream. You could taste it already. Early morning calls that you wouldn’t mind because he’d be laying down next to you. Quiet time as you jot down notes and he stresses over the next big decision for the team. And at the end, you would be glad you made the choice to choose him. Just like he chose you.

With shaky hands, you brush his messy hair back as he dotes on your bambi eyes. The way they glimmered extra bright that night; like starlight. The brunette’s face would soften up when you trace his nose, the curve of pink lips, his lines. Everything about him was breathtakingly dominant. 

You’d be a fool to deny. 

So, you accept. 

-

If Toto were to be told that he had died and ascended to heaven; he wouldn’t second guess the possibility. Because being with you felt exactly like that. Every passing second only adds to the amount of love he bottles up for you. It would overflow and he’d be okay; bring out the next. Oh, that one’s full, too? Okay, next. 

All of it made sense. You matched perfectly in sync with him like a cozy glove and he wouldn’t have it any other way. There’d be whispers from others, but he doesn’t care. He’d deal with just about anything for you. 

“You’re leaving so soon.” A click. “Have you thought about quitting?”

He can see you grow as stiff as a tree. Your back faces him, but he can still spot your reflection. Of course you looked absolutely lovely, but there was something different about…God. He doesn’t even know what to call it. 

“I’m not quitting.”

The Austrians' lips form a thin line; shoes clicking against the floor even more. A boom of lighting fills the room as you flinch. He smiles slowly. “Right—not yet, at least. Not until you move to Monaco.”

More heavy silence. “Sure.”

Now he’s worried. Strolling closer to you, he brushes his warm hand against your shoulder, kissing your exposed skin. “What is it?”

His heart stops when he notices you blinking back tears; bloodshot eyes tracing his tall figure. His first assumption is the most obvious; your mother and Connor. They had probably done something, said something, and now they’ve got you—

“I’m taking the car. See you later.”

He blinks. The cold demeanor was something unusual on your behalf, but leaving without a goodbye kiss was alarming. Toto tries to suppress his feelings with a bottle of scotch, but nothing seems to work. He has to see you. 

Gathering his wallet and house keys, he strides out the door before he spots his laptop wide open. As soon as he returned, he would have to answer endless emails, but for now, that wasn’t his priority. Inching closer, he reaches down to slap it shut when his pulse runs cold.

We should think about Jack.

He’s too young to understand anything of what’s going on, Suse.

Let’s just try one last time. I swear I’ll change. 

I love you. 

He knew instantly; you had read the messages. He had sent them, there's no doubt, but that was so long ago. The date was right there; all before he met you. Before opening up to you. But he doubts you spared enough time to spot the tiny detail. You saw his texts and that’s all; the rest was blocked.

Toto’s palms get sweaty, ears burning red, and heart racing faster than a fucking F1 car. How must you feel? You had made him promise that he wouldn’t hurt you and now this? The confusion was completely explainable, but he had to get to you fast.

It’s as if he owns the place, marching fiercely past the open doors that swing once they spot the Austrian. NDA’s were rather foolish when it comes to him now because he just held that much power. That much respect. But he can’t think of why something feels off.  You were hurt, and he felt awful, but no…there’s something else. As if there were an actual wolf lurking deep in the woods; ready to pounce. The hair in the back of his neck stands up, goosebumps forming, and eyes flickering all over the rich club, hoping to find you.

“Hey,” he pants when he spots the familiar redhead. Foxy lives up to her name because her laser glare has him scared for his life. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance before strutting away, a row of men following. The Austrian pushes past them all, pleading just like any other, but for a completely different reason. “Have you seen, Peaches?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Where is she?”

“Around.” 

The dancer beams at the group of businessmen who relax against their seat, hunting down without shame. They wore wedding bands, but who cared, right? Toto’s large hand grasps her wrist, tugging her away as she gasps, causing a commotion. He doesn’t care, he just has to find you.

Brown eyes glimmer threateningly but also soft because they’re both aware he needs her, for she only knows where to find you. “Listen, I know she told you what happened, but it was all some misunderstanding! The messages..they were sent to my ex-wife a long time ago. Before any of this, I swear…you have to believe me.”

Foxy narrows her thin brows, digging a sharp nail against his toned chest. “No, you listen—Peaches is one of the sweetest girls I have ever met; she's my other half, so when you hurt her…” A beat. “That’s it. She doesn’t forgive.”

His shoulders drop like an avalanche. “B-but it was a...you don’t mean that.”

The redhead struts away, long legs prancing like a vixen. “Believe me; don’t believe me—I don’t care. Just leave her alone.”

But he can’t do that anymore, he's in too deep. No matter how many times Foxy cursed him to leave, he just wouldn't. He would explain. Even if it were that last thing he did. All's fair after that. 

“Mr. Wolff?” A red drink is extended out towards him kindly, to which he shakes his head with a forced smile. If you can even call it that. He’s sure he looks awful, dressed in all black, but it perfectly represented him for who he is and how he was feeling. It’s almost as if he were ready to show up to a funeral. 

As time ticks at a snail's pace, he grows more nauseous. There’d be a moment where you see him and he doesn’t know how you would react. Fuck—he doesn’t know how he would, either. To some it may be embarrassing to weep in front of a group of worldly men, but if you looked at him a certain way where he knew it was over? He’d be the first, and without hesitation or shame. 

He’s come to recognize your set as fast as a racing strategy. The stage would light up a soft yellow; swallow the room like the early sun. The piano keys would start off slow, taunting, and almost sinister—Yayo. And of course, you’d prance around like a broken angel, wings brushing your hair like his long fingers would.

But this is strange.

He’s too busy analyzing the colorful club when the lights burn black, only the glass box raining a bright red. He doesn’t even recognize it’s you. 

The intro isn’t the notorious piano lullabies, but rather scratchy violins. Million Dollar Man slithers across the crowded room like a venomous snake, waiting to strike anyone who doesn’t lay their attention on them. 

And this time, you’re no angel, you’re no devil. You’re both. It’s confusing and alarming, but also beautiful and breathtaking. While your dress is cotton white, your makeup is dark and tempting, lips dark red. Your knee socks are tied with a simple ribbon, making men drool like some type of fuckery. You look miserably broken. If anyone were to guess, then they’d say that you’re high off drugs, but that’s not the case. You're high off heartbreak. 

And the simple necklace you wear, with his marriage ring attached to it, is a pelluid indication. Even if it was new level petty.

Toto is in such a trance that he doesn’t even feel when a group of hands push him to sit down, eager to have a clear view of their own. They all secretly envy the Austrian when they notice that he had landed himself the best seat in the house without even trying. 

So, was it fate to be sitting here, in front of you? Was it fate to have met, then hurt you without the means? The music is almost terrifying, along with your black wings and white halo. All of this is utterly puzzling; was he supposed to be into this, or fear it? Was he supposed to feel his heartbeat in the pit of his stomach, drumming against his ribcage, or was he supposed to be at ease? But most important; would you spare him this time to apologize, or would you kick him out of your life? The last notion scared him the most as he sat like a tired soldier, brown eyes blinking to where you start to seductively twirl.

I don’t know how you convince them and get them. Shiny legs drag behind your delicate figure as your eyes roam the room, sighing with every lustful stare. This is purely pathetic, it didn’t make you feel the way you intended for it to do, but shit. All you wanted to do was flee the state and never look back. But there were too many things tying you back; Foxy, Ro, Rosie…A stinging sensation begins to form behind your orbs and you fiercely blink them away, refusing for the thought of Toto to be what brings you down. 

But in a moment like this, what were you supposed to think about? Toto was many things; devilishly, cunningly handsome, tempting, brilliant, intoxicating; but he was also a fucking no-good, professional heartbreaker, a screwed up man who roamed earth without a sense of direction, who truly never deserved to fall in love again, especially with someone was tainted and loyal as you—

But the eyes don't lie. He’s become known by you; someone in your favorite book whom you look for in every page, despite it all. His orbs remind you of your favorite kind of dark chocolate, swirly and dreamy; enough to make you swoon, but they’re filled with more than just that. They’re desperate, as if ready to run endless miles if that's what it took for you to speak to him. They’re loopy, blazing nervously when you spot him, brows knitted with concern.

And he deserves it…you think.

Still, that doesn’t stop your stomach from churning, causing you to panic at the thought of spilling your lunch in front of everyone eyeing the glass box you're hidden behind; it could only ever do so much. Everyone can see your usually tantalizing persona fly out the window, a frail—shattered—girl taking your place. 

He’s tricked you. He made you let your guard down, let him in, and then ramshackled you whole; and he hadn’t been nice about it either. How could you have ever thought he would choose you over someone who actually held his kid for nine months? You had seen the messages that sunny morning; birds chirped, flowers bloomed. He had been busy doing God knows what, and when his bright laptop dinged, you couldn’t help but peek. As you once told him; you loved gossip.

Jack is asking if you remember where he last left his stuffed bear? You know, the one with the white spots? 

Susie. You had heard a lot about her—you’ve read, a lot, too— she was someone to admire. Helped create a path of perseverance for young girls; it was astonishing. The thought of Jack made you smile, then the bear, then her. Which is why you aimlessly scrolled once, playfully, and then you came to a rude halt. 

If someone were to grovel that way for you, you would helplessly fall for it. Fuck, he pratically begged for a second chance. Heat weaved through your body, anger rising, and then falling cruelly with a sense of undeniable ache. You had cried; sobbed. Then you got ready for work.

When he had asked what was wrong, you wanted to stab him with the nearby knife, and the thought scared you half to death. You could tell he was deeply wounded by the cold shoulder, but why the fuck should you care? 

Here—in Machiavellian Nights—trapped behind a transparent case, with disgusting men eyefucking you, you realize; there’s no place to run. An attraction is what you are; tourists are what they all represent. Toto’s massive figure swallowed his seat whole, long legs spread open naturally. And you hate it how handsome he looks, dark clouds painting his usually happy eyes. His chest dances up and down, wrestling to catch a breath. The hollers make him flinch in the slightest, grimacing.

The Austrian is apologizing, cryptically. I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry. His lips aren't moving, but you can hear his pleads as the music continues. 

C’mon! Dance, someone demands from afar, rough hand smacking the glass. Gasping, you purse your lips, continuing. Ignorance is horrible; especially coming from you. The idea of going on without you feel like a nightmare—torture. He tries standing up, and he doesn’t really know what his game plan is exactly in order to get to you, but heads turn and harsh arms force him back down. 

It isn’t that hard, boy. To like you, or love you. It was as if you got yanked back into what is truly your reality. You can’t have good things in life. Your father hadn’t died—he had abandoned you. Your mother did too. And Toto…

Toto Wolff was just the same.

You’re glad no one can hear you choking back on tears, you wouldn't dare to fall. But emotions were running high, your throat felt raw, your eyes stung, knees felt wobbly, and it was too much. But aside from your hurt, an eerie feeling hugged your chest, forcing your rib cage to poke you as a warning. You allow yourself to look back up, rapidly scanning the unlit room. Everything was blurry—which didn’t help—but what was it?

You’re no longer focused; your legs sway, your gartner slides down, your nose is starting to get runny, and it was all a mess. Connecting your gaze back to his, you narrow them down like deathly blades. This is all your fault, they scream at him, enraged. If you hadn’t walked into my life, then I wouldn’t be this way. 

You’re screwed up and brilliant. 

“You fucking ruined me!” Running towards the glass, you violently slap and punch, over and over until you no longer feel any pain. Red bruises form rather quickly and everyone begins to murmur.

Look like a million dollar man.

“I hate you, Toto Wolff!” Muffled whimpers flow like a waterfall as everyone turns to face the fifty-two year old who sits with a hurt expression. 

“I can explain,” he pleads, instantly rising up to his scary height and rushing over to where you’re caged. His large hand pathetically grasps it, fingerprints painting the shiny protection between you and him. “Sweetheart…”

So why is my heart broke?

“I’ll regret you for the rest of my—”

Chaos ensues; the volcano erupts. It’s suffocating, the way everyone tramples over one another, scattering like lab rats. The yells of terror make his blood run ice cold, swiftly turning around to face the open room. Foxy lets out a scream filled with agony as she crawls over to the stage. Acid slides down her face, makeup running. The other dancers run to hide where the bartender stands with his mouth wide open, orbs flickering with urgency. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but he has to get you out of here.

