#hes calling his secretary or something
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kon forgot tim is (1) ceo of wayne enterprises (2) insane
#hes calling his secretary or something#tim would unironically say womp womp im making this canon#he has to be dragged kicking and screaming to bed#my art#batfam#batfamily#batman#batman comics#batfam fanart#batfamily fanart#tim drake#dc#dc fanart#dc comics#dc universe#tim drake fanart#red robin fanart#kon el#kon el kent#conner kent#kon el fanart#superboy#timkon#timkon fanart
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Tbh, nothing has made me sympathize more with Kipperlilly Copperkettle than her anger issues.
Cause anger is an emotion we feel when we're missing something. When we need something and can't get it. It's a balm to make us feel better when things don't go our way.
When things aren't fair.
#d20#dimension 20#d20 fantasy high#fantasy high junior year#d20 spoilers#fhjy#fantasy high spoilers#of course just cause you feel like things are unfair doesnt mean they actually are#and the reason why its an anger issue is cause the anger has befome detrimental#its warped from being somethjng to comfort you when you feel powerless to a tool you use against others when you fedl slighted#part of why anger issues are so hard to overcome is cause of how good it feels in the moment#even if you feel terrible guilt afterwards#the catharsis of releasing anger can be such a relief#that you dont even realise youve started looking for reasons to be angry#youre listing things that are terrible with the world just so you can feel better by getting angry at them#things like capitalism and people who bullied you and how your boss is a terrible racist#things that everyone can get angry over#until they get more personal and warps your judgment#âmy boss called a group of immigrant a bunch of racial slursâ âhis secretary was there too she can back me upâ#âwhen i brought it up with her she says she wasnt payjng attention or somethingâ âshes peobably racist too and thats why he hired herâ#it becomes easier to make jumps like that instead of giving people the benefit of the doubt#easier to justify your anger with the smallest slights#until youre yelling at a pedestrian whe. you almost ran them over#âsure it was a red light but they shouldve paid attention and seen me coming tooâ#anyways this is all to say kipperlilly probably has some issues to deal with#idk if shes actually behind this plot or if shes being manipulated#doesmt stop her from being a total dick tho#but it does make me a little more sympathetic to her
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Iâm a strong proponent of lying to get the help you need. I always try the truthful route first but if that gets me nowhere? Lying it is.
I think itâs important to respect other peopleâs time, wellbeing and money so I donât do it in situations where I know Iâm in the wrong, like if I want to get into a place just for fun and someone could get in trouble for letting me in wrongfully Iâd rather not.
But sometimes people just donât understand why something is important in your situation so you have to turn it into something they understand. When I lived in England I constantly lied about being pregnant so gas station employees would let me use their bathroom because for some reason they didnât have public bathrooms.
Or when my doctorâs secretary couldnât get it into her head that my stomach pains were very serious and concerning and insisted I couldnât get an appointment this month so that evening I âfoundâ a lump that I was pretty sure was nothing but it meant I had a reason to call her the next day and get a new appointment immediately and when the doctor told me the lump was harmless I could tell her what my real problem was and she immediately scheduled ALL the tests and examinations because she understood how concerning it was. I just had to get past the fucking secretary with a lie.
Fuck I even support that elderly man who lied about having four children who were stuck in a house during a flood but when the rescue team got there in a dinghy they realized it was four dogs. The guy knew he had to lie because he was too sick to help them himself (able bodied people in the area were able to save their own pets) and they wouldnât have helped him if they knew it was âjust dogsâ. In the video the rescue team can be seen choking up and padding him on the back while he cries with his scared dogs in his arms. The team is clearly not mad because they can see how important the dogs are to him but I have no doubt he was right in thinking they wouldnât have helped if he had told them the truth.
So do what ya gotta do and lie lie lie.
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Do you ever see a couple on the streets and one of them gives you the icks for some (actual) reason and you silently go "i wonder how these two ended up together" but then the other person shows their true colours and it's like "ahh, i see now" đ
#so i was downtown the other day and i went to an office to do some stuff#and there was a couple there before i arrived and i was minding my own business#but then i was called from an office to do my thing and while there we suddenly heard some yelling????#so after a handful of minutes i got out of the office and asked thr secretary: what the duck happened :|#but everyone stared at me like đ°đ°đ°đ°đ¨đ¨#so then the secretary went inside the office and i sat to wait for her bc i had to ask her something#and the lady who was sitting next to me told me the guy from the couple yelled at the secretary because she made me go in first#despite he arrived first#the difference was that i called beforehand to let them know i was going to retrieve some stuff#while this guy showed up unannounced to get to talk to the guy in office#and he yelled at the poor secretary and told her she better go inside and get his shit reviewed or he was going to lose it#and so she did but not bc she was scared. but to make him fuck off from the place#BUT when she came out of the office she decided to give instructions to his gf given he was such a pos#HOWEVER the gf said: uhm no no. go ahead and say it to HIS face#???????¿¿¿¿¿¿¿¿#and the poor secretary was super professional and gave him the instructions or whatever but dude stared at his phone the entire time#and then he stood up. grabbed his papers and as they were leaving his gf said in the most annoying tone possible: THANK youuuu#the bitchiest tone you can think of#i was dumbfounded#if i had been that dude's gf i would've told him to calm down and apologise or i was OUT of there#yet this girl pretty much cheerleaded his bs like ???#i was like.... i see why you're together -.-'#rambless
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Nanny Danny
âThat is a whole ass baby,â was the only thought running through Lex Luthorâs head when the scientist proudly showed him the tube containing Project KR. It was not remotely the sort of thing he would normally think and most definitely not what he had expected to be thinking the first time he saw the clone.
