#also. based from something fictional I’m just like

[swallowerofdharma]

Sorry, I failed to espress myself again. I was answering you but I was not trying to change your mind, just showing how I looked at things.

What I take issue with is the suggestion that readers who approach this story under a romantic lens would be distorting it into something it isn’t, which is what your original post appeared to suggest.

I didn’t say that tho. I made the new post to answer you on this and I am sorry I failed to clarify. I did say that the novel Lolita has been distorted into something else. And that made me think that with Saezuru we can have entirly different frames in mind as well. When talking about Saezuru I was then pointing at the arguments about consent because again, I am not trying to convince you to change your mind: the more you romanticize Doumeki’s intentions and problematicize Yashiro’s previous choices, the more you are shifting the scrutiny on the person who was at the bottom in that scene and who was asking to stop to the person who had taken charge. Stigmatization of Yashiro’s sexual past is the same as victim blaming. Without the romantic lens on, sex isn’t more morally acceptable if it’s gentle and the parts involved love each other, and if consent was revoked then it isn’t right in any case.

Frankly, I’m confused about why me holding the opinion that there is a lot of ambiguity about Yashiro’s consent in those chapters seems to be such a point of contention. I never argued that Yashiro gave any clear consent, nor that he has no right to object, I’m sorry but if that’s what you think that’s purely an assumption you’re making.

Please, don’t take it personally. I am purely looking at the arguments in the debate, not at who made them. I’m questioning the approach of analyzing in depth Yashiro and bringing all the attention to him instead of Doumeki in this case. That’s why I was talking about victim blaming: why you consider Yashiro a victim of his father first and of himself after, but you don’t consider him victimized by Doumeki too, which some of us do. Using Yashiro’s trauma or his past as arguments or putting responsability on him because he came on Doumeki first is taking away attention from Doumeki’s responsibilities and I don’t agree with that.

I like Saezuru because I like that Yashiro, a victim of domestic and prolongued CSA, is portrayed as a strong and independent adult, with problems sure, but not incapable. If you think that he can’t control himself or doesn’t know what he wants when he wants to have sex (which is not the case in every example given in the story), then you must think that maybe Doumeki could have had better control of his own sexual desires and could have waited. We are looking at the same pages, yet our emotional response is different. But at the end of the day, I look at the way Yoneda draws Yashiro after sex with Doumeki and he is always at a low point. To me, it seems that the point was to bring him to break, to experience a crisis. And I am having a hard time romanticizing it.

Personally, I refrain from conflating fiction with reality too much, because fiction doesn't operate under the same premises as reality; I believe to know what Yashiro actually wanted or didn't want based on my understanding of the story and in turn I base my opinion about chapters 23/24 on this belief.

The “I believe to know what Yashiro actually wanted” is a big theme in the manga as of the later chapters too. I find it interesting, because it is a possibility that this is Doumeki’s motivation now. And I am so very critical of it! Hugely critical of this approach, while also understanding that it is deliberate in the story.

In my analyses I will continue to be critical of things, and I can’t see that as a misuse of fiction. I am grateful that you took your time to read my arguments. This remains a place open to discussions as long as we are aware that romantic views about love and sex are not superior nor compulsory to read Saezuru.

Third to last page of ch 25: breaking the fourth wall

Following the discussion from here. Hoping you don’t mind if I make a new post so that the other one doesn’t become too heavy. I’m answering some lingering questions, but I am also saying that I won’t be dissuaded from treating this manga differently. As said recently*, Yoneda takes such care to give details and context to the story, that it is intriguing to look into things with analytical eyes and I can’t see the problem with it. For those who maybe feel like “the story isn’t that deep”, that is more offensive to the author tbh than to me or others in fandom who write commentaries. * @dragomfry said: “It makes our analyses of her work hold extra weight because there are things that she wants us to look for and derive meaning from (rather than us trying to derive meaning from nothing to begin with)”.

So to clear this first.

I can’t quite see why this story would be distorted into something it’s not intended to be if we approach it under a romantic lens.

I am not debating people for approaching the story romantically, but - because some troubling arguments were made about the recent poll - I will say this. Rape culture takes some arguments from romantic and patriarcal views to defend the aggressors and blame the victims instead: this isn’t romanticism’s fault, but the very fact should be at least taken into consideration. [More on this below**]. So several of the reflections I was writing about framing the manga as romance rather than literary realism were prompted by this issue. And reading your thoughts about the story, I can understand where we differ so much: and that is in how we view Doumeki especially, rather than the rest. Maybe you are not romanticizing Yashiro and his trauma, but you are especially romanticizing Doumeki. For example:

I allow myself to indulge in the romanticism of it all; both of them falling in love at first sight, depressed Yashiro finally finding someone who truly cares about him, Doumeki who doesn’t back down when Yashiro rejects him, Doumeki still having feelings for Yashiro even after he shot him in the leg and pretended not to remember him, etc. There’s so much in this story that’s blatantly romantic, almost corny.

There are many aspects of the manga that I do find realistic in it’s portrayal, such as the CSA, what I don’t find realistic, however, is the portrayal of love, the romance. I find it very idealised and romanticised for the most part (i.e the falling in love at first sight (I’ll get to that), Doumeki being Yashiro’s exact type, Doumeki happens to be impotent which allows Yashiro to develop feelings for him, the fact that Doumeki is completely accepting of everything Yashiro does regardless of how Yashiro treats him, the fact that Doumeki is still in love with Yashiro after he shot him the leg, maybe he even stayed in the Yakuza world just to be near him (although who knows why exactly he did that?) Idk maybe it’s just me but I find it very unrealistic. It’s this romantic idea of „there is this perfect person out there who accepts you just the way you are and you don’t have to do anything to keep them happy, you can even shoot them in the leg and they’ll still love you, they’ll stick around no matter what it takes to be with you“.

I can’t pick and choose what I want to romanticize or not, I have chosen to look at things differently, and I am keeping the same approach when looking at characterizarion. When I look at Doumeki, I see as many problems as those Yashiro has. He is the one depressed imo, at the beginning of the story, he is in much worse shape than Yashiro. Yashiro has a support network, Doumeki was isolated in prison and kept family away when he was released. Doumeki isn’t this strong and stoic person who is in love with Yashiro and is therefore shouldering a burden or enduring abuse in the name of love. I have been misunderstood before on this, but I want to say that I look at these characters without romanticizing either of them. I am not so much interested in looking at who is right or wrong, or to paint one character in a better light and bashing another: I want to understand their differences and how they came to be, how the relationship is affected by those differences. This is why I don’t take a shipper’s approach either, I am not solely focused in their relationship, but in the story as a whole.

There are several posts where I talked at lenght about these characters, because Yoneda gave a lot of backstory, and I encourage who may be interested in checking further. Doumeki has trouble facing or recognizing reality, until reality kicks him in the face, and that is happening to him since the nurse and Aoi. So he is only observing when it suits him. Yashiro established his emotional boundaries plenty of times, and Nanahara is there to corroborate and reinforce Yashiro’s prefereces. Here are some examples, and these are from volume one alone. It is a pretty clear situation, and Doumeki understood it.

I know that people are objecting to the very idea of framing Doumeki as the aggressor in this case, but the power dynamics had already shifted at that point when things went down in ch 24-25. It is the result of an escalation that sees Doumeki hiding his feelings and his arousal, and becoming more aggressive and unhinged towards others during the investigation into who ordered the hit on Yashiro. Yoneda was painstakingly building towards that scene, while also painting a bigger picture and external plot, and there are so many details that I haven’t even touched upon yet, but nothing is filler. And the parallels between Doumeki’s arousal and his violent behavior can’t be easily ignored.

Again, I feel quite powerless and unequipped to persuade those who already formed their opinion. But when given arguments in favor of dismissing Yashiro’s right to object or arguments that shift the focus away from the simple topic of consent, then I have to ask myself why this is happening. **Rape culture does play a role, and as I said, rape culture can and does weaponize some romantic ideas about love. Or against the autonomy of the person, against choice and so on.

I find it very important that Yoneda chose to put those words in the mouth of an ex-policeman, while dressed up as a policeman, and of another abusive detective with the police. Or the fact that Inami commented on Doumeki’s father building a career to cover up his crimes. See these statements from the Wikipedia page on rape culture:

With how difficult has become to search on the web for unbiased results, I am just giving the Wikipedia page not as a source of authority, but as a peer reviewed summary that provides a starting point for research and some bibliography on the subject. For example:

I want to add that I don’t agree with the way the article frames “men” as perpetrators and “women” as victims. That should be corrected and can be misleading. Men have been historically and consistently discouraged to speak up about being victims of rape themselves and often the law didn’t even consider them. And the gendered approach contributed to make so many victims invisibile. There is so much we have to learn.

Again, this post is solely for the purpose of answering arguments or points made directly to me about how we interpret the story in Saezuru. These are my observations and reflections, the links I see, and it is possible because these things are in the manga. And last, I love love-stories. But romance - especially romantic tropes, often reinforced by fandom shipping culture - don’t always equal love to me.

[ohitslen]

Will always remain confused as to why people will fight over ships as if we weren’t all wrong about them, except for the incredibly rare occasions where the ship becomes canon, and even then you should just mind your damn business because in all seriousness. Why wouldn’t you.

[theetherealbloom]

Don't Stop Talking To Me, And Maybe Stay Here Forever

Summary: You join Pedro Pascal in Morocco while he’s filming Gladiator 2. Between the beauty of the Moroccan landscape, the two of you share intimate moments, from quiet rooftop dinners to playful photo-taking and teasing with the cast.

Or… “I'll hold you, I'll know you. I'll never leave out the back door. And I'd love to complete you, hope you get all you could ask for.”

I just read your latest pedro fic it was the BEST DAMN THING i’ve ever read, my heart is going to burst out of my chest from all the butterflies 🦋🫠❤️ will you write more for pedro? perhaps his gf could visit him in marocco or something while he’s filming gladiator and to meet everyone from set and maybe have some alone quality time? :3 just a suggestion 😌 anyways have a lovely dayyy ^^ — anon

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Age-Gap(ish), TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Cuddling, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Social Media, Embarrassment, Teasing, Shower, Slight Nudity, Make Out Session, Celebrities

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Okay, so, we’ve all seen the photo dumps!??!! Yes! GREAT! I haven’t watched Gladiator 2 cause it isn’t out yet in my country, so there’ll be no spoilers here mhmhmhmhm. I’m just gonna make stuff up based on the pictures Pedro posted on his Instagram lol. And again, this is all made-up, fictional, self-indulgent vibes so pls no one come after me ahhhhhh T^T

Also lowkey, I can see multiple parts to this so… stay tuned.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: Packing It Up by Gracie Abrams, this is how you fall in love by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler

gif by @a7estrellas

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OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — DAY

The warm Moroccan breeze kissed your skin as you stepped onto the bustling set of Gladiator 2. Pedro’s laughter echoed from somewhere nearby, his distinct voice easy to pick out over the hum of activity. Your heart swelled just hearing it. He was always magnetic, but here—working, immersed in a world of creativity and camaraderie—he was luminous.  

You adjusted your sunglasses, feeling both excited and slightly anxious. Meeting Pedro’s castmates felt like stepping into his other life, one where you weren’t the center of his world but a welcome visitor orbiting it. He’d reassured you endlessly. “They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” But still, nerves lingered.  

“Mi amor!” Pedro’s voice cut through your thoughts. He emerged from behind a cluster of tents, his smile so wide it could eclipse the Moroccan sun.  

“Hey, stranger.” You grinned, letting him sweep you into a tight hug.  

He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, his arms still firmly around your waist. “You made it,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple.  

“Of course, I made it,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I missed you too much to stay away.”  

The day unfolded in bursts of joy.  

Pedro introduced you to Coco Ullrich, Paul Mescal, and the rest of the cast. Everyone was warm and welcoming, their teasing camaraderie quickly drawing you in. Pedro stayed close, his hand finding yours at every opportunity, like he couldn’t stand to be too far away.  

Later, you found yourself perched on a stool in the makeup trailer, Pedro sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. “Hold still,” you said, trying to fix his disheveled hair.  

Coco stood nearby, laughing as Pedro playfully swatted at your hands. “I’m serious, guapo! You’ll go out there looking like you just rolled out of bed.”  

“Maybe I did roll out of bed,” he quipped, grinning.  

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t, but if you keep squirming, I’m going to make sure you look like it.”  

Coco shook her head, still laughing. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”  

“I have my ways,” you said, giving Pedro a mock glare.  

Pedro leaned closer, his eyes softening. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours before you could stop him.  

“Pedro!” you protested, laughing as he pulled you into a full kiss, distracting you from your task.  

“Hopeless,” Coco muttered, snapping a quick photo of the moment.  

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — SUNSET

The Moroccan sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and rose as you, Pedro, and the cast settled onto the soft blankets laid out for an impromptu picnic. The sprawling desert seemed to stretch infinitely, its serene stillness a striking contrast to the chaotic energy of the set. A light breeze rustled through the palm trees in the distance, carrying the faint sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses.

Pedro sat behind you, his arms comfortably wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into his chest. His fingertips absentmindedly traced small, lazy circles on your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. It was a touch that grounded you, soothing and sweet, and yet it made your heart ache with affection.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder might shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.

Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “No, you’re perfect,” he said softly, his voice laced with adoration.

You turned your head to look at him, catching the warmth in his gaze. He looked at you like you hung the very stars above, and your cheeks flushed. “Cheesy,” you teased, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Honest,” he countered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. His nose nudged yours affectionately, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Paul Mescal, lounging nearby with a bottle of something cold in his hand, cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, lovebirds, can you save the smoldering for the cameras? Some of us are trying to enjoy the sunset without third-wheeling your Notebook audition.”

Coco Ullrich snorted from her spot on the blanket, where she was busy assembling a makeshift charcuterie board. “Please, Paul, don’t act like you’re not taking notes for your own love scenes.”

Paul shot her a deadpan look. “What’s there to take notes on? I’m already perfect.”

“Debatable,” Coco quipped, popping a grape into her mouth and grinning.  

Pedro chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back. “Paul, don’t be jealous. You already found someone who tolerates you.”  

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Paul said, gesturing between you and Pedro. “I’m inspired. The level of clinginess you two have achieved—it’s an art form.”  

“Clinginess?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.  

“Yes, clinginess,” Paul said, smirking. “He hasn’t let go of you since you got here. It’s like watching a koala in human form.”

Coco leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you think he’d survive a day without her?”  

“Doubtful,” Paul replied, his tone grave.  

Pedro shook his head, his arms tightening around you playfully. “Let them joke,” he said into your ear, his voice a low murmur. “They’re just bitter they don’t have their partners to hold them while they complain about the heat.”  

You turned your head slightly to whisper back, “I think they’re projecting.”  

Pedro laughed, loud and unabashed, and the sound sent warmth flooding through you.  

“Alright, enough roasting Pedro,” Coco said, waving her hands. “Let’s focus on the important stuff—like this cheese board I’m absolutely nailing.”

“Coco, you put a block of cheese next to some crackers,” Paul pointed out.  

“And yet, it’s still better than anything you’ve contributed,” she shot back.

You couldn’t help but laugh as they continued to bicker, the dynamic between the cast a perfect blend of teasing and genuine affection. It felt good to be a part of this world for a little while, to see Pedro in his element and to share these small, beautiful moments with the people who meant so much to him.  

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with deeper hues of crimson and violet, Pedro shifted slightly behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice meant just for you.

“I’m better than okay,” you said, turning your face to his. “This is one of those moments I’ll never forget.”

“Same,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “But mostly because you’re here.”

Paul groaned from across the blanket. “Seriously, someone hand me a bucket. I can’t handle this level of sap.”

“You’re just missing Gracie,” Coco teased, tossing a cracker at Paul with a sly grin.  

Paul caught it mid-air with a dramatic flourish. “She’s the love of my life, thank you very much. I’m thriving, just long-distance thriving.” His wide smile softened slightly, a dreamy look crossing his face.  

Pedro chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder as he held you closer. “See, even Paul can be romantic. It’s not just us being disgustingly in love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul said, waving him off, though the grin never left his face. “But you two are setting the bar impossibly high. Stop making the rest of us look bad.”

Coco shook her head with mock exasperation. “Let’s face it, no one can compete with Pedro’s clingy koala act.”  

“Hey, it’s not clingy if it’s mutual,” you chimed in, leaning back into Pedro’s embrace.  

“Exactly!” Pedro said, kissing the side of your neck for emphasis. “This is just... efficient affection.”  

“Efficient affection?” Coco repeated, laughing so hard she nearly knocked over the cheese board. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Pedro shrugged, utterly unbothered, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Don’t let them ruin this for us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you whispered back, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his jaw.  

The first stars began to dot the darkening sky, their glow faint but steady against the fading hues of gold and rose. The laughter of the group blended with the soothing whisper of the desert breeze, wrapping the evening in a cocoon of warmth and love.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers intertwining with Pedro’s. These moments—filled with jokes, tenderness, and the quiet magic of a Moroccan sunset—were the kind you knew you’d carry with you forever.

THE NEXT DAY

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – AFTERNOON  

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light over the sprawling desert set. The faint hum of activity outside the large tent provided a calming backdrop as you and Pedro sat together, stealing a moment away from the chaos of production.  

Pedro’s lap had become your designated resting place, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist as you leaned into him. You had been quietly chatting about the day—how stunning the desert looked on camera, how Paul had stolen one of Coco’s snacks during a break—when the warmth of the afternoon began to lull you both into sleep.  

His hand moved lazily up and down your back, the motion soothing as his voice grew quieter, more relaxed. “You know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “this might be my favorite part of the day.”  

“Falling asleep during work?” you teased, your voice soft and playful.  

“Falling asleep with you,” he corrected, his smile audible in his words.  

It wasn’t long before exhaustion claimed you both, your head tucked under his chin and his cheek resting against your hair. The quiet hum of the tent became a comforting cocoon, and time seemed to stretch and blur.  

The sound of muffled laughter stirred you from sleep, pulling you out of the warm haze. You blinked against the light, realizing you were still tucked into Pedro’s chest, his arms holding you close even as he began to wake.  

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice called. You turned your head to see Paul Mescal standing a few feet away, phone in hand, his grin wide and mischievous.  

Next to him, Coco Ullrich smirked as she aimed her phone at the two of you. “We’re documenting history here. You’ll thank us later.”  

Pedro stirred, squinting at them through his grogginess. “Seriously?” His voice was raspy, a mix of sleep and disbelief.  

Paul shrugged, grinning even wider as he showed Pedro the photo. “We couldn’t resist. Look at this. It’s like a promo poster for the most annoyingly sweet rom-com ever.”  

Pedro glanced at the photo, then at you, and laughed softly. “We should use that for the holiday cards this year.”  

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “This is so embarrassing. They’re never going to let us live this down.”  

Coco laughed, flipping through her photos. “Oh, it’s way too late for that. I’m sending this to the group chat and the PR team. They’ll love it.”  

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, your voice muffled against Pedro’s shirt.  

Paul tilted his head dramatically. “Why not? It’s just a little fun. Besides, you two are giving us all cavities with how sweet you are. We’re suffering.”  

Pedro smirked, holding you a little tighter. “You’re suffering? Sounds like a personal problem.”  

“Alright, alright, enough!” A gravelly voice interrupted, and you looked up to see Ridley Scott standing at the edge of the tent. His hands were on his hips, but the amused twinkle in his eye gave him away.  

“Ridley,” you started, your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m so sorry—”  

He held up a hand to stop you, his smirk growing. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I should thank you. Pedro’s been suspiciously well-behaved since you arrived. But,” he added with a pointed glance at Pedro, “if this keeps up, we’ll have to rename the film The Gladiator and the Muse. Production’s going to take twice as long.”  

The crew burst into laughter, and you buried your face back in Pedro’s chest, groaning. “This is officially the most embarrassing moment of my life.”  

Pedro chuckled, his hand brushing gently over your back. “Embarrassing? Nah. You’re the best thing about being here.”  

You peeked up at him, your cheeks still warm, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You mean that?”  

“Every word,” he said, his voice soft. “You make everything easier, better… you make it all worth it.”  

Your heart swelled, and a small smile broke through your embarrassment. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try to believe you.”  

“Believe me,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.  

Paul groaned, breaking the tender moment. “Someone get a camera crew. We’re turning this into a reality show. Lovebirds in the Desert.”  

Pedro laughed, finally standing and pulling you to your feet. “Careful, Paul. You might not survive the sequel.”  

Ridley clapped his hands, his voice carrying over the lingering laughter. “Alright, lovebirds, enough stalling. Let’s get back to work! Pedro, we’ve got a fight scene to shoot.”  

Pedro gave you one last reassuring smile before winking. “Don’t go far. I’ll need more luck soon.”  

You nodded, watching him head back to set, and felt a sense of warmth that no amount of teasing could dampen. As you stepped out of the tent, the desert sun shining overhead, you knew this moment—this strange, beautiful mix of chaos and love—was one you’d carry with you forever.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – EVENING  

The rooftop restaurant was like something out of a dream. Lanterns hung delicately from wrought iron fixtures, casting warm, flickering light over the table as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was cool but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden. Below, the city of Marrakech stretched out in an intricate maze of rooftops and twinkling lights, the hum of life soft and distant.  

Pedro had arranged everything, from the secluded corner table to the small vase of your favorite flowers waiting when you arrived. He always had a way of making even the simplest moments feel like magic.  

“Look at this view,” you murmured, leaning against the wrought iron railing as the sky turned from gold to a deep, dusky pink.  

Pedro stood close behind you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. “The view’s got nothing on you,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice balanced by the sincerity in his eyes.  

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to face him. “That’s a terrible line.”  

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning as he pulled out his phone. “But it’s true. Hold still.”  

Before you could protest, he snapped a photo, catching you mid-laugh as you tried to dodge the camera. “Pedro!” you groaned, your cheeks warming.  

He chuckled, looking at the photo with a self-satisfied smile. “Perfect. Might frame this one.”  

“Stop it,” you said, trying to grab the phone from him, but he held it out of reach, his grin only widening.  