“Open it!” Foxy cries, hands hitting the clear box so forcefully that her nails begin to chip, light gore beginning to slide down. “Open the fucking stage right now!” She lets out a string of pleas, but no one is listening—they can’t even try to with all the loud noise. The alarms go off and that’s what snaps him out of his spot of confusion and what makes her cry and fall back against her arms.

The glass isn’t shattered like in the movies, all over the floor, no. There’s just a singular hole, scratches circling around it—and spikes of blood coloring the crystal clear mirror. 

Even with eyes closed, face sticky with tears, and blood spurting out of your mouth and chest, pooling around your angelic body, you were still beautiful. The ring lays flat atop your unbeating heart, shining one last time against the cherry lights. You were gone as soon as the bullet hit, but Toto was the last person you had seen. And you wish you had time to tell him you never meant any of it. You could never hate him; you loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

“I…no. No. No.” Fists punch urgently, cuts finding a place in his pale skin. “Open it!” More pounds. “Let her out! Why is no one letting her out?” Trepidation sleeks over him as he stops his actions, taking a second to look at you. Your dark wings had somehow turned darker, your white dress is now drowned in crimson red, your halo is no longer on your head, and your lively skin is now ghostly pale, almost gray. “Peaches…” His voice quivers so much, he almost doesn't realize it's coming from him. “Get up, sweetheart—come on, just stand.”

His chest tightens when you go unresponding. “T-think about Rosie! She loves you; she needs you. I need you,” he declares, voice cracking. “The text messages are a mishap! I only love you, Peaches, that’s all! I swear I do, I swear it’s you…”

He dreads to turn around and face what was now his life. The music cuts, but the frightful screams continue. Toto blinks back the stingy feeling as he flickers up to make eye contact with who’s responsible for ripping you away from him.

You share the same eyes, but hers are sullen now. Her hair looks as if it could have once been glossy, but is now as dry as the desert. Her lips are nastily chapped, but an uncanny curl slips through as she ticks anxiously when Ro and the rest of the guards hold her without an ounce of remorse, cuffing skinny, needled wrists.

Your mother looks down at the gun, at her daughter, then at Toto. An unhinged stare strikes her impentent face.

“I brought her into this world…I can also take her out.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[bubblingbowie]

fluff / you and Logan unwind / gn!reader

some sweet domesticity with Logan cuz he deserves a wife and 4 children. got snowed in and wrote this pretty short NJOYYYYY

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

although Logan Howlett adores you whole heartedly and souly, worships you with every fiber of his weary and gruff being, he can't help but be confused by your little routines. your nights of self-care. and how much you put on yourself just to be your most beautiful self.

now is different. it's calm. a Sunday evening of nothing. you sit pretty on the couch, applying lotions and skincare after a shower. orange soaks into the living room with the sun setting. and Logan admires while wiping a wooden spoon from the kitchen. he was put on dish duty after dinner. not that he could ever mind, he's just glad he has a pretty babe willing to feed him. let alone let him anywhere near perfection like yourself. he couldn't help where his eyes traveled.

you were the sweetest thing he'd known. and yet you caught wind of his staring with lazy dish drying with a snort and smile. "what's that look for, hm?" you snip. you're not even afraid to mouth off. he feels light in the chest when you give him that kind of attention.

"makin' the whole place smell like aloe and lavender. pretty overpowering for me." he comments. his sense of smell is one of an animal. he got every single whiff and it punched him in the face. but that lotion you used made your skin so smooth. made you smell heavenly too.

"oh hush, almost done." you mutter and finish up your left arm. the sun was finally tucking itself away and Logan had been done with the dishes and now sauntered over to you. his favorite part of the day, the wind-down.

"you wanna watch something?" he mumble lowly, pressing through a few movies of the streaming service he was still very new to. he never really messed with technology but by god did he know how to pull up a good tool review on Youtube or a live showing of a vintage car show.

"maybe a documentary." you comment loosely, still trying to get comfortable with the blanket arrangement between you two.

"we're not watching the victorian one again." he says with the smallest shake of his head.

"what! it goes the most in depth about Ada Lovelace than any other movie!" you argue, very sudden with your passion. he only chuckles, hand going to the small of your back to soothe you. only then do you perk down, but still oh so ever outward about your thoughts. "it's a good one. the narrator is a lovely lady."

oh he found you precious. tendency to re-watch and all. "well put a pin in it." he says with a fond smile, going through the documentary category. one catches your eyes. 'Disclosed Beasts.' funny name but what you see is the animal you know all too well. a wolverine.

"look!" you're way too joyful of your finding "it's you!" Logan zeros in on where you point, his eyes having some trouble with his age and lack of care of his pupils. then he scoffs. like he hasn't heard that one before

"very funny, bub." he huffs out but his heart grows heavy with how excited you got. what a cute thing he was here with him.

"do that one! we can learn about your cousins!"

"that's not how that works, babe-"

"please! how will i know what they eat?" your chirping makes him sigh. you're not letting this go. he clicks up and presses enter, then play. he'll indulge you. the reward is better though. a big smooch right on his cheek and even better, he can feel your smile. that's what he loves.

"y'better pay attention." his hand gently pushes your head just gently on his broad shoulders to rest. your cheeks press on his cotton white shirt, eyes already heavy with exhaustion. his breathing patterns must've been hypnotic, no man could ever make you fall asleep so quick.

maybe 25 minutes into the moderately okay documentary, you fall asleep learning about how wolverines have a polygamists way of mating with Logan muttering a small "yeah sure". his hands soothe your shoulder and you're out like a light. not before feeling the smallest kiss onto the crown of your head.

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

need to bake this man a pie gah damn

[aceyalonso]

a win-win situation? - LEWIS HAMILTON

pairing : lewis hamilton x fem!reader

summary : Fresh from a Formula 1 race win, Lewis Hamilton parties with his friends at a club. Y/n L/n, troubled by the condition that she must be married to inherit her father's company, is at the same club. They hit it off, have a few too many drinks, and wake up in a hotel room, shocked to realize they got married

warnings : drinking, swearing, suggestive content, 11-year age gap (reader is 28 years old)

word count : 7.1k

song : it won't stop - sevyn streeter, chris brown

a/n : 200 followers special & lewis win post!!! (i'm not sure if i want to make a part 2 to this ngl)

Sunday, 11:49 PM

The club was loud and chaotic, with people dancing, yelling, and drinking. The lights flashed colors in time to the music, giving off a disorienting feeling. The room was stuffy and hot, with people packed together like sardines, attempting to talk over the music and flirt with strangers

This club was like a small universe within itself, with each group doing its own thing and making a lot of noise while doing so. The music was loud enough to drown out any conversation that would have otherwise been attempted, and the alcohol only helped the chaos grow.

Some people were there to celebrate and have a good time, laughing and dancing with their friends to the music. Others were sulking and sad, either nursing a drink or trying to drown their miseries with alcohol.

Lewis was one of the people there to celebrate, and he was having the time of his life. They were all drinking and dancing in the center of the crowd, laughing and talking loudly to be heard over the music.

Unlike Lewis, who was having the time of his life on the dance floor, Y/n was at the bar with one of her friends. She was downing shot after shot, her mood sour and her temper short. The alcohol was dulling the edges of her anger.

Y/n

With a sigh, I slammed my glass down on the bar, my temper flaring. Lyka turned to me, her gaze curious and concerned as she asked, "So what did your father say that's got you in such a mood?"

I grumble, my irritation and bitterness clear in my voice. "My dad said I could inherit the company, but..."

I trail off, my mind swirling with the implications of my father's statement. Though part of me was undoubtedly happy to know that the family business would one day be mine, there was something else that bothered me.

Lyka picked up on my hesitation and leaned in closer to ask, "But what? You should be happy about that, right?"

I snort derisively, my shoulders tensing. "Yeah, I should be happy... But there's a catch, of course. There always is with him."

She frowns, sensing the weight of my discontentment. "What kind of catch are we talking about here?"

My words came out sharp and bitter, my eyes hardening. "I have to get married. That's the catch. My dad said I can inherit the company, but I have to be married first."

She gasps in surprise, clearly not expecting such a stipulation. "Wait, seriously? He's telling you that you have to be MARRIED just to inherit the company?"

I nod grimly, my expression darkening. "Yeah, that's the deal. I've got to find someone to settle down with if I ever want to take over the family business," I chuckled sarcastically. "It's ridiculous, I know."

Lyka's eyes widen, her face filled with sympathy. "damn, that's... rough. You don't even get a say in who you marry?"

I nod, my expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Yeah, that was the compromise. I get to choose who I marry but must be married within the next year. It's like he doesn't trust me to run the company by myself."

She lets out a sympathetic sigh, reaching out to comfort me. "That's so unfair, you shouldn't have to get married just to prove yourself. But I guess it's better than having someone picked for you, huh?"

I nodded grudgingly, letting out a small huff. "Yeah, I guess so. It's just… I'm not even sure if I want to get married at all, you know? The whole idea of it just feels so… I don't know, constraining, I guess."

Her friend nods, trying to shift the conversation to a lighter topic. "Okay, enough about your dad's stupid rule. Let's talk about something else. How's work been going for you?"

Y/n takes the chance to change the subject, grateful for the distraction. "Work's been alright. I've been so busy lately that I haven't had time for anything fun."

"Yeah, I know how that is," her friend replies sympathetically. "It feels like work just takes over your life sometimes. But hey, at least you're making some good money, right?"

Y/n lets out a dry chuckle, her mood lightening slightly. "Oh, yeah. I'm making really good money. So good that I practically live at the office these days."

Lyka laughs as well, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Damn, girl. Sounds like you're going to be rolling in it if you take over the company. You'll be able to buy anything and everything you've ever wanted."

Y/n grins, a little spark of hope reigniting at the thought. "Yeah, that's true. I could buy a nice house, or take fancy vacations whenever I want. I could pretty much do whatever I want, really."

Y/n's grin fades, her expression turning thoughtful. "But… I won't be able to take those vacations with a husband, would I? It would mean having to consider someone else's schedule and preferences, and I wouldn't be able to just take off whenever I want anymore."

Her friend nods sympathetically, her gaze understanding. "Yeah, that's a good point. Having a partner would definitely change things, especially when it comes to travel and leisure. It's not quite the same as having the freedom to go where and when you want, without any strings attached."

Y/n lets out a sigh, her irritation beginning to return. "Exactly. And it's not just the travel that's the issue. It's the whole idea of having to compromise and make sacrifices for someone else. I don't know if I'm ready for that, or if I ever will be."

The girls down another shot, the alcohol giving them a pleasant buzz. Y/n, feeling a little looser now, turns to her friend. "Hey, you know what? Let's go dance. We didn't come here just to sit at the bar all night, right?"

Her friend grins and nods in agreement, clearly ready to cut loose. "Yeah, let's do it. I could use some movement after hearing about your dad's ridiculous rule."

Y/n pushes away from the bar, her steps a little unsteady as the alcohol takes effect. Lyka laughs and steadies her, both of them making their way to the crowded dance floor.

They push their way through the sea of people, the music and lights creating a chaotic and energizing atmosphere. Y/n begins to sway and move to the beat. Lyka joins in, both of them letting go of their worries and simply enjoying the moment.

As Y/n is dancing, she suddenly feels the presence of someone behind her, close enough to dance but still leaving a respectful distance. Startled at first, she quickly realizes is being careful not to violate her space.

Y/n turns her head to catch a glimpse of who's behind her, her curiosity and excitement growing.

Her eyes widen as she turns and sees a man behind her. His hands are covered in intricate tattoos, drawing attention to his veiny hands and making her curious to know the stories behind them. But what truly captures her attention is his smile, a warm, charming grin that seems to light up his whole face.

"Hey," Y/n says, her voice a little breathless as she takes in his appearance.

His grin grows broader, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hey there," he replies, his voice carrying over the music. "I hope you don't mind me joining in. You looked like you were having a good time."

Y/n laughs, the alcohol helping her loosen up. "No, it's fine. I don't mind at all. I was just surprised, that's all."

She continues to dance, her movements more fluid and relaxed now that she has someone to dance with. She glances over at the man, taking in his tattoos and his easygoing demeanor.

The man dances alongside her, his steps matching hers effortlessly. He moves with a grace and confidence that is almost captivating, his body flowing with the rhythm of the music. Every now and then, he'll glance at her, his gaze lingering for a moment before darting away again.