Heâd been pleased when heâd read the reports indicating the success of KR after years of failures. Lex had poured millions of dollars and literally his own blood into ensuring a clone of the alien could be made, one that would be under his total control instead of the unknown aspirations of Superman. Heâd wanted to see the fruits of his labors personally but thisâŚ
It. No, not an it. He scrunched his tiny face and smacked his lips andâŚdid he smirk? Was that HIS SMIRK on that babyâs face?! No. No. Babies this small didnât smile or smirk. They passed gas and their sleep deprived and addled parents mistook it for an intelligent response. Heâd heard enough inane conversations in the Lexcorp office about the various progeny of his employees to pick up on that but still. This child had Kryptonian DNA, not to mention his own contribution. Surely, he was far more advanced than the dribbling potato shaped lump of an infant whose pictures heâd been forced to smile and nod over when Mark from accounting had rudely shoved them in his face at the last quarterly budget meeting. Yes, that was definitely a smirk. His, that was his smirk.
âSo as you can see its growth is well within expected parameters and weâre planning to start phase one of accelerating the maturation process tomorrow once the testing is do-â
âTake him out.â
âSir? The testing can all be accomplished while it remains in the tube. Thereâs no need to-â
âI said, take him out. The project is cancelled.â
âWhat?! Mr. Luthor you canât!â
âI think youâll find I can. Now get me my son.â
*****
Two years later
âCall them againâ
âSir, Iâve called them seven times. They wonât answer.â
âThen call another agency!â
âThere isnât another agency, Sirâ
Lex glared at his assistant who stared back at him impassively. Mercy stood by the door staring off into the distance and pretending she didnât notice him being bested by his own secretary.
He stopped himself from shouting again and took a deep breath before asking, âThen what, exactly, do you propose I do Mrs. Anderson? Adjust my entire schedule around naptimes? Find a toddler size lab coat and safety goggles and bring my son with me to tour the new clean energy project on Thursday? Perhaps buy a tiny business suit while Iâm at it for the next board meeting?â
âIâm not suggesting anything of the sort, Mr. Luthor. Iâm telling you that no childcare agency in Metropolis will return my calls anymore. Most wonât even answer. Youâve gone through 27 nannies in the last 3 months. You need someone better suited to your sonâsâŚspecial needs.â
Lex snorted. âSpecial needs might be a bit of understatement. He can lift a car over his head and his favorite word right now is No.â
He sighed and rubbed his forehead. âThank you forâŚclarifying the situation, Marjorie. If thereâs nothing else, you can leave.â
His secretary didnât move. She looked at him like she was waiting for something and now that he was paying attention, he saw she was holding a file. Â âDid you have a suggestion?â
Looking pleased with herself she responded, âActually, yes, I did.â
âWell?â
She set the file on his desk and flipped it open. He looked down at the first page and raised an eyebrow, âWhat am I looking at here?â
âThis,â she responded pulling out the top set of papers and spreading them out, âis the employee file and background check for Daniel J. Fenton, an intern that started in our engineering department about 4 months ago. He has one sibling, two parents and several close friends he regularly meets with. His current supervisor has nothing but good things to say about him and reports he gets along well with all his coworkers.â
She set out the next set of papers, neatly arranging them on the desk to be easily seen. âThese are newspaper articles and screenshots of social media posts regarding a small town vigilante locally known as Phantom. The same small town, Mr. Fenton is from coincidentally. Also coincidentally, Phantom made his first appearance only a few weeks after Mr. Fenton was involved in a minor accident in his parentâs home laboratory when he was 14, the medical records for the incident are included.â
âHmm,â Lex said observing several photos of Phantom and a younger Fenton arranged in order of similar poses and facial expressions and printed out side by side.
âFinally,â she said handing him the last set of papers directly, âthis would be a report from the lab Mr. Fenton works in from an incident that happened yesterday. A test with a new protype went wrong and started a fire. Everyone evacuated per protocol when the alarms went off but one of the other interns was working on a programming issue off to the side of the lab while wearing headphones and didnât hear the alarm or notice the fire. Mr. Fenton noticed his absence and returned to the lab to get him out.â She stopped talking and let him look at the last several pages in the file, a series of photographs of the lab.
âIs this ice?â
âYes, it is. Itâs several inches thick and covers half of the lab. It completely put out the fire leaving minimal damage.â
âThis machine was moved?â
âIt was. It was very close to the flames and would have required replacement if exposed to extreme heat or cold. That particular piece of equipment also weighs several thousand pounds and was bolted to the floor.â
Lex read through everything in detail then clasped his hands under his chin and stared at the photo of Daniel Fenton for several moments before turning back to his waiting secretary.
âHave HR send Mr. Fenton up. Iâd like to offer him a promotion.â
#dc x dp#dp x dc#dcxdp#dpxdc#Lex Luthor saw baby Kon and said that's my baby#Good Dad Lex Luthor#He mostly stopped with the evil to be a good dad#He still does some villainous things sometimes#as a treat#it's enrichment in his enclosure#danny gets hired as a nanny#because Lex can't keep up with a super powered toddler#nanny danny au
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broken promises
pt two
bodyguard!logan howlett x congressman's daughter!reader
a/n: the fact that he was canonically a bodyguard makes me absolutely insane someone congratulate me, I finally figured out how to make my own dividers Summary: He's learned from past mistakes that no matter how tempting the girl is, it's better not to get involved. He just needs some cash, he doesn't give a fuck how pretty you are. He doesn't care about you. He makes it clear he wants nothing to do with you besides seeing you sign his check. But, is that really all he wants? You're not blind to the way he looks at you. 18+ MDNI Shameless smut at the end, I'm not sorry about it at all.