“Never,” he replied, his free hand reaching across the table to take yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and his gaze softened. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”  

Your stomach fluttered at the way he said it—no teasing this time, just quiet, earnest affection.  

“Now you’re just being unfair,” you muttered, trying to hide your blush.  

Pedro leaned forward, his head tilting slightly as if to study you closer. “Not unfair. Just honest.”  

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was pounding. In a bid to regain some ground, you grabbed your own phone and quickly snapped a picture of him just as he brought your hand to his lips. The resulting photo was unfairly good—his lashes long, the lantern light catching the gold in his eyes, the softness in his expression making your chest ache.  

“Got you,” you said triumphantly, holding up the phone.  

Pedro laughed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again as he met your gaze. “Now we’re even?”  

“Now we’re even,” you confirmed, though your grin gave away how smug you felt.  

The waiter arrived with dessert just then—a delicate plate of Moroccan pastries accompanied by a small bowl of honey and almonds. You both leaned forward at the same time, reaching for the same pastry, and burst into laughter when your fingers brushed.  

“Go ahead,” Pedro said, gesturing gallantly.  

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, breaking off a piece of the pastry and dipping it into the honey. You held it up to his lips, your pulse skipping when he leaned in without hesitation.  

“Delicious,” he said, his voice low and warm. “But I think it tastes better coming from you.”  

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as you took a bite yourself. The flaky pastry melted on your tongue, its sweetness perfectly balanced by the honey.  

As you shared the dessert, your conversation drifted from playful teasing to the little things that filled your days. Pedro told you about a funny moment on set earlier when Paul had forgotten his lines and improvised something so absurd even Ridley couldn’t stop laughing.  

“And then,” Pedro continued, his grin infectious, “he tried to blame me, saying my face was too distracting.”  

“Well, he’s not wrong,” you teased, earning a dramatic roll of Pedro’s eyes.  

“Oh, so now you’re on his side?”  

“I’m on the side of the truth,” you said, popping an almond into your mouth.  

Pedro chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  

Your smile softened, and you leaned your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “Probably still charming everyone who crosses your path.”  

“Not like this,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. He reached across the table again, his fingers lacing with yours. “You make everything better. You make me better.”  

Your throat tightened at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words settling deep in your chest.  

“You do the same for me,” you said quietly.  

The soft music playing in the background faded into the hum of the city as the two of you sat there, the world narrowing to just this moment. Pedro brought your hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your joined hands on the table.  

As the night stretched on, the two of you continued to talk about everything and nothing—your favorite childhood memories, the places you wanted to visit together, the little quirks you loved about each other.  

When it was time to leave, Pedro stood and extended a hand to help you up. “One last picture before we go?” he asked, his phone already in hand.  

You nodded, letting him pull you into his side. The lanterns glowed softly behind you as he kissed your cheek just as the camera clicked.  

Looking at the photo, you smiled. It was perfect—just like this night, just like him. 

L’HÔTEL MARRAKECH, MOROCCO – EVENING

The golden hues of the evening sun had long faded, leaving the hotel suite illuminated only by the soft glow of warm, ambient lighting. Laughter filled the room, bubbling up between stolen glances and playful teasing. Pedro leaned against the edge of the plush sofa, his hand resting casually on his hip as you doubled over with giggles at another one of his overly dramatic impressions. 

“I’m just saying,” he said with a grin, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “If anyone here is getting an Oscar for Most Entertaining Human, it’s me.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at him lightly. “You? Entertaining? Please. You’re just lucky I think you’re cute.”

“Just cute?” he teased, his voice dropping into a low, mock-hurt murmur. He stepped closer, tilting his head. “That’s disappointing.”

And just like that, with no warning, he took your hand and spun you gently into his arms. There was no music, no sound but the faint rustle of the curtains and the muted hum of life outside your window. But to Pedro, there was no need for anything more. 

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, pulling you flush against him.

“Pedro,” you started to protest, but the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so unguarded—stole the words from your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid to let go. 

“You are the reason I can breathe,” he murmured. His voice cracked slightly, raw and unfiltered. “The reason I can survive.”

Your chest tightened, and your hands gripped the soft cotton of his shirt as you closed your eyes. Slowly, the two of you began to sway, side to side, as if the universe itself had orchestrated this silent melody just for you.

“Pedro,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words sank deep into your soul. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” He cut you off gently, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “I want to. You’re my safe place.”

Together, you moved as one, the world outside forgotten. The phones were switched off, the curtains drawn, and for a moment, it felt like time had ceased to exist. All that mattered was this—his arms around you, your head resting on his chest, and the way his heartbeat felt steady and strong beneath your cheek.

“What’s easy is right,” you whispered suddenly, echoing words your mother had once said. The truth of it struck you in that moment, how being with Pedro never felt like a choice—it was instinct. Like breathing. Like coming home. 

Pedro smiled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What’s easy is right,” he repeated softly. “Then I guess it’s easy to know... I’m going to love you forever.”

You laughed softly, though the lump in your throat made it difficult. “Forever’s a long time.”

He tilted your chin up, his warm, brown eyes crinkling at the corners with a quiet joy. “Not nearly long enough,” he said, his voice a low promise. “You’ll be my best friend until we’re old and gray. And even then, I’ll still love you.”

There was something in the way he said it—so simple, so sure—that your knees nearly gave out. But as always, Pedro was there, holding you steady, keeping you close. 

This is how you fall in love, you realized. Not in a blaze of fireworks, but in the quiet moments where you let go and they hold you up. 

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” Pedro said after a long silence, his voice filled with wonder. “You make my stomach ache with hope. You make my hands stop shaking. I wake up smiling now, and it’s because of you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “Pedro…”

“No, listen to me,” he insisted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Love isn’t supposed to be heavy. It’s not supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be this. Us. A safe place. A hand to hold through every storm.”

His words broke something open inside you, and you nodded, letting the tears spill over. “You’re my safe place too,” you whispered. “You make me believe I deserve this.”

Pedro pulled you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head as he swayed you gently. “You deserve everything,” he murmured. “Every laugh, every sunrise, every stupid little joke I’ll tell for the next fifty years.”

You both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the room. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment—this love that was soft, steady, and unshakable.

Right from your hips to your cuticles, you were everything to him, and he was everything to you. Wherever you both went, it was heaven. And neither of you ever wanted to leave. 

Steam filled the bathroom, the warmth clinging to the mirrors and wrapping around the two of you like a soft cocoon. Pedro stood under the cascade of water, droplets running down his broad shoulders and soaking his messy curls. His eyes flicked toward you, a tender smile tugging at his lips as you stepped closer, your fingers gently reaching for the shampoo bottle.  

“Turn around,” you said softly, motioning for him to face away from you.  

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, though there was a hint of shyness in his voice as he obeyed.  

You lathered the shampoo between your hands, your touch careful and affectionate as you worked it into his hair. His curls were soft and damp beneath your fingers, the grays glinting like silver in the dim light.  

“I love your hair,” you murmured, your voice reverent.  

Pedro let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, tilting his head back slightly. “The gray makes me look old.”  

You paused, your hands stilling in his hair as you leaned around to catch his gaze. “Stop that. It doesn’t make you look old; it makes you look distinguished. And I happen to love every single one of these.” You tugged playfully at a curl for emphasis.  

He gave you a sheepish look, his lips twitching as he fought back a pout. “You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me.”  

“Stuck with you?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “Oh, no, Pedro. I chose you—gray hair and all. And I’d choose you again. Every single day.”  

His pout softened into a smile, one so genuine it made your chest ache. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.  

“And you deserve it,” you countered firmly, finishing his hair with a rinse.  

When it was your turn, Pedro insisted on returning the favor, his hands gentle as he massaged the conditioner into your hair. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck as he marveled at you.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with sincerity.  

“Even covered in soap?” you teased, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.  

“Especially covered in soap,” he replied, leaning down to steal a kiss.  

The shower ended with a flurry of soft laughter and playful splashes, the two of you wrapped in towels as you padded into the bedroom. Pedro pulled on a pair of boxers while you slipped into one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.  

The two of you slipped into bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden light over the room. The air smelled faintly of the lavender lotion you’d rubbed on your hands, mingling with the subtle hint of Pedro’s cologne that still lingered on his skin. He had one arm draped lazily over your waist, his other hand holding a book he’d claimed to be interested in, though his wandering eyes betrayed him.

A book rested in your lap, too, but you’d long given up on reading. Instead, you could feel his gaze flickering to you, watching you more than the words on his page. It was endearing, the way he thought you wouldn’t notice, how he never grew tired of studying you like he’d never quite figure you out.  

“You’re not reading,” you finally accused, peeking at him over the edge of your book.  

Pedro grinned, unabashed. He set his book down on the nightstand and scooted closer, leaning his head on the pillow beside you. “Can you blame me?” he said, his voice soft and teasing. His hand reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “I’ve got the most beautiful view right here.”  

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the warmth rising in your cheeks, but the smile that stretched across your lips betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, nudging him lightly with your elbow.  

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with mock arrogance, leaning back against the headboard with a self-satisfied smirk.  

“Unfortunately for me,” you quipped, though your tone was dripping with affection.  

Pedro’s laugh filled the room, low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. You settled back into your spot, his arm tightening slightly around your waist, anchoring you to him. For a while, there was only the sound of pages turning and the occasional creak of the bed as one of you shifted.  

Eventually, the books were forgotten, abandoned on the nightstand as the room grew darker, the soft click of the lamp switch plunging you into the comforting glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains.  

Lying side by side, your head resting on Pedro’s chest, you let your fingers trace lazy patterns along the bare skin of his arm. But your mind wouldn’t quiet, and as the minutes stretched on, the thoughts bubbling inside you demanded to be voiced.  

“Okay, but really,” you began, your voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Why is ‘llama’ spelled with two L’s? Wouldn’t one be enough? It’s not like we say ‘Llama-la.’”  

Pedro let out a soft laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek. He tilted his head down to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile. “Mi amor, I adore you, but it’s almost midnight. Go to sleep.”  

“I can’t until I solve this mystery,” you said with mock determination, lifting your head to look at him.  

He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine. Maybe the second ‘L’ is there to confuse aliens.”  

You gasped, sitting up slightly. “That makes so much sense! Like, imagine aliens judging us for eating cereal with milk.”  

Pedro chuckled again, his arm tightening around you to keep you close. “Cereal with milk is sacred,” he said, his voice heavy with playful conviction. “If aliens have an issue with that, I’ll fight them myself.”  

You grinned, turning to prop yourself up on your elbow so you could face him fully. “Okay, serious question. If you could ask someone anything and be guaranteed the truth, who would it be?”  

Pedro cracked one eye open, his other hand lazily resting on your hip. “I’d ask you why you’re so determined to keep me awake,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile.  

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious!”  

“Alright, alright,” he relented, the mirth in his eyes softening as he considered your question. “I’d ask my third-grade teacher if she really lost my homework or if she just didn’t like me.”  

You burst out laughing, the sound muffled by the way you buried your face into his chest. “That’s what you’d waste your question on?”  

“Don’t judge me,” he said with mock indignation, his fingers trailing absent patterns on your back. “It’s haunted me for years.”  

Your laughter subsided into a warm giggle as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Fine. My turn. I’d ask my mom if she’s proud of me. Like… really proud. Not just the ‘I’m your mom, so I have to say it’ kind of proud.”  

Pedro’s hand stilled on your back, his gaze softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “She’s proud of you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “And so am I. Always.”  

The weight of his words wrapped around your heart, a comforting balm that eased the ache of self-doubt. You nuzzled closer, your fingers curling around his as you let the quiet stretch between you for a moment.  

Moments later, you broke the silence again, your voice a whisper in the dark. “When I was little, I thought my toys came alive when I wasn’t looking. Like Toy Story. Honestly, I still kinda think they do.”  

Pedro let out a deep laugh, his chest shaking beneath you as he pulled you even closer. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “Your stuffed bunny? Definitely a troublemaker.”  

You giggled, your heart feeling impossibly light as his hand returned to its slow, soothing patterns on your back.  

The conversation drifted into comfortable nonsense, the kind of midnight musings that didn’t need to make sense but brought a certain kind of intimacy only shared in the quiet hours of the night.  

Finally, as your eyelids grew heavy and your words faded into murmurs, Pedro pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice soft and steady.  

In his arms, with the world outside forgotten, you felt safe. Loved. His heartbeat was the only rhythm you needed as you drifted into sleep, a love like no other holding you steady through the night.

[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

[vanessagillings]

I’m posting the ever-so-rare photo of myself alongside one of my characters based on my childhood because today is World Autism Acceptance Day, and I wanted to show my little corner of the internet who this particular autistic person is:  

I was officially diagnosed in February, at age 38 (I’m now 39). A lot of people thought I couldn’t be autistic.  Some people who know me in real life still don’t.  And until around 10 years ago, I didn’t think I could be either, because I was nothing like the stereotype media portrays. I was told that autistics lacked empathy (untrue), and never played make-believe (also often untrue) and only enjoyed STEM.  I was — and am — an empathetic artist -- and make believe?  I can spend days sketching finely bedecked bears brewing tea or carefully choosing the right words to weave tapestries of fiction — though perhaps my hyper focus was a bit of a red flag.  Even so, how could autism describe me?  I was a good student.  I got straight A's. I didn’t act out in class.  I can make eye contact…if I must.  And lots of girls hate having their hair brushed with an unholy passion, right?  Clearly I swim in sarcasm like a fish, so autism couldn't be why I was so anxious all the time, could it?

If someone had told me when I was younger what autism ACTUALLY is — instead of the nonsense I’d seen on screens — I would have seen myself in it.  I didn’t hear that autistics have sensory issues until I was in my mid-twenties, which is when I first began to really research autism symptoms, and I had almost all of them:  sensitivity to light, smells, fabrics, temperatures, textures, and certain touches, all of which make me feel anxious, I fidget (stim), I never know what the hell to do with my hands or where to look, I talk too little or too much, I have special interests, I have entire animated movies memorized shot-by-shot and can remember the first time and place I saw every movie I've ever seen but I often forget what I'm trying to say mid-sentence, I echo movies and tv shows (my husband and I have a whole repertoire of shared echolalias, making up about 20% of our conversations), I was in speech therapy as a kid, I have issues with dysnomia and verbal fluency, I toe-walk, I can't multitask to save my life, I like things just-so, I’m deeply introverted but not shy, I need to recover from all social interaction — even social interaction I enjoy — and I find stupid, every day things like grocery shopping, driving and making appointments overwhelming and intensely stressful, sometimes to the point where I struggle to speak.  It turns out, I am definitely autistic. My results weren't borderline. Not even close. And while these aren’t all of my challenges, and not everyone with these symptoms is autistic, it’s definitely something to look into if you present with all of these things at once. 

So why did it take me so long to get diagnosed? The same bias that exists in media threads through the medical community as well, and because I'm a woman who can discuss the weather while smiling on cue, few people thought I was worth looking into. Even after I was fairly certain I was autistic, receiving an official diagnosis in the US is unnecessarily difficult and expensive, and in my case, completely uncovered by my insurance.  It cost me over $4000, and I could only afford it because my husband makes more money than I do as a freelance illustrator — a job I fell into largely because it didn’t require in-person work; like many autists, I have been chronically underemployed and underpaid, in part due to physical illness in my twenties, which is a topic for another day.  But it shouldn’t be like this.  It shouldn’t be so hard for adults to receive diagnoses and it shouldn’t be so hard for people to see themselves in this condition to begin with due to misinformation and stereotypes. Like many issues in America, these barriers are even higher for marginalized groups with multiple intersectionalities. 

It’s commonly said that if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.  This is why it’s called a spectrum, not because there’s a linear progression of severity (someone who appears to have low support needs like myself might need more than it seems, and vice versa), but because every autistic person has their own strengths and weaknesses, challenges and experiences, opinions and needs.  No two people on the spectrum present in the same way.  And that’s a good thing!  No way of being autistic is inherently any better than any other, and even if someone on the spectrum struggles with things I don’t — or can do things I can’t — doesn’t make them more or less deserving of respect and human dignity.

But speaking solely for myself, the more I learn about autism, the happier I am to be autistic.  I struggle to find words and exert fine motor control, but my deep passion and fixation has made me good at art and storytelling anyway.  I find more joy watching dogs and studying leaf shapes on my walks than most people do in an entire day.  More often than not, the barriers I’ve faced weren’t due to my autism directly, but due to society being overly rigid about what it considers a valid way of existing.  My hope in writing this today is that maybe one person will realize that autism isn’t what they thought — and that being different is not the same as being less than. My hope with my fiction is to give autistic children mirrors with which to see themselves, and everyone else windows through which to see us as we actually are.

If you’re interested in learning more about autism or think you might be autistic, too, I recommend the Autism Self Advocacy Network  autisticadvocacy.org and the following books:

What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic by Annie Kotowicz

We're Not Broken by Eric Garcia

Knowing Why edited by Elizabeth Bartmess

Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD

Loud Hands edited by Julia Bascom

Neurotribes by Steve Silberman

(trigger warning: the last two contain quite a lot of upsetting material involving institutionalized child abuse, but I think it’s important for people to know how often autistic children were — and are — abused simply for being neurodivergent).

Thanks for reading 💛

[beneathashadytree]

from the same authors of "do you think zayne cum is cold?" we also have: do you think xavier cum shine in the dark, or that he shines when he comes (like that blonde female character from the boys, that i forgot the name)?

I know you are only message fics for now and i dont know if something like this would fit that format, but if you can i would love to read anything about this ♡

I’m gonna be honest with you nonnie, I’m VERY out of touch with modern media (I’ve watched like. 4 series in my entire life and a total of like 20 movies all in all) so I have no idea what you’ve just referenced, BUTTTT I do believe I have an answer to your question!! Of course this is all based off my silly headcanons, so take my opinion with a grain of salt🙏🏽 Of course, this is pretty NSFW, and the reader is gender-neutral as always!

To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just my ramblings, or old requests I had🫶🏽

Tip jar!

Masterlist

Metaphorically speaking, Xavier’s cum is pretty much lighter fluid

In the sense that this man’s diet is absolutely disastrous… can a person even live on an almost-purely-carnivorous diet???

Naturally that makes his cum a lot more bitter than it normally would be, so unless his lover wants to choke on battery acid every time they swallow his cum, they ought to sit down with him and have a few serious conversations regarding sex vs food

Either he pulls out of their mouth before he cums when they’re sucking him off, or he gets a little more greens in him in order to improve his own taste… fair enough, I would think!

Xavier doesn’t really mind; after all, he’s still eating lots of red meat, he just now balances that out with more fruits and veggies… and he still gets the overwhelming pleasure of watching his partner swallow his release with a much more pleased hum than they ever did, their thumb reaching out to catch any drops that spill out of the corner of their mouth

It drives him half mad, but he guesses that’s a small price to pay

Now that we’ve got the metaphorical part out of the way, let’s get to this interesting point: does he, or does he not glow when he climaxes?

I wouldn’t say that his cum glows, because if it did, I think his other bodily fluids would too

From a fictional anatomical standpoint, I highly doubt that his lover wouldn’t notice if his saliva had a bit of a glow (something they’d surely notice while making out or having a hearty meal, for example)

So I do believe his cum is as normal as normal could be for a man like him

I do believe, though, since he’s not 100% human (or, at the very least, not from Earth) that doesn’t mean he’s fully normal

I think that he would have abnormally thick cum, and I would assume that that has to do with his biological make-up

Given how people from Philos lead extremely long lives (given Xavier’s age, I’d give them a lifespan of 500+), and given how literally none of the characters from Philos have any siblings, I think it would be safe to assume that their seed isn’t very potent to start with

So if a person will live half a millennium and be able to have just 1 kid their entire life, I do believe that their cum would be stickier and thicker in order to have a higher chance of “taking” by not spilling out immediately

So I honestly think that Xavier’s cum is genetically modified for breeding purposes

And regardless of whether or not his significant other has the ability to become pregnant and/or even wants it at all, his brain has him wired to have a bit of a breeding kink that he can’t even help

But of course, he’ll always listen to and respect his partner’s wishes!

One thing I’ve noticed about Xavier, however, is that his eyes tend to lose their shine when he’s being forward and open about his sexual desires

He’s putty in his lover’s hands, yes, but once he takes control? Those angel eyes have a very intentional purpose, and he’s making that message come across loud and clear

Like a turbulent ocean, deep and all-consuming, his gaze leaves no doubts about what he wants

Now, here’s my headcanon: I like to think that when he’s close, his eyes get their shine back; so much so that they would be mistaken for tears

Maybe it’s the emotional attachment to the person he’s yearned for all these years, maybe it’s because of his own EVOL making its appearance

But for some reason, as he begins to lose control, his eyes do shine quite a bit, almost like freshly-cut sparkling sapphires

It’s quite dazzling and a bit surprising to witness for the first time, since Xavier doesn’t usually exhibit non-human behavior

But it makes that seraphic face seem all the more otherworldly; the contrast between how beautiful he is and how downright filthy his actions can be when he’s buried to the hilt inside them makes their head spin

After he’s spilled inside them amidst soft sighs and sweet moans, his eyes do go back to normal after a few seconds of closing them in bliss, so they might miss it if they’re not paying close attention

Kind of hard to look away though, when your lover looks like that

Taglist: @verynormalsstuff @angry-and-yandere @nxx-jordiepord @honestlyjustablog @dawnbreakersgaze @tartartagliaboo @lucis-noctiana @riinari-sa @reika-desu @tikitsune @roll-of-royces @lemonsupernova @loveyoutodeep @belovedof @obiwanmcprobie @kalatipunan @eurekazz @bifedebruxa @thescribeswife @mysticangel123 @xenasolos @jvnluvr @dann-acalle @rin-sv14 @yololesgo @an-ever-angry-bi @semi-orangeapple @lavanderbliss @myturnwhen @winterlvod @carsonology @respitable @stellisangelicus-world @kvsqkiii @bitchynightmarepost @snoozeflare @spotted-salamander @cindywasneverhere @ladyparamount @sncrly0urs @huntersmoon1 @musiclover2119 @girl-who-lives-in-delusion @milktsukii @fromdeepspace-withlove @granddearduck @skriblobz @nadinefromwhere @imhere2dosomething @saerotonins @cantescapethevoid @teewritessmth @lovra974 @straykidz143 @reishuus @xinnn6 @vyntagei @bakahimesama (more in replies!)