As they continue to dance, he takes the opportunity to introduce himself. "By the way, I'm Lewis," he says, his voice smooth and pleasant to the ears. "What's your name?"

Y/n glances at him with a smile, appreciating his forwardness. "I'm Y/n," she replies, her voice a little louder to be heard over the music. "It's nice to meet you, Lewis."

Lewis nods, his smile widening at her response. "Y/n. A pretty name for a pretty lady." He glances at her again, his gaze openly admiring her appearance.

Y/n feels a little thrill at his compliment, her cheeks heating slightly under his gaze. She glances back at him, her eyes taking in his tattoos and his confidence. "You're not so bad yourself," she replies with a flirtatious undertone.

Lewis raises an eyebrow at her response, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Is that a compliment I hear?" he replies with a hint of amusement. "Careful now, you might make me blush."

Y/n grins, enjoying the banter between them. "Oh, please. I doubt a guy like you blushes easily. You're probably used to girls fawning over you all the time."

Lewis lets out a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You're right about that. I do get my fair share of attention, but it's nice to have a conversation with someone who's not afraid to give me a little snark back."

Y/n grins, her earlier irritation completely forgotten as she dances with Lewis. "Oh, I can definitely give you snark. And don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're cute."

Lewis raises an eyebrow again, clearly enjoying their back-and-forth banter. "Oh, I would expect nothing less. It wouldn't be as much fun if you went easy on me, now would it?"

Y/n chuckles and leans closer to Lewis, the alcohol giving her a bit of courage. "Hey, if you're gonna keep me entertained with your witty banter, the least you can do is buy me a drink."

Lewis grins, clearly enjoying her demanding tone. "Oh, you drive a hard bargain, Y/n. But I think I can manage that."

He offers her his hand, a smirk on his face. "Come on, let's head back to the bar. What do you want to drink?"

Y/n takes his hand and follows him towards the bar, feeling a little flutter in her stomach. "I'll take a vodka soda, thanks," she replies, her gaze lingering on his tattoos again.

Lewis nods and leads her through the crowded club, his grip firm and reassuring on her hand. They reach the bar and he signals for the bartender, calling out Y/n's drink order. As they wait for their drinks, he turns to her with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"So," he says, leaning in close to be heard over the music. "You said you're not afraid to give me snark. Does that mean I have to watch my words, or are you just full of empty threats?"

Y/n laughs, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I'm a woman of my word. If you say something stupid, you can bet I'll call you out on it. Don't underestimate me, Lewis."

Lewis grins, clearly enjoying her feisty personality. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. In fact, I find a woman with a sharp tongue quite refreshing. It keeps me on my toes, you know?"

Y/n smiles, his comment making her heart flutter a bit more. "Well, you better get used to it then. Because I don't plan on holding back, no matter how charming you are."

"Good," Lewis replies, his voice low and sultry. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Just then, the bartender slides their drinks over to them, interrupting their conversation. Lewis hands Y/n her vodka soda, his fingers brushing against hers in the process.

Y/n feels a shiver run up her spine as their fingers touch, his touch sending tiny sparks across her skin. She takes a sip of her drink, the alcohol instantly making her feel more relaxed and carefree.

Lewis sips his own drink, eyeing her over the rim of his glass with a sly smile. "So, Y/n," he says, his tone a little more serious now. "What brings a woman like you out dancing by herself on a Friday night?"

Y/n glances around the club, her gaze landing on her friend who is dancing nearby. "Oh, I'm not actually here alone," she replies, her voice slightly amused. "My friend is over there. We came together, but she ditched me to dance with some guy."

Y/n turns to Lewis and gestures in the direction of her friend. "See that girl over there? The one who's talking to the DJ? That's my friend. She left me here to go flirt with him."

Lewis turns to look at the DJ, his eyes lighting up in recognition. "Whoa, wait a minute," he says, his tone tinged with surprise. "That's actually my friend, Lando."

Y/n raises an eyebrow at this new bit of information. "Wait, really? You know the DJ?"

Lewis nods, a small smirk on his face. "Yeah, we've known each other for a while. We met a few years back. We've been friends ever since."

Y/n takes a moment to process this new information, glancing over at her friend and Lando. "Well, I guess that explains why she's been dancing with him all night then."

Lewis laughs, clearly amused by the situation. "Looks like it. Lando has a way of charming the ladies. Seems like your friend isn't immune to it either."

Y/n chuckles. "Clearly not. She's practically drooling over him. But I can't blame her, he does have a certain charm."

"That he does," Lewis agrees, taking a sip of his drink. "He's a good guy, but he's got quite the reputation with the ladies. He has a new girl on his arm every weekend, it seems."

Y/n shakes her head with a smile, diverting the conversation back to Lewis. "Okay, enough about my friend and Lando. I want to know more about you."

Lewis grins, clearly enjoying her attention. "Oh, do you now? And what exactly do you want to know about me?"

Lewis chuckles at her question and replies, with a hint of mystery. "Well, I'm certainly older than you, that's for sure. Let's just say I've got a bit more experience under my belt."

Y/n grins, his response only making her more curious. "Oh, so you're an experienced one, huh? How much experience exactly? Or are you going to keep me in suspense?"

Lewis smirks, clearly enjoying their banter. "Now, Y/n, where's the fun in giving away all my secrets at once? You'll have to be patient if you want to find out more about me."

Y/n feigns disappointment, her expression exaggerated. "Oh, you're going to make me wait, huh? Fine, I guess I'll have to be patient. But I warn you, I'm not a very patient person."

Lewis relents, his smile widening as he answers her question. "Alright, since you're so insistent. I'm 39."

Her eyes widen in surprise, and she lets out a whistle. "Seriously? You're 39? I thought you were younger, like early 30s at the oldest."

Lewis chuckles, clearly enjoying her reaction. "I guess I'll take that as a compliment. I may be a bit older, but I like to think I still have a young heart, you know?"

Y/n grins, her initial surprise replaced by a touch of admiration. "That's impressive. You definitely don't act your age. You still look and act like you're in your 20s."

Lewis shrugs, a hint of pride in his gaze. "I take care of myself. I work out, eat healthy, and stay active. I guess it pays off, huh?"

Y/n nods approvingly, taking in his toned physique. "Yeah, it definitely does. You look like you could give guys half your age a run for their money."

Lewis quirks an eyebrow, a curious smile on his lips. "Alright, speaking of age, now it's my turn to ask. How old are you, Y/n?"

She takes a sip of her drink before answering, a touch of nervousness in her tone. "I'm 28," she replies, trying to sound nonchalant.

His eyes widen slightly, a look of surprise crossing his face. "28, huh? You look younger. I would have guessed you were in your mid-20s, tops."

Y/n chuckles, a mix of pride and embarrassment in her tone. "Thanks, I guess. I try to take care of myself too. I don't want to look like a fossil anytime soon."

Lewis laughs, clearly amused. "Fair enough. It's always good to stay young at heart, no matter your age. And it seems like you're doing a pretty good job of it so far."

Y/n grins, feeling bolder now. "Well, you know what they say - age is just a number, right? It's all about how you feel inside. And I feel pretty young and free right now."

Lewis nods in agreement, a twinkle in his eye. "That's a good attitude to have. Life is too short to let age define you. You gotta embrace every moment, no matter how old or young you are."

Y/n grins, raising her glass in agreement. "Here, here. To embracing every moment, no matter how old or young we are."

They clink their shot glasses together and take a swig, the alcohol burning their throats and adding to the already buzzing feeling in their systems.

Fast forward to a few hours later, Y/n and Lewis are both feeling the effects of the alcohol kicking in. Their movements are looser, their inhibitions lower, and their words a little bit slurred. They're both laughing and talking animatedly, the boundaries between them disappearing with every drink they take.

Y/n leans against the bar, her head spinning slightly, her gaze fixed on Lewis who is standing next to her. "You know, Lewis, you're not so bad when you're drunk," she slurs, a lazy smile on her face.

Lewis grins back at her, his eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol. "And you're not too bad yourself, Y/n. In fact, you're a damn good drinking partner."

Y/n throws her head back in a drunken giggle, feeling lightheaded and carefree. "Oh, I'm the best drinking partner you've ever had, buddy. I can out-drink you anytime, anyday."

Lewis leans closer to Y/n's ear, his breath warm on her skin as he slurs out a suggestion. "Hey, you wanna go somewhere a bit more private? Somewhere away from all these people?"

Y/n turns to him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. The alcohol has made her bolder and carefree, and she doesn't hesitate to agree. "Yeah, let's do it. Let's get away from this crowd. Leady the way, Lewis."

Lewis grins, his hand wrapping around hers as he leads her away from the packed nightclub. They weave through the sea of people, their steps a bit unsteady as the alcohol continues to flow through their systems.

They finally reach a quieter corner of the club, a more secluded area away from the hustle and bustle of the dance floor. Lewis leans against the wall, pulling Y/n closer to him, his hands resting on her hips.

Y/n stumbles a little as she steps closer, her body against his. Her head is spinning a bit, and her senses are heightened by the alcohol. She looks up at him, her eyes half-lidded. "This is better. Just you and me, away from the crowd."

Lewis nods in agreement, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at her. His hands grip her hips tighter, pulling her closer. "Just you and me, Y/n. No one to bother us, no distractions."

They stand there, their bodies pressed together, gazes locked in a silent, charged moment. For a few seconds, time seems to stand still as they take each other in, their breathing heavy and their hearts pounding in their chests.

The air between them crackles with electricity, their connection undeniable. Lewis' hands move up from her hips, tracing along her sides, and Y/n shivers at his touch, her skin tingling from his caress.

Lewis pulls her even closer, their bodies now flush against each other. Y/n can feel every muscle, every contour of his body against hers, and she can't help but shiver again. She lifts her chin, her lips parting slightly as she gazes up at him, her eyes hooded with desire.

Without warning, Lewis loses control and closes the gap between them, his lips crashing into hers in a kiss that's all hunger and need. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, fueled by the alcohol and the mounting tension between them.

Y/n responds instantly, her lips parting willingly under his as she returns the kiss with equal fervor. Her hands wrap around his neck, her fingers tangling into his braids as she clings to him, her body arching into his.

The kiss deepens, their mouths moving together in a frenzied, sloppy dance of desire. Teeth clash and tongues tangle, as they pour all their pent-up frustration and lust into the kiss.

Lewis' hands roam freely across her body, pulling her closer, his touch possessive and urgent. Y/n moans into his mouth, her body responding to his touch, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

After a few moments that feel like an eternity, Y/n manages to pull herself back, breaking the kiss. Her chest is heaving with every labored breath, her body ablaze with desire. Her eyes flutter open, and she gazes at Lewis, her lips swollen and cheeks flushed.

Y/n glances up at Lewis, her expression a little dazed and a little amused. "Damn, you know what? You're a pretty good kisser. I might just have to marry you for that reason alone."

Lewis laughs, his head leaning back against the wall. "Is that all it takes, huh? A good kiss and you're ready to tie the knot?"

Y/n grins, tilting her head to the side. "Hey, I'm just saying, I think you'd make a pretty good husband… as long as you keep kissing me like that."

Lewis chuckles, his hands still resting on her hips, his grip a little looser now. "Is that a threat or a promise?" he teases, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/n pretends to think for a moment, her index finger tapping her chin. "A little bit of both, I think," she replies, a cheeky smile on her lips. "I'll expect a ring, but you'll have to keep up with those kisses… among other things."

Lewis laughs, shaking his head in bemusement. "You know what? Sure, why not? Let's do it. I'll marry you. I guess a good kissing record is enough to secure the deal."

Y/n, giggling like a schoolgirl, grabs Lewis's hand and pulls him out of the club. The cool night air hits them, and she shivers slightly, her head still spinning from the alcohol. "Let's go! Let's go get married!"

Monday, 8:57 AM

Y/n groans as she slowly opens her eyes, blinking against the bright light streaming through the curtains. She lifts her head, her mind fuzzy and disoriented, and takes in her surroundings. She's lying in a hotel room, the unfamiliar surroundings taking a moment to register in her hungover mind.

As her vision clears, she becomes aware of the weight and heat of another body pressed against hers. She turns her head slightly and sees Lewis lying next to her, fast asleep, their hands intertwined between them.

Y/n's eyes widen as she glances down at her hand, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of the ring on her finger. Her head is still fuzzy from the alcohol and her memories of the previous night are hazy, but the ring on her finger is undeniable.