Logan had gotten used to this. The long drawn-out wait to meet with the man who wanted to hire him. He always arrived right on time, not a moment earlier. They all had the same game they liked to play.Â
The secretary would greet him, a pretty girl in her 20s that the men were screwing or trying to screw. Then they would make him sit in the lobby for half an hour. Theyâd apologize by pushing the blame on someone else, saying a meeting had gone on too long. But there wasnât a meeting. There never was.Â
They liked to make themselves seem more important than they were. It was a power game, an intimidation tactic that he had always scoffed at. He didnât give a fuck what government ties they had or otherwise. He just wanted his paycheck.Â
This one was no different. A congressman who had only recently begun to make waves when he started up an anti-mutant agenda. Ironic that he had specifically requested Logan for the very thing he was trying to eradicate.Â
There was a buzz and then the secretary was picking up her phone. She spared Logan a fleeting glance before whispering something into the receiver. She looked over at him and he already knew what she was going to say. âHeâs ready for you now.âÂ
âThanks, sweetheart,â she gave him a coquettish smile as he made his way towards the large office at the end of the hall. The door was closed when he reached it, three quick knocks and then a quiet Come in.Â
The man didnât even look up to greet him. He continued signing something on his desk. Logan took a seat in one of the chairs, waiting for another few minutes before he was deemed important enough to address. He received a tight smile and narrowed eyes as the man took in the way he was dressed.Â
He never dressed up for these things. Heâd learned a while ago that a suit wasnât going to get him any further than his leather jacket was. Might as well be comfortable while talking to these pricks.Â
âHad a phone call with an associate of mine. Ran on longer than I meant it to.â Always an excuse, never an apology.Â
Logan scoffed and shrugged. âI was fine.â
The man sniffed, âIâm sure. Look, Iâll cut straight to the chase. You come highly recommended by my peers and I need help fast.â Logan nodded, motioning for him to continue. The manâs eyes lingered on his fists for a long while before he finished. âItâs my daughter. Things have been a little rough for her at school, for lack of a better word. Especially since this new campaign started. I just need someone to keep a closer eye on her.â
Loganâs eyes narrowed, âShe a party girl or something?â He wasnât sure he could handle another bratty daddyâs girl again. The last one had nearly made him blow his brains out. They always think flipping their skirts up will let them get away with more and he canât stand it.Â
The manâs face blanched and he shook his head so vigorously that his jowls moved with him. âOh, no, not at all. But sheâs,â he paused and lowered his voice. He leaned in closer to Logan and waited for Logan to do the same. He rolled his eyes but did it anyway. âSheâs like you, you know.â
Logan shot him a grin, âYou mean a mutant.â
âLower your voice,â he hissed, face tightening up in anger. âBut, yes, a mutant. And I need one to guard her.â Ironic, this man was driving a campaign to make mutants second-class citizens, and his daughter was one. But Logan needed a check, he didnât give a fuck about the morals of it all.Â
âSounds good to me.â
âPerfect, you can pick her up from school for me.â
You had your earbuds in, head lowered while you made the trek across campus when you noticed him. He was difficult to miss, tall and buff. Very buff, youâre surprised that tank top of his hasnât ripped every time he flexes.Â
Your dadâs newest campaign has you hyper-aware of your surroundings. You canât afford to let your guard down. Not after the last attack.Â
Thereâs something about this man that tells you he isnât someone looking to jump you, though. Youâre not sure what it is. Every part of him screams danger, but not the type youâre looking out for. The cigar perched between his lips, the glistening muscles you want to bite, heâs trouble.Â
When you spot him outside your lecture hall for the third time that day, you finally figure out whatâs happening. Your dad had told you heâd hired someone new to watch over you at school. You hadnât voiced just how against it you were, but you didnât like the idea.Â
You didnât mind this guy, though. He wasnât busting into your classes and embarrassing the shit out of you by making everyone empty their pockets like the last guy. He just lingered. You could deal with lingering.Â
What you couldnât deal with was the way he was leaning against his motorcycle, smirking as you slowly approached him.Â
âDid my dad hire you?â You call out, tugging your earbuds out. âWho are you?â
He speaks around the cigar like it's second nature. âYour new bodyguard, sweetheart.â You suck in a deep breath when you hear his voice. Heâs extremely attractive, you're surprised your dad would risk this.Â
One of the other ones had kind of gotten a little obsessed, stalking you even in his off hours. You didnât think your dad would want another pretty boy around you. Though, you suppose this one isnât pretty. Heâs extremely handsome, ruggedly so, very manly. Jesus, you might end up being the stalker this time.Â
His lips curl up like he knows what youâre thinking about. You clear your throat, shifting your backpack higher up your arm. âYou planning on taking me home on that?â You ask, pointing at his bike.Â
He straightens up and shrugs. âGot a problem with the bike?â
You grin, âNot really,â but your dad will. âNo, not at all.â
You walk towards him and he reaches out, grabbing your backpack straps and tugging you towards him. You stumble, hands bracing against his chest so you donât land flat on your face. âSorry, kid,â but he doesnât sound sorry at all. He buckles the straps of your backpack together and tightens them, puffing smoke in your face while he does. âDonât want this flying off.â
âMhm,â you hum. Youâre not paying attention at all. The only thing you care about right now is just how ripped he is under your hands. Youâre not sure how long you gawk at him but he seems to be ridiculously amused by it.Â
âReady to go home, or what?â You jump back from him, brushing your hands off on your leggings and clearing your throat.Â
âYes, yeah.â You rip your eyes off his body and instead focus on the bike. âNo helmets?â You ask.