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[rivkae-winters]

Edit: the app launched and Is down- I have the initial apology video in a post here and I’m working on getting a full archive of their TikTok up ASAP. I’m letting the rest of this post remain since I do still stand by most of it and also don’t like altering things already in circulation.

Warning for criticism and what I’d consider some harsh to outright mean words:

So I’ve just been made aware of the project known of as ‘lore.fm’ and I’m not a fan for multiple reasons. For one this ‘accessibility’ tool complicates the process of essentially just using a screen reader (something native to all I phones specifically because this is a proposed IOS app) in utterly needless and inaccessible ways. From what I have been seeing on Reddit they have been shielding themselves (or fans of the project have been defending them) with this claim of being an accessibility tool as well to which is infuriating for so many reasons.

I plan to make a longer post explaining why this is a terrible idea later but I’ll keep it short for tonight with my main three criticisms and a few extras:

1. Your service requires people to copy a url for a fic then open your app then paste it into your app and click a button then wait for your audio to be prepared to use. This is needlessly complicating a process that exists on IOS already and can be done IN BROWSER using an overlay that you can fully control the placement of.

2. This is potentially killing your own fandom if it catches on with the proposed target market of xreader smut enjoyers because of only needing the link as mentioned above. You don’t have to open a fic to get a link this the author may potentially not even get any hits much less any other feedback. At least when you download a pdf you leave a hit: the download button is on the page with the fic for a reason. Fandom is a self sustaining eco system and many authors get discouraged and post less/even stop writing all together if they get low interaction.

3. Maybe we shouldn’t put something marketed as turning smut fanfic into audio books on the IOS App Store right now. Maybe with KOSA that’s a bad idea? Just maybe? Sarcasm aside we could see fan fiction be under even more legal threat if minors use this to listen to the content we know they all consume via sites like ao3 (even if we ask them not to) and are caught with it. Auditory content has historically been considered much more obscene/inappropriate than written content: this is a recipe for a disaster and more internet regulations we are trying to avoid.

I also have many issues with the fact that this is obviously redistributing fanfiction (thus violating the copyright we hold over our words and our plots) and removing control the author should have over their content and digital footprint. Then there is the fact that even though the creator on TikTok SAYS you can email to have your fic ‘excluded’ based on the way the demo works (pasting a link) I’m gonna assume that’s just to cover her ass/is utter bullshit. I know that’s harsh but if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck it’s probably a duck.

I am all for women in stem- I’ve BEEN a woman in Stem- but this is not a cool girl boss moment. This is someone naive enough to think this will go over well at best or many other things (security risks especially) at worst.

In conclusion for tonight: I hope this person is a troll but there is enough hype and enough paid for web domains that I don’t think that’s the case. There are a litany of reasons every fanfic reader and writer should be against something like this existing and I’ll outline them all in several other posts later.

Do not email their opt out email address there is no saying what is actually happening with that data and it is simply not worth the risks it could bring up. I hate treating seemingly well meaning people like potential cyber criminals but I’ve seen enough shit by now that it’s better to be safe than sorry. You’re much safer just locking all your fics to account only. I haven’t yet but I may in the future if that is the only option.

If anyone wants a screen reader tutorial and a walk through of my free favorites as well as the native IOS screen reader I can post that later as well. Sorry for the heavy content I know it’s not my normal fare.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

Double Babysitter - Hozier x fem! reader

Summary: You and Andrew end up with the tough task of babysitting your friend's child together.

Word Count: 6,325

Author’s Note: hi hi hi!!!! this is my first real fanfic, i’ve written little things here or there but this is the only full fic i’ve written. shoutout to the wonderful @deprivedmusicaljunkie for beta reading this, im so grateful for u! this is based on the Bluey episode Double Babysitter, it's not required watching but if you want to watch it to understand the fic better you can. i hope you enjoy!!!

ALSO: I do not know Hozier in real life, nor do i claim to. This is a fictionalized (ish) version of him. All other characters featured are fictional. Now, enjoy!

fic under the cut <3

Andrew was always vaguely aware of the fact that he was getting older. He had spotted the occasional gray patch in his stubble, noticed a faint wrinkle somewhere on his face. He even felt his back ache every now and again, but he had always brushed it off.

It wasn't until he had been asked by an old friend from college to babysit his daughter that he can say he actually felt old.

Of course, he wasn't complaining. He had met the young girl only a few times, but to say she held a special place in his heart would be an understatement. He had just finished up the last leg of his tour, so he had all the time in the world back at home. And he did owe Liam and Quinn, her parents, a favor. They deserved to have a night out just the two of them; watching their daughter was the least he could do.

He took this responsibility very seriously. He was even on time, arriving at 6pm on the dot, as instructed (given, it was only because he told himself he had to be there at 5:30).

He walked up to their doorstep, gave their door a few light knocks, and stepped back. It took a moment, but he could hear his friend’s voice call for Quinn through the door before watching it unlock. Liam opened the door with a puzzled expression that had Andrew wondering if he somehow showed up on the wrong day.

“Andrew, you're here… on time? Are you feeling okay?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” He replied sarcastically, accompanied by an eye roll. They greeted each other, Liam widened the door, and Andrew stepped inside.

“Honey, the babysitter’s here!” Liam shouted up the staircase. Quinn quickly emerged with open arms and gave Andrew a quick squeeze once she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Andrew! It's great to see you. How long has it been?” She asked.

“About… six months, I’d say. The week before I left for the States.”

“That's much too long. We need to actually go out sometime soon.”

They spent a few minutes standing around and catching up, swapping stories about their jobs (including a concert story or two). It gave Andrew a moment to appreciate these smaller, mundane moments that seemed to slowly be becoming a rarity. He was mid-sentence when he was caught off guard by the pitter-patter of small footsteps rushing towards him.

“Uncle Andy!” He glanced down, finding a little girl already latched on to his leg; Katie, the reason he’d been asked to babysit. He reached down to pat her head, ruffling the little one’s hair.

“Hey there, lass! How are you?”

A muffled noise that sounded something like ‘I’m good’ came from the girl as she buried her face in his leg.

His sentence was cut off at the sound of another knock at the door.

“That's odd. I don't think I’m expecting anyone-” Quinn started, interrupted by Liam opening the door to find you standing on their front step. You didn’t even notice the surprised looks on everyone’s faces as you entered, blindsided by your excitement.

“Hey,” you said, giving Liam a side hug before moving on to Quinn and doing the same. Katie let go of Andrew’s leg and rushed over to you, joyfully screaming your name. A wide grin grew on your face at the sight of her, and Andrew couldn’t help but notice how beautiful your smile was. He immediately snapped himself out of it once he realized he had no idea who you were, let alone what you were even doing here.

“Hi, Katie Cat!” you exclaimed. He watched as you pulled her into an embrace, not noticing his presence until you pulled away. You looked up at him, your gaze meeting his, smile fading in awe.

“Y/N, this is my Uncle Andy,” Katie explained as she held on to your hand, quickly dragging you towards him until there was maybe a foot between you two before pointing upwards. A thought flashed across Andrew’s mind: Is this five-year-old playing matchmaker?

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Have you met my friend Andrew before?” Liam asked.

“You do seem familiar. Didn’t you get drunk and sing Take Me To Church at the wedding?”

“Probably.”

“Oh my god, Y/N, I am so sorry. I think I double-booked myself and accidentally asked both of you to watch Katie,” Quinn admitted. “Again, so sorry. My head’s been all over the place today.”

“It’s alright. He got here first. I’ll just go, then. Leave you to it,” you decided, admittedly a little disappointed but understanding the whole scenario. You took a step back, turning to go before a small hand grabbed yours, stopping you in your tracks.

“Don't go! You can both stay.” Katie begged, puppy dog eyes in full effect. It's like she knew exactly how to tug on your heartstrings, because after that you were willing to stay for as long as she wanted. But you still needed permission.

“I mean, as long as it's okay with… Uncle Andy.”

Andrew gave you a nod, perhaps a bit too quickly. He couldn't tell if it was because he already knew he was going to need help with this, or because he simply wanted to be in your company. Either way, both were true.

“Two babysitters it is.” He conceded.

“Hooray!” She yelled, latching herself onto your leg as she had done to Andrew's just moments before. You looked down at her, a warm smile returning to your face, before looking back up at him. All three of you could tell this was going to be… an interesting night, to say the least.

Before they left, Liam and Quinn had given you two very lenient instructions. All you had to do was put Katie to bed by 8:30 and watch the house until they got home around 10. Everything else was fair game. Easy enough of a job for two grown adults. However, the way that your night started at their kitchen table made you wonder if perhaps their rules were too permissive.

You were sat across from each other, you and Andrew on the same side, Katie on the other. It oddly felt like you were being interrogated by this small child. Which, after offering a game of 20 questions so you could get to know each other better, wasn't exactly far off from reality.

“Why do I feel like she's going to ask me why I was at the scene of the crime?” he asked you in a whisper, leaning towards you. Andrew swore he could feel his heart skip a beat as you chuckled at his remark, and he was relieved as you revealed you felt the same.

“The real question is, is she Good Cop or Bad Cop?” You replied in the same hushed tone.

“Oh, bad cop. I’ve done this with her before, and when she wants to know something she’ll badger you until she gets an answer.”

“Perfect. She can be my lawyer in about twenty years.”

That elicited a laugh out of Andrew, a small chuckle that caught Katie’s attention.

“What's funny?” She asked, genuinely feeling like she missed out on your conversation.

“It's nothing.” You changed the subject to convince her it was inconsequential. “Why don't we get started? Ask us anything,” you instructed, regretting the words as soon as they left your mouth, mostly because of the next words that came out of Katie’s.

“Why don't you have a wife?” She turned to Andrew, whose mouth was now agape. Your own eyes had widened, shocked by the boldness of her first question before remembering she is a little girl that hadn't yet developed a filter.

“You haven't seen me in a while. How do you know I don't?” He retorted, a lazy attempt at deflecting the question.

“Do you have a wife?”

“Well, no…”

“Then why don't you have a wife?”

“Ehm… I think it's her turn.” He tilted his head in your direction. Katie agreed with a nod and thought for a beat. Once she formulated her question, her attention turned to you.

"How many friends do you have?”

“God, I don't know… four? Five?”

“That's not a lot. Why do you only have five friends?”

“Good question… back to him!”

Katie turned.

“How come I don’t see you often?”

“Because usually I’m on tour.”

“Is that why you don’t have a wife?”

“Huh. Maybe.”

“Do you want to get married?”

“Yes,” you both said. You exchanged a glance, surprised you both had the same answer. The girl across the table was oblivious to this small moment you shared, and immediately went back to her questioning.

“Will Tommy be the husband?” Katie leaned across the table, an excited gleam in her eye.

Tommy. Your ex. Last time Katie had seen you, you two were in love, almost madly. However, a lot can happen in four months, and you found yourself having to explain a breakup (a particularly messy one, at that) to this naive girl. You let out a sigh.

“No. Me and Thomas… we aren't really friends anymore”

“But you said he was your true love.”

“Not anymore! Next question. Please.”

“True love is forever. Is true love not forever?”

“It is! It is.”

“Then how come you and Tommy aren't friends?”

“Well, Tommy — Thomas,” you corrected yourself before continuing, your words stunted, “and I weren't as good together as we thought. It took longer than it should've to realize, but we couldn't work. Kind of like when you’re doing a puzzle, and it looks like two pieces fit, but when you try to put them together, they don't.”

It was like you could watch the gears turn in Katie’s little head; she was trying as hard as she could to imagine your comparison. Meanwhile, Andrew was watching you as you thought, mentally praising you for not only putting into words something obviously painful for you, but explaining in terms a kid could understand. Despite the supposed ‘way with words’ he had, he knew it would take him several tries and multiple rough drafts to do the same. He let you continue, his eyes never leaving your face.

“It’s just sometimes, you think someone is your true love, when actually they’re not. Sometimes some things aren't meant to be. And that’s okay. No matter how sad it makes the both of you afterwards, or how upset you get…”

Your sentence trailed off, your throat closing up with that all-too-familiar feeling you recognized immediately. All of this had happened months ago; the breakup between you and Thomas had devastated you of course, but you had recovered. But having to explain the complicated events between you two in such a straightforward way, to put all the emotions you felt into simple terms, made it all seem real. And it only made those feelings resurface.

Andrew could tell something was off. He, of course, had no idea about this past relationship, and frankly, it was none of his business. What was his business, however, was how you looked like you were about to cry, how he could see the tears in your eyes welling up. He wasn't about to let you shed a tear over this. So, he attempted a diversion.

“Alright, I think we're done playing 20 questions. How about a movie?” He stood up, a feigned smile on his face. Your eyes lit up at his suggestion and you stood up after him, following suit.

“You know what? Good idea. Katie, why don’t you go find something to watch with Andrew and I’ll make popcorn, get some snacks ready?”

For a moment you worried she wouldn’t comply and more innocently personal questions would be coming your way. However, Katie didn't seem to mind this interjection, immediately agreeing and hurrying over to the living room to find the TV remote.

You both watched as she scurried away before looking back at each other eyes meeting for the first time that night. A few seconds were spent just staring into his eyes, noticing how very green they were. This captivation distracted you from the awkward silence that filled the air between you. You broke eye contact first, stepping around your chair and pushing it in. You walked into the kitchen, the footsteps you heard behind you letting you know he followed you. You didn't speak until you knew Katie would be out of earshot.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely.

“No problem. I completely get it.”

“Jesus, my first babysitting gig and I almost cried. At this rate, I’ll have to go back to selling lemonade to make ends meet.”

He let out a laugh, and the sight of it made a smile tug at the corner of your lips, though you couldn't shake the feeling you looked a bit… pathetic.

“ You probably think I’m a loser, huh?”

“No! No, absolutely not. Love, breakups, endings … dealing with that stuff isn't easy. If I thought it was, I wouldn't write songs on the matter for a living. Having to explain it to a kid without crushing her dreams is even harder. If anything, I commend you for it.”

For a reason you couldn't immediately explain, his praise actually managed lighten your mood, to the point where you had to suppress the urge to grin from ear to ear.

“What is it?” Andrew asked, as if to tell you your smile hadn't gone unnoticed.

“That was… just really nice of you to say.”

“I mean, it's true.”

The room filled with silence for a moment before you broke it.

“Do you think we could just forget that the whole thing ever happened and get on with the night?”

“Absolutely. It's forgotten,” he agreed, borderline erasing it from his memory as soon as you asked. His attention shifted as he yelled into the other room.

“Katie, have you ever seen The Princess Bride?”

Andrew went off into the living room, following Katie, and a smile grew on your face as you looked through the pantry for microwave popcorn.

It took a solid ten minutes of searching due to the plethora of streaming services Liam and Quinn had, but you finally found The Princess Bride. Katie brought down some blankets from her room in the meantime. Given, because they came from a six-year-old’s bedroom, they were patterned with Disney characters and unicorns, but they were comfortable all the same. You sat on opposite sides of the couch, a bowl of popcorn equidistant between the both of you, and for a reason only her little brain could rationalize, Katie was sitting on the floor.

You looked at the screen in awe like it was your first time watching, when in actuality you’d seen the movie more times than you could count. You mouthed the words of the most famous lines, almost subconsciously, as to not disturb the little one’s first viewing experience. Of course, you also snuck a few glances at Andrew when the screen held less of your attention. Okay, maybe more than a few glances. It was the first time that night you both could actually relax, and you took the moment to size him up. His hair, which was up in a man-bun at the beginning of the night, had since been let down, brown curls now loosely framing his face. He wore a white sweatshirt and black jeans. On his feet were white Converse that were clearly well-loved, to say the least. Despite how casual it all was, he really pulled it off. It almost made you wish you could raid his closet, see what other unexpectedly stylish clothes he had in his possession, maybe steal a sweater on the way out.

Oddly enough, it felt natural, being this comfortable on opposite sides of the couch with a man that might as well be a stranger. It’s almost like you wouldn’t mind if this was your house, your television, your kid-

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the clapping you heard from Katie’s spot on the floor as the credits rolled.

“So what did you think?” Andrew asked. Katie’s gaze broke from the screen to look at him.

“I wanna watch it again!”

“You can watch it again another time with mum and dad.”

“I want to watch it now!”

“Katie, the movie’s over, and it's 8 at night. Get upstairs, put on your pajamas, and brush your teeth.” He scolded as he got up from his spot on the couch. He bent down, resting his hands on his knees.

“I said I wanna watch it again!”

“It's getting late, you have to get ready for-”

“Again! Again! Again!” She stomped. You knew she was bound to have a tantrum any second now. Something that, judging by the concerned on his face, Andrew had no idea how to handle. It seemed like it was your turn to come to the rescue.

You got up from your seat, walking over to Andrew to stand by his side (figuratively and literally).

“Could you help me out here?” He asked, his frustration with her slowly growing.

“Watch and learn.”

You turned to Katie and crouched down to be on her level.

“Do you want to play a game?”

She didn't give a verbal answer, but based on her frown immediately disappearing and her head nodding so rapidly you thought it might fall off, you could assume what she would say. You thought for a moment before continuing.

“All you have to do to play is go upstairs and do everything you would usually do right before you go to bed. I’m going to set a timer, and if you’ve done everything and you're in bed before the timer, you win. Got the rules?”

“Yep!” She squeaked, her excitement evident.

“Alright. Ready… set… go!”

She quickly ran out of the living room and up the stairs, leaving the two of you left stunned for a moment. You both got up from your crouching, and you craned your neck upward to be met with, to your surprise, a look of amazement from Andrew.

“I swear, you must be magic.”

You deflected his praise almost immediately.

“Please, I’m not even close to being magic. I just know that kids will do anything if you turn it into a game.”

“Which is a level of sorcery that I can only wish to achieve!”

“If we end up babysitting again, you can always become my apprentice.”

“Offering a second date already?”

You knew he was teasing, but the romantic suggestion was enough to make your heart pound in your chest. You responded the only way you knew how.

“Shut up…”

You bantered and talked, taking advantage of the very little time you had to try and get to know each other (past the deep secrets you already knew from Katie’s questions). Your conversation immediately felt as if you knew each other for years, not hours. There was almost a click to it; the back and forth between the two of you happened easily, naturally. But, like all things, it couldn't last forever. After about ten minutes, a small voice yelled from up the stairs:

“I’m done!”

“We’ve been summoned.” Andrew stated.

He started walking towards the staircase, and nodded his head to tell you to come along. You caught up to him with no hesitation.

Andrew opened the door to Katie’s room and took a look around. It was as messy as one expects a five-year-old’s bedroom to be. Toys, anything from fake jewelry to Barbies, were scattered across the floor. Her drawings, mostly scribbles of rainbows and cartoons and her family, hung on her wall. Stuffed animals and fuzzy blankets were contained in a chest in the foot of her bed. After a moment, he held the door wider, giving you room to walk inside. You thanked him and walked over to the side of Katies bed. A bit unsure of what to do, Andrew stood behind you as you talked to Katie.

It was as messy as one expects a five-year-old’s bedroom to be. Toys, anything from fake jewelry

“Hey, you tricked me!”

“Yeah, I did. But now that you're all ready for bed and tucked in, aren't you tired?”

“I guess,” she started, a yawn interrupting her thought, “I am.”

“Then it's time for you to go to bed. Good night Katie Cat.”

You leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead before Katie let out a yelp.

“Wait! I can’t go to bed yet. I need a story.” She whined. “Mum and dad tell me a story every night before bed. I can't sleep without it.”

“What do you want it to be about?”

“Can it be about a princess? Like the movie?”

“Sure. Well, there was-”

“It needs to start with ‘once upon a time’.”

“Does it really have to?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then,” you conceded, knowing as much as you wanted to protest, she wouldn't let it go.“Once upon a time, there was a princess… that was trapped in a tower… guarded by a dragon.”

“Wow, that’s never been done before,” you heard him whisper behind you. You looked over your shoulder and shot him a small look of disapproval.

“Well, to her it's original. Just go with it,” you chided before continuing.

“As I was saying, there was a princess trapped in a tower. And there was a prince,” you turned behind you again, mouthing ‘that's you’ to the man behind you, “that was trying to rescue her.”

“Can I be the dragon?” Katie asked eagerly.

“Whatever you want, dear.” You replied, giving her approval. Katie let out a roar and, shockingly, Andrew got into character, already miming holding a sword and shield.

“Hello, Ms. Dragon. Listen, I have to slay you. I’m not happy about it either. It's the only way to save the princess.”

He gave you a quick glance, one you would've missed if you had blinked in the wrong moment. He returned his focus to ‘the dragon’.

“I usually am a pacifist, so I truly hate to do this, but I must…”

He faked a lunge towards her and began to tickle her, making both of them double over in laughter. You attempted to engrave the memory into your mind in fear that you would never experience a moment as heartwarming as this one again. He gave up after thirty seconds, standing up again.

“And just like that, the dragon was defeated!” You announced.

“Now the princess needs to marry the prince!” Katie yelled, almost commanded.

“What?” Andrew asked, more confused than opposed. Katie only gave him a disapproving look, which was enough to make him comply.

He knelt down on one knee and scoured the ground for something that had caught his eye before: a toy ring. He snatched it off her messy floor and held it towards you in an extended hand.

“Princess, I have rescued you from the dragon. Now, should you say yes, I would like to have you as my wife.”

This wasn't necessarily the most romantic moment of your life, but for some reason, it definitely made the list. A fact that was a bit pitiful, sure, but still very true. Which was exactly why you- technically, the princess- needed to take the story in an alternate direction. It was a personal way to protect your ego.

“And the princess said… no thanks.” Surely that would save your self-esteem from his imaginary judgment. To your surprise, it did the opposite. His brows furrowed in confusion, and his smile dropped.

“What? Why wouldn't the princess want to marry the prince?” He asked, trying to give you a look as if to tell you to just go with it. You, of course, got the message, but decided to lean more into your own narrative.