She tries to pull her hand away from Lewis's grasp, but his fingers remain tightly interlaced with hers, even in his sleep. The realization of what happened slowly starts to sink in, and Y/n looks from her hand to Lewis's sleeping face, her mind buzzing with confusion and disbelief.

The room is silent, apart from the steady sound of Lewis's breathing. Y/n lies still, her heart pounding as her mind races, trying to make sense of the situation. She glances at the ring again, her stomach churning with a mixture of shock, disbelief, and a hint of excitement.

She's married. She's actually married. To Lewis. The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating, and Y/n isn't sure if it's the alcohol still lingering in her system or the sheer absurdity of the situation that's making her feel so lightheaded.

She lies there for a few more moments, her hand still trapped in Lewis's grip, her mind swirling with a million thoughts and questions. What did she get herself into? How did this happen? And most importantly, how is she going to face Lewis when he wakes up?

As the minutes tick by, Y/n takes deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. She glances at Lewis again, his peaceful expression a stark contrast to the turmoil in her head. She can feel the warm weight of his leg draped over hers, their bodies intertwined in the narrow hotel bed.

A small part of her is scared, unsure of what the future holds now that she's inadvertently married Lewis. But another part of her, the part fueled by alcohol-induced courage and impulsiveness, is curious, excited even, at the possibility of what this unexpected turn of events could mean.

Still, her head is throbbing with a headache, a reminder of the night before and the alcohol they consumed. She tries to piece together the events that led them to this point, but her memories are hazy and fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that refuse to fit together.

Y/n attempts to wake Lewis up, gently shaking his shoulder and calling his name in a soft, hoarse voice. "Lewis… wake up, Lewis…" she murmurs, her head still aching as she speaks.

Lewis stirs at the sound of her voice, his eyes slowly opening as he blinks against the bright light filtering through the curtains. He looks disoriented for a moment, his gaze bleary as he takes in his surroundings and slowly registers where he is, and more importantly, who he is with.

As his eyes focus on Y/n's face, a look of realization dawns on his own. He lifts his head, his expression a mixture of surprise and disbelief as he looks down at their intertwined hands. His fingers, still linked with hers, tighten around hers as he processes their current predicament.

"Holy shit," he mutters under his breath, his voice hoarse and dry from sleep. "Did we…?" He trails off, his gaze shifting from their hands to her face, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

Y/n nods slowly, her heart hammering in her chest as she meets his gaze. The reality of their situation is crashing down on her now, and she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she responds. "Yeah… I think we did, Lewis. We…" she swallows hard, the words stuck in her throat. "…I think we got married."

Lewis's eyes widen further, his surprise mirrored in his expression. He sits up slowly, still holding her hand in his. "We got married," he repeats, his tone disbelieving. He runs his free hand through his bed-rumpled hair, a look of disbelief and confusion on his face. "How the hell did that happen?"

Y/n shakes her head, her own disbelief just as evident. "I don't know. I can barely remember last night. We were at the club, and we were both drunk and…" her voice trails off as the memories of the previous night continue to elude her.

Lewis lets out a deep sigh, his hand still firmly holding hers. "Yeah, same here. It's all a blur to me too. I remember having a few drinks, and then…" He pauses, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is insane. We got married. Like, actually married."

Y/n nods again, her eyes still on their intertwined hands. "I know. It's unbelievable. We were just… having fun, you know? Having drinks, dancing, joking around. And now…" she trails off again, her mind struggling to process the situation.

Y/n lets out a slew of profanities under her breath, her frustration and disbelief spilling out in a rush of colorful words. "This is unbelievable. I can't believe we actually got married. Of all the stupid things we could have done, we tied the knot. What were we thinking?"

Her head is still throbbing with a killer hangover headache, and the reality of their situation is hitting her like a freight train. She glances over at Lewis, who is still sitting up next to her, looking just as shocked and bewildered as she feels.

Part of her wants to pinch herself to see if it's all real, but the presence of the ring on her finger and the warm weight of Lewis's hand holding hers confirms that it is indeed no dream.

Y/n's eyes widen as she looks at the documents on the table. They're official documents, a marriage certificate bearing both her name and Lewis's. Her heart skips a beat as the reality of the situation hits her like a ton of bricks. This is really happening. They're really, legally married.

The weight of this realization makes her feel dizzy, and she has to steady herself against the table, her hand clenching the edge of it. Her mind is spinning, the headache and the alcohol from the previous night not helping her process this new level of insanity.

Lewis stands up next to her, his movements slow and slightly groggy as he takes the documents from her. He glances through them, his eyes skimming the words and official stamps, the reality of their situation sinking in with each line he reads.

Lewis puts the papers back down on the table, his expression still laced with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. He turns towards Y/n, his expression serious now. "I think we need to talk about this. We can't just ignore the fact that we're apparently married now."

Y/n nods, her own expression solemn. She's still struggling to wrap her mind around the situation, but she knows he's right. They can't just pretend it never happened, not when there's a signed marriage certificate sitting right there.

She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her thoughts. "You're right. We need to talk about this. But I don't even know where to start."

Lewis lets out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair again. "Neither do I," he admits. "But I guess we start with the obvious questions. Like, how the hell did we even end up getting married in the first place?"

Y/n shakes her head, her confusion mirrored on her face. "I have no idea. I remember us drinking, and dancing, and… well, not much else. It's all pretty blurry after a certain point."

Lewis nods, his expression thoughtful. "Same here. I remember having drinks, and things being fun and light-hearted, and then the next thing I know, we're waking up here, married. It's like a gap in my memory or something."

As the two of them continue to discuss their predicament, out of nowhere, a fragment of Y/n's memory resurfaces, a flash of her father's words from a few days ago. Her face twists with a mix of surprise and frustration as the recollection comes to her.

The memory of her father's words comes rushing back to her now, a sudden realization dawning on her face. The strange, cryptic instructions he'd given her a few days ago about being married come back to her, and now they make a terrible, twisted sort of sense in the context of her current situation.

She looks at Lewis, her eyes suddenly wide with shock and realization. "Oh my god… my dad," she mutters under her breath. The memory of her father telling her she needed to be married for the family business suddenly has a new, and very unnerving, meaning.

Lewis looks at her, confusion and concern on his face. "Your dad? What about him?" he asks, his voice filled with a sense of dread at her sudden outburst.

Y/n explains the situation to Lewis, revealing the deal she had made with her father regarding the inheritance and the family business. She also suggests that they stay married for a little while, just long enough for her to inherit, and then they could get a divorce.

Lewis looks stunned by her revelation and her proposal, his eyes widening as he absorbs the information. "So you're saying we only have to stay married until you inherit? Then we divorce?" he asks, his tone laced with disbelief.

Y/n nods, her expression earnest. "Yes, that's what I'm proposing. We stay married for a while, for the sake of the deal with my father, and then we get a divorce as soon as I inherit. It will be a temporary arrangement, nothing more."

Lewis looks at her, his expression still a mix of disbelief and contemplation. "Married for a while, then divorce," he says slowly, tasting the words on his tongue as he mulls over the idea.

He runs a hand through his hair again, his eyes locked with hers. "It's a lot to take in," he says finally. "Like, we're talking about getting divorced already, and we've only been married for…" He checks the date on the marriage certificate, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "…for less than 24 hours, apparently."

He lets out a dry laugh, rubbing his face with one hand. "This is insane," he mutters. "Married. And already planning a divorce."

He looks back at Y/n, his expression a mix of uncertainty and a touch of humor. "You know, most couples don't start planning their divorce on their first day of marriage," he jokes.

Y/n manages a weak smile in response, the joke lifting the tension a bit. "Yeah, I know," she concedes. "But most couples don't get married in a drunken haze after partying all night either."

Y/n nods and extends her hand for a handshake. "Alright, it's a deal," she says. "We stay married until I inherit, and then we get a divorce. Agreed?"

Lewis looks down at her offered hand, a resigned acceptance in his eyes. He nods and takes her hand firmly, giving it a firm shake. "Agreed," he says. "Temporary spouses, here we go."

Lewis' expression suddenly shifts as he realizes the implications of their agreement. "Oh, fuck," he mutters, his eyes widening. "My PR team is going to have a field day with this."

He looks at her, his expression still one of disbelief at the situation. "My PR team," he clarifies. "You know, the people who manage my public image. They're going to have a lot to handle with this unexpected… development. It's not every day your client gets married out of the blue after a night of heavy drinking."

Y/n looks at him, a realization beginning to dawn on her. "Wait a second," she says, her eyes narrowed in thought. "You have a PR team," she repeats, her voice laced with disbelief. "Why on earth would you need a PR team… unless you're some kind of celebrity or something?"

Lewis laughs, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, uh, about that," he says, scratching the back of his head. "I guess I kind of forgot to mention that part. I'm, um, a professional Formula 1 racer, actually."

Y/n's jaw drops at his revelation. "Formula 1?" she echoes, her surprise evident. "You're a professional racer? And you didn't think to mention that before?"

Lewis grimaces slightly, looking a bit sheepish. "Yeah, sorry about that. It slipped my mind last night, with all the drinking and… well, the whole getting married thing. I didn't think it would come up quite like this, to be honest."

Her expression remains one of disbelief, but there's also a hint of intrigue. "Formula 1," she repeats, her mind now processing this new piece of information. "So you race high-speed cars for a living."

Lewis nods, his face now showing a hint of pride. "That's right," he confirms. "I race for Mercedes- Ferrari soon enough. It's a pretty public profession, hence the PR team."

Y/n takes a moment to process this new revelation. "Okay, so you're a professional racer, with a whole team dedicated to managing your image and public relations. And we… got married last night, without knowing any of that about each other."

Lewis nods, a rueful smile on his face. "Exactly," he concurs. "We had absolutely no idea who each other was, got drunk, got married, and now I have to deal with the fallout with my PR team."

Y/n can't help but find the situation a little insane, but she can also see the humor in it. "Well, this is certainly, uh, interesting," she says finally, her voice almost a laugh. "I can only imagine the look on your PR team's faces when you tell them about this."

Lewis lets out a dry laugh, hiding his face in between his hands. "Yeah, I am not looking forward to that conversation," he confesses. "But I guess it's part of the package when you're a public figure. Nothing stays private, even if you don't want it to."

Y/n's expression softens a bit as she looks at him, seeing the tension in his face. As much as this situation is affecting her, she can't imagine the added layer of scrutiny he has to deal with due to his job. "You really have to consider everything when you're in the public eye, huh?" she comments, her tone a touch sympathetic.

She puts a hand on her forehead, the lingering effects of the hangover headache making her wince. "You know what," she says, "we should probably get some aspirin or something. I can't stand this headache much longer."

Lewis nods in agreement, his hand still massaging his temples. "Yeah, you read my mind," he says. "I don't know about you, but I can't think straight with this headache pounding in my skull."

Y/n gets up from her seat, her movements a bit unsteady as she stands up to look for her bag. "I think I have some Advil in my bag," she says. "I always keep some handy for hangovers like this."

Lewis watches as she rummages through her bag, trying to focus despite the persistent headache. "You're always prepared, aren't you?" he teases, his tone a mix of light humor and genuine admiration.

Y/n flashes him a small smile over her shoulder. "I try," she replies, her hand pulling out a small bottle of pain reliever. "I've learned the hard way that hangovers are no joke after a night of partying. It pays to be prepared."

Lewis gets out of bed as well, wincing slightly at the sudden movement. "I wish I had your foresight," he says sheepishly, a rueful chuckle escaping him. "I seem to forget about the aftermath until it's too late."

Y/n shakes a couple of pills out into her palm, handing him a couple of them along with a bottle of water. "Learn from this experience, then," she suggests with a smirk. "Maybe next time you'll remember the consequences before you drink the night away."

Lewis accepts the pills from Y/n, his expression is still sheepish but his tone still holds some humor. "Yeah, maybe next time I won't find myself accidentally married," he quips, dryly. "Lesson learned."

Y/n can't help but chuckle at his attempt at humor, appreciating his ability to see the lighter side even in such a bizarre situation. "I'm sure we both learned a lot last night," she remarks, her tone lighthearted. "Mostly about the dangers of too much alcohol, I think."