âYou heal, donât you?â You nod and he shrugs. âDonât need them then, do we?â
You canât help the giddy grin on your face at that. Itâs gotten tiring being treated like glass. Youâre about to get on the bike when you finally process what he said. âWait, how do you know I heal?â
He doesnât respond verbally. Instead, his gaze darts down to his fists. Your eyes widen when you see the metal poking through the skin. Of course, your father would only tell another mutant about his abomination of a daughter. You scoff and roll your eyes. Heâs such a fucking hypocrite.Â
Logan climbs on the bike and you follow after him. You're hesitant to wrap your arms around his waist but he just reaches behind himself and jerks you forward.Â
You suck in a sharp breath, pelvis tight against his ass while he squeezes your hands. âYou want to go flying?â You shake your head and he chuckles, starting the bike and driving off without another word.Â
Part of you loves the ride home, the other part detests it. For once you get to experience a little freedom. Youâre not trapped in a steel box staring at the back of a car seat while the man beside you pretends he doesnât exist.Â
You can feel the wind in your hair, get a taste of real speed, and enjoy a moment uninterrupted by someoneâs expectations of you. On the other hand, Logan does not respect speeding laws. And healing abilities or not, you donât actually want to experience road rash.Â
He manages to get you home in one piece, parking the motorcycle in the driveway and waiting for you to get off. But you canât, your thighs have been clenching the seat so tight you think they might need to scrape you off.Â
âKid?â He mutters. You shake your head against his back, arms still strangling his waist. It was actually kind of fucking terrifying being on one of these things. You canât tell if you loved or hated it.Â
He lets out a rough sigh, forcibly moving your arms and then tugging you off the seat. Your legs are like jello while you try and straighten out. âWasnât so bad, was it?â He asks. You canât manage much more than a strangled hum and he laughs.Â
You turn to your front door and spot a leering face peering out the window. âShit,â you huff. Your stepmother sees you spot her and disappears from view. You feel your hopes of ever getting back on that bike go with her.Â
âYou took her home on your bike!â
âWell-â
You flinch at the volume of your fatherâs voice. âI donât give a fuck what your excuse is! I will not have my daughter seen riding that monstrosity! You are not to do this again, do you understand me?â
You donât know what Logan says, but youâre certain itâs not the submissive Yes, sir your father is looking for. He continues shouting at him for another ten minutes. When you hear the door to his office open you scramble to look like you hadnât been listening in.Â
But youâre a bad actress and if his huff of laughter is anything to go by, Logan knows what you were doing. âDid you know that was going to happen?â He asks, pointing back to your fatherâs, now closed, study.Â
You nod, pursing your lips with an apologetic smile. âIf it helps, I was really hoping he wouldnât do that.â
He shrugs, âI donât really give a fuck how much he wants to scream at me.â Itâs refreshing, to finally have someone in the house who doesnât kiss your fatherâs ass. It makes you smile, a real genuine smile for the first time in a while.Â
You stand from the chair youâd been sitting in, gesturing further into your home. âAre you hungry? I havenât eaten all day so I was thinking about making something.â
The smirk drops from his face, expression suddenly serious. It makes you tense up. âLook, I appreciate the offer, but Iâm here to get paid. I donât want to be your friend, kid.â
You suck in a sharp breath, trying not to let the rejection sting. Heâs a professional, it should be a relief after the last one. âRight, yeah, Iâm sorry I didnât mean it like that.â
He nods, âRight,â tone stiff. You stare at him for another awkwardly long moment before you finally turn on your heel and walk toward the kitchen. You rush there, speedwalking so you donât have to look at him any longer.Â
You open up your fridge, keeping your back to him for as long as humanly possible. You can hear him take a seat at the island, can feel the way his eyes bore into you. Itâs a physical thing, his gaze, makes chills scrape their way down your spine.Â
You make yourself a sandwich and finally force yourself to turn around. Like youâd expected, heâs already looking at you. Lips ticking up just slightly when you finally get the courage to look up at him.Â
Logan feels a little guilty. You werenât coming onto him earlier, you were being genuine with your kindness. He knows there were no ulterior motives to it and thereâs a very slight part of him that feels bad for making you so quiet. âWhyâs your dad so pissy about the bike?â
Youâre a little startled by the question, after the comment he made youâd thought he wouldnât want anything to do with you. You swallow down the rest of your bite and cough a little when the bread gets stuck on the roof of your mouth.Â
âHe doesnât want me to crash.â
âBut you heal,â he points out bluntly and you canât help but laugh a little.Â
âYeah, thatâs the problem. He doesnât want me to crash and for someone to see that I miraculously healed. Having a freak for a daughter wouldnât exactly help his campaign, would it?â You canât even attempt to hide the bitterness in your voice. And you know Logan picks up on it because he doesnât ask any more questions.Â
Your gaze drops to your plate and you finish the rest of your meal in silence. Or, you try to. âGot any plans tonight?â
You chuckle and give him an odd look. âNo,â you respond sardonically. âNone at all, prepare yourself for a very boring job. I donât even know why he hired you, I never leave the house unless it's for school.â
âYeah?â he muses, but he doesnât seem particularly interested. More like heâs talking just to pass the time. âI heard youâve been having a hard time at school.â
You suck in a sharp breath, a sudden wave of anger roiling through your gut. The cabinets behind you begin to shake and you wince in embarrassment, tamping down on your powers before you accidentally blow up the kitchen.Â
Logan watches the moment with subdued interest like heâs not all that surprised or impressed with the display. âUnless they were a PoliSci nerd, I was a nobody up until last year.â Thereâs no concealing the hate lurking within your words, âAnd then my dad took up this whole anti-mutant regime. Well, you can imagine how much the activists love me. Iâve just had a few incidents with some particularly passionate protestors.â
âDo you believe in it?â
Your eyes widen in surprise, you hadnât expected him to actually continue the conversation. âWhat do you mean?â
He leans back, arms crossed across his chest in a way that makes his biceps bulge. He shrugs, âThe anti-mutant regime, do you agree with it?â
You open your mouth, the perfected script almost rolling off your tongue. But this isnât some politician's son youâre wooing. Youâre not the perfect daughter, youâre in your own home, finally talking to someone else like you.Â
âNo.â You answer, voice strong in its conviction. âAnd every time I see one of his PAs running around with their little signs I want to ram the stick up their ass.â
He barks out a laugh, eyes crinkling up in amusement. âI think we might get along, kid.â