“She didn’t like the look of him.” Lie. But one that kept the girl entertained, her laughs growing louder.

“Why not?” Andrew couldn’t help but feel just a little offended, even though he knew everything you were saying was intended lightheartedly, the real purpose being to entertain the girl.

“Well, he was a bit lanky, for starts.”

“That’s not exactly something the prince can control. You have to cut him some slack there.”

“And his hair was better than hers! It was beautiful. All long and curly and fluffy. The princess simply wasn’t having it.”

“Wait, you think my hair is-.”

“And to top it all off, he was tall! Very tall. She’d have to go on her tiptoes just to kiss him, which, honestly Katie, gets very inconvenient.”

Andrew was about to counter, the words on the tip of his tongue, but stopped himself upon hearing the fits of giggles escaping Katie. He decided to let the moment be, taking in both your and Katie’s smiles from this new perspective.

You turned, your face showing your feigned contemplation. For a brief moment, you enjoyed the fact this might be the only time you'll be taller than him. A sigh escaped your lips and your eyes rolled, but you couldn't hide the smile on your face.

“I guess the princess could try and give the prince a chance.”

He looked back up at you, giving you a sheepish grin.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He took your hand and carefully placed the ring on your finger, as gentle as he would be if it was made of diamond and not plastic. His calloused fingers wrapped around your hand, undoubtedly hardened by all the guitar he’d played over the years. The feeling of his hands on yours, him looking up at you, the way his eyes were staring into yours with such admiration, it all almost felt like a real proposal. Not one that came after slaying a dragon, but after years of knowing and loving each other. One that came before celebratory kisses and preparing for a wedding. One that made your heart stir and your mind wander, only stopped when you heard him mutter something.

“You kinda have to finish the story.”

Right. The story. His words snapped you out of your deep thought, and you blinked a few times as you focused back on reality and not what you’d made up in your head about the man you'd only known for about two hours. The gorgeous, tall, kind, funny man you had only known for two hours. You cleared your throat.

“So, the princess finally said yes to him. And then they got married and they all lived happily ever after!”

You took a bow, as if you had just finished up a broadway worthy performance. Andrew, however, stayed in his spot on the floor still kneeling, something you only noticed when you looked up to smile at him to find empty space where you expected his head to be. You looked down at him and whispered.

“You can get up now, you know.”

“Oh. Right.”

He got up and did his own small bow before making an announcement.

“Alright, story’s over. Time to go to sleep.”

Though she had enjoyed it, by the end of your story (performance?) Katie's eyes were already drooping, so she had no more hostility towards going to bed. You walked over and stood on the left side of her bed, Andrew on the right.

“Goodnight, Katie-Cat. Sweet dreams.” You said softly before placing a small kiss on her forehead. He quickly did the same, placing a kiss on her forehead as well.

“Goodnight, Katie. Sleep well.”

He paused for a moment before adding on something you hadn't expected.

“I love you.”

As if your heart couldn't melt any more.

“Love you too, Uncle Andy.” She mumbled before making herself comfortable, snuggling up under her blanket; it was almost a signal for you to leave the room. You both obeyed, walking towards her door frame. You flipped the light switch, leaving the room in darkness, and closed her door behind you both.

You hated to admit it, but a smile grew on both of your faces.

Unsure of how to celebrate (a handshake was too formal, a high-five was too loud), after an awkward rotation of gestures, you settled on a fist bump.

Does fist-bumping a man ten minutes after calling his hair beautiful count as mixed signals?

“We did it!” You whisper-shouted after your small celebration. Andrew's tone mirrored yours as he spoke.

“Jesus, is this what being a parent feels like?”

“I hope not. No offense to you, but I’m miserable.”

“Oh no, the pounding headache’s got to you too?”

“That and the back pain from all the crouching over.”

“At times I could feel my hair turning gray.”

“What I’m hearing is that you could also go for a cup of tea right about now.”

“That's exactly correct. However, this isn't our house, which means it's not our place to make tea.”

“It can be if you give me two minutes.”

You shot Quinn a quick text to ask.

hey. is it alright if me and andrew make some tea? I know you said we could do whatever but i feel bad if you're not home.

It took a minute, but Quinn replied.

i trust you both so much i’d let you cook a three-course meal without me home. go ahead and brew your tea.

“Well, we’ve got Quinn’s approval.”

You showed him the text, and he let out a soft chuckle, nodding. You both headed down the stairs as quickly (and quietly) as possible.

You returned to the kitchen and began to look for teabags while Andrew looked for a kettle. You didn’t dare to make a mess, so you both just closed and opened drawers until you found exactly what you needed. He filled the kettle and placed it on the stove while you made the hard decision between chamomile and earl grey; you immediately made your decision when he made a comment about chamomile being his favorite.

You leaned on opposite sides of the counter, the stove between the two of you. After a minute you fell into a silence that was comfortable, but unwanted. It was the first time that night you had the freedom of being alone now that Katie was fast asleep, yet you had no idea what to do with yourselves. Biting at your lower lip, you thought of something to say.

“Hey, we did a pretty good job being her court jesters for the night.” You finally commented. Andrew nodded his head before jokingly correcting your statement.

“More accurately, we did a good job being her prince and princess.”

“Almost made me think I should’ve pursued a career in acting.”

“You have to give some credit to your co-star here, as well.”

“Oh, absolutely. Oscar-winning performance. I appreciate you incorporating props, as well.”

“One of the greatest improv moments of my career.”

“I had no idea I was in the presence of such a legend. ” You said barely, being able to hold back your laughter. Your conversation fell back into a now-familiar rhythm. The topics started anywhere from how you knew Quinn to how much you both loved Katie, but as you went on you diverted to your favorite movies snd Andrew’s interest in classical literature. The only interruption was the whistle of the kettle, which you had almost forgotten about. Andrew took it upon himself to prepare the tea, even after you insisted that you would take over. Instead, you actually took in the kitchen, finding something unexpected on the counter.

You were both surprised that Liam and Quinn actually owned a radio.

“Do you mind if I put on some music?” He asked.

“Not at all.” You stepped to the side, giving him permission to turn the radio on.

He twisted the knob of the radio, searching for a station for a moment before stopping. He landed on a station playing jazz, turning up the volume as he recognized the tune: A Kiss To Build A Dream On by Louis Armstrong. Instinctively, he tapped his foot to the beat.

You both stood in silence, one that almost drowned out the song playing. This silence was just strong enough for you to formulate an idea. You liked this song, you were bored, and most importantly, you wanted to be close to him. So you decided to take a risk. You extended a hand in his direction.

“Care for a dance?”

It took him a moment to process your question out of shock. After a few seconds, he stuttered out his answer, his gaze shifting to your hand.

“I- No, I couldn't. I have two left feet. I’d probably be… stepping on your toes the entire time.”

You shrugged.

“Who cares? It's just us, and I’m not gonna judge you.” You reassured him, motioning for him to join you.

Andrew was quickly learning he couldn't say no to you.

He gave in, taking one of your hands in his and placing the other one on your waist. At first, you awkwardly kept your distance between each other, like two teens during a slow song at their school dance. However, you got more into a rhythm as time went on, eventually getting comfortable enough with him to rest your head on his chest, as close as you could get to his shoulder with his height. Andrew was hoping you were more focused on dancing so you couldn’t feel his heart beat out of his chest. He kept his promise of stepping on your toes, mumbling a “Sorry!” every time he did so. He wasn't as bad as he made himself out to be. He even tried to spin you by the second chorus, almost crashing you into him, but helping you regain your balance. Laughter was your only response to any of this.

Much to the dismay of you both, the song ended, and you pulled away from each other. You missed his touch, your hand buzzing from the sudden change. Another song began to play from the radio: I’m In The Mood For Love by Julie London. Christ, it was like the universe was sending you a sign. Everything else throughout the night had all led up to this.

You could barely process what was happening when Andrew placed his lips on yours.

The kiss was small and chaste, cautious in case you didn't reciprocate. It was so sudden that you forgot to kiss him back, just absorbing the moment that you had slowly been longing for more and more throughout the night. When he pulled away, all he saw was the astonishment and shock on your face. He didn't notice how your gaze was fixated on his lips, and instead frantically began to apologize.

“Shit, I misread you, didn't I? I’m so sorry, I apologize. You have every reason to be upset with me.”

His suggestion made you laugh.

“Are you kidding me? That's all I've wanted all night.”

You saw something change in his demeanor, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“It's alright if I kiss you again, then?”

“Yes! Yes. Please do.”

As soon as you gave him permission, he placed his hands on the sides of your face and pulled you close to him.

Another thing about the universe is that not only does it send signs, it tends to have impeccable timing; just as Andrew leaned in to kiss you again, you heard the front door unlock. Quinn’s voice rang through the hallway.

“Hey, I don't know if you got my text, but there wasn't that much traffic so we got home… Oh. I see we're interrupting something."

You both let go of each other, a look of guilt like you’d been caught doing something illegal. Thankfully, Quinn was no cop.

“I’m not mad or anything. Just happy you waited until Katie was asleep to start swapping spit.”

You both thanked her, ignoring a passing comment she made about how she “always did think you’d be good for each other”. You said your goodbyes, hugging Liam and Quinn with smiles and faces that were still flushed from earlier. You waved them a final goodbye and walked out onto the patio together, Andrew holding the door for you again. You were alone together again.

“So, do you think we could pick up from where we left off before?” You asked a mischievous glint in your eye.

“I thought you'd never ask.”

He finally leaned down to kiss you again, holding your face gently. This time, you reciprocated, placing your hand on the nape of his neck to keep him as close as possible. It was slow, as if both of you decided to take your time; a gentle precursor for all the kisses to come in the future. Your hands made their way into his hair, his making their way to your waist. You stay like that for what could have been forever for all that you care, but's only a minute.You both pulled away to get some air, small pants escaping your mouths. Andrew looked down at you with wonder, a smile growing on his face.

“You really are magic.” He mumbled.

“Still not magic. Just… me.” You deflected again.

“Is there a difference?” He asked rhetorically. He let out a sigh before speaking again.

“ Y/N… God, I feel like a teenager saying this, but… would you want to go on a date sometime? A proper one, with no babysitting or playing pretend. Just me and you and staring at a painting or a sunset or each other's faces.” He rambled, taking a deep breath. “Whatever you want.”

Letting out a laugh, you replied.

“I would love to.”

You gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Good night, Andrew."

“Good night, Y/N.”

Andrew gave you one last peck on the lips before you, unfortunately, went your separate ways for the night. Walking back to your car, you also couldn’t help but feel like a teenager, but because he made you so… giddy, so willing to start something new with him. You could barely keep down the butterflies in your stomach. All of this caused by coincidence, a bit of fate, and a babysitting gig. Not how you thought the night was going to go, but perhaps the most pleasant surprise you’d ever had.

You got into your car, and tuned the radio to the same station as before. All the songs remind you of him.

You had the stupidest smile on your face the entire drive home.

[piedinthepiper]

Liked ★

Yandere!Seokjin x fem!reader

Summary: You liked him, liked as in past tense. Liked as in you didn’t like him anymore. He didn’t believe it for a second, and he’ll do anything to make you like him again.

Warnings: Cursing, stalking, Jin is kinda narcissistic?, he’s also mean and delusional, possessiveness, jealousy, voyeurism, smut, drugging, implied kidnapping

Wc: 5.9k

A/n: based on this req! Love the idea, hope you like it!

Disclaimer: This is 100% fiction. I am in no way saying that this is how any member of bts would act. Nor do I condone the actions detailed in the story. This is purely for entertainment purposes only. If any of the warnings trigger you, or you’re under 18 ¡do not read! I’m not your mother, and I don’t take any accountability for what you decide to read online!

He met you through Jimin. You were one of Jimin’s best friends, it seemed like he had known you for a long time.

So who were he to ruin Jimin’s image of you, and tell him that you were just so annoying. You were pretty yes, but it was something about your laugh. Something about the way you talked. It just rubbed Jin the wrong way. There are some people you just don’t click with, he thought to himself. As he looked at you from across the table. Some people are just not meant to be friends, and that’s ok. The only problem is that Jimin brought you with him no matter what. It was always “can y/n come?”. He asked Jimin once why he brought you around all the time.

“She just broke up with her boyfriend. Cut her some slack man.”

He had answered. But it had been eight months. Which, in his opinion, was more than enough time to heal from a breakup. But you still showed up. Every. Single. Time.

“What are you going to order, Jin?”

You asked him, looking back at him from across the table. You were slightly blushing for some reason. Everyone’s eyes turned to him, waiting for his response. In all honesty, he had been too busy thinking about you, to even read the menu.

“I don’t know yet.”

He answered in a stern voice.

“I really like the lobster here, it’s really good.”

Jin almost rolled his eyes at your comment.

“Really? Well I guess I’ll order that!”

He said with an overly excited tone. Not being able to control the sarcasm in his voice. Thankfully the waiter came before you could answer him. Everyone started saying their order, before it was his turn.

“I’ll have the salmon.”

He said and looked briefly over at you. To see if you’d have a reaction. You looked puzzled down at the menu for a second.

“I’ll have the salmon as well.”

“Wait! Jin, wait for me!”

You yelled after him, trying to run in your high heels. He had finally been able to leave. And thankfully he was able to mostly converse with Namjoon during the dinner. He had almost made it into the taxi, but you caught him. He couldn’t just shut the door in your face. He’s not directly mean to you, at least he tries not to be directly mean to you. But god, you were so annoying! Why couldn’t you just take a hint and leave him alone?

“What?”

You were a little out of breath, and needed a moment to catch your breath before talking.

“I was just- I live on the way to your place. Maybe we could, you know, share a taxi?”

He mentally cursed himself for not shutting the door in your face. Cause now he had to actually be alone with you for at least 10 minutes.

“Oh come on, I’ll pay for myself don’t worry.”

You said when you saw him hesitating.

“Fine.”

He simply answered and jumped in the backseat. Not caring to find an excuse.

“So, did you have fun tonight?”

You asked him once the taxi started moving. He sighed. Now he had to small talk with you as well.

“Yeah it was alright.”

He shrugged. He could see in his peripheral view that you were looking at him.

“The salmon was so good! You were so right about that one.”

You tried again, once he didn’t take the conversation further.

“I didn’t say anything to you about it. You just copied me.”

You laughed, thinking that he was just joking.

“You’re so funny!”

You said in between laughs, and even went as far as leaning over him in a fit of laughter. He sat completely still. Not engaging with you what so ever. Once you realised, you sat back up.

“We should go out for dinner more together. I think it would-“

“Please y/n! Just shut the fuck up!”

He suddenly bursted out. He didn’t mean to. It just came out.

“You don’t have to talk all the time. You’re so annoying!”

He looked at you, your smile was no where to be seen. And for some reason he missed it already.

“I’m sorry.”

He quickly mumbled, hoping that your lips would turn at least a little bit upwards. But they didn’t. You looked away from him, turning your face completely towards the window. Your entire body was trying the get the furtherest away from him as possible, and it hurt him for some reason. He sighed. Your place was coming up, he would probably feel better once you left the car. Out of sight, out of mind.

“I talk so much because I like you, Jin.”

You said, barley above a whisper. He looked back at you. The taxi stopped, signalising for you to get out.

“I really liked you.”

You gave him a last devastating look before opening the door and stepping out. You shut the door in his face before he could answer. It didn’t matter, he was left speechless. And he did in fact not feel any better now that you left the car. He felt even worse.

“Liked” you said you “liked him”. As in past tense. As in you didn’t like him anymore. He was laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep, and when he can’t sleep he starts thinking. It had been a week since the incident in the taxi. The incident where you said you “liked” him. Whatever that meant.

He would give you an apology next weekend. Pull you aside before you sit down at the table. Explain that he was just tired, that he didn’t mean it. In the moment he meant it, but he didn’t mean to say it out loud. He was amazed by the fact that he actually felt sorry for you. He didn’t like you, so why was he so obsessed with getting you to like him? Maybe he liked you more than he thought? Nah. He told himself before rolling over and closing his eyes. Trying to think of something or anything else.

Friday came around eventually, and he was ready to meet the boys (and you) at a restaurant. He walked in, a little earlier than usual. He had to pull you aside before you sat down, just so it didn’t get awkward.

“You’re early today, what’s up bro?”

Jimin lit up once he saw Jin approaching the table. He sat down beside Jimin, briefly looking at the empty seat next to him.

“Where’s y/n?”

He asked once he realised it was only the two of them. You always arrived with Jimin. He always picked you up, even if it was a longer route. Jin felt weird just thinking about it. What if Jimin had feelings for you? Why would he go to such lengths if he didn’t? The feeling in his chest couldn’t be described as anything but jealousy.

“She’s not feeling well.”

He simply commented.

“Why?”

He asked with a smug face, slightly poking him in the side with his elbow. Jin rolled his eyes, leaning away from him.

“She’s always with you, it’s not weird that I’m asking.”

He scolded his younger friend. Jimin stopped, but giggled slightly at his defensiveness.

“Whatever you say man.”

Jimin said, before changing the topic. Jin wondered if you truly was sick, or if you just didn’t want to face him. You didn’t strike him as a cowardly person. You would probably show up if you could. So the only explanation to why you wouldn’t show up to hear his apology, must be that you were sick of course.

But two weeks after that, you didn’t show. Two months passed and still no sign of you. Jin wanted to ask Jimin, but he didn’t want Jimin to think he actually cared. But he did care. He wanted to apologise for being a dick, that’s all. His conscience needed to be cleared for him to move on. At least that’s what he told himself. The first weekend after the two month mark, (not that he kept track of the time or anything), the boys went to watch a football game. It was weird that you didn’t show, considering that you loved football. You wouldn’t miss out. So Jin decided to ask again.

“Is y/n still sick? Did she fucking break her leg or something?”

He asked Jimin once they had found their places.

“I don’t know man. I asked her if she wanted to come, she said she was going with someone else.”

He said and shrugged. Someone else? Why was he hurt that you would rather go with someone else?

“Ok, I’ll go get a beer. Anyone want one?”

Namjoon was the only one who raised a hand, small excuses of work in the morning was heard from the others. He squeezed out of the row of seats. He needed to clear his head, he had to stop this obsession he had with you. After the game he would call you, and if you didn’t pick up he would go to your house. Enough was enough, he had to see you.

“Jin?”

Your voice made him turn around. There you were, two beers in hand and the familiar blue shirt of your favourite team. Your hair was in a ponytail, so he could clearly see your entire face. And you were smiling. Smiling at him like what happened two months and a week ago was ancient history.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

He mentally face palmed himself for asking something so obvious. You looked down at your shirt and back up at him.

“The same reason you are, I suppose.”

He laughed awkwardly, before you both went quiet.

“Look, y/n. I just wanted to ap-“

“Hey, babe. I’ll hold these for you.”

A man’s voice interrupted him. He looked at the man who approached you take your beers. You looked at him as well before looking back to Jin.

“I’m sorry, this is my boyfriend Hoseok.”

Jin was left speechless at your choose of words to describe the man. You had a boyfriend now?! The feeling of jealousy started to spread through his chest again.

“This is Jin, Jimin’s friend.”

You told this Hoseok, when he didn’t answer. Jimin’s friend? That was it? He was offended by the fact that you didn’t view him as more. You had a crush on him for gods sake!

“I’d shake your hand man, but you know.”

He raised the beers in his hand awkwardly. Jin still kept quiet. Not wanting to utter a simple word to the man you dared calling your boyfriend.

“I’ll catch up with you, just go back to the seats, ok?”

You told your boyfriend, and he happily complied walking away from the uncomfortable situation.

“Why are you acting so strange?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t know. I just- I thought you had a crush on me. But now you have a boyfriend, so.”

You smiled at him.

“I liked you, yeah. But after you rejected me in that taxi, I moved on. It’s not that deep, some people just don’t click.”

His stomach turned into knots, he hated the way you sounded like him. He hated the way you spoke about him. That it wasn’t that deep? Well, it was really deep to him. Extremely deep actually.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I really am. I should’ve never said those things to you.”

He managed to apologise, regardless of the burning anger he felt inside. How dared you reject him? He rejected you first.

“Jin, it’s ok. Seriously. It’s all in the past.”

You patted his shoulder before taking a step away from him.

“Tell the boys I said hi.”

You said before walking away. This was not how this was going to end. He had spent two months and a week thinking about exactly how you would respond, and what would happen after. You were not supposed to be so nonchalant and run away to your new boyfriend. You were supposed to accept his apology and run into his arms. Maybe even give him a kiss and a blowjob for his effort to be so empathetic. He was going to make things right.

He couldn’t sleep again. How could he after you basically dumped him? So he started thinking. Why would you do such a thing? Why would you hurt him? He knows that he hurt you, but he apologised. So you should stop whatever prank you got going on and come back to the group. Come back to him. He really didn’t know why he felt this need for you. Before all this he literally couldn’t stand you. But now it’s like he yearned for you. And it was baffling to him that you didn’t feel the same.

Maybe you were just using that Hoseok guy to make him jealous. Yeah, that’s it. This was your payback. He laughed at the thought and sat up in his bed. Turning on the lamp on his nightstand. Might as well pay you a visit.

He payed the taxi driver before closing the door carefully. It was the middle of the night, not a soul to see in your neighbourhood. He looked up at your apartment building, he knew you lived on the seconds floor. The light in your living room was on. He quickly looked down at his phone. 02:38 am. You should’ve been asleep already.

He walked over to the other side of the road to get a better view of your living room. Trying to get a glimpse of you in your natural habitat. And to his surprise you were there. Completely naked. He felt a familiar feeling in his groin once he saw what was going on behind those walls. You were on the sofa on top of your new boyfriends dick. Your back was turned towards the window, giving Jin a perfect view of your ass bouncing up and down. Jin ripped his eyes away from you to check if anyone else was seeing this. But no lights were on, and no bystanders. What a freak you were, having sex right in front of a window where anyone could see.