Lewis downs the pills, washing them down with a long gulp of water. He hands the bottle back to her, his expression now a bit more sober and serious. "Yeah, it's definitely a lesson in moderation, among other things," he concurs. "And… communication, it seems."

Y/n takes the bottle back, her eyes meeting his. She understands his meaning - that maybe they should have been more open and communicative with each other before getting into this mess. "You're right," she agrees. "We definitely could have avoided a lot if we'd just… talked first, before…" she trails off, gesturing toward the marriage certificate on the table.

Y/n holds up a hand, signaling that she needs to excuse herself. "I'm going to use the bathroom real quick," she says, her voice a bit quieter now. "Then we can…" She trails off, leaving the sentence hanging, implying they can continue their conversation once she returns.

Lewis nods in understanding, his eyes following her as she leaves the room. Once she's out of earshot, he lets out a long sigh and sits back down on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples again. "This is a lot to process," he mutters to himself, his mind swirling with the events of the previous night.

Y/n closes the bathroom door behind her and takes a moment to breathe, trying to gather her thoughts. She leans against the sink, her hands gripping the edges, as she looks at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair is disheveled, her eyes still slightly bloodshot from the effects of the previous night's indulgence.

She splashes some cold water on her face, trying to clear her head and shake off the last remnants of the hangover. As she blots her face with a towel, her mind drifts back to the conversation she just had with Lewis, and the magnitude of the situation they now find themselves in settles heavily on her shoulders.

Y/n leans against the wall near the sink, her mind going over their agreement. Stay married temporarily until she inherits, and then divorce. It all sounds so simple, so logical when put like that. But she couldn't shake the feeling that there's more to it, that they're getting into something bigger than they're prepared for.

She looks at herself in the mirror again, her eyes betraying the turmoil inside her. On one hand, she knows they have to go through with this, for the sake of her inheritance and the future of her family's business. But on the other hand, she can't ignore the twinge of guilt and doubt that comes with the decision to play house with almost a stranger.

Her mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a jumble of pragmatism and uncertainty. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. There will be time to deal with the emotional aspects later, she tells herself. For now, they have to focus on the practicality of the situation, on navigating this new reality of being married, even if it's only temporary.

𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

taglist

@nepobbylver

[blaydie]

ᥫ᭡ LEARNING TO ACCEPT — “If I ever return home, I’d like you to accompany me. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” Dan Heng x GN reader.

Word count: 2.9k

Contains: Dan Heng x GN reader, Dan Heng IL, affection, kissing, making out, cuddling, NSFW content, love bites, scratches, brief (singular) mention of blood, handjob, brief oral, penetration, aftercare

How long has it been? Since completing his duties on the Luofu, Dan Heng has hardly left his room. It doesn’t go unnoticed by any passenger of the Express; even Pom-Pom has begun voicing their concern over the situation. He has always been distant, but not to this extent. Ignoring text messages, leaving knocks on his door unanswered—it’s as though he’s no longer here. 

To say it hasn’t been bothering you would be a lie. You don’t blame him for wanting to be alone. Anyone would feel the same way if they had to relive every torturous memory of a past they cannot control. You just miss him—you never thought it would be possible to grieve the presence of someone who is only a few steps away from you.

Walking out of the parlour cabin, you pass by the archives, noticing the gap from the slightly ajar door. As you were about to carry on, you bumped into someone, unsure of who else could be lurking outside of their room at this hour. It was dark, but regardless of light, you know whose hands are gripping both of your arms to stabilise you.

“Dan?” You kept your voice low, respecting his means of privacy. If he doesn’t want anyone to see him, it would be unfair to reveal he’s finally taken a step outside of his room.

“Hello.” His voice was soft, the grip on you loosening while you find your footing. 

Without thinking twice, you step towards him and wrap your arms around him, your head resting against his shoulder. As though relieved by your gesture, a huff of air exerts from his mouth as he holds you in an embrace. It’s been a while since he last saw you; he had come to forget how you felt in his grasp.

Just as you were about to talk again, he pressed his finger to your lips. You notice a light flick on down the hall, your bodies slowly backing up into the archives. When safety is ensured, Dan closes the door and brushes past you, clearing a space for you to sit down on his mattress.

The lights remained off, giving the impression to outsiders that no one was home. You take a seat, eyes glued to the messy pillows and blankets beside you. Dan stands at the databank, finalising some pieces while you get yourself comfortable. 

“Are you feeling any better?” You inquire, snuggling one of his pillows to your chest.

“Not really. I’ve been trying to take my mind off of things.”

“That’s okay, take your time. Everyone understands, but we all miss you.”

“I missed you too.” Dan smiles to himself, his steps drawing closer. “I left you a gift; it’s outside of your room door. I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“I’ve had trouble sleeping recently. What is it?”

“It’s a teddy bear. I bought it for you when we were in Belebog. I couldn’t find the right time to give it to you—so much has happened since then.”

“Thank you. I’m guessing I’ll be kicked out soon; I’m running all my luck dry.”

“You can stay if you’d like to. Remember to keep quiet about it though, please.”

“I’m good with secrets.”

“I’ve been taking a break from work for a change. I watched all of that series you recommended to me. It was good.”

“Really? You liked it? I have so many more!—”

“Shh.” Dan laughs, keeping his volume down as he places his hand over your mouth. When you settle, he retracts his arm and wraps it around your shoulders. “I did. We can start a new series together if you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much. One that we only watch together.” You beam, poking around his face with your finger until you find his cheek, giving it a light pinch. “That means you have to see me every night. No watching it alone.”

“That would be nice. I’ve been meaning to catch up with you; I’m sorry for leaving your messages unopened. I do see them all. Your words are sweet.”

“Did you see the little kitty plush? It looks just like you!”

“I did. It’s too cute to be me.”

“I think you both look alike. I haven’t seen your face for so long; how do I even know this is Dan Heng? What if you’re a Dan Heng imposter?”

Leaning over you, he flicks on the lamp which produces low lumination, allowing you to gaze upon his facial features. He was in his nightwear, his lips pursed together.

“I know you’re still confused over what you saw on the Luofu. You can ask questions if you’d like.”

“I don’t want to pry. I am worried though.” Upon saying this, his features soften. “You’re not going to leave the Express, are you?”

“Not anytime soon. Don’t stress about that.” Dan reaches for his phone, opening up a streaming app. “I have my reasons to stay.”

“Good. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” You poke your head over, looking at the series he’s selecting to play. “You don’t have to hide your form when you’re with me. I didn’t find it weird; you looked beautiful.”

“Ah, it’s… It’s not like that. I prefer this one. That’s all.” His cheeks flush, eyes flickering up to you then back down to his phone. “There’s too much negativity tied to it. Plus, I don’t exactly blend in.”

“Can I see it again?” You brush your thumb over his hand, a small huff exiting his parted lips.

As your thumb continues to travel his skin, he locks his fingers with yours. Your eyes drift up, the change in his appearance evident. His hair flows behind his back, ears pointy. You instinctively reach to feel the horns crowning his head, but he stops you, holding your forearm in place.

“Let me do it for you.” He speaks in a hushed tone, guiding your fingers around the curve of each horn. The feeling is unlike anything you can think of. They’re much smoother than you imagined.

“Dan, they’re so pretty. Wow…” You’re in awe, captivated by the beauty of the man in front of you. Freeing yourself from his clutch, you tuck a long strand of hair behind his ear and run your finger over the cartilage.

“…” The faint blush on his cheeks darkened, spreading over the ears you have your hands all over. He clears his throat, doing his best to shake the feeling of the way you’re touching him. “Thank you.”

“I think you look amazing. This is who you are; you shouldn’t have to hide it because of a past that’s gotten stuck to you. You’re much better than he ever was.”

As you move back, you catch a glimpse of the wide-eyed expression he’s giving you, his eyes glowing and his mouth twisted into a wide grin. With his arms weaved around your waist, he tugs you closer, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“I want people to see me for who I am. I’ll never be him. I want all of my accomplishments to belong to me. Nothing of mine should be tainted with his name.”

“That’s how it should be.” You bury your hand in his hair, nails scratching his scalp.

“I truly did miss you,” Dan mumbles against your skin, planting a kiss on your collarbone. “You understand me better than anyone else does. I appreciate that.”

“I try my best. I want you to feel that you can come to me for anything. You don’t have to resolve everything alone.”

Planting more pecks along your flesh, he returns to your neck, his tongue trailing up a patch of skin. His fangs graze you, nipping you abruptly. It felt like a needle, causing you to gasp, gritting your teeth while he quickly pulled back.

“I’m so sorry.” He wipes his mouth, a small trickle of blood escaping the puncture. “My teeth are sharper like this. I forgot…”

He places a kiss on top of the small bite mark, lifting you so you straddle his lap. Both of your hands remain on his shoulders, your foreheads pressed against one another. Pulling down his bottom lip, you lean into a kiss. He holds you tightly, allowing you to take the lead. In all truth, he’s terrified of hurting you. It’ll take some adjusting to get used to interacting with others in this form, particularly in more intimate ways.

Your tongue brushes against his, winning the battle and continuing on. It’s clear he’s holding back, but you aren’t willing to push him. Taking things slow will help him; the last thing you want to do is make his discomfort in this form grow worse. You and Dan have established in the past that this relationship has far surpassed friendship, though there’s yet to be an official label. Whatever reason there may be for that is unclear, but you both know your hearts belong together. Neither one of you would look for this with another person.

Fabric rustles while your hips wind against him, too lost in the moment. His hands tremble as they dip under your clothes, index finger gliding around your waistband. You disconnect the kiss, chest heaving. He pulls his sweater from over his head, rolling to the side to trap you under him. One of his knees is lodged in between your legs, pinning you flat to the mattress.

You drag your hands down his torso, dancing over his pecs and down his abs. His breathing turns heavier, eyes half-lidded as he fumbles with undoing the buttons of your attire. Whether it be due to his recent heightened emotions, he almost seems desperate for your touch. Desperate to touch you.

By looking at him, a pang of guilt ripples through your heart. You can’t imagine being subjected to a life like his, having to deal with the sin of something you wish to not associate with. Dan doesn’t deserve to be treated or viewed the way he is. Sitting back up, you wrap your arms around his neck and drag him into another kiss, causing him to fall with you.

This time, you roll on top, holding both of his hands against the pillow. His lips pout, almost as though he were encouraging you to go further. Due to all of the touching, he became hard a while ago. He was waiting for you to be the one to initiate things.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re the only blessing this life has to give me. I must’ve used up any remaining luck I had to cross paths with you.” He rests back against the headboard, breaking his hands free so he can hold you.

“There’s so much more out there for you. We’ll find them together. We have an entire galaxy to search.”

“And much more beyond that.” He adds, the warm smile reappearing on his face.

You nod, returning your focus to his body beneath you. Sliding down his pants, you see his hardness outlined in his boxers, a small damp spot where pre-cum leaked out. His arousal for you didn’t bring him shame; he was pleased to allow you to see him this way. Vulnerability is something you only share with those you trust most.

Sliding them off, you take his dick into your hand, giving it a stroke before rubbing your thumb over his tip. The sensation shoots tingles up his body, goosebumps appearing up his skin. You continue rhythmically stroking his length, focusing your lips on leaving a trail of marks across his collarbone. He leans forward, allowing you easy access to the back of his neck where his hair covers. Swooping it out of the way, you leave a distinct hickey in a place no one will see. The only two people aware of its presence are you and him. It wouldn’t be the first thing you have both kept secret from everyone else.

Since he was already sensitive, it didn’t take him long to build up a climax, edging closer to an orgasm while you continued your motions. He panted, mouth directly beside your ear as you continued to decorate his skin with kisses and elaborately placed bites. A droplet of cum drips down onto your finger and you stop, wrapping your lips around his tip to clean him up. He swallows the lump in his throat, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand while you sit back up.

After removing your underwear, Dan guides you into the correct position, his tip pressed against your hole. He tilts his head to the side, waiting for you to tell him when you’re ready. With a nod, you lower yourself onto him, feeling him thrust up to speed the process. It didn’t take him long to bottom out inside you; your body is already familiar with his shape, fully accustomed to his size.

You both fall into the natural rhythm, your hips grinding against him while he pushes himself in and out. While he never fails to make you feel good, you intend to dedicate this night to him. He deserves the relief more than you. The longer this played out, the harder it became for Dan to suppress his urges, his knuckles turning white from the force he’s gripping your hips. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face, raising your concern. 