You try to ignore the way your cheeks warm at his words. You donât want to be this affected by him, youâve barely spoken to him. But this is the first person in a long time that you know with absolute certainty you can be honest with. He doesnât care about protecting your political image or bowing to your fatherâs every whim.Â
Itâs a relief, like a constricting weight being taken off your chest. You give him an easy smile and get up to wash your dishes. His eyes are on you again but they feel less oppressive this time. Youâve already forgotten the rule heâs set in place, youâre not supposed to be friends.Â
Itâs going to be hard to remember that.Â
Your father tightens his grip around your waist until you feel like you might squeal. âSmile, now.â You raise your hand, taking the stairs up the stage and waving out at the crowd thatâs formed. Itâs hot today, your makeup would be melting off if it werenât for the artists who put it on for you.Â
Always have to look good in front of the camera. All of you. Seeing Logan in a suit was certainly a surprise. Youâre almost completely sure that your father had to give him a bonus to even consider wearing it today.Â
He looks good, but you honestly prefer him in the normal beater and leather jacket. Itâs something so uniquely him. This is just a reminder of your reality, that nothing around you is real. Itâs all pretty lies wrapped up in expensive clothes.Â
You have to bite your tongue and hold back a grimace when your father begins his speech. âFirst, we had to let them into our jobs. Now theyâre in our schools! Our children arenât safe, not when theyâve got loaded weapons sitting beside them! Because thatâs exactly what they are, weapons of mass destruction that will take apart-â
âFuck me,â you hiss under your breath. Your cheeks hurt from keeping this smile on your face. Youâre struggling not to flinch every time the crowd surges up to agree with him, bigoted shouts making your ears bleed.Â
Loganâs brows raise and he gives you a brief glance over his shoulder. Your face pinches in confusion only for a moment before you quickly correct it. Still, you keep your lips nearly completely motionless as you whisper, âCan you hear me?â
You dart your gaze back down to him and catch the barest of nods. Your smile softens, becoming something real if only for a moment. You donât say anything else, you donât need to. Itâs just a comfort to know someone else is there with you, seeing through the painted faces and plastic smiles.Â
Thereâs movement in the crowd. It cuts your father off midsentence. He peers over the podium, trying to get a better look at whatâs happening. You hear someone scream and then the entire crowd is getting knocked to the ground.Â
You jump back in shock, everyone on stage still. The security, however, is rushing to get to you and your family. Itâs too late, though, thereâs a mutant in the crowd and his eyes are set on you. âFuck you,â he screams out your father's name and lugs something at the stage.Â
You hear someone shout your name but itâs too late. Glass shatters against the side of your face. It takes less than a second for the pain to start. You can feel holes being burned through your skin, like living fire melting through your bones and gums. A scream rips out of your throat, your hands coming up to block your face too late.Â
âGet her out of here!â
As agonizing as it is, you can already feel your skin working to mend itself. You can practically hear the flesh bonding back together. But the acid is dripping down you. It keeps moving steadily through your clothes and skin, your abilities on overdrive trying to repair the damage.Â
You canât focus on anything except the sensation of being burned alive. Suddenly, thereâs an arm being thrown around your shoulder and youâre being lifted off your feet. Your skin scrapes against the rough material of someoneâs blazer and it makes you grit your teeth and scream again.Â
âI know, hold on kid, itâll be over in a minute.â Logan rushes you behind the stage, where there are no cameras to watch you heal. You donât know how your fatherâs PR team is going to spin this. Everyone saw it, saw the way your flesh bubbled and boiled. Thereâs no hiding the fact that half your face should be melted off.Â
âCar,â you grunt out when he puts you on your feet again.Â
His hands are clamped firmly around your shoulders, inspecting you for any further damage. âWhat?â
âWe gotta get to the car,â the words are a struggle to get out. Your lungs constrict painfully in your chest while you force the rest out. âCanât let them see.â
He looks pissed off that that's what you're worried about and not the fact that you were just attacked. Finally, after a minute of just staring at you, he nods. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and runs with you back to the limo. He throws the door open, pushing you inside and sliding in beside you.Â
You take in a deep breath the second youâre no longer in view of the TV cameras. âFuck,â you gasp out. Your dress is in tatters on your left side and you quickly cover your chest. You pray that you didnât accidentally flash anything while you were still on stage. Your father would never forgive you for that.Â
Itâs silent in the car for a moment. You feel something being draped over your shoulder and look over to see Logan passing you his jacket. When he catches your gaze he gently grabs your jaw and titls your face towards his.Â
His eyes rove over the left side of your face and he gives you a tight smile. âYouâre fine, kid.â
You pull your chin out of his grip and pull his jacket closed around you. âSee why my father wanted you around? How would he have ever explained his daughter surviving an acid attack?â
Thereâs something pinched in his gaze. A deep-seated irritation and something else youâre too tired to identify. Heâs looking at you oddly and you wish he wouldnât. You press your forehead to the cool glass of the window and slump against the car door.Â
You donât know when you fall asleep but by the time you wake up, Loganâs already carrying you up to your room. He sees you shift awake and places you on your feet. You steady yourself against the stair banister and walk the rest of the way to your room, trying to shake off the pain of the day.Â
You look back just in time to see Logan at the front door. âGoodnight,â you call down to him. You know he can hear you, but he walks through the door without another word. You bite your lip, ignoring the sinking feeling of your gut.Â
You toss your destroyed dress to the floor and turn your TV on. You surf through the channels for a bit before finding a clip of todayâs incident. â-apparently part of a protest for mutants against the government. I donât know Bill, they seem to just be proving everybodyâs point. They are unsafe.â
âI agree, my thoughts and prayers go out toâŚâ
You roll your eyes as they say your name. Theyâre saying it wasnât acid, instead itâs some sort of chemical compound that causes extreme pain. Even you donât believe that bullshit. You have a feeling your father is going to be looking for a new PR team tomorrow.Â
Your attention is snagged by the replay of the accident. You donât focus on the acid, you donât want to. Instead, you see how quickly Logan rushed to your side. He seemed to be right there even as the acid was being thrown.Â
Your brows pinch together and you glance at the jacket beside you. Heâd forgotten to take it back before he left. You pick it up, eyes skating over the fabric before you find what youâre looking for. Thereâs a large hole in the right sleeve, acid having burned through it.Â