Or maybe you were doing it for him? The curtains were slightly open, just enough open for him to see you. Maybe you didn’t shut them completely, for him? Maybe you hoped he would show up after the two of you met the same day? It was working for him. Mesmerised by the way your body moved in pleasure, he slid his hand into his pyjama bottoms. He couldn’t help himself. You looked so good, and you were so perfectly placed that he could see the dick going in and out of you. His only wish was hearing you. He wanted to hear you moan so bad. Suddenly you slowed down. Jin’s hand moved faster, trying to reach release before the show was over. Just one last bounce before you sank down beside him. Now facing the window. He continued, now seeing your heaving naked chest sprawled out on the sofa. He was close, very close. And once he saw you get up and walk towards the window completely naked, body glistening, tits slightly bouncing, he couldn’t help but feel a euphoric release.

Reality hit him immediately after. In the time it took for him to ride out his orgasm, you had made it to the window. Now staring directly at him. He quickly pulled his hand out of his trousers, turning around to face the wall immediately. The sticky wet spot that made the fabric of his pyjamas stick to his skin, was a shameful reminder. He didn’t know if you had seen him. He didn’t know if you were calling the police, or still looking at him. But he stood completely still, awaiting his destiny. After a few minutes he pulled his phone up from his pocket, calling for a taxi back to his place.

It wasn’t until he heard the taxi pull up he dared turning around. His eyes flickered up to the window. No sight of you, no sight of nothing. The curtains were shut completely this time.

It was Saturday, Jimin had invited the boys to his house for a few drinks and some food. Jin hadn’t gotten drunk in some time and quite frankly needed it to forget whatever madness happened the weekend before. So he gladly accept once Jimin proposed the idea in the group chat. Something he would regret.

“Can you get the door? I can’t let this burn man.”

Jimin asked and pointed to whatever he was making on the stove. Jin, being the first to show up that night was more than happy to welcome one of his mates, and walked over to the door.

“Jin! It’s so nice to see you again.”

You said and gave him a small hug as you stepped into Jimin’s apartment. He was left speechless. By you, but also by the man that followed you inside. You brought your boyfriend?

“Hey man!”

Hoseok said and stretched out his hand for him to shake. Jin just stood there looking at his hand. He couldn’t move. Too terrified that this was your way of revenge. You were going to expose him as the creep that jerked off outside your house to all his friends. And on top of that you brought your boyfriend to rub it even more in his face.

“You know what, I’m a hugger anyways.”

Hoseok laughed and pulled him in to a tight hug once he didn’t shake his hand. Once he pulled away from the hug, Jin smiled at him. He couldn’t risk getting on the bad side of Hoseok either. Maybe you told him?

“Sorry, Hoseok right?”

He asked and took his hand in his. Your boyfriend chuckled and nodded. What a ray of fucking sunshine of a boyfriend you got. Not completely different to himself, he thought.

“Oh please, just call me Hobi!”

He smiled before walking past Jin and following you inside. Jin continued to stand by the door for a second as he heard both you and your boyfriend greet Jimin in the kitchen. He had to talk to you. He had to pull you aside before you got the chance to reveal his big dirty secret. The boys would think he was disgusting, a creep, a weirdo. What the hell was he doing here? He had to run away. Run far far away and never come back.

“Are you ok?”

He got ripped out of his thoughts and realised the tall figure standing in front of him.

“Ah, Namjoon. You scared me.”

He tried to play off. As if he wasn’t standing in front of the open entrance door just staring out into the hallway.

“I’m ok yeah, but what about you? What have you been up to?”

He said and threw his arm around Namjoon’s shoulders, leading him into the apartment.

“Woah, ok. It’s only been a week since we last saw each other.”

An hour had passed. You still hadn’t said anything. Not even mentioned that night. He had taken a few shots out of agony and suspense. He couldn’t get drunk. No, not while you were a ticking bomb ready to ruin his image forever. He had to stay sober so he could defend himself whenever the situation arose. Or if he was lucky enough to get you alone so he could convince you, hell maybe even beg for you not to say anything. He would do anything for you. For you not to say anything, of course.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

You announced, slightly intoxicated. You were so cute, your face a little red and your words a little slow.

“I have to go to the bathroom too!”

Jin quickly said, getting up quickly. The room got quiet. He realised he had said that a little loud and with a little too much excitement.

“Ok.”

You shrugged, walking away from the table. Everyone started talking again, meaning he was in the clear. He stumbled after you.

“After you, princess.”

You said as you proudly held the bathroom door open for him. He would’ve smiled at your joke if this wasn’t a serious situation.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go first.”

You mumbled and started unbuttoning your trousers. He nodded. He didn’t even have to pee.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I didn’t-“

“I’m not drunk enough to pee while you’re watching me.”

He panicked at your words and didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Oh- uh. Do you want me to leave?”

You laughed.

“No silly. Just turn around.”

He did as instructed.

“I’m sorry, ok? I should’ve never done that! Please, just don’t tell the others y/n. I won’t recover from it.”

He started pleading, still facing the door. You went quiet for a few seconds. He gulped, anxious of what you would answer.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

You said and flushed the toilet. He turned around knowing you were finished. You were struggling with the button of your jeans, but looking at him with a confused look.

“Are you playing with me? Please if you are, don’t, I can’t handle that right now.”

You started washing your hands.

“No, Jin. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is this about that time in the taxi again? Cause I told you it’s ok.”

“No. I mean- uh. Yes?”

He didn’t know what to say. Did you really mean it? Had you not seen him that night? A wave of relief washed over him. If you were telling the truth he was the luckiest man alive.

“What?”

“It’s about last weekend.”

He tested, seeing if you would remember.

“And?”

You asked puzzled. He let out a breath of relief. You were completely clueless.

“I didn’t mean to be so awkward with your- ehhh, Hobi.”

He managed to get out, not wanting to call him your boyfriend out loud. Now that he wasn’t caught and labelled a total pervert, he still had a chance to win you back.

“My Hobi, huh? You’re cute Jin.”

You said as you unlocked the door.

“You’re forgiven by the way.”

You closed the door behind you, and he quickly locked it. He had never felt more relieved in his entire life. Maybe you weren’t looking at him, maybe you were just looking around to see if anyone saw? And maybe he was fortunate enough to be well enough hidden that night to not get caught. Well, he knew he would be more careful the next time. He shook his head, baffled by his own words. The next time? He thought as he flushed the toilet. He didn’t understand what he felt towards you, but he wanted there to be a next time. He wanted the next time to be him underneath you, not your stupid boyfriend. He unlocked the door and started walking down the hallway. He didn’t want to admit it to himself before, but maybe he actually liked you. Like, liked liked you. He sat back down at the table. Taking another shot now that he could actually get drunk.

“Ooo, where are you going?”

Jimin asked you. Jin hadn’t heard the first part of the conversation, but pretended he had been here the entire time.

“This very fancy spa hotel. He said it was an early birthday present.”

You said and looked lovingly at your boyfriend.

“Wow, you’re lucky! You must really love her, Hobi!”

“You’re leaving?”

Jin asked you, ignoring Jimin’s hilarious comment, and quite honestly he didn’t want to hear Hobi’s answer to that. You nodded.

“Yeah, next Friday.”

He took another shot, drowning the jealousy that was starting to bubble inside him.

“I just don’t know what to do with the cats. I’ve asked a bunch of people, but everyone’s busy.”

“I’ll watch them!”

Jin blurted out, almost too excited.

“Are you sure? I’ll pay you if you want to-“

“No, no need to pay me. Don’t have anything happening next weekend anyways.”

“Weren’t you going out of town to see your parents next weekend?”

Namjoon asked with confused brows. Jin mentally cursed him for almost ruining his plan.

“No, that’s the weekend after. I’m completely free next weekend, ready to watch some cats.”

You smiled at him, he had missed that smile so much. To ever think that he didn’t like your smile was insane. What was even more insane was the fact that he blindly said yes to watch your cats, just to be in your house. But he’ll happily feed those little fuckers if it meant that he had full access to your home.

“Again, thank you so much. You’re a life saver!”

You yelled out the window of your car as you and your boyfriend drove away. He waved goodbye as he watched the car slowly disappear in the horizon. Once you were gone he hurried into your apartment, ready to snoop around. He only did it to get to know you more of course. He wanted to know every single little thing about you that only your home could reveal. He sat down on the sofa on the exact spot where he saw you have sex. He felt the soft fabric between his fingers, thinking of that night. He slowly laid down face first, wanting to be close to the spot where you sat completely naked. He rubbed his cheek on it, slightly smelling hints of your perfume. He could stay like that forever. Just frolicking in your scent.

But one of your cats jumped up beside his face, ruining the moment. He got up, annoyed at the grey fluffy animal. He silently pushed the cat off, but when it once again jumped up beside him he decided to look around somewhere else.

He found the bathroom, opening up the cupboard next to the mirror. Some makeup, some skin care, tweezers, tampons. Nothing exciting. He opened the door to your shower, nothing but numerous soaps. He looked over at the bin for a second and wondered if he was willing to go that low. Once he saw your dirty laundry he decided against it. He opened the lid and started digging, a mixture of your perfume and your natural scent hit him. He had never been happier. He suddenly stopped and pulled out a singular thong. It was baby pink with lace. He imagined how good you would look in it. He stuffed it in his hoodie, deciding to venture off to your bedroom.

He immediately opened the nightstand, hoping for something good. And you delivered. Toys of all kinds in different flashy colours. He smiled as he picked up the hot pink dildo. He wondered if you ever thought of him while using it. The thought alone making his pants feel tighter. He walked back to the sofa, he knew what he wanted to do now.

Jin was watching tv in your house once he heard the door open. He knew you would be arriving that day, so he managed to be on his best behaviour and not jerk off in every room of your apartment that day. Small things to make you happy. He quickly got up to welcome you.

“You got home quite late, I was starting to worry.”

No he wasn’t, he knew exactly at what time you would be home. He found a copy of your reservation at the hotel and calculated the time it took for you to get here. But he wanted you to know that he cared.

“No need, I’m home.”

You gave him a forced smile. Something was wrong. A feeling of excitement rushed through him. You came home alone, did this mean that-? Did you really break up with Hobi? He held back a smile.

“Here let me help you.”

He said and reached for your suitcase. Your grip tightened.

“No it’s fine.”

You simply said and rolled it into your apartment. He headed you sigh. He wanted to wait a little longer to see if you would break. Hoping that you would tell him the good news and not let the suspense kill him.

“Can we talk?”

You asked and looked back at him, removing your coat. He nodded understandingly as he took your coat before you could protest and hung it up. You walked over to the kitchen table and sat down. Putting your head in your hands.

“Do you want something to drink? I can make you-“

“No, Jin. Please just sit down.”

You were visibly upset, so he followed up on your request. Sitting down opposite of you. You took a few seconds before you started talking.

“Do you care to explain why you did what you did while I was gone?”

You asked and looked up at him. He froze. This was not the good news he was expecting. This wasn’t happening. How could you know?

“What are you talking about?”

He said and tried to laugh it off. You shook your head.

“So you’re telling me you have no idea what I’m talking about?”

You asked strictly. He gulped.

“No, y/n. I’ve just been watching your cats. Did I do something wrong?”

You let out another sigh before you pulled up your phone. You touched the screen a few times before your turned it around, showing him exactly what you were talking about. He watched in horror as he saw himself in your bed with his hand around his dick. The other hand was holding your underwear under his nose.

“There are many more of these videos.”

You said as you retracted your phone.

“I don’t need to see them.”

He quickly answered as you put your phone back in your pocket.

“Fine, but I want to know why, Jin.”

His mind was racing. How the fuck was he supposed to dig himself out of this one? You had physical proof now. He couldn’t deny it anymore.

“I didn’t know I was being filmed.”

He muttered as a poor excuse.

“Me neither. I set those cameras up when I didn’t think I would find someone to watch the cats. Unfortunately for you I forgot to take them down.”

He went silent again, slipping his hands into his deep pockets. Feeling around, trying to come up with a solution.

“Please tell me you have a logical explanation for all this. Why did you masturbate every single day with my stuff while I was gone?”

You seemed more upset that you couldn’t make any sense out of it, compared to what he actually did. Maybe if he just confessed you would forgive him.

“I like you, y/n. No, I actually think I love you. I’m in love with you.”

He blurted out. You were taken aback at his sudden honesty.

“I don’t understand why, I used to hate you. I never liked you. But ever since the incident in the taxi I haven’t been able to take my mind off you.”

He reached for your hand over the table, but you quickly pulled away.

“I love you, y/n!”

“So why didn’t you tell me? Why did you do this instead? You realise how fucking crazy you sound right now, right?”

You snapped back at him. Coughing slightly afterwards at your sudden outburst.

“Let me make you a cup of tea, it’ll help with that cough.”

He said calmly. You shook your head.

“I don’t want tea, I want you to leave my house right now!”

“Please, can we just talk about this like adults? I don’t want to fight with you.”

You stopped, wanting to hear what he had to say.

“Let me put the kettle on, and I’ll tell you everything. Just please, I care about you.”

You touched your throat as you slowly nodded. He quickly got up and started the kettle.

“I did it because I didn’t want to ruin your relationship. I saw how happy you were with Hobi. I thought this was my only way to be close to you.”

He tried his best to get you to feel sorry for him. He knew you would be much better off with him than that excuse of a boyfriend you had. He just wanted to pull on your heartstrings. Even if it was completely a lie.

“I just- sorry. I’m sorry. But I’m crazy about you, y/n. I’ve never felt like this before. I didn’t know what to do.”

You looked down at the table as he prepared your tea.

“Do you want sugar and milk?”

He asked carefully.

“Just sugar.”

You answered after a few beats of silence. You were clearly fighting some sort of mental battle. But it was alright, he was going to make that decision for you.

“I really care about you. I’ve been nothing but a dick to you, I know. But I want to make it up to you.”

He placed the tea on the table before you. You stirred it a couple of times as you waited for the tea to get ready.

“It’s just really uncomfortable, Jin. Yes I used to have a crush on you but that doesn’t give you the right to do such things.”

You scolded him as you brought the cup to your mouth slightly blowing at the hot beverage.

“Again, I’m sorry.”

He said and bowed his head in fake defeat. This wasn’t his loss. Sooner than later you would be his.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you. I need time to think about all this. It’s all too much for me right now.”

You took a sip, feeling the sweet warm drink soothe your sore throat. You immediately took another big sip to get the feeling back.

“I get it. I’ll give you all the time you need when we get to your new home.”

He said bluntly. You crossed your eyebrows at his comment.

“My new home?”

He nodded.

“You’ll love it there. Just you and me. We can spend as much time as you’d want to heal all the shitty things I’ve done to you.”

You shook your head.

“What? What are you talking about?”

You felt your sight getting blurry, your body suddenly felt really heavy.

“What- what have you done to me?”

You slurred as you fell back in your chair. Tears forming in the corners of your eyes as you felt yourself loosing control of your body.

“It’s ok, baby.”

Jin got up from his chair and walked over to you. In your last efforts you slung yourself off the chair and onto the floor, trying to crawl away from him.

“I’m sorry, but I had to do this. I’m sure you’ll forgive me once you realise what an amazing life we’ll have together.”

He bowed down and grabbed you. Making you look at him. Finally you would be his and his only.

“Fuck you.”

You managed to say before the drugs made you close your eyes and fall limp in his arms. You looked beautiful, he thought. Like sleeping beauty just waiting for him to save you. It would probably take some time for you to forgive him, but like he said, he would give you all the time you needed. And eventually you would realise that you were made for each other. He would make sure of that.

——————————————————————————

Thank you for reading! Do you want to read more?

Masterlist

[luvt0kki]

𝟎𝟎𝟐 | 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭

The distance and the time between us

It’ll never change my mind, cause’

Baby, I would die for you

🎧 : Die For You - The Weekend

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ s.w.m masterlist ୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ taglist ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧

001 | 002 | next

pairings : ot8 x reader ( mingi x reader )

wc: 6.1k ( sorry for any errors ;-; )

cw: mature, minors do not interact, nsfw, mentions of assassination, hinted violence, slow burn, polyamory, smut , dom!Mingi for this chapter, choking kink, reader is bratty here, seggs, oral, eavesdropping, Mingi’s nickname for reader is baby, masturbation, hinted threesome, we feel bad for Wooyoung, filming/recording kink, some possessiveness on Mingi’s end, voyeurism. SPECIAL APPEARANCE OF SOMEONE IN THE END 👀

REMINDER : my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n: I’m so amazed at how well received the first chapter was and it really gave me the motivation to write the second one. I hope you guys like this one, it’s been awhile since I wrote some smut it’s like I’m losing my skill of seggsual euphemisms. ALSO ONE OF MY FAVOURITE WRITERS HERE IS READING MY FIC?! like omg no way 😭 hope you guys like this one . ( Feel to scream/fangirl in my askbox, I love those kind of interactions. I NEED TO KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS TOO) 💕

The Destiny was a spaceship Hongjoong procured with frightening ease from the Military Space Base he was stationed in long ago.

That was the sugarcoated way of saying he stole it.

If he hadn’t turned his back on the corrupt Military base, this fighter military starship turned into one of the most renowned ships and weaponized fortress, wouldn’t have become your shared space with your home, your home being the boys.

“I’ve kept your room clean,” Seonghwa stood next to you while you leaned into Mingi’s side who refused to not be on you in any way. He was clingy like that.

“You didn’t have too, Hwa.”

“I had some time to kill in the months you’ve been away. As usual, I didn’t snoop around.” He reassured you, hands folded neatly and elegantly behind him. “I left some little surprises for you to find too.”

“It’s not like she’ll be staying there all the time,” Mingi said, hand on the small of your back and guiding you up the ramp and into the ship. “She’ll be with me.”

“Don’t hog her.” San butted in, a small slouch in his usually straight posture.

“Awe, Sannie.” You cooed sweetly, rubbing his arm.

Wooyoung groaned, a couple of paces behind you, Mingi, San and Seonghwa.

“Jeez, what’s got your panties in a twist?” Yunho asked with a lilt of humor in his tone.

“Mingi’s room is next to mine.” Wooyoung huffed, feeling the comfort and safety of the Destiny make him relax with each step they took back into their home.

“And?” Yunho raised a brow.

“Never mind.” I don’t want to hear them fucking.

Even though Wooyoung didn’t say that out loud, Yunho knew what ‘never mind’ entailed. He can tell by the way he threw glances at you but the taller man only smiled and pretended like everything was fine and that he was oblivious.

“Join us in the lounge yeah?” He patted Wooyoung on the back. “We’ll be drinking a bit more and catching up. Plus, you can start to get know her better.”

“O-okay.” He could use a couple of more drinks to relax a bit.

Wooyoung paused a bit in the hall, letting his crew mates walk ahead of him and into the warm lit lounge a couple more steps forward. It’s not that he was anxious about you being here and adjusting to the dynamics with eight of you. He was confused. He felt as if there was something he didn’t know, something kept from him and he just couldn’t quite place his finger on it. It’s like something was staring him right in the face and whatever it was, was just at the tip of his tongue but he really couldn’t conclude what it was.

Other than that, the more he was around you, flashbacks of how you two danced in the club, so close and teasing each other plagued his thoughts. The way you touched him earlier that night left a ghost touch that sent shivers down his spine when he thought about it or like now, when he looked at you leaned into Mingi’s side on the couch with his arm draped over your shoulder laughing at something Jongho said.

Now he could see you properly. The mask was discarded and sat on the low coffee table in the center and without it, he was even more mesmerized. The way your eyes smiled with your lips and how your eyes paid attention to whoever spoke, as if everything they were saying to you was the most wonderful and interesting thing in the world. This was completely different from the woman he had danced with. You looked…sweet?

“Oh? This is the childhood best friend you were talking about.” Your pretty lashes fluttered at the realization while you held conversation with Yeosang sat on the couch across you with San.

Wooyoung perked up in his seat at the mention of him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. I hope Hongjoong didn’t give you a hard time when you joined.” You smiled gently.

Hongjoong did take a while to warm up to him…but Wooyoung didn’t want to admit it, well not in front of the said man.

“Did he give you a hard time?” Wooyoung turned the question to you.

“Not at all.” You shrugged your shoulders a bit while Mingi played with the ends of the pink bob wig.

“You mean he couldn’t because you two were at each other’s throats.” Yunho chuckled, recalling the memory. “Literally.”

“What?” Wooyoung’s eyes widened, glancing between you and Hongjoong who shared a knowing look with one other. “Someone care to tell me more?”

“Y/N was actually hired to kill Hongjoong.” San spoke up. “She had snuck into the ship when we had docked in Estrade for supplies and she got to him in his office.”

“How?”

San laughed a little at the memory, glancing your way with a smile that Wooyoung has never seen on him before. It was different to the one when he’s happy, this one was tender and sweet.

He tilted his head up a little, hand gesturing to ceiling. “Through the vents.”

“It was almost too good to be true. The Destiny’s vents were perfect for anyone to infiltrate which was why after the incident, I advised him to tighten the security of the ship.” You added, unclasping your heels and slipping them off before folding them beneath you, snuggling closer to Mingi.

“I still don’t know how you found the entryway of the vents or even pried it open.” Hongjoong shook his head at the memory.

“What? Like it’s hard?” You stared down at him with a playful smirk and eyes twinkling challengingly.

“Careful, baby.” Mingi warned lightly, knowing what could transpire if you and Hongjoong went head to head again.

“So what stopped you from killing him?” Wooyoung asked. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t.

“My devilishly good looks.” Hongjoong uttered while you said a different answer.

“San.”

A silence fell amongst the group, it was comfortable for the most part but Wooyoung found the silence to be fuel to the bonfire of curiosity that sparked in the private dance room.

Noticing Wooyoung’s inquisitiveness, you decided to give him just enough to quiet his mind.

“San and I had worked together in the past. I trust him with my life. He asked me not to kill Hongjoong so…I didn’t.”

The answer was enough for now and a part of Wooyoung told him to stop prying and that he shouldn’t , not when he’s around all the other members. What irked him as well was how you had said that with such a pretty smile and a soft look in your eyes. Were you really dangerous?

“It’s not like you could, sweetheart.” Hongjoong smirked and you rolled your eyes, quickly deciding to end the growing tension with all the questions. There were things that needed to be discussed with the others. Which was what exactly about you and about your past could be shared with the new crew member.

“No, I couldn’t.”