“Are you all right?” You whisper, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“I’m—” He bites his lip, suppressing the groan that tried to escape. “—I’m fine. It feels nice.”

Gradually, he begins thrusting into you with more power, your body falling forward, unable to remain upright. He rubs your back, now carefully nibbling the exposed section of your shoulder. His teeth glide over you like a dagger, sending a shiver through your core. You reach the peak of your climax, back arched as he continues to fuck into you, relishing the way you react.

His breathing pattern resembles that of a predator in the wild, the deep grumbles and pants revealing how much of his energy he’s exerting to get you this way. Unable to hold on, you release your orgasm, repeating his name quietly as you ride out the waves of pleasure. His nails dig into you, his final few thrusts sloppy. He held you close to his chest as he came inside of you, refusing to break the connection just yet.

Both of you are gasping, exhausted from the intimacy. Taking advantage of his current position, he litters your arm with kisses, lifting you up to get a look at what he has managed to do to you. Your neck has bruised, alongside a few of the bites on your collarbones; a breathtaking sight to see. You’re marked up by him, completely spent. All his.

The silence between you remains until the sound of heavy breathing dies down. When composed, he slips out of you, watching as his cum spills out of your hole. Reaching for a packet of tissues, he cleans himself and then wipes you down, removing the sticky fluid from your body so you don’t become uncomfortable. You roll off of him, lying on your stomach while he stands. As he’s walking to grab you a more comfortable set of clothes to borrow, he catches a glimpse of his appearance from the reflection of a frame on the wall. He had completely forgotten he revealed his true form, not feeling the horrors associated with the person of his past.

Returning to your side, he helps you up and slips a sweatshirt over your head, readjusting your hair for you. Large scratch marks trail down the length of your back, something he’s too ashamed to tell you about at this given moment. You were a mess, but you’re still as flattering in his eyes as you are usually. 

“Go get your teddy. It’ll look strange in the morning when people pass by your door. I’m going to use the restroom.” 

“I’m tired.” You yawn, pressing your forehead to his chest while he slides back into his pants.

“I’ll grab it for you then. We can watch the first episode of that series while we try to get some sleep. It’s late.” He flashes his phone screen at you, the large numbers declaring 1:01AM.

Silently leaving the archives, Dan grabs the teddy he gifted you from the floor of the passenger cabin as he redirects himself to the restroom. While in there, he can’t help but stare at himself in the mirror, realising he has a smile on his face as opposed to the usual sombre expression when he sees himself this way. A snicker leaves his mouth as he notices in detail each tiny mark you left on him, rendering it equal to the damage he left on you.

Tossing the teddy at you, Dan climbs back under the blankets and rests his head against yours, clicking play on the first episode of a series he had been hoping to watch with you. Even though you were drowsy, you kept yourself awake with small talk, grateful he trusted you enough to allow you to enter his personal space during such a tough time. As the episode plays out, you can see Dan waiting for the correct opportunity to speak.

“If I ever return home, I’d like you to accompany me. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” His tone was matched by the tender smile on his face, squeezing you tighter in the cuddle.

“I’ll go wherever you go. We’ll stay by each other’s side for the rest of time.” You reply, closing your eyes with a passionate flare sparking flames in your heart. You can rest peacefully knowing that no matter how long it takes, you’ll ensure he can live freely in his own body, being able to experience all the joys life has to offer without feeling the need to hide. 

[yara0546]

Nct dream reaction when you cook for them

Pairing:  nct dream x female!reader

Genre: fluff, relationship.

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any grammatical errors, because I sometimes use a translator in some sentences.

Masterlist

Mark Lee

Mark is genuinely touched by your gesture. As he takes the first bite, his eyes widen in surprise.

“Whoa, this is so good! Did you really make this yourself?” he asks, a hint of awe in his voice. He can’t stop praising your cooking throughout the meal and might even ask you for the recipe. Mark would definitely want to learn how to cook with you next time—just don’t be surprised if he’s a little clumsy in the kitchen!

Huang Renjun

Renjun is low-key impressed but tries to play it cool. He nods in approval as he takes a bite.

“This is really nice. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” he says, though his expression shows how much he appreciates it. He might jokingly critique the presentation, but it’s all in good fun. Deep down, he’s already planning to return the favor by making you something even better.

Lee Jeno

Jeno is the type to be super encouraging and appreciative. As soon as he sees the meal, his eyes light up.

“This looks amazing! I can’t believe you made this!” he says enthusiastically. He’d probably eat a little too fast because it’s so good, and then sheepishly ask for seconds. Jeno might even take a picture of the food to show off to the other members later.

Lee Haechan

Haechan’s reaction is a mix of teasing and genuine love for your cooking.

“Wow, are you trying to spoil me? Because it’s working,” he jokes, flashing you a mischievous grin. As he eats, he exaggerates his reactions, making over-the-top comments like, “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life!” But beneath the playful teasing, he’s truly grateful for your effort.

Na Jaemin

Jaemin’s reaction is pure boyfriend material. He smiles softly when you present the meal and makes you sit down with him right away.

“You’re amazing. Thank you for this,” he says, giving you his full attention. As he eats, he compliments every single detail, from the taste to the effort you put into it. He might even insist on doing the dishes afterward because he can’t let you do all the work.

Zhong Chenle

Chenle would be absolutely delighted and very vocal about it.

“Wow, this looks like something from a restaurant!” he exclaims, taking a moment to admire the food before digging in. He’d probably hype you up the entire time, saying things like, “You should open your own restaurant!” or “The members are going to be so jealous!” His excitement is contagious, and he might even jokingly call you his personal chef.

Park Jisung

Jisung would be a little shy at first, especially if this is your first time cooking for him.

“This looks really good,” he says quietly, his cheeks slightly pink. As he eats, he gets more comfortable and starts complimenting the taste. “You’re really talented,” he admits, looking genuinely impressed. Jisung might even get curious about the cooking process and ask you to teach him someday.

[merakiui]

the birds and the bees.

yandere!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, slight dub-con, implied stalking, age gap (riddle is 19 and reader is 29) note - you're hired to teach riddle about the birds and the bees. you need the money. he needs to get laid.

The Rosehearts’s Residence looks about how you expected it to after driving past houses of similar size and grandeur. Unlike you, they’re definitely not strapped for cash. It’s an impressive structure with its elegant wrought iron gates and expertly trimmed hedges. You’re immediately overcome with bitter jealousy when you step through the entrance, passing rose bushes in full bloom. If only your apartment could look and feel as nice as this place. You almost wonder if you should keep Mrs. Rosehearts’s contact in case she ever needs a gardener or a window washer…

But then that risks your cover, and the last thing you want is to get tangled up in trouble with the upper middle class.

Gathering your courage, you smooth invisible wrinkles in your pencil skirt, steady your balance in your Mary Janes—both at socially acceptable lengths and heights—and bring your fist down against the door. Seconds after the third knock, it opens to reveal a woman who looks as prim and proper as the landscape of her home. She takes a long moment, drinking in your formal features, and then smiles approvingly.

“Ah, (Name), you’re early.”

You soften your face into something polite and demure. “Better early than late.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You meander into the foyer and are instantly reminded of those exquisite house tours on MagiTube. There’s a fine layer of modest Victorian wealth to the decor. Flowery wallpaper, a lofty ceiling, an aureate chandelier, a vase filled with fresh tulips of all colors… Oh, how you wish you could live here!

“Your home is beautiful,” you comment as you straighten your bow headband.

“Why, thank you.” Her eyes light up once more. “I’ve always admired this neighborhood. Everything is so well-kept. Speaking of which, where did you say you’re from?”

“Oh, I’m actually getting ready to move back to school at the end of the summer,” you explain, narrowly dodging her question. No way I’m telling her I live in a not-so-affluent neighborhood… She’ll totally kick me out. “I’m staying with my parents in the meantime and working a few jobs to support myself.”

“And what was it you’re studying again?”

You paste a hollow smile on, sensing her distrust. I already told you this when we met at the clinic. Do I really seem so suspicious?

“I’m studying to be an ob-gyn.”

“A wonderful profession,” she praises, nodding to herself. “Very wonderful indeed. And how old are you? I merely ask to confirm. There are so many miscreants nowadays. You can never be too sure.”

“I understand completely, Mrs. Rosehearts. I’m—” you almost falter, your real age on the tip of your tongue— “twenty-two. What about your son? You told me he’s also looking to get into the medical field?”

“Not looking. He will pursue medicine,” she corrects sternly. “Just like his mother.”

You swallow your disgust and try not to let it show so openly. Yikes… Talk about controlling.

Mrs. Rosehearts waves you onwards down the hall. “My Riddle will be leaving for his first year of college at the end of August. Though I’m certain he’s more than prepared, it never hurts to review.”

“Absolutely. So you’d like me to give him the talk?”

“Not just that. I’d like you to teach him well enough so that copulation and any other libidinous ideas are the last things on his mind. Stamp them out if you must. He’s to focus on his studies and make good decisions just as I raised him.”

Shouldn’t he already be familiar with this? Besides, he’s not a kid. Of course he’s going to think about sex. Most of us do when we’re horny.

But you can’t say that outright, so you settle for something vastly different.

“It’s important to stay on the right path and be responsible.”

Mrs. Rosehearts nods her agreement. Your stomach twists in discomfort.

On second thought, I don’t want to be upper middle class if these are the people I have to deal with. Is this guy going to have any chance to be social? To live his life? To make and learn from stupid mistakes? I bet he can’t wait to get out of here and go off to school.

“I apologize if this is rude in any way, but I just want to ensure I’ll be paid accordingly.”

“Of course. Good work must always be recognized and rewarded.” She stops at a door. “I cannot thank you enough for lending my Riddle your time. Teach him well.”

“I’ll do just that. You can count on it.”

Pleased with the level of maturity you’ve displayed, she raps her knuckles against the door and calls out, “Riddle, the tutor’s here.”

“Very well, Mother. I’ve just finished today’s readings, so you can send them in,” comes a muffled reply.

Today’s readings? you think, perplexed. Your gaze slides from the door to Mrs. Rosehearts. Does she have this guy doing summer school? That must suck! What a shitty way to spend your summer, cooped up inside filling out workbooks and stuff.

“I’ll be out running errands in the meantime. I trust you’ll be all right by yourself?”

“Perfectly all right,” you assure her, to which she hums and strides past you. You catch her perfume as she departs, and it reminds you of the types of scents worn by saggy, old ladies who have nothing better to do than sit around and complain about the state of the world and the way their children turned out.

In other words, a scent you associate with misery.

You wait until she’s out of sight before opening the door and stepping inside the study. There’s a mahogany desk in the center, and thick textbooks are piled high on either side. Beyond that, beside a big bay window with cream-colored curtains drawn to let in the sun, two large bookcases are packed with an array of tomes. At the front of the room, a blackboard has been built into a wooden frame. Chalk lines the ledge, situated within reach of an eraser. And sitting at the desk, his eyes glued to an open book, is a young man. A pair of round frames sit on the bridge of his nose, slipping ever so slightly down the slope of it when he peers at the page. He pushes them up when he finally lifts his head to greet you.

“Hey.” You wave awkwardly, easing the door shut.

He seems taken aback by your appearance. “Oh, yes. Right. Hello…”

Silence soon fills the space. You wonder if you should just save yourself this nonsensical waste of time and retreat.

“Sooo.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking on your heels. “Your mother’s probably told you why I’m here.”

“I’m aware.” He shuts his book and stands from his seat. “My name is Riddle Rosehearts. A pleasure to meet you.”

You blink at his outstretched arm. “(Name). Likewise.” You grab his hand and shake firmly. 

So stiff…

“So where’re we starting? The basics? You want the whole ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ version or—”

Riddle scoffs and yanks his arm back. “I’m not a fool. I’ll have you know I’m well aware of sexual reproduction and what it entails.”

“You can call it sex. No one’s forcing you to be all biological,” you tease. His body goes rigid, and his face reddens in what you assume is flustered annoyance. “Anyways, since you’re not as brainless as Mother Dearest wants me to assume, I’ll just get into it.”

Riddle stares at you, his arms folding over his chest. He looks like he wants to argue, but instead he huffs and lowers into his chair.

Wordlessly, you undo the buttons on your blazer and shrug out of it. Your blouse goes next, untucked from your skirt and shucked. Riddle’s eyes are so wide they nearly pop out of his skull when he spies the white, lacy false collar that just barely covers your breasts. You’re about to step out of your pencil skirt next when Riddle clears his throat.