You hadnât even realized he was in pain. You know he can heal, but it doesnât get rid of the fluttering feeling in your stomach. Youâve never had someone look after you like that.Â
You grin to yourself, tucking the jacket in the back of your closet. Youâre sure he wouldnât want it back and youâre not planning on parting with it anytime soon.Â
Youâre on house arrest for a week after the acid incident. Which includes no school. Your father has to play into the idea that youâre recovering from the trauma and healing. You donât know how much longer heâs planning on keeping you locked up but youâre going stir crazy.Â
Not only do you not get to go to classes, but Logan isnât around either. He doesnât need to be, not when the only place youâre in is your room. Heâs not a friend, heâs made that clear, but heâs something. And you are desperately craving that specific something.Â
âIt was a sickening attack against my daughter that my wife and I are still trying to recover from.â You roll your eyes as you listen to your father spew his bullshit to the interviewer in the next room.Â
Youâre not allowed to be out and about, of course. You canât risk someone seeing you. But that doesnât stop you from lurking.Â
âIt was an incredibly traumatic experience for her, Iâm sure.â You grin to yourself, picking at your nails. You like this one, whoever the reporter is interviewing him. She hasnât let him catch a break. Especially not when he tries to capitalize on your trauma. Even though he hasnât checked in once with you.Â
âWell,â he splutters for a moment. âYes, of course,â he tries to sound humble but anyone can tell heâs just covering his ass. âAnd it just further proves what Iâve always said about mutants. They are animals, theyâre not like us.â
Youâd think at a certain point youâd go numb to it. Youâve been raised hearing this rhetoric from him all your life. But the sting never eases. That cloying ache in your chest never quite leaves you. Not when you know the only reason he publicly accepts you is for political gains. So everyone can see what a wonderful father he is and vote for him.
You feel sick to your stomach and you donât think you can listen to much more of this. But right as youâre about to tap out a hand clamps down on your shoulder. You nearly scream but you catch a whiff of the manâs aftershave and your mouth snaps shut.Â
You leap out of your chair and whip around, a grin plastered on your face. âLogan, what are you doing here?â You canât disguise the giddiness in your voice. He might constantly be reminding you that you hold nothing more than a professional relationship, but you donât give a shit. Heâs a constant in your life and thatâs rare for you, so youâll latch onto whatever comfort you can find.Â
His gaze briefly darts to the connecting wall to your fatherâs study and you flush. Heâd probably heard all of that. Youâve never had someone see the side of your father that you do. Thereâs something shamefully embarrassing about it.Â
He looks back at you and gives you a sly smirk. âWanna get out of here?â Youâd have to be an idiot to say no.
âUh,â you can hear the music from where you stand across the street. You shuffle uncertainly on your feet beside Logan, glancing up and down the sidewalk like your fatherâs going to pop out of an alleyway. âI donât know if this is such a good idea.â
Logan tugs his cigar out of his mouth. Heâs leaned up against a lamppost and heâs watched you struggle for the past ten minutes. âLive a little kid, would ya?â
You look back at the dingy bar and grimace. âOkay, thereâs a difference between living a little and having my face blasted on the news. Howâs it going to look if Iâm photographed at a bar while Iâm meant to be healing?â
Logan points with his cigar to the entrance of the bar. âI can promise you, no one in there gives a fuck about who your daddy is.â Comforting, and a little humbling.Â
You take in a deep breath and Logan must sense the change in your demeanor. He flicks the cigar to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot. He holds his arm out, âReady, kid?â
You nod, hurrying to his side and slipping under his grasp. He lets his arm hang heavily around your shoulder, hand squeezing your bicep gently to try and quell your nerves. Youâd be swooning at the touch if you werenât about to throw up from anxiety.Â
You used to have a life. Until your father had blown it up. You havenât been around this many people in ages. Well, you havenât been around people who are just having fun and not sucking up to every politicianâs kid they meet.Â
The music gets louder as you step over through the threshold of the bar. The soles of your shoes stick to the floor. People laugh loudly all around you, some of them shouting up at TV screens for whatever sport is currently playing. Youâre sure half of them donât even normally watch the game. They just need an excuse to get their wives off their backs.Â
The thought brings a small smile to your lips. Logan glances down at you and frowns, âYou are old enough to drink, arenât you?â
You roll your eyes and move out from under his hold. âYes, Logan. Iâm going into a masterâs program, my frontal lobe is fully formed.â
He huffs a little at the attitude, cheeks twitching with a suppressed smile. He nods towards the back of the bar, âFind a seat, Iâll get us drinks.â He walks towards the bar without another word and you resent him a little for it.Â
Without him beside you, itâs like everything comes crashing down all at once. The songs playing grate on your ears. Every laugh feels like theyâre screaming in your face. Youâve never been more in tune with your sense of smell and you hate it.Â
Your hands tremble by your sides and you nearly miss the man in front of you spilling his beer down his shirt. It looks completely unnatural, the way it just flips out of his hand. And you know itâs your doing.Â
You shove through him and his friends, running to the back and sliding into the first booth you see. You dig your nails into your palms, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm your heart rate down a bit.Â
Logan slides into the seat across from you, placing a beer in front of you. Itâs barely touched the grimy wood of the table before you tip your head back and drain it. Youâve never been a particular fan of beer or any alcohol for that matter.Â
But right now you need a buzz before you accidentally level the whole bar. You slam the bottle back on the table, taking in a deep breath, and sitting back. Logan gives you a hard stare, glancing between you and the empty bottle.Â
He clicks his tongue and stands up, âIâll go get another one.â
You bite your lip and give him a sheepish, âThank you.â
It doesnât take long for the buzz to settle in. Thereâs a slight tingling in your legs and the tips of your fingers. It almost feels like how you get when youâre starting to get aroused. But you donât know if thatâs from the alcohol or the way Logan looks in his slutty little t-shirt.Â
Definitely tipsy, you think to yourself, nudging your third beer to the side.Â
âAlways been a lightweight?â He teases, watching you with amusement in his gaze while he works on what must be his fifth whiskey.Â
You shake your head with a soft smile. âNo, I used to go out with my friends all the time.â You laugh a little at the memories and lean in a little closer like youâre sharing some horrible secret. Logan rolls his eyes but acquiesces, leaning in to listen to you speak. âWe made up alter egos for our drunk selves. Wanna know mine?â You ask, wiggling your eyebrows at him with a stupid grin.