Your voice was soft, gazing at the Captain in a way Wooyoung felt envious. Could he earn the same gaze from you? Would you look at him one day with the same fondness you had for all of them?

“You’re unfortunately too handsome to kill. It’d be a shame for such a pretty face to be smothered by a pillow.”

Your words made Hongjoong laugh while the rest smiled at how you two interacted. Wooyoung didn’t know if he was reading into it too much but they all looked at you in a way that hinted a closeness that was more than camaraderie, and a bond and trust that grew between a crew.

“As much as I’d love to stay up and catch up with you all, I’m going to retire for the evening.” You bade them good night, hooking the straps of your heels by your finger before getting off the couch and your other hand in Mingi’s.

“Goodnight, fellas.” Mingi clicked his tongue with a smirk, most of them rolling their eyes at him as the two of you made your way to the crews deck.

Once the two of you were out of ear shot, Seonghwa spoke.

“San, you’re pouting.”

“Mingi hogs her.” He murmured almost child like and crossed his arms over his chest.

“We’ll all get a chance to catch up and spend time with her. But you know…Mingi.”

“He’s way too clingy. She was my friend first.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know.” Yunho placed his hands on San’s shoulders briefly before excusing himself to his room.

Wooyoung was next to call it a night, unaware of how Yeosang, Jongho, Seonghwa and Hongjoong watched him leave. They were concerned…but they knew they needed to discuss something. Well, someone.

Wooyoung.

“So? Did you enjoy my little show?”

Mingi was watching you look around his room as if it was the first time you were ever let in here. He was sat on the foot of his bed, hands on the mattress as you removed your earrings and placed it on his desk.

“I did,” he replied, eyes completely on you and taking you in. “But when I realized that you had been dancing for other men I got jealous.” There was that hint of agitation in his voice.

“You don’t need to be jealous.” You reassured him, removing Yunho’s blazer and draping it over neatly on the back rest of Ming’s desk chair. “They never touched me.”

Mingi’s eyes darkened at the sight of your almost naked form. It has been too long since he was last with you.

You watched Mingi’s eyes rake your form through the mirror. He scanned you from your heels to your head. His eyes lingered on the plumpness of your ass accentuated by the lace purple underwear a bit longer before he met your eyes in the mirror.

“Keep the wig on, baby.”

“Oh, you like it?” You grinned, turning around to slowly walk towards him, letting the beaded strings of your bralette sway and shimmer.

“I like the whole get up. It’s sexy.” His hand reached for your waist once you stood between his parted thighs, the tall big man gazing up at you with desire.

“You like that I’m dressed like a stripper?” You raised a brow questioningly while you ran your fingers through his short pink hair that matched your wig.

“I like you in anything.” He slid his hands up higher til his thumbs rest just below the band of your bra. “You look so pretty.”

“I love the new hair,” you giggled, caressing his handsome face. “Yunho colored it for you?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, leaning his head into your abdomen.

“I’m sorry I was away for so long.”

“Take me with you next time…or San or Yeosang.” He murmured, voice soft as you held him to you. “I’ll rest easier knowing one of us is with you.”

“I can handle myself. You know that.”

Mingi groaned a little before guiding you to sit on his lap, your pretty legs straddling his waist while his hands supported and cradled your back.

“I know…” he sighed.

The two of you were now face to face. Mingi looked into your eyes, searching them. For what, you didn’t know but you let him. “But you’ll let me take care of you…” he cupped your face gently, his thumb caressing your cheekbone and like a cat, you leaned into his touch, eyes closing as you relished his warmth. “Right?” His thumb swiped over your lower lip, your eyes fluttering open as he parted them just a little.

Despite his reputation, he was your gentle and loving Mingi. Sure, he was rough around the edges and appeared domineering. No one flies a fighter jet like he does and as the gunner and the best marksman among the crew, he was intimidating. But he gave himself to you and you did the same.

“Always.”

This was what he missed. The intimacy that he shared with you. That sweet loving gaze—

Mingi felt a sudden shock of heat pass through him. In less than two seconds your loving gaze intensified to desire and your lips were wrapped around his thumb, enveloping his digit in your mouth. The cherry on top for him was how you swirled your hot tongue and sucked lightly. You pulled back with a cute little quiet pop and looked at him with eyes that were far too innocent after what you just did. Licking his lips, he gripped your face, gently but strong enough the way you liked and to establish dominance.

This was also something he missed.

“If my pretty girl wants to be naughty…” he leaned in closer, the cute challenging look in your eyes unwavering. “I’m going to have to remind her how to behave.”

“But I am a good girl.” You shrugged him off of you so that you could press your lips on his defined jaw. “I told you, I never let anyone touch me.”

“You let Wooyoung touch you.” His hands rested on your hips now as you left gentle kisses along the skin of his neck, appeasing to him.

“So? It’s not like I’ll let him fuck me.” You nipped at his neck, tone sweet and unfortunately too bratty.

Next thing you knew, his ringed hand wrapped around your throat. It wasn’t in anyway to hurt you, Mingi would never. No. It’s how you two played sometimes. His hold on you made heat stir in your lower abdomen and his intense gaze was getting you excited.

“Of course you won’t.” He spoke, voice deep and low, and with his other hand on your hip, he guided you to drag your clothed cunt over the bulge of his trousers. Seeing your determined gaze crack with the friction, he grinned. “You won’t let him fuck you. You know why?”

You shook your head, biting your lip to hold back your whimpers, a little embarrassed that your resolve was so quick to crumble because of him but you knew that turned him on.

“Use your words, baby.” He squeezed your neck gently while his other hand stilled your hips, making you huff at the pause.

“I-I don’t know.” You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your hips yourself, mouth watering at the thought of his member hidden beneath his pants.

Mingi tapped your hip in warning. You stilled and you did your best to glare at him. “Why?”

“He hasn’t earned it, baby.” His hand left your neck, trailing down to briefly brush the dip between your collarbones and he leaned to kiss your chest. “He hasn’t earned it like we had.”

“Is that why you were gatekeeping me?”

“Maybe.” You felt him grin on your skin as he kissed what was exposed of your breasts in your bralette. “Get up.”

You almost whined, not wanting to leave his lap or his kisses to stop but you did so anyway.

It’s like you were back to square one, standing between his legs while he gazed at you except you couldn’t stop glancing at the bulge in his trousers.

He clicked his tongue. “Is that what you want, baby?”

Instead of answering him, which could get you into some fun trouble, you slowly got on your knees without breaking his gaze. You slid your hands up his muscular thick thighs, knowing to not touch where you wanted to touch him the most.

Mingi noticed this and smiled. “Good girl.” He cooed, tucking the strands of your pink wig behind your ear. “You remember. Go on then.”

Getting his permission, your fingers made quick work of his belt and zipper, prying the fabric apart to reveal his erection in the confines of his briefs. You skimmed your fingers along the waistband, admiring his toned abdomen before tugging it low enough til his cock sprung free.

Without wasting another moment, you wrapped your hand around his length, feeling your walls pulse around nothing at how hot and heavy he was in your hand. His tip was pink and growing slick with precum. You licked your lips at the sight and you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore.

Mingi groaned lowly when you slowly pumped his length, kissing the hot and pink tip before enveloping the head of his cock in your mouth.

“Fuck.” He hissed. The sight of your glossed lips wrapped around him and the sensation of your wet tongue swirling his tip was sinfully perfect. “You look so pretty right now, baby.”

Oh how you loved how deep his voice was when he talked dirty. “God, I’m so lucky I get to fuck you first.”

He threw his head back as you took him deeper in your mouth, your struggle to take more of him something he always found so cute.

As much as you loved to blow your boyfriend, he was always a challenge to take. He was thicker than and longer than your other lovers. Well, Yunho was also a challenge but you were focused on Mingi right now and he was another story.

Your brows were knitted and your eyes were looking at him pleadingly as you did your best to bob your head along his length, sucking and swirling your tongue the way he liked while using your hand to pump what you couldn’t take of him. His taste and his low moans were making you ache even more, god you couldn’t wait for him to touch you.

“Shit, baby. You’re doing so well taking me in that pretty little mouth.” He praised, petting the top of your head lovingly. “C’mon baby. The quicker you make me cum the sooner I’ll be touching you. You’re getting wet aren’t you?”

Batting your lashes at him, you did your best to tell him yes while hollowing your cheeks and taking him a little more deeper, lost in his taste and his heat and fighting against your gag reflex. Your body was buzzing with need and when his tip reached the back of your throat, Mingi let out the prettiest moan.

The curse of silence that fell upon his room for months since you left was finally broken. Within the four walls, the not so quiet sound of your muffled moans and the obscene wet slurping of you sucking his cock bounced off them. You were taking your time, enjoying each glide of him against your flattened tongue and pumping the rest of his length in tandem with your movement.

Mingi through heavy lidded eyes searched for your gaze and he didn’t know if he regretted doing so because seeing your pretty eyes look up at him as you bobbed your head and suckled at his sensitive tip, he could’ve cum right then and there.

Lost in the sinfully indulgent pleasure, Mingi hadn’t noticed that his door was open just a crack, not fully closed. Even if he did notice, he wouldn’t care since it wouldn’t be the first time. Plus the rest of the crew weren’t strangers to being caught in the act with you. Most of the time they ignore it or tease each other about it after. And sometimes, it led to some…extra fun. But the man who recently settled into the room beside Mingi didn’t know that.

He was just on his way back from the showers since only two rooms had their own bathroom which was Hongjoong’s and Seonghwa’s.

He didn’t mean to look. He was just supposed to take his cold shower and then head to bed.

The sounds lured him in. And with his pent up sexual frustration he had only wanted to shut the stupid door fully and scold Mingi tomorrow about it…but when he saw the shade of pink that was haunting him, he just couldn’t function. Not when your head was bobbing up and down between Mingi’s spread thighs and how your back and ass looked so sexy while you were at it.

Wooyoung gulped, his own cock stirring at the lewd sight. He really should go.

And yet he continued to gawk at you, taking in the curve of your waist and the aesthetically pleasing view of your back. As if it couldn’t get any worse for Wooyoung, he noticed your free hand was between your thighs. Somehow in that dimly lit room he could see how you were working your fingers below you.

You moaned around Mingi’s length, the vibrations earning you a deep groan.

‘Fuck.’ Wooyoung swore over and over in his head, eyes unable to break from the way you were touching yourself. He wondered how wet you were. If your arousal soaked through the cotton of your underwear and if your fingers were easily gliding over your swollen clit.

Mingi, despite the dizziness of pleasure muddling his brain, finally noticed your hand between your thighs. “You getting wet by just sucking my cock, baby?”

Your lips released him with a pop and you were softly panting, trying to catch your breath. You nodded in response going at it again and this time, you were only using your mouth now and taking him deeper. Your hand other hand left your aching cunt only to rest atop his left thigh like your other hand on his right to keep you steady.

“Shit!” Mingi cursed, his hand coming to the back of your head to guide you down further, feeling the pressure on the base of his spine as he watched you take whatever you could fit of him in your little mouth.

Wooyoung bit his lip to keep himself from making any noise but he could still feel his throat dry at the obscene sight. The sound of your muffled whines and moans was driving him crazy.

Mingi’s fingers tangled themselves in your pink wig, his hips bucking until he stilled, cock twitching in your mouth. Hot spurts of his release spilled down your throat, your eyes not breaking away from his face that was contorted in pure bliss.

“Oh, fuck, baby.” He whined.

Only his tip in your mouth, he felt you swallow his release. “Good fucking girl.” His grip on your wig loosened to pet you. You hummed at his words, batting your lashes up at him in the way that made his heart flutter before you released him from your mouth. “Open up, let me see.”

Mingi was down bad. Really bad.

He reached into his pocket to whip out his phone, swiping the screen to the camera app. With pink lip gloss smudged at the corners of your mouth, your wig a little messy and his perspective with you on your knees, gave the camera the perfect view of your cute face, your tits in your purple bralette and his inner thighs that framed you.

You parted your lips and stuck out your tongue a little, and Mingi bit his lip when he saw a little bit of his cum remained on your tongue.

“Fuck, you look so hot, baby.” He captured a couple of shots while you decided to extend his high and to also give him a couple more pics to take.

Giving him a cute smile, you kissed the head of his sensitive cock and heard the little digital tone of the record button in his cell. He hissed at the stimulation and yet he let you continue to ride out his orgasm, his thighs tensing then relaxing a bit as you licked along his length.

Mingi was going to use this for the next time you’re away which won’t be anytime soon but you know, just in case and also for bragging rights for getting to fuck you in your stripper costume.

“Will you return the favor, Min?” You asked him, your voice husky from taking his cock deep in your throat. “I showed you how good I am for you.”

He couldn’t help but grin at your cute tone. You knew he was going to show this to the others to make them jealous so you were putting on a show exclusively for Mingi that the others won’t be able to have.

“Tell me exactly what favor I have to return to my good girl. Hm?” He knew how shy you actually were when speaking about what you wanted in a little more detail and it was something that all of them found endearing. Even though you could be bold, when it came down to things in the bedroom, you were submissive. You were bratty which was in your nature most of the time and Mingi like three other members of the crew loved to tame and fuck the brat out of you.

With your head muddled with lust, you softly uttered out your response, unaware of how needy you sounded.

“I want you to taste me too.”

Wooyoung palmed himself through his sweats. He wanted to taste you. He’s been wanting to and thinking about it since he danced with you.

“Yeah? And then I’ll fuck your pretty little pussy. You want that?”

You nodded, suckling at his length.

“Take off your top, baby. Show them what they’re missing out on right now.”

Without anymore direction, you knew what to do. You slowly got up, his hand holding his phone following your movement and he captured the complete look one last time.

Your fingers pinched at the front clasps of your bra, Mingi’s eyes glued on you, watching you intently.

You unhooked it and without rushing, unveiled to him and the camera your bare breasts. From where Wooyoung stood, he couldn’t see the teasing reveal. It was frustrating. Especially when you slowly let the pretty bralette drop into a pile at your feet and he could only see your naked back.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Not wanting to get caught, he quietly retreated back into his room, shut the door and locked it. With his back against the cool surface, he freed his cock from his sweats and wrapped a hand around his length, cursing Mingi in his head for being so lucky. With each stroke, the man was forgotten and his head was filled with thoughts of you. He tightened his grip when he began to imagine himself in Mingi’s place.

Was he going to feel guilty about it later? Yes but fuck did he needed to jack off. He’ll regret it later.

…

You gripped the pillow beneath your head while the other was over your hand trying to muffle your voice as moans left you so embarrassingly easy. Mingi had one hand holding his phone your way while the other was splayed on your belly as his thumb massaged your clit and he thrusted into your tight heat.

Your panties were just pushed to the side while he stuffed you full with his thick length. He had slipped in so easily with how wet you were and you were creaming around his cock, the mess of it all and the obscene wet squelching making him fuck you harder.

“Mingi,” you panted, your core hot with pleasure and mind spinning from the delicious drag of his cock against your pulsing walls. “B-big. You’re so big.” You whined out, the pleasure close to making you cry.

“Yeah? But you can take me right? Look at you taking me so well. Fuck.”

You nodded at his words, unable to form anything coherent and not caring about the fact he was filming the mess you were making on his cock.

His praises only made your head spin further and when he tossed his phone to the side and was focused on fucking you, the tension in your lower belly grew tighter.

Mingi admired the way you looked before him, tits bouncing with each snap of his hips and your legs around him while the garter where money bills had been clipped to earlier remained on your thigh and the gorgeous, perfect sight of your pussy lips parted to accommodate his cock that stretched you out. All of that was consuming him. He missed how you felt, how smooth and warm your skin was, and how his name left your lips in moans and sweet sighs.

The wet smacking of his hips against yours and both of yours and his moans filled the room, and unfortunately for Wooyoung, he could hear you both despite it being muffled. Well he could hear because he had opened his door a little and the two of you were too preoccupied to take note of how Mingi’s door wasn’t shut fully. He was fucking his cock into his fist to the sound of you both.

Your arms reached out for Mingi and his heart melted at the sight. He leaned forward letting them wrap around him and your legs did the same with his hips. He crashed his plump lips against yours, swallowing your moans and cries, feeling your walls tighten further around him telling him you were close. He was close too.

He felt your nails dig into the muscles of his back and he groaned at the sweet pain, his hand between the two of you applying more pressure to your clit which pushed you to the edge. Walls tightening around him which hindered his fast thrusts, he let you feel your orgasm and god, did he love it when you came around him. Your velvety walls spasmed around his cock and he could feel it, and your thighs shook from the sudden wave of release.

“That’s my good girl. That’s it. Cum around my cock. Good girl.” He rasped against your ear before kissing your neck and slowly beginning to move his hips again.

“M-Min— wait,” you whimpered, sensitive and body electric.

“I’m close baby. You’ll let me finish too right? Inside?”

The idea made you moan softly and cave. “O-okay.” You managed to get out, the overstimulation so good and too much at the same time.

You gasped when he sped up, chasing his release. He was groaning and panting against your neck like a dog in heat. Your fingers threaded through his hair, gripping the short strands as you felt your second orgasm building up again.

“I love you.” He murmured against your neck, rutting into you. You held him closer. “I love you. I love you. I love you…”He chanted over and over, completely loss in you. You missed those words from him and you weren’t sure if you were tearing up from the pleasure or how much you loved him too. Maybe both.

“I love you too Mingi.” You managed to say as your body bounced with each thrust and you gripped his hair tighter, the heels of your feet digging into lower back.

“Fuck!” Mingi snapped his hips one last time before completely stilling, shooting his hot cum into your womb. The sensation of him filling you up made you cum again so quickly and Mingi hissed at the sinful feeling of your walls fluttering around him again, milking his cock for all he’s worth, and what couldn’t fit in your womb began to leak out of you.

“I love you,” he sighed again, lifting his head from your neck to press his lips on yours messily and you kiss him back, both of you coming down from your highs. “Never leave me again, please.”

That tugged at your heart strongly.

Many believed it was San who was the clingiest among all them but in truth, it was Mingi. It didn’t look like it with his tough, bad boy coded exterior and how brutal he could be when he was armed but it was him who you trusted and opened up to first when you joined them.

“Even if you can’t, just say you will.”

And then your heart was ripped out your chest and in his hands.

“I won’t leave,” you told him, kissing his lips and cupping his face in your hands. “I promise.”

“This was the longest you were away.”

“I know…I’m sorry but I’m here now. I won’t be going anywhere. Okay?”

He nodded, sliding his hands under you, cradling your back so he could move the both of you to a comfortable position. Without untangling from each other’s embrace, he lied on his back with you on top him, your chest pressed against his and his arms wrapped around you.

In the room next to Mingi’s, Wooyoung’s head was thrown back as he came down from his own high. His release dripped down his hand and stained the fabric of his shirt.

While the two lovers on the other side laid in each others loving embrace, he was all alone on the floor with his back against the foot of his bed after having imagined fucking you and wishing his cum was on your body instead.

“Shit…” he cursed to himself , realizing what he had just done.

The guilt was gonna eat him up after and he may not be able to look you or Mingi in the eyes tomorrow after what he did.

Did he still want to fuck you? Yes. But he’ll keep that fact to himself and only himself. No one needed to know. It’ll pass anyways. Maybe a couple more times jerking off to you will make him get over it.

Yunho stretched his back on the way back to the crews deck, Seonghwa and Hongjoong were looking over the data you had gotten for them and he had just finished some touches to his and Wooyoung’s weapon reparations for Mingi.

Before heading to his room, he decided to check on the said man who had always come back with his, Jongho’s and Wooyoung’s weapons damaged every single time he was sent on the field.

“Fuck,” he heard Mingi’s faint voice at the start of the corridor.

He sighed as he removed his gloves, heading to Mingi’s room, his brow rising as he saw the door slightly open. He glanced at Wooyoung’s closed door and shook his head a little before stepping inside Mingi’s room and finally closing the door behind him.

He leaned against metal, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Mingi naked in all his glory fuck into you from behind. Your moans and whimpers were muffled as you bit at the pillow. Mingi’s hands were on your hips and his hold on you was the only reason your ass was still up. Your thighs were shaking and trembling with each thrust as the new angle made you feel him deeper inside of you.

Yunho bit his lip watching the two of you and glanced over at Mingi’s desk where his blazer was then at the mirror where he could see you face down and ass up with a your back beautifully curved as Mingi fucked you.

He began to unbutton his shirt.

“Next time, make sure you close the door properly. I could hear you from the corridor.” Yunho finally spoke but his presence didn’t stop Mingi’s rhythmic thrusts.

“It wasn’t closed?” He grunted, a hand pressing against your upper back to keep you down.

“It wasn’t wide open but if I was Wooyoung, I would be suffering.” Yunho threw his gloves onto the desk. “Hi, sweetheart.” He went to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed and speaking as if you weren’t being railed from behind.

He caressed the crown of your head, noticing the mascara smudged around your eyes in a pretty way. Yunho also noticed Mingi’s cell nearby on the bed and rolled his eyes, knowing exactly why it was there.

He’ll ask Mingi for a copy later.

“How many times has he made you cum?” He asked you, thumb wiping away the smudged makeup.

“Ah—f-fo—,” you gasped, clutching the pillow tigther . “Four.” It was cute how you couldn’t really speak properly.

“Four times ?” Yunho was impressed, you nodded quickly. “How many times has he said I love you?”

“Shut up, man.” Mingi huffed, knowing he was going to get teased for that.

Yunho raised his hands in surrender, he wasn’t here for that anyways.

He looked at Mingi. The marksman’s brows were knitted together and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and below where you two were connected was a darkened spot on the sheets. A mess caused by both yours and Mingi’s release, well mostly Mingi’s as your pussy was leaking white from being filled to the brim.

“I know you wanted her for yourself tonight but…” Yunho slipped his hand into yours, and you held his hand tight as you moaned into the pillow.

“Got room for one more?”

All Rights Reserved ©luvt0kki

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.

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[fastboatsmojito]

Inspired by this req !