“W-What’re you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No?”

“I’m teaching you the birds and the bees.”

“N-Not in that outfit! S-Surely not…” He averts his eyes, crimson crawling up to his ears. “You’re practically nude!”

“That’s the point of lingerie, silly.” Your skirt pools around your ankles to reveal the rest of your frilly ensemble. A black-and-white cupless bra and crotchless panties set, both with plenty of ruffles, held together with a pair of garters. Still wearing matching stockings and your precious Mary Janes, you bend down to gather your discarded clothes. They’re set aside on a nearby chair. “You can look.”

“A-Absolutely not!” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y-You… You’re not decent. It’s rude to stare.”

“Come on. You got past anatomy diagrams just fine.”

Riddle opens and closes his mouth, speechless like a beached fish. Eventually, he manages to gather his coherency. “You’re a tutor, aren’t you? Where’s your dignity?”

“Nonexistent. I lied.” His head snaps over to view you, and he seems so scandalized by your admission that it’s almost comedic. “No way I’m studying to be an ob-gyn. I’m not even in school.”

“What?! But you—”

“It’s fine. I looked the part, didn’t I?” you joke, waving your hand about dismissively. “C’mon, mama’s boy. You’re going off to college. It’s nothing like those stuffy anatomy courses.”

Riddle tries and fails to look at anywhere that isn’t you, his eyes lingering on your chest to the space between your legs to the thigh garter and then to the ceiling. He’s so red you think he might explode.

“You’ve been with a girl before, yeah?”

With lips pursed in a tight line, he shakes his head.

“Sounds about right.”

“And you’re so experienced?”

You flash him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, mama’s boy.”

“I’m not a mama’s boy!”

“No? So you just let your mother treat you like a little baby at your grown age? You let her pick out sex tutors for you?”

“I—” He stops himself from speaking to mull over your questions. “If it’s what she deems necessary…”

“Because our biggest fear is sexually awkward you knocking up some girl at school, right?”

“I… I would never! Safe sex is—”

“Very important when you’re not trying to conceive. Good boy. See? You know your stuff.”

Riddle’s eyes narrow into vicious slits. You brush his scorching vitriol off and turn towards the board. Procuring a piece of chalk, you scrawl words on it: Birds and Bees 101. Wholly unamused, Riddle folds his arms across his chest.

“Your mother told me you’re gonna study medicine, so you’re probably familiar with everything already. And I’m sure you know all about the baby-making process on a biological level.” You whirl to face him, your tits bouncing with the peppy motion. Riddle swallows thickly. “But just to make sure… Let’s review.”

“R-Review? You don’t mean—”

“What’s this?” Your hands close around your tits. Riddle’s enchanted with the way you squeeze them—the way they depress under your fingers.

“Um… Ahem. Well… T-The breasts. They’re a type of glandular organ located on a woman’s chest, and they’re made up of lots of tissue and fat. There’s the mammary gland—that’s what produces milk. Oh, and then there are the areolas right around the nipples. Those are—”

“You can call them what they are.”

Riddle blinks, shaken from his studious spiel. “W-What?”

“You know the word, mama’s boy.”

He flusters. “Yes, I’m aware. But…”

“No harm in saying it.” You run your fingers over your nipples and giggle sweetly like a schoolgirl. “Go on…”

He inhales a deep breath. “They’re tits,” he mumbles, desultory. “Y-Your tits.”

You clap, beaming brightly. “Well done! Moving swiftly on…” You run your hands down the expanse of your stomach, stopping just beneath your navel. “What’s here?”

“Your womb. O-Otherwise known as the uterus. It’s where a baby grows over the course of nine months.”

“Mhm. Good job.”

He pushes his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat. “There’s more to your reproductive system than the uterus. Lots of parts. Important parts.”

“Right. But I don’t need to quiz you on it. You obviously know your stuff.”

Again, your fingers inch lower until they’re prodding at your folds. Riddle’s breath audibly hitches.

“And this?”

“Your vagina. It’s where—”

“What’s the other word?”

Riddle avoids your stare. “It sounds so vulgar…”

“So what?”

“S-So there ought to be a term that’s more…flattering.”

“Like what?” You approach him and, with the grace of a swan, lift your leg onto the desk to give him a better view of yourself. Shamelessly, you dip your fingers inside to spread yourself. “A guy called it the honeypot once. That pretty enough for you?”

Riddle squeaks and flinches back in his chair, his face now even redder than it was before. “T-That’s fine…”

“Really? I’d have thought the implication in that one is much dirtier than calling it a pussy.”

It takes him a moment to connect the dots, but once he does he gasps. “Ah. Then…”

You press inwards with your fingers, exaggerating a pornographic sigh. “Yeah?”

“Can I… M-May I call it your flower?”

“Sure.” His shoulders slacken with a flicker of relief. Your next words shatter that and his pride in one fell swoop. “That one’s not as special as you think, mama’s boy. I’ve heard it all—every type of flower you can think of.”

“Even a rose?”

“Especially a rose.” His lips twist into a disappointed moue. You chuckle and add, “You can call it a rose if you want. I don’t mind.”

Riddle meets your eyes then, searching them for the joke. When one doesn’t present itself, he relaxes. “All right. It’s a very pretty rose. Soft…”

“Aww. Thanks for saying so. It’s softer inside, y’know. See?” Spreading yourself wider, you angle your hips to bless him with the full view. “My fingers slide right in. Wanna guess why?”

“B-Because the vagina naturally—” He stops himself, his brows knitting together in contemplation. When he speaks next, it’s with a determined sort of conviction. “When you’re aroused, your rose produces a natural lubricant during sexual excitement.”

“Mhm. We call that ‘feeling good and getting wet,’ Dr. Rosehearts.”

“Yes. Y-Yes, I know that.” He eyes your pussy, a ravenous glimmer in his intelligent blue-greys. “And the wetness—it’s supposed to make it feel better. To make insertion easier, I mean.”

“Right again.” You ease your fingers out but not before thrusting them deeper just so he can hear the sinful sounds. They shimmer with your essence, enticing in a forbidden way. “What about the other parts? How about this spot here?” You brush against the hood of your clit, circling it slowly.

Riddle watches, hopelessly spellbound. “The clitoris.”

“I’m impressed. Most guys don’t know about it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But it’s your most sensitive erogenous zone! Just how uninformed does one have to be to neglect such a crucial part to your sexual anatomy?”

“Woefully uninformed, I’m afraid,” you mutter with a pout. Your fingertips drag your hood up to reveal that pretty, perky nub. “I think it’s dumb your mother wants me to talk you out of sex. You’re going to college. You’re an adult. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“I…” Riddle frowns at that last line. “I have no interest in it. Besides, it’ll only hinder my studies. If I really need it, I’ll just masturbate. That’s healthy every now and then, and it doesn’t break any rules.”

“Really? No interest at all?” You shoot him a knowing look and run your tongue along your bottom lip. “Because your dick’s telling a different story.”

Riddle sputters, embarrassed, and squeezes his thighs together. His hands fly to cover his lap. “That’s because you’re—” He gazes at the floor. “Because you’re so pretty…”

Temporarily thrown off course, you gape at him. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Gathering the remnants of your mask, you piece it together and laugh. “Not the first time I’ve heard someone describe it like that.”

“Not just your pussy.” Your gaze snaps to his. He smiles, impish. “I’m sure you know what I mean, Teacher.”

You exhale a short laugh. “Someone’s suddenly confident.”

Riddle rises from his seat. His fingers close around your wrist, gently pulling it away from your clit. He moves around the desk to stand in front of you and then, before you can comprehend his intentions, he’s pushing you down onto the desk. You yelp at the sudden change in position, your eyes blown wide when he presses his clothed hard-on against your bare pussy.

“You’re doing a poor job at dissuading me from wanting sex.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“Not in that outfit.” He grabs at the meat of your thighs and parts them. “If Mother knew you lied to her…”

You shake your head at him. “Please don’t tell her. I… I’m being serious. I need this money.”

“Desperately?”

Your lip curls into the beginning of a sneer. You hate feeling powerless more than anything, but the fiery glaze in his eyes is just as troubling. “I’m not going to beg.”

“I haven’t asked for that yet.”

You roll your eyes. “Not funny. I agreed to teach you about sex. We’re not actually doing it.”

“A shame.”

“You’ll find a nice girl at school. Don’t lose hope, mama’s boy. Lots of girls like the smart types who’ll give ’em a lecture on biology and stuff.”

“I think you misunderstand. I don’t want other girls.”

“Okay?”

“My mother’s paying for a tutor and I desire you, so unless you want to leave here as a lying cheat…” He hums, seeming awfully haughty to hold the only thing that tethers you to him above your head. “You need the money, right?”

“Yes. Sure, of course I do. But—” You shift on the desk, silently horrified when he rocks against you. “We can’t. Your mother—”

“Weren’t you the one saying I should live my life? That I have the freedom to do as I please?”

“That doesn’t mean—come on; listen to yourself. You can’t honestly think I’d fuck you.”

“No? And yet you came wearing this outfit, parading around the study with your pussy and tits out.” He glances past you at the window. “And you didn’t even bother to close the curtains… How brazen.”

Your attempt to jerk away from him is made in vain. He pins you down onto the desk, one hand squeezing your breast, while the other works to fish himself from his trousers. Now hard and leaking, his cock rests against your stomach. It’s not a terrible size. If anything, it’s perfect. Just right for your tastes.

“W-Wait! It’s not safe. You can’t—” You inhale sharply, bucking up towards his hand when he presses his thumb against your clit. Biting your lip, you fix him with a glower. “If you pay me… If you promise not to tell your mother—”

Riddle leans in close. “No one needs to know. No one but us.”

Your eyes flit about the room. With a withering sigh, you submit to his touch. “You’d better pull out in time.”

Riddle rolls his hips once and his cock drags along your folds. You hiss through your teeth at this new friction, a sinful delight more dizzying than any type of alcohol consumed in excess. “Do you want to be a mother?”

“What I want has nothing to do with you. I’m just—ooh—t-trying to survive. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, so don’t poke fun.”

Riddle hums, kneading your breast and rubbing you to the edge all at once. It’s so very obviously his first time, his zealous nature trumping any sort of experienced technique. It still does the trick, though, sending little bolts of pleasure up your spine.

“My mother wouldn’t just choose anyone. Her standards are very high.” His eyes flick to your face, drinking in your expression as it shifts with restrained bliss. “Somehow you’ve earned her approval.”

“Lying’ll do that.”

“Maybe.” His fingers replicate the motions you did earlier, though with a singular objective in mind. He’s so focused on succeeding in this endeavor that it makes him look so stiff. Under any other circumstances, you’d find it cute. “Mother always knows what’s best for me. Obviously you’ve met her criteria if she’s hired you.”

“Spoken like a true mama’s boy.” Seeing as this is now your unavoidable fate, you reach up to touch his shoulders. He jolts, his initial glare softening. You tamp down another giggle and massage up and along his arms. “Relax a little. Don’t rush so much.”

Or do. Let’s get this over with before your mother catches us.

Riddle traces two fingers along your labia. He’s quiet as he takes all of you in, and when he sinks three fingers into your gooey heat his breath catches in his throat. “Are you… D-Do you feel good?”

You reach for his unoccupied hand and guide it to your clit. Riddle understands the suggestion well enough, for he massages you slowly. Sucking in another breath, you nod at him.

“Not bad. You’re getting there.”

His neglected cock throbs at the praise, and so you wrap your fingers around it to give it the same amount of attention he’s currently giving you. Riddle grits his teeth at the contact.

“You can move your fingers. Don’t just focus on my clit.”

“Ah. Right. Of course,” he babbles dumbly, so swept up in everything that you are, so very eager to please.

You’re like a work of art pinned to his desk, a delicacy more forbidden than anything from the bakery. Sugary-sweet, adorned in skimpy ruche, you’re a temptation laid bare. Delicately, as if you might shatter, he curls his fingers to press up against your insides. Riddle watches you arch up towards him, your hand working his cock maddeningly slow and steady. It feels good—better than anything he could have ever imagined.

His eyes trail from your lips to your tits to your pussy stretched around his fingers. “Do you have any plans for this summer?”