His brows pinch together and he frowns, âI donât think so.â
You laugh and lean back in your seat. âYouâre the worst!â He places his glass down on the table and fixes you with an odd look. You shift around uncomfortably, âWhat is it?â
âWhat happened to your friends? Why are you hanging out with me and not them?â
âOh,â your gaze drops to the table and you suddenly find the stains on it very interesting. Itâs practically abstract art. You swallow harshly around the lump in your throat and shrug. âUm, just all the stuff with my dad happened, and,â you shrug, âI donât know. My life kind of fell apart.â
You try and shake off the funk, bring back the happy-go-lucky feeling you were in only minutes ago. âI had to move out of the dorms and head back home. My friends stopped talking to me. My boyfriend dumped me. It all just kind of blew up.â
Logan frowns and you swear he seems angry on your behalf. Itâs a nice feeling, having someone care enough to hold a grudge for you. âYou ever tell him how it was all affecting you?â
You snort, âOf course I did. He was overjoyed. He never liked my friends, especially not my boyfriend, they encouraged me to be too independent. He thought I was losing the values he raised me with. He just never cared to learn that I never agreed with them in the first place.â
Logan doesnât say anything for a while and you let your gaze drift to the karaoke stage. Two women are singing a bad redemption of Led Zeppelin and it makes you smile. You donât see the way Loganâs eyes linger on the curve of your lips and then drop to your chest.Â
You never seem to notice how you make him squirm. There is something so interesting about you. Something so different from the families he worked with before. He doesnât know if it's the whole mutant thing, if you two are somehow kindred spirits in that regard. He doubts it, heâs never really cared much about that.Â
But he knows that there is something magnetic about you. It draws him in and makes him hate his own rules. He promised not to get involved with another client. It always ends messy, most times bloody.Â
You turn back to him and smile. Your voice is a low purr as you ask, âYou wanna get out of here?â
Of course, heâs never been one to follow the rules.Â
âI am so sorry about this. Really.âÂ
Logan glares down at you while you straighten out his tie. You duck your head so you donât have to meet his gaze and he lets out a long-suffering sigh.Â
âForget it, kid.â He says it with a smirk but it doesnât make you feel any less guilty.Â
This will be your first public appearance since the incident. Itâs a gala, of course, because your father hates you. Heâd demanded you find a date, someone to look pretty on your arm because he doesnât want you talking while youâre there. Youâre meant for pictures and nothing more.Â
Considering the fact that no one wants to talk to you on campus, the acid incident not helping at all, you had no luck finding a date. Youâd had to beg on hands and knees for days to get Logan to agree.Â
You donât know what it is that finally made him cave but youâre grateful for it. You think your father was expecting you to fail. To come crawling to him and be forced to go with who he wanted you to go with.Â
You were not going to spend the whole night listening to some political major try and explain your own fatherâs campaign to you. Youâd rather swallow acid than go through that for another night. Your father, of course, doesnât know that Logan is taking you.Â
Youâre planning on ambushing him with it. He canât do anything about it now. He wants you to have a date for some reason and thereâs no way for him to find a backup now. You take a step back from him and turn to look in the mirror.Â
Side by side, you do make an incredibly attractive couple. He looks amazing in his suit, his muscles just slightly pushing against the fabric. And as much as he hates the tie and constricting material, he makes it work.Â
And you feel pretty for the first time in a long time. You actually got to do your own hair and makeup for once. Youâre a lot less heavy-handed than the assistants your father hires. You feel comfortable in your own skin, finally, wearing the deep red dress your stepmother had gotten for you.Â
âWe look good,â you muse.Â
Logan looks down at you and smiles slightly, âYou do.â
You give him a confused grin, âI said we.â
He leans down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, âI know what you said, sweetheart.â Your heart nearly beats out of your chest at the proximity. Gooseflesh raises on your arms where heâs touching you and your knee buckles ever so slightly.Â
You can perfectly imagine his husky voice whispering something much, much dirtier to you. He pulls back with a slight chuckle and forcefully turns you around. âCome on, kid, weâre gonna be late.â
He nudges you towards your bedroom door and you nod your head mutely. He keeps doing that to you. These little things that could be so easily dismissed as you reading into his actions. But you know, deep down, youâre not reading into anything.Â
But you donât know what to do with this information that he might possibly be into you. Or at the very least, attracted to you. He made it clear early on that he wants nothing but professionalism between the two of you, yet he continually breaks his own rule.Â
Your father and stepmother are waiting at the bottom of the stairs for you both. Your stepmother smiles when she sees you but your fatherâs face screws up in anger. âAre you fucking kidding me? The goddamn bodyguard?â
You shrug and slip past him, already walking to the front door. âA dateâs a date.â You pause and grin over at him, âWhat are you going to do about it?â Itâs a taunt, one you donât give him a chance to respond to.Â
Youâre already slipping outside and heading to the town car. Something about Logan being with you emboldens you to act in ways you never would. Even when heâs not there, when youâre just having family dinner and your father says something off-putting. You fight back, you donât let him steamroll you and your opinions.Â
You feel better than you have in ages with Logan beside you. Still, the ride there is incredibly awkward.Â
The hotel is grand and luxurious. But they all are. You feel guilty complaining about your life when this is your weekend. What do you have to be upset about when you regularly stay in five-star motels and wear designer dresses without glancing at the price tag?