Hot and Heavy - Gym Nerd! Scott Miller x Reader

| A/N; title based on the song by Lucy Dacus but the song itself is irrelevant to the plot lmao also pls don’t chew gum while you work out this is just Fiction <3

| CW; mostly just some good old bickering in a non-angsty way, Scott being Scott + the tiniest soft spot for you, I think that’s it 💆🏻‍♂️ I was going to make this smutty but it didn’t feel right and I didn’t want to force it so !

He was always there by the time you arrived, already sweaty and intense as you walked in.

“Jesus, Scott. You ever sleep?” You scoffed, setting your bag down and stretching your arms.

“Eight hours.” He barely looked up to talk to you, focused on the weights in front of him.

Of course. He was unintentionally irritating, the crisp, clean compression shirt he sported making the size of him just that much more unavoidable. You weren’t competing with him - you couldn’t if you wanted to, but he wasn’t a bad ‘gym buddy’, disregarding his grumpy attitude and refusal to actually call you that.

He never overstepped, he was quiet but reliable, giving you space and unenthusiastically spotting you whenever you asked.

You held your hand out towards him as he walked over and grabbed his bag, rolling his eyes at you before taking out a piece of gum.

“You get one. If you swallow it again that’s on you.” He said, the piece of gum still in his hand pointing at you as he spoke.

“Already cranky, I see.” You snatched the gum out of his hand, grinning at his less than pleased expression.

——

After a while you got a little overzealous with some weights, voice coming out shaky when you realized it was too much for you to lift all the way. “Shit- um, Scott?”

“What?” He didn’t look up at you when he replied. He didn’t usually have to, used to you asking him whatever questions popped up in your head during your workout, gym related or not.

“Can you come grab this for me?” He looked up then, disregarding his strict routine to jog over to you.

“Yeah. Fuck, why’d you add all this shit? You know that’s too much, right?” He lifted it back up for you, as soon as he was in front of you with his hands on his hips you knew you were in for one of his infamous lectures.

“I know now. I thought I could handle it-“ You tried to explain yourself, clearly falling short when he shook his head.

“Don’t be stupid. I won’t be able to workout if I’m too busy worrying about you breaking your neck. If you need help, just ask-“ He reprimanded, putting his hand up to stop you from interrupting him.

“Before it’s too much. That’s the only reason we’re here at the same time.” He always looked like someone’s dad when he got like this, aggressively chewing his gum with a disapproving look on his face.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right, I’ll ask for help next time.” You muttered before standing up, motioning to walk off before he stopped you.

“Before-“ He moved to stand in front of you like some angry bouncer, waiting on you to finish his sentence.

“Before it’s too much. I know. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, be smart.” That’s what he always said, you always apologized anyway.

——

You were done after that, uncomfortably dripping sweat from basically every part of your body, walking over to grab your water bottle as you met Scott on the bench. You sat down as he intently watched you trying to massage your leg.

“You hurt your leg, or what?”

“Just a cramp.” You sighed, laying down on the bench instead.

“Come here.” You propped yourself up on your elbows after he said it, confused expression on your face like he just said something insane.

“Don’t look at me like that. Just come here.” He motions for you to move closer to him with his hand, grabbing your leg and placing it in his lap when you were close enough. As soon as his hand moved to your leg you tensed up, unsure of what exactly what you were expecting but surprised nonetheless.

“What’s your problem? Christ just let me massage it out for you, don’t be a brat.” He complained, hands massaging over one of your legs when you relaxed.

“I’m not being a brat, you’re just not exactly the affectionate type.” You winced as he was particularly rougher right where it hurt.

“This isn’t affection, this is you not getting enough calcium and overworking yourself. That’s not on me.” He continued, moving to the other leg when he was pleased with your satiated breathing.

“You know I do this on purpose, right? I choose to do this, even if I’m a dick about it sometimes. I just want you to do it correctly, not get yourself hurt.”

“You’re a dick about it most of the time.” You corrected, sure you heard a light laugh out of him.

“But yeah, I know. Softy.” He rolled his eyes at the unusual nickname, tapping your leg to move it before he stood up.

“Hit the showers, you’re all sweaty.” He cracked his knuckles as he said it before walking away, ignoring your final remark.

“There he is.”

——

[maddyjones2]

On not idolising creative people

In the wake of the various recent allegations involving Neil Gaiman, people have been both very sad that someone who they looked up to as an inspiration has, allegedly, turned out to be something less than entirely admirable, and are now looking to see who is now left that they can rotate into the spot of “the good dude,” i.e., that one successful creative guy who they think or at least hope isn’t hiding a cellar full of awful actions. One name I see brought up is mine, in ways ranging from “Well, at least we still have Scalzi,” to “Oh, God, please don’t let Scalzi be a fucking creep too.” Which, uhhhh, yeah? Thanks?

I have many thoughts about this and I’m going to try to make sense of them here, as much for myself as anyone else, so this may be messy and discursive and long (seriously, 3600 words, y’all), but, well, welcome to me. So, ordered by how these things come out of my head:

1. Stop Idolizing Creative People. Creative people are easy to idolize because they create the art you love, and that gives you permission to feel things, and to see yourself and your desires reflected in that art. That is a powerful thing, and from the outside, it can feel like magic, and that the people who do it are tapped into something otherworldly and admirable. Plus, they often get to have cool lives and get to know other cool creative people. They do things that are removed from the day-to-day aspect of a “normal” life, and they’ll even post about them on social media where you can see them. Sometimes, independent of their art directly, they’ll speak about their life, or life in general, and they’ll seem wise and considered and kind. I mean, what’s not to like?

But please consider that this is all an extremely mediated experience of this person. The art is the edited and massaged result of hours and days and weeks and months of work, into which the work of many others is also added. My novels originate from me, but it’s not just me in there, nor is the final form of the novel an accurate statement of who I am as a person, not least of all for the simple reason that I am not trying to tell my story in my novels. I’m creating fictional characters, and the world in which they make sense, for the purpose of the story.

Despite how it might look from the outside, this is not sorcery. It’s years of experience at a craft. It’s not magic, just work. A completed novel (or any other piece of art) won’t tell you much about the specific, day-to-day life and inclinations of the individual who made it, other than a general nod toward their competence, and the competence of their collaborators. Likewise what you see of their lives, even from the illusorily close vantage of social media, is deeply mediated. Lives always look admirable at a distance, when you can only see the lofty peaks and not the rubble at the base — especially when your attention by design is pointed at those lofty peaks. There’s much you don’t see and that you’re not meant to see. The vast majority of what you’re not meant to see isn’t nefarious. It’s just not your business.

Now, before I was a professional creative person, I was an entertainment journalist who spent years interviewing writers, directors, movie stars, musicians, authors and other creative folks. Since I’ve been on the other side of the rope, I’ve likewise met a huge range of creative people from all walks of life. Please believe me when I assure you that creative people are just people. Richer and/or more famous? Sometimes (less often than you might think, though). Prettier and/or more charismatic? Especially if they’re actors or pop stars, often yes! But at the end of the day they are just folks, and they run the whole range of how people are. By and large, the day-to-day experience of getting through their life is the same as yours. Outside of their own specific field of work, they don’t know any more about life, have no more facility for dealing with the world, and have just as few clues about what’s going on in their own head, as anyone else.

They’re just people. Whose work is making the stuff you like! And that’s great, but that’s not a substantive basis for idolizing them. It makes no more sense to idolize them than to idolize a baker who makes cookies you like, or the guy who comes and trims your hedges the way you want them to be trimmed, or the plumber who fixes your clogged drain. You can appreciate what they do, and even admire they skill they have. But holding them up as a life model might be a bit much. Which is the point! If you’re not willing to idolize a plumber, then you shouldn’t idolize a creative person.

(“But a plumber doesn’t make me feel like a creative person does,” you say, to which I say, are you sure about that? Because I will tell you what, when my sump pump stopped working and the plumber got in there, replaced the pump and started draining out my basement which had an inch of standing water in it, that man was the focus of all my emotions and was my goddamned hero that day. My plumber that day did more for me than easily 90% of the great art I’ve ever experienced.)

Enjoy the art creative people do. Enjoy the experience of them in the mediated version of them you get online and elsewhere, if such is your joy. But remember that the art is from the artist, not the artist themselves, and the version of their life you see is usually just the version they choose to show. There is so much you don’t see, and so much you’re not meant to see. At the end of the day, you don’t have all the information about who they are that you would need to make them your idol, or someone you might choose to, in some significant way, pattern some fraction of your life on. And anyway creative people aren’t any better at life than anyone else.

Which brings up the next point:

2. Fuck idols anyway! People are complicated and contradictory and you don’t know everything about them! You don’t know everything even about your parents or siblings or best friends or your partner! People are hypocrites and liars and fail to live up to their own standards for themselves, much less yours! Your version of them in your head will always be different than the version that actually exists in the world! Because you’re not them! Stop pretending people won’t be fuck ups! They will! Always!

This sounds more pessimistic about humans than perhaps it should be. When I say, for example, that people are hypocrites and liars, I don’t mean that people take every single opportunity to be hypocrites and liars. Most people are decent in the moment. But none of us — not one! — has always lived up to our own standard of behavior, and all of us have had the moment where, when confronted with a situation that would become an immense pain in the ass if we stuck to our guns, or demanded the inconvenient truth, decided to just bail instead, because the situation wasn’t worth the drama, or we had somewhere else to be, or whatever. We all choose battles and we all make the call in the moment, and sometimes the call is, fuck this, I’m out.

Every person you’ve ever admired has fucked up, sometimes really badly. Everyone you’ve ever looked up to has secrets, and it’s possible some of those secrets would materially change how you think about them, not always for the better. Everyone you’ve ever known has things about them you don’t know, many of which aren’t even secrets, they’re just things you don’t engage with in your day-to-day experience of them. Nevertheless it’s possible if you were aware of them, it would change how you feel about them, for better or for worse. And now let’s flip that around! You have things about you that even your best friends don’t know, and might be surprised to learn! You have secrets you don’t wish to share with the class! You have fucked up, and lied, and have been a hypocrite too!

You are, in short, a human, as is everyone you know and every one you will know (pets and gregarious wild animals excepted). And all humans are, charitably, a mess. This doesn’t mean there aren’t good people or even exemplary people out there, since there are, along with the ones that are, charitably, a real shit show. What I am saying is that even the good or exemplary people out there are a mess, have been morally compromised at some point in their lives, and have not lived up to their own standards for themselves, independent of anyone else’s standard for them.

One of the aspects of being an “idol,” I think, is that higher standard that other people expect of you — that in every situation where the aspect they idolize you for is in play, you will act in a manner that is right and correct by their standard, which of course you will likely not know about because you don’t actually know them (or often know that they exist). This is, by definition, an impossible standard to be held to — you didn’t agree to it, or to engage with it — and an impossible standard to hold other people to without their direct consultation. Every human made to be an idol is destined to fail at the job. You don’t even have to have feet of clay! You just didn’t know you were on a pedestal to begin with.

(This does not excuse shitty action. The fact people should not be idols in the first place is not exculpatory for the choices one makes on one’s own. If you’re sexually assaulting people, or being a racist or sexist or homophobe or other flavor of bigot, or using your situational power coercively (as just a few examples), then hell yes you are going to be called out on it. And to be clear, it is not unreasonable, to put it mildly, to expect people not to sexually assault other people, or not to denigrate other humans for being who they are, etc. But this only adds to the point about idols, now, doesn’t it. You don’t know what you don’t see, and you don’t know what you’re not seeing, until it is hauled out into the light one way or the other. If it is hauled out into the light at all.)

I don’t think anyone should idolize anyone, ever. It’s not great for them, and it’s not great for you, they probably didn’t ask to be idolized (and if they did, holy shit, fucking run), and in the end unless you’re so completely wrapped up in their lives that they have no secrets from you — which is never — you don’t know enough to make that call. People do it anyway, and then disappointment happens, but they shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Stop idolizing people. It’s not fair for anyone.

What to do instead? Enjoy their work, if they’re a creative person. Appreciate the kind and good aspects of their life that you can see, and the decent actions they undertake in public, with the knowledge that what you see of them is a mediated and elided version. Understand that we all have a different version of ourself for every person we meet, and that every person we meet has a different vision of ourselves in their head, and very often, those two versions are not the same. Like them, based on what you know of them! Love them, if it comes to that. And when and if you learn something new about them that you didn’t know before, let empathy guide you to a new understanding of them and what they mean to you.

And now, taking all of the above into consideration:

3. Absolutely 100% do not idolize me. I don’t deserve to be idolized because no one deserves to be idolized, but also, holy fuck, I do know me and I’m a mess. There have been lots of things in my life that I’ve done that have not been admirable or kind. I can be petty and shitty and competitive and cruel. I am lazy and inattentive and when I let things slide (which is often), I end up jammed up on my responsibilities, which makes me irritable and no fun to be around. I have a temper which goes from zero to sixty almost instantaneously; if I’m not actively paying attention to it, I can become a sudden, unreasonable rage monster, which is a burden to people I love, and I hate that fact about myself (pro tip: don’t travel with me, the rage monster comes out a lot then).

I can be controlling and demanding but I want other people to handle the details, i.e., executive asshole. I am strategic in a way that can be bloodless. When I’m insecure I brag a lot, which is unflattering. If you cross me, I won’t go out of my way to make your life miserable (that would require effort on my part), but I will absolutely enjoy when you take a literal or metaphorical tumble down the stairs. God knows I’ve enjoyed the failures of the people who have spoken ill of me, almost as much as I’ve enjoyed the fuming, spittling rage they’ve felt when I’ve succeeded. I spent years cultivating a snarky persona online and while that was fun (for me), I’m increasingly aware that when the tally is added up for Who Ruined the Internet, I’m not necessarily going to be where I want to be on that particular ledger.

And these are only the bad qualities of mine I wish to admit to you at the moment. There are others, I assure you.

So, yes: Who wants to idolize me now?

“But you seemed so nice when I chatted with you online/met you at the convention/saw you at that one place that one time.” Well, thank you, I’ve been in the public eye in one manner or another for three and a half decades now and I understand my assignment; my public persona is friendly and engaging and sociable and mostly fun to be with. It’s not a fake version of me — I am all those things! Honest! — but, again, it’s a mediated version of me designed not only to be a positive experience for the people who meet me but also to get my actually introverted ass through a whole day of events at a convention/festival/book tour/whatever. When I’m done I collapse into an introverted hole. When I came back from Worldcon this week, I slept for 15 hours the first day I was home. It wasn’t just because of jet lag or con crud.

I rather famously call my public face “performance monkey mode,” and likewise what I say about my (current) online mode is that I’m cosplaying as a better version of myself, one that is kinder than I used to be online, and more patient than I am in the real world. If you meet me when I am “off” then you will find that, again, these versions of me are me, just with some things dialed up and other things dialed down. But even that is still a different version of me than, say, the version of me which is at home (which is in fact extremely boring; that version of me doesn’t talk much and mostly stays in my office).

Many of you who have followed me over the years are familiar with me saying things like this, of course, and are likewise familiar with me pointing out that there are a number of things about my life that I don’t mention in public, for whatever reasons I choose. But it’s also true that I’ve been actively online for 30+ years now, and people feel reasonably confident that they have a good bead on me and that there’s not much about me that will surprise them or change their understanding of me. So to bring home the point there are indeed things you don’t know, allow me to surface just one previously unaired fun fact:

I have a concealed carry license.

(Or did; it expired this year and I didn’t renew it, because Ohio changed its laws so that you no longer need a permit to conceal carry in the state. These days in Ohio you can just wander about with a handgun stuffed down your trousers without training or licensing because that’s a real good idea, now, isn’t it. Nevertheless, the license is not necessary anymore so there was not much point in renewing it, although if the law had not changed, I probably would have renewed.)

Why did I have a concealed carry license? Well, ultimately that’s not important. The point is I had one. I didn’t talk about it before because, among other things, the point of a concealed carry license (to me, anyway) is that its existence is not meant to be known by anyone other than that great state of Ohio itself. I am aware, and this is a dramatic understatement, that I am not a person most people would expect to have had such a thing. That the fact I had one will cause a number of people to reconsider what they know about me, for better or for worse. Which is also my point. All y’all have just learned this thing about me! Think about all the other things you don’t know!

Oh, God, this is where Scalzi starts admitting to terrible, terrible things. No. I feel pretty confident I live a tolerably ethical life. Part of the reason for this is that I have what I think is a decent operating principle, which is: If I’m thinking of doing something, and Krissy called me right then and asked “what are you doing?” and I would be tempted to lie to her about it, then I don’t do that thing. Because Krissy is the most important person in my life, and I don’t want to lie to her about what I’m doing (I have lied to her exactly once. She knew instantly. I haven’t bothered lying to her since). This is not replacing Krissy’s ethics with my own; it’s me knowing whether by my own ethics, I would be ashamed to tell to her what I am up to. It works very well. As such, the Krissy Test is an operating principle I highly suggest to others, although I’d suggest replacing Krissy with whomever your life is most important to you.

Be that as it may, my ethics are not universal and some others might not find them sufficient, for whatever reason. I am well aware I still disappoint many people, and that there are people who find my life choices, known positions or public statements (or lack of them, as the case may be) problematic, or who simply wish I would be other than what I am. I can’t help them with this, but again, this is the point. Given the fact that I am a fallible human who has an entire stratum of his life not visible to the world — and the strata of his life that are visible cause significant numbers of people to be irritated and exasperated — is it not better just to not hold me up as an ideal person, or the “good dude,” much less an idol of any sort?

I mean, shit. What Would John Scalzi Do? Solidly half the time, I have no fucking idea. I have to think about it, whatever it is. I have to think about whether I know enough to do or say something about it. I have to decide whether it’s something I want to engage with at all, and whether my engagement with it is something that would be of value to anyone, me included. I have to decide whether engaging with it is worth the shit I will get for it. And then I have to figure out what it means that I am engaging with it, since like it or not I’m a Dude of Reasonable Significance in My Field. I try to be a decent human, when people are looking at me and especially when they are not. But I also know me, and all my flaws and weaknesses and compromises.

What Would John Scalzi Do? The best he can, in the moment. Is that sufficient? For me, yes, most of the time. Is that sufficient for you? That’s up to you.

The point to this all is that people are just a big fucking mess, including the ones you might for whatever reason find admirable. I am no different than anyone else, and you should not be under the illusion that I am anything other than a shambling collection of flaws embedded inside a human form, which also, in its defense, has some pretty excellent qualities as well. We’re all this way! You too!

And while I want you to like my work, and to enjoy the version of me that you see here and elsewhere, don’t put me, or any other person, on a pedestal. Pedestals are wobbly and and don’t give actual humans a lot of room to move. We will inevitably fall off. Keep us with our feet on the ground. That way, when we stumble, there’s a chance we can get back up, and keep going.

— JS

[specialagentartemis]

thinking more about @thetransfemininereview's Trans Microlibrary Project.

It's a good idea, an important idea. TBH microlibrary preservation projects seem like a good idea in general. My mom used to warn me about internet safety, “The internet is written in ink”—that once you put something on the Internet, you can never fully remove it. But the tragic problem is, that’s only true of the stuff you don’t want spreading—the stuff you actually want to preserve is so ephemeral it can disappear without a trace, and you can never get it back again. Jamie Berrout's work is an eternal preservation difficulty this way. A few years ago, a Metal Gear fanfiction author on Livejornal I loved deleted her LJ account and all her foundational Metal Gear fanfic was just—gone. I go and reread some important blog posts about asexual history and link rot has already set in. The Internet Archive did something phenomenally stupid and as a result faces a credible threat to its continued existence.  Personal offline archives of internet-native work seem more important now than ever.

I believe wholeheartedly in the Trans Microlibrary Project and I certainly have PDF copies of several trans books that it is hard-to-impossible to get anymore (Jamie Berrout’s work, primarily, but also one of Xemiyulu Tapepechul’s poetry chapbooks) and other indie trans fiction that who knows how long the content hosters will allow in this skittish political climate (Gillian Ybabez’s flash fiction and various works by the Trans Women Writers’ Collective/River Furnace), so I’m thinking about buying a handful of flash drives and making my own personal preservation projects:

Contribute to the decentralized Trans Microlibrary Project as described in this post (and this will be an inspiration to read M. Kirin’s book Memory Leak, which a recent review piqued my interest in. Itch.io is a very under-recommended venue for indie queer books!) I'm particularly interested in sci-fi, fantasy, horror, and related genre fiction.

An Ace & Aro archive—so much of the important ace writing is on blogs and in zines, and with Matt Mullenwig beefing with Wordpress, I don’t know how stable Wordpress-based blogs will continue to be. Thinking about trying to download PDF copies of the entire Asexual Agenda. I also have several self-pub ace and aro books that are… at best okay tbh. But worth preserving as well. 

Fanfiction. Wanting to have the stuff I like on hand and safe—not even from government censorship or hosting problems necessarily but from all the things that inspire people to delete their fics and their accounts and their blogs. I’ve been burned by Athena Crikey deleting her LJ after years of inactivity and I don’t want to lose so much work I’ve enjoyed over the years.

More projects than that would probably prevent me from doing anything at all lol. But this offline preservation work of internet material is something I have a renewed interest in actually doing.

What do you think is worth preserving?

[harrysgal]

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (4)

harry styles x yn aspiring filmmaker — social media AU

I am actually a little bit nervous about this part, so I hope you enjoy it.

About the smau: yn starts posting videos on youtube and is trying to build a career as a filmmaker. Things are going pretty well for her and she starts getting more attention when she creates content about shows she goes to. She’s also a fan of Harry’s music and some of his fans start getting suspicious when his team starts interacting with her.

Disclaimer: The story it’s set in 2021 and it will follow their relationship through the LOT leg in the US. Since this is nothing but fiction, I will be following some of the real timeline but also adding my own stuff. On top of that, I won’t be basing myself on Harry’s actual posts.