The sudden question catches you off guard. You were expecting something related to sex, not whatever this new shred of curiosity is. Still, that doesn’t stop you from dragging him closer to the edge of ecstasy with every tug of your fist.

“Why?”

“I… I’d like to get to know you.”

“Me?”

“Of course. You’re more than a body to me.”

“How charming. I just—” You frown, unable to follow where he’s going with this. “Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Even though he says it like it’s a fact, he looks shy. “I want to know you.”

“Uh… Yeah… Okay.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not that… It’s just hard to imagine you having any girl friends.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and grinds his thumb into your clit. You bite back a whine as his fingers pump in and out of you. “Is that space open or closed?”

“You know which one.”

“You could be the one to close it.”

You meet his eyes then. For a short minute, the two of you hold each other’s stare. And then, breaking free from his hypnotic hold, you squeeze his length gently. He shudders, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“And what about you? You excited for your first year?”

“Mm, yeah,” he murmurs, rutting into your hand. His fingers spread you open, scissoring gently.

“Just make sure to take time for yourself. Have fun. Live.”

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you were at school—how’d you manage?”

“I never went.” He opens his mouth to interject, but you beat him to it. “Couldn’t afford it.”

“Oh…”

“It’s fine! I’ve got plenty of experience in other things. I don’t need school for that.”

Riddle doesn’t believe your feigned optimism for a second. “If you could’ve gone, what would you have studied?”

You release his cock from your hold and reach up to pull his glasses from his face. Gingerly, minding the fragile frames, you set them aside. You lift your index to your lips, effortlessly coy. “It’s a secret.”

Before he can protest, you tap the hand at your cunt next. Riddle’s fingers, wet and shiny, slide out with a slick squelch. “I think you can do it.”

“What?”

“Go to school and study what you want. I believe in you.”

A wooden laugh tumbles from your lips. “Thanks for the encouragement, mama’s boy.”

“I have a name, you know.”

You smile easily. “You want me to call you something else? How does ‘good boy’ sound?”

Even though he tries not to let it show, his cock betrays his reticence with a small twitch. He’s an open book. Not wanting to give you the satisfaction, he lines himself up instead. Your fingers slip down to spread yourself for him.

“S-Slowly…” you whisper, stumbling over your breath as the head of his cock presses inside. Shallow at first before more inches fill you.

Riddle heaves a shaky gasp, his eyes wide with amazement. “I… I’m inside you…”

“How’s it feel?” “Warm. Soft. Snug. R-Really good.” He bows his head and digs his fingers into your hips. You think he has a dozen more adjectives on the tip of his tongue, each one just as fluffy as the last. “D-Do you feel good? It doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m fine.” You wind your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Your hands come to rest upon his shoulders once more. “Move your hips.”

Riddle does just that. His pace is awkward and inexperienced, every motion unsteady and jerky, as he searches for the right rhythm. He falls into it surprisingly fast, and it isn’t long until he’s smoothly rutting into you. You grab at his shirt, your breath coming in reedy huffs.

“Good. You—haa—good. You’re doing good.” Praise pours from your lips like a waterfall, plentiful and refreshing. It invigorates him, fills him with a confidence that wasn’t there before.

The soft slap of skin on skin fills the room. You keep your voice in check, lest you lose yourself and alert Mrs. Rosehearts. Riddle seems to be doing the same, even though it’s obvious he’s struggling much more than you are. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress his groans.

“You can touch me,” you whisper, petting his cheek. He blinks at you, his face aflame with a bright blush.

Nervously, he reaches for you and then pauses. Contemplation passes over his features. “What feels better? I want you to—no. I will make sure you cum. I’ve studied it, actually. I know how long it takes.”

“Look at you, doing your research like a diligent student. You want extra credit?”

Riddle chuckles and pinches your clit between two fingers. The rest of your teasing tapers off into a lewd squeal. “What was that about extra credit?”

“You’re awfully bold for your first time.”

“I’m not clueless.” His hips press inwards, plastering you to the desk, and his cock brushes that special spot within—the spot that has you seeing stars, your every nerve tingling with pleasure. You choke around a delighted gasp. Riddle, feeling victorious,  places his hand against your stomach, as if searching to feel his cock thrust up inside you. “Will I see you again after this?”

“If your mother wants me to come back and give you another pointless lecture on celibacy and safe sex, sure.”

“No, not that. Outside of this.”

“Don’t you have friends you’d rather hang out with?”

“I…do.”

“So spend time with them.”

Riddle doesn’t dignify that with a retort. With the way his eyes gloss over, you wonder just how many of these friends are within physical distance. The conversation stalls out into silence.

“You’ll make lots of friends at school. So many you’ll probably forget all about me.”

Riddle yanks your hips to meet his, driving himself deeper into your pussy.

“A-And you’ll find a nice girl to love if you’re looking for that kinda thing.”

“I am,” he confesses, breathless. “I want to get married and—mmh—start a family one day… I want to study law—become a lawyer… Mother thinks medicine suits me, but I can’t agree. Law is fascinating. It’s a perfect fit for me. Far better than medicine.”

You drag your thumb over your mouth, wetting it with your lipgloss, and then press it to his lips. The indirect kiss sends a tidal wave of arousal over him, darkening the tips of his ears in striking vermillion. You offer him a gentle smile while he recovers from that devastating flirt.

“I’ll make sure to hire you as my lawyer if I ever get into legal trouble.”

“You’d better not!” He laughs and shakes his head in amused disbelief. “But if you do, I’ll be there for you. Always.”

“Thanks, Riddle.”

Maybe I judged him too harshly. He’s not so bad.

In that stuffy study, just as the late afternoon gives way to red-orange streaked across a purple-pink sky, Riddle fucks you against that desk in all manner of rhythms. It’s when he finally picks up speed that you realize he’s nearing his end. You mirror his enjoyment, strung along by titillating touches and whispered words drenched in sweetness. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve reached rapture alongside him, your pussy now brimming with cum. There’s so much it leaks out of your slick hole when he draws away, only to burrow his cock deeper to stuff it back inside.

The room reeks of sweat and sex. You think, if not your disheveled appearance, the smell will definitely tell Mrs. Rosehearts all she needs to know.

“I love you,” Riddle murmurs, and you’re about to ask him what he means—maybe he’s caught up in the moment and doesn’t realize what he’s saying—but then he lifts your legs up to fold you into a mating press. Coherent thoughts are knocked out of your head when he spills over, filling you up for the nth time that day. You shiver beneath him, eyes rolled back into your skull and tongue lolling out. You feel so stupid, fucked submissive by some inexperienced, upper middle class mama’s boy. Which isn’t even an insult with real heat to it, but in your hazy mind it’s all you can think of to describe him.

He grinds against you in the aftermath, panting from the exhilaration and adrenaline. 

“We need to…open the window,” you mutter, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

Riddle admires your fucked-out expression in his sex-drunk daze. He slides out just as he feels himself going flaccid. Cum drips onto the desk below. Briefly, you struggle to recall whether or not you took your birth control today.

Something to consider later. Definitely not right now when you’re still clinging to the vestiges of your orgasm.

— — —

Mrs. Rosehearts knocks on the door, opening it to find Riddle sitting at his desk, jotting notes and occasionally pushing his glasses up. You’re standing at the blackboard, writing a list of the consequences of unplanned pregnancies. The room smells pleasantly of roses.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

You gaze at her and smile, wearing the clothes you arrived in. Nothing’s amiss. It’s perfect—thankfully. “Welcome back, Mrs. Rosehearts. We’re just about finished here.”

“Is that right? I assume all went well?”

“Very well. Your son’s a fast learner. Extremely talented.”

“I would expect nothing less.” She withdraws an envelope and hands it to you. “Thank you again for explaining it in realistic terms. Of course I doubt that my Riddle will act senselessly while he’s away, but as his mother I’m prone to worrying. Boys his age are so easily influenced.”

“O-Of course! That’s a very valid concern.” You force a chuckle.

If only she knew.

“Your pay is in that envelope. Should I ever require your assistance again, I’ll be sure to call.”

“Right… Thank you.” You hold it close to your chest. “I’m happy to help.”

You follow her out the door. She pauses to address Riddle. “Do continue reviewing your notes. We’ll convene for dinner in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Mrs. Rosehearts walks you to the gate. “I wish you luck in your studies. If I don’t see you again at the clinic, have a pleasant summer.”

“Thank you. You as well.” You smile, fidgeting slightly. A bead of sweat tracks a path down your leg from between cum-spattered thighs.

Finally! With this I can pay my rent and still have enough for a treat from the bakery.

It’s worth it, or so you continue to tell yourself.

— — —

From the window, Riddle watches you make the walk to your car. He lifts his phone to fit you in the camera and snaps a secret photo. He continues to watch you until you’ve driven off and turned the corner, disappearing from his sight.

A tiny smile tugs at his lips.

Within his phone, put under a password lock, a special photo album exists. It’s filled with pictures taken from your social media—all of them. Every. Single. One. He’s resourceful when he wants to be. He can play the parody of a tech genius when he sets his sights on something.

And you’re just perfect.

[animeaandp]

MHA Prompt

.

.

“Need something..?”

You hesitate hearing the exhaustion in his voice; maybe this was a mistake. It’s the middle of the night but there’s no one else to turn to, so you try not to grip the doorknob too tightly or fumble your words. “I’m sorry, I know it’s past lights out and you’re busy…u-um…” Aizawa picks up the conflict in your voice and fully turns towards you. Dragging his hand over his face to wake up, he gives you his undivided attention. “No it’s alright. What do you need?” His voice had softened but it’s difficult to hold his eye contact. "I…If-.."

"...?"

"..If it’s not asking too much; may I sit in here? I swear not to distract you. Everyone else is asleep and, I don’t want to be alone right now...please.." Aizawa studies your face, noting the drained complexion with raw and puffy eyes, and understands that this isn’t a simple request. “Of course. Come in.” You close the door behind you “thank you” then hurriedly find a spot on the floor against the wall and curl into your knees. Aizawa watched your movements but left you to your devices and turned back to his work. Occasionally he steals a glance but you stay true to your word and don’t make a sound or move an inch.

Thankfully, being in his presence helps how you hoped it would. Every breath you take smells like him and knowing he’s here makes you feel safe, like nothing can hurt you now. Hopefully you’ll calm down enough to go back to your room soon. Aizawa sets his pencil down though, and comes to offer you his hand. “The bed is far more comfortable than the floor. Fresh sheets I promise.” You lift your head for a moment considering his words but “I’m okay right here. I’m imposing enough as is..” He smiles turning away, “you could never impose” and grabs a box of tissues to give you “but holding in whatever is troubling you this much.,.I don’t like that.”

“…”

You accept the tissues and your tears finally break free. "I’m sorry" you try hiding it as he takes a seat beside you. "It’s okay. It’s safe to cry here." He wraps an arm around your shoulder and welcomes you to let it all out. You wanted to stop but “I don’t know what’s wrong with me…I-I don’t know why I’m so sad all the time-but, I’m empty. I feel this ache when I’m alone and more and more when I’m not…it’s starting to scare me; I don’t know how to cope anymore…that’s why I came here. I needed to run away somewhere…I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do..” Aizawa's heart grows heavy with every confession and he holds you tighter. "Always run to me-always. Never let this fear talk you out of that. Understand.?"

“You have so much to deal with; I don’t want to become a burden. But, I appreciate all of this. I feel better.” He sighs and presses a kiss to the top of your head. This would take one step at a time, so tonight was plenty for step one; he'll let it go for now. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“…Can I stay until you’re done working?”

“Of course, get some rest.”

As the night goes on the atmosphere settles. The steady rhythm of Aizawa’s pen scratching against paper and his soft sighs of concentration creates soothing background noise. When he looks up again you’re fast asleep. He smiles and is careful not to make a sound walking over and crouching down in front of you. Little did you know he finished his work quite some time ago and was hoping this would happen before he ran out of paper to scribble over. His finger traces lazy circles over your cheek, drying the last of your tears. He shifts your body to rest in his arms “I won’t lose you to such nasty thoughts..” and carries you to his bed, then tucks you in. It felt like sleeping in a cloud and you curl into his pillow. He chuckles, “Is it really that comfortable?” Aizawa sorts the work on his desk then lays down himself, and after such a long day falls asleep easily. Hopefully you'd seek him out again the next time this happened, but maybe skip the floor, his knees weren't what they were.