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PART 3 — DENVER // MASTERLIST

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I DIG YOUR CINEMA (PART 4) — THE VIDEO

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liked by bestfriend, anthonypham, mollyjane_x and 59,302 others 

yourinstagram im sorry its taken me so long to show up. i thought time would give me the ability to find some words to say, but as it turns out im much better at telling things through a camera than through a pen (or a keyboard, in this case). when i posted my first video on youtube, all i wanted was to find myself again after finally getting free from a relationship that drained the fun out of me. making movies is something that ive always been passionate about, so i thought — why not? three months later, when i posted my first video at a concert, all i wanted was to tell the story of a woman who, after raising two kids and giving everything she had to make everyone around her happy and safe, finally had the opportunity to make one of her most “innocent” dreams (seeing shania twain) come true. fast forward to this week, as i post my latest video all i want is to tell the story of a man who has the entire world in the palm of his hand and yet lives his life as if he’s merely another ordinary soul on earth. what happens now, and what you do with this story (or with any other ive already told), its not up to me anymore. 

that all being said, thank you harry for trusting me with this story. it wasn’t mine to tell, but you allowed me to do it anyway and i’ll always be grateful for that. so, again, thank you. 

ok i will stop typing now. 

actually, im just gonna add that i hope you all enjoy this video as much as i do (but if you don’t, thats fair, and i’ll accept it just as much) 

ok, now im done :) 

view all 11,073 comments

lookitsnyoh 👑👑👑👑👑 harryfan9 this was so much more than we’ve asked for 🙏🙏🙏 user1 its been almost 24 hours since you posted this video and im still 😲!! YOU’RE INCREDIBLE  user5 absolutely amazing! unexpected, captivating, touching… 10/10! yourbrother Kinda sucks that I don’t even feel like teasing you this time. I’m just proud.

↳ sisterinlaw Printed and framed already. ↳ yourinstagram … i dont even know what to say right now ↳ yourinstagram ＠sisterinlaw i’ll need a copy of that pls 

harryfan your mind is so brilliant im so in love with this and i know i speak for the entire fandom when i say: THANK YOU 😭

↳ harryfan5 no really bc we’re so used to getting practically nothing that she coulve just done anything and we would’ve still died… and yet she gave us THIS?  ↳ harryfan7 yn deserves the best in life period ↳ harryfan54 c’mon… it’s not THAT good

harrystyles 😲 so this was my story you were telling? 

↳ yourinstagram i kept my side of the promise, didnt i? you were supposed to keep yours ↳ harrystyles fair enough. you’re welcome x  ↳ yourinstagram 😌😌😌😌😌 ↳ yourinstagram thank you ↳ harrystyles you’re welcome x ↳ harryfan25 OMFGDSGFUAGFBH ↳ harryfan11 ＠yourinstagram ＠harrystyles sorry guys do you want us to leave you two alone?  ↳ harryfan51 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭  ↳ harryfan17 wdym you kept your side of the promise??? what did you promise????? what is it?????

harryfan10 pls we need more harry content already  user7 Don’t go missing again, we miss you here! 

Sep 9, 2021 •

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liked by yourinstagram, bestfriend, jefezoff and 5,187,031 others

harrystyles I’m honored to say ＠yourinstagram has turned the beginning of this new chapter into a lovely short-movie, one you can watch right now on her youtube channel. 

Thank you Yn for being so caring and respectful about everything and everyone involved in this project. To watch this idea turn into reality has been nothing but inspiring. 

Welcome to the team, it’s too late to back out now. x

view all 203,557 comments

bestfriend this moment is all mine. 20+ years of friendship are FINALLY paying off. 

↳ user3 you’re so unserious i love it fgajdujn ↳ yourinstagram im doing it just for you <3

harryfan5 noooooo I can’t do this my heart can’t take it pls stop 😭😭 harryfan23 I CANT BELIEVE YNS FIRSTS WORDS TO HIM WERE SHUT THE FUCK UP HAHAHAHAHA  annetwist What a wonderful job you’ve done dear ＠yourinstagram 🥰

↳ yourinstagram ❤️ ↳ harryfan54 🙄

harryfan66 who are you and what have you done to the real harry? 🧐

↳ harryfan14 for real tho lmao  ↳ harryfan74 yup. ive been saying it: another strategy just to get a random famous on harrys back. as usual.

harryfan9 NOT HARRY EXPOSING THE FIRST TIME THEY TALKED????

↳ harryfan3 and the fact that HE texted her first???  ↳ harryfan9 pls!!! molly gave me your nUmBeR 🤪🤪

harryfan15 oh you’re so sick for this AHDUAJHDJ  yourinstagram THOSE messages? REALLY???

↳ harrystyles I’ve been explicitly forbidden to post a picture with you so I had to improvise.  ↳ yourinstagram ok but did you also have to conveniently leave my next message out of it? ↳ harrystyles Yes x. 

Sep 9, 2021 •

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PART 5: FROM SAN ANTONIO

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[wisterialwhymsy]

his golden hues to your shattered soul

han jisung x gn! reader  wc: 2k warnings: detailed description of a panic attack and a flashback, in depth talks about abuse/manipulation, non-sexual nudity, not super proofread, hurt/comfort, so fluffy, santa a/n: this is deeply personal, (i sobbed whilst writing it) but i wanted to share in case it brought anyone comfort <3 also partially based off of a song i wrote lols

"Hey love, you okay?" Your boyfriend asks from his spot in your bed. Tonight was supposed to be another normal sleepover, where you doom scroll together before curling up and falling asleep watching an anime.

You take a deep breath, trying to ignore your spiralling thoughts and the tears pricking at  your eyes.

"Yeah." You whisper hollowly. "Just... read something I shouldn't have." You try to control your breaths, try to breathe in deeply but you begin to feel yourself inhale and exhale sharply and uncontrollably.

"Woah, hey, hey baby." Jisung soothes, moving to sit in front of you, holding your hands in an attempt to ground you. "It's okay. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

You barely notice the tears spilling down your face as you hyperventilate, avoiding eye contact. “I-” Your voice breaks as you begin to spiral out of control, too far gone to bring yourself back.

“It’s so silly. It’s so stupid.” You mutter, your insides and thoughts twisting into a coil of knots.

"Baby, I promise it's not stupid." He says, resting his hand on your face and gently wiping away your flowing tears. "Hey, look at me." 

You look at him and suddenly you break, you immediately jump into his lap, hiding your face in the indent of his neck as you sob.

"Oh honey. It's okay, I've got you." He murmurs, holding you tight and drawing gentle, soothing shapes on your back.

“You’re safe.” He draws zigzags along your spine. “I love you, and I’ve got you.” He traces a swirling spiral along your skin. “You’ll be okay.” He murmurs against the side of your head.

He continues to hold you, whispering comforting words in your ear, as your sobs turn to hiccups and your breathing slows. He moves to situate the two of you more comfortably against your bed-head as he gently presses soft kisses to your hair.

"Do you wanna talk about it sweetheart?" He murmurs into your hair, continuing to draw soothing, invisible patterns down your spine.

"Don't wanna upset you." You mumble tearily into his shoulder.

"Don't worry about me baby. I'm here for you. If you want to tell me, I’m here to listen." He comforts you, continuing to press soft kisses to your hair.

You lean back, "Promise you won't laugh?" You look into his eyes, taking note of the care and concern reflected in them.

"I promise baby." He takes your hand in his.

You look away, too embarrassed to make eye contact. "I was reading fanfiction about you..." 

"Why love? I'm right here." He inquires, head tilting and brow furrowing  in confusion.

"I don't know!" You exclaim, tears springing to your eyes again. "I was bored!" 

"Okay, okay, I'm not judging baby." He hugs you close to his chest, hoping the new position would ease your worries about eye contact and make you more comfortable. "Then what?" He gently traces invisible lines along your arm.

"I stumbled across a random one, and I read the warnings and I thought I'd be fine." You lament, voice thick with anguish.

"Then I read it and..." You pause, voice breaking as fresh tears spill down your face once again. 

"Ji..." You say and you must sound so broken because you hear him inhale sharply. "They made you sound just like them." He hums in melancholic recognition, knowing exactly who you were talking about.

"And I know that it's fiction." Your voice quivers, "But it just brought me back to that. And them." 

You feel so broken, exactly like you had with them– shattered and haphazardly stuck back together a million times until you were shaped into who they wanted you to be. A misshapen and distorted resemblance of the person you once were. They had destroyed you so many times, chipping away at your identity, your ideals and your self worth. Then they glued you back together, proclaiming their love for you and promising change. And yet, they immediately fractured you again, often before the glue had even dried. This endless, almost monotonous repetition of torment and control left you fragile- collapsing in on yourself with a single sentence, just as they desired.

Now, even years later, you still fractured easily, but Jisung was there to decorate your sharp edges with golden paint and piece you back together. Always holding you gently as you cried, whispering soft nothings that somehow meant everything- his golden light shining through the cracks in your broken person.

Your chest tightens with guilt, guilt that Jisung was the one being made to fix the mess you now were.

You suddenly hear him sniffle and you immediately pull back, confused and concerned. 

You notice tears streaming down his face as he looks at you with a heartbroken expression.

"Wait, no. Don't cry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you." You stand to try and leave but you're immediately stopped by hands wrapping around your waist as he hugs you, his face pressed into your back as he cries.

"I love you so much. So. So. So much. I will never, ever, ever hurt you like that, or treat you as anything less than the amazing person you are. You are so incredibly strong and I am so proud of you and so privileged to be part of your journey." You feel sobs wracking your body and you swear you feel the warmth of his love flowing into you as he pulls you into his lap. 

"You are my world, and I will never understand how anyone treated you as anything less than that. I adore you more than life itself, I worship the very ground you walk on and I will never do anything less." He turns you so that you’re facing him and you wrap your arms around his neck and you cry together.

“I am so, so, so proud of you baby.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead as he rubs soft circles into your waist. “They're so lucky that they're in a different country, otherwise I swear to god I will hunt them down." He emphasises the last part, making you giggle through your tears.

"I love you. So much. You could never be anything like them. I'm sorry for overreacting." You nestle your face into the crook of his neck.

"Whoaaa. Excuse me! You did not overreact. You have trauma. You had a panic attack." He gently brushes your hair out of your face. "It happens baby. I'm just glad I was here for you like you're always here for me." Tears spring to your eyes once again, however this time it's more out of the sheer love you feel for the man in front of you.

“How are you so pretty when you cry?” You whisper, gently wiping away the tears decorating your lover's face as he laughs.

“You’re pretty all the time.” He murmurs looking up at you as though you’ve strung the stars that now shine in his eyes.

He falls backwards, making you lay down on top of him. 

“Gonna marry you someday.” He cooes as he falls backwards, pulling you down to lay on him as you blush.

“You feeling better now?” He asks sleepily, eyes closed as he rubs your back.

“Much better.” You hum, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, making him giggle.

“You know one thing that would make me feel even better.” You scheme as he suspiciously opens one eye to peek at you.

“Bubble bath?” He whispers excitedly, making you gasp.

“HOW DID YOU KNOW?” You exclaim, giggling as he hugs you tight, pressing chaste kisses to your neck and cheeks.

“Husband's intuition,” he smiles at your giggles.

“Ohhh. Did you get a promotion?” You smile down at his beaming face.

“Not yet. But soon.” He flirts, making you blush. 

“Cutie.” he whispers before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

Later, he slides in behind you, his bare chest pressed against your back and his chin resting on your shoulder as the two of you play with the bubbles.

He smiles at you when you turn, unprepared for your bubble attack that leaves him looking like a wise, old man.

You laugh at his shocked expression. “You look like Santa!”

“Ho, ho, ho?” He says hesitantly, making you laugh harder. You turn properly, resting your chin on his chest as you float above him.

“I love you so much.” You whisper, smiling up at him.

“I love you too sweetheart.” He smiles down at you as he tries to remove the bubbles, making you giggle. 

Suddenly you’re being pulled up and you squeak as the cold air bites at your arms.

Jisungs arms wrap around you, holding you up, faces inches away from each other.

“Hi,” he says, eyes locked onto your lips.

“Hi baby.” You murmur, bringing your gaze down to his lips.

“You’re pretty.” He whispers, looking back at your eyes.

Instead of replying you cup his face and press your lips to his. He immediately kisses you back and your lips work in unison, a push and pull of love, adoration and desire.

You pull back, “You’re prettier.” You press kisses to his round cheeks, his neck and his chest, making him giggle.

─── .✧.☽ .✧. ───

The two of you lay there for what feels like an eternity. 

“Ji,” you whine, “The waters cold.”

“D’you wanna get out?” he mumbles, lazily chasing droplets of water down your back with his finger.

“No…” you groan dramatically, making him laugh.

“Come on bub. Time to get out.” he says, patting your back.

“Fine” you grumble, gently extracting yourself from his limbs before standing up and wrapping a towel around you. Grabbing another one you spin, careful to help your clumsy partner out of the tub before you wrap him in a towel, using the motion as an excuse to hug him.

The two of you giggle as you dry each other off, pressing soft kisses to every inch of bare skin you can reach.

“Go stand outside, I’ll sacrifice myself and pull the plug out.” You laugh before doing as he says.

You giggle as you hear the sound of the drain groaning and his soft footsteps as he runs to escape the sound. All of a sudden you’re being picked up as he carries you towards your room, dropping you on the bed in a mess of laughter and towels.

“Which pyjamas will it be tonight, my liege?” He asks, dramatically opening your wardrobe.

You hum, considering your options before your eyes light up. “Can we wear the matching ones?”

“The cinnamoroll ones?” he asks, smiling as he searches for them.

You excitedly hum in confirmation as he pulls out the matching set, tossing it onto the bed beside you. He helps you get dressed, despite your complaints, gently pulling the light blue, fuzzy pants up your leg before kissing your stomach, making you giggle. He then pulls the dark blue cinnamoroll hoodie down over your head, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as he ruffles your now fluffy hair.

He pulls back to go and to put his set on but you stop him, pulling him close before quickly switching positions so that he’s now seated on the bed. You press a soft kiss to his lips before you gently clothe his legs with the soft, dark blue fabric. As you stand up, he pulls you close, resting his chin upon your tummy and wrapping his arms around your waist as he looks up at you.

“I love you so much.” He murmurs, looking almost starstruck.

“I love you too beautiful, thank you for everything.” You run your fingers through his hair for a moment before noticing the goosebumps adoring his arms. You lean over and pull the fluffy, light blue cinnamoroll hoodie onto him and he immediately pulls you onto his lap once the soft, warm fabric engulfs him.

He presses kiss, after kiss to your lips, gently holding you as you cuddle together.

Later, when the two of you are curled up comfortably in your bed, you rest your head on his chest, smiling at the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I wonder if we’ll ever go on tour to their country…” Jisung muses out loud.

“JI! NO!” You gasp, sitting up and smacking his arm as he giggles. 

This is a work of fiction, based entirely on my personal perception of him, and does not reflect his actual character or actions.

[mack-devereaux]

Hiii i wanna ask if ya can write something with Vince? Maybe him getting into a fight (so hot i love it) and hin hurting his wrist are something? And reader taking care of him afterwards. Plleeaassee

Vince Dunn

Omg this is my first request!! I’m so sorry it took so long! Also check out my other fic about Vince. I think they have a similar vibe. But This has no relation to that one. I had so much fun writing this. Just a reminder this is a work of fiction and my imagination, this is not based on true events. Thank you to the anon who requested!

Picture is from Pinterest, no triggers except for cursing and mentions of blood. I think that’s it! Enjoy!

When Vince first moved to Seattle he was excited. This was a brand new team and he had more opportunities to make a name for himself as one of the more aggressive defensemen in the NHL. He had always had a temper on the ice, even in his early days in high school and in the OHL, and he was good at running his mouth. He was always respectful to the medical training staff and the coaching staff, he never took his anger or frustration out on the people who helped him get back on the ice.

Did he cause the fights on purpose? Maybe.

Was he mad about being hauled into the cute medical trainers office to get patched up? Absolutely not. He enjoyed talking with y/n and getting to know her a bit better.

Did he cause fights just to see her? No, he truly has a passion for the sport, he just sometimes got a little too involved with the banter sometimes. However a perk to all this was those few minutes alone with y/n. Although she never really spoke to him much outside of work and was always very quiet he knew how passionate she was about her job. No matter what she was always so attentive to the injury and informative about what she was doing to help said injured player.

Y/n loved the energy of the home games, she typically didn’t get to travel very much with the team, only to close games, but something about the atmosphere of home games had her just buzzing with energy. Most of the time she got to watch the game from the tunnels, it was the perfect spot to see most of the game and it was easy to drag injured players back to the locker room to tend to the injuries. Tonight’s game was a home game against the Colorado Avalanche again, a team known to get the Kraken a little riled up. Just the week prior Vince had gotten himself into quite the scrum and ended up with a cut on his nose while playing against the Avalanche.

*flashback to a week prior*

Y/n was sitting in the medical room at Ball Arena, going through the medical kits organizing some of the supplies. She had heard the roar of the crowd and immediately knew there was a fight that happened. Shortly after that, the third period had ended. Hearing the players stomping down the tunnel shouting and cheering she already knew who was headed her direction.

“Vince..” y/n sighed pulling all her medical supplies back out.

“Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me” Vince chirped at the girl.

“You’re gonna have some serious damage to your nose if you don’t stop” y/n said as she was washing her hands and throwing her gloves on “I’m surprised you don’t have a permanent scar from how many times I’ve seen it busted”.

“That just means you are doing a great job babe. I’ve got you to thank for keeping me looking good” Vince smiles.

Y/n rolled her eyes and turned around trying to hide her blush. Knowing this was the exact reason as to why she fell for him. He was just so charming. He knew exactly what to say and that’s why she could never date him. That and the fact that she technically worked for the same organization as him. Were they coworkers? No, but surely it was still frowned upon. At least that’s what she told herself anyway. As she was cleaning off the blood from his nose she caught herself admiring him. He truly was one of the most beautiful people she’s ever laid eyes on. Once the bleeding stopped she checked for other injuries, and sent him to be with the rest of the team.

“Promise me you’ll keep out of trouble for at least the next week” she called to him as he walked away.

“For you? Never.” He added with a wink.

*present*

Five minutes left in the third period and y/n had gotten to watch maybe 10 minutes total of the game. Partially because she didn’t like seeing Vince fight much, and because the players definitely kept her busy. This was probably the most bloody noses and knuckles she had tended to in her entire career. Normally the crowd goes crazy and encourages fights, and she definitely enjoyed that. But for some reason she couldn’t stomach seeing Vince getting hurt. I guess she had Cupids arrow to thank for that. After a few more minutes gloves went flying, curse words were being yelled and the crowd went wild. Reluctantly she looked over in front of the players bench and Vince had thrown a Colorado player on his back.

“Oh for fucks sake Vince” she muttered under her breath.

“You got him or do you want me to take care of him this time” the head medical trainer asked y/n chuckling and shaking his head.

Y/n looked across the ice as Vince and the Avalanche player got tossed in their respective sin bins, she sees that Vince has his helmet off and is holding his wrist.

“I think he hurt his wrist, do you see him messing with it?” y/n points to Vince.

“I’ll take a look when we get back there but I’m sure he’s fine. I think you can handle it after that” the trainer says as they walk back to the locker room.

After the game y/n was in her office waiting for Vince, it had been nearly 40 minutes since the game ended. What was taking him so long? She knew Coach had told him to stop by after their after game meetings and interviews. While she was waiting she decided to tidy up and clean a bit. As she was cleaning her desk she found the puck that Vince had signed and gave to her earlier that year.

*flashback to late last season*

Y/n was standing behind the players bench. It was the last home game for the season, then they were headed into playoffs. Looking onto the ice she watched the players warm up and interact with fans. Vince was watching y/n as he was skating in circles, getting a boost of confidence he picked up a puck and signed it with a note. Smirking he passed by and shouted “hey y/n! Catch!”

Panicking y/n shot both of her hands in front of her face as the head medical trainer caught the puck before it smacked her in the face.

“Really Dunn?!” Y/n shouted.

Vince grinned and skated off, shaking her head she looked at the puck she noticed it said “hey pretty girl” with his signature. Blushing she shoved it in her pocket before she could get scolded.

“Oh he’s so got it bad for you” the trainer said.

“Leave the chirping to the players would you” y/n muttered “besides it’s not like I can date him anyway.”

“Technically…”

“Don’t tempt me” y/n sighed “my heart can’t handle the heartbreak that comes with that one.” She continued to watch him skate around and talk to his teammates with a huge smile on his face.

*back to present*

Y/n smiled at the memory. Not knowing she wasn’t alone, because of course Vince would walk in at that very moment. Leaning up against the doorframe Vince coughed snapping her back to reality.

“My God Vince, now you choose to be quiet? You scared me” y/n shoved the puck back into the drawer.

“I’ll make sure to knock next time” he softly smiled. He totally saw that she still had the puck and it definitely boosted his ego.

“Let me see your wrist” y/n said.

“It’s fine” he muttered.

“If it’s fine let me double check then” y/n challenged.

Vince walked over and sat down on the bench in her office, while reluctantly holding his wrist out. He watched her face as she examined his wrist.

“I think if we wrap it for tonight and tomorrow you should be fine, but the swelling needs to go down significantly before you play again. I’ll clear you for practice but you have to be easy on your arm for the next few days” y/n said as she was grabbing the necessary supplies.

“Thank you for taking care of me y/n, I’m sorry for fighting” Vince whispered.

She smiled at him as she sat down and started wrapping his wrist. Knowing full well that he was watching her face closely the entire time.

“I’ll walk you to your car” Vince said.

“I’d appreciate that, thank you” y/n said as she turned back to him after putting the supplies away. With yet another boost of confidence Vince grabbed her by the waist and pulled her face to his and kissed her, she immediately kissed him back. The kiss was short and sweet. Electricity shot through her body and she felt as if she was on fire. After pulling away y/n whispered “we should go.” Neither of them saying anything as they left the arena. Vince was feeling defeated for the first time in a long time, why hadn’t she said anything? Did he over step? Did he make her uncomfortable? A million more discouraging thoughts ran through his head. Him not knowing she was in shock and on cloud nine all at once. Y/n unlocked her car and opened the door. Before she got in she turned to Vince and pulled his face to hers and slammed her lips onto his. Vince cockily smiled into he kiss and pulled her into him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. After a few minutes they both pulled away, breathing heavy and trying to get as close as possible to each other.

“Thank you for walking me to my car Vince.”

“Let me know when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️