Sometimes you feel guilty around Logan. You wonder if he ever resents you for your privilege. You might be a mutant like him, sure, but youâve never had to struggle to make ends meet. Or try and scrap together enough money to get your next meal. Youâve never had to worry about where youâre going to sleep next or if youâll have a roof over your head.Â
Your struggles have been so different that you worry if something ever did happen between the two of you, you might not work together.Â
But those are spiraling thoughts for another time. Right now, youâre just trying to get through the front door without someone bombarding your father with questions on his stance about whatever.Â
When itâs clear that heâs going to be there for a while, he sends you and Logan off to the ballroom on your own. You feel bad for your stepmother, having to stay behind and pretend sheâs interested as they bore her with stories that have no real meaning.Â
âPoor woman,â you mutter, watching her struggle to keep the smile on her face.Â
âYou donât call her mom,â Logan muses. You turn to look at him and he just shrugs. âJust a little weird.â
âWell, sheâs not my mom.â His head tilts in confusion and you elaborate. âMy bio mom left the second she figured out she gave birth to a mutant. We lie to the public, stepmomâs interfere with the perfect nuclear family ideal my dadâs pushing for.â
âIf he cares so much about family then why donât you have your dadâs last name?â A good question, one you had to field a lot when you first started school.Â
You give him a sly grin, âTook my mom's maiden name the second I was eighteen, just to piss him off.â Thereâs no true reason behind it other than being vindictive and petty. âHeâs been trying to get me to change it for years but he canât force me to. Besides, I like having my name separate from theirs. Lets me pretend Iâm not a part of the family. Donât get me wrong, sheâs nice and all, we just never really had the chance to bond.â
Someone passes by you. A couple you know youâre supposed to recognize but you canât place their names. The man calls out your name, coming toward you with his arms open wide. You can see Logan tense up slightly beside you, bodyguard instincts coming out for a moment.Â
You squeeze his hand briefly before stepping forward to hug the man. âSo nice to see you, again.â You tell him. He grins and squeezes you a little closer to his chest than necessary.Â
Logan clears his throat, glaring at the manâs drifting hands. Before either of you can react, Logan is pulling you back, hand resting lightly over the small of your back. He holds his hand out, forcing the man to shake his hand and take his attention off of you.
You canât hold back the smile on your lips when you see how much smaller the man is under Loganâs intense stare. Youâve gotten used to the men at these events treating you however they want. They donât see you as a human, you are your fatherâs accessory and their toy. You envy Logan for how easily he can dismiss these men, take away their larger-than-life personalities, and reduce them to the sniveling rats they truly are.Â
He doesnât even speak, simply tugs you towards the ballroom and away from the manâs wandering hands. You canât help the stupid smile on your face while you look at him. He glances out the side of his eye and huffs, âWhat?â He snaps, tone impatient.Â
You shrug and shake your head. âNothing, youâre justâŚâ You trail off, unsure how to continue. You donât want to make him uncomfortable by telling him how you really feel about him. How deeply you appreciate him, how horribly you desire him. Youâre afraid it will all just blow up in your face. That youâll have truly been reading into everything and gotten his intentions all wrong. After all, heâs made it abundantly clear that thereâs meant to be nothing between the two of you except a paycheck.Â
You take in a deep breath, smile faltering, âNothing.â You finally spit out, slipping out of his grasp and walking quicker towards the doors. His hand lingers on your back, fingers trailing slowly down your spine until youâre completely out of his reach.Â
The chatter inside gets louder the closer you get to the entrance. You listen to the indiscernible voices, the quartet playing in the corner, and the clink of metal on the glass as they all eat. You straighten out your shoulders and put on your best smile, mentally preparing yourself to keep it stiff on your cheeks for the rest of the night.Â
Logan catches up to you, the both of you stopping the second you see the inside of the ballroom.Â
People Against Mutants
Evolution or Monstrosities
Parents for the Removal of Mutant Children
Your eyes widen as you take in the banners and signs hanging off the walls. More and more uncreative rhetoric all for the annihilation of mutants. Of people like you and Logan. Your smile drops immediately and you know you should have expected something like this from your father. Heâd been refusing to tell you what this gala was for, saying offhandly he was just raising some money.Â
You thought it was another charity. Not this. Not people, quite literally, calling for your head. For Loganâs head. You suck in a sharp breath and glance towards the silent man beside you. His jaw is clenched as he takes in all the finely dressed people around you. Theyâre all laughing and chatting like theyâre not actively campaigning for the destruction of children.Â
âBar?â You ask, already walking towards it.Â
âSounds good to me.â His hand is on your back again and youâre grateful for it. The glower on his face, the attitude that screams I donât belong here keeps people away from you. He shoulders through the men huddling around the bar, forcefully clearing space for the two of you.Â
And when they turn around, posturing like theyâre going to say something, he only has to look at them for them to retreat with their tails tucked. Itâs ridiculously attractive seeing someone command these men so easily.Â
âWhiskey,â Logan grumbles, he looks back at you and you slide beside him, leaning your elbows against the cool counter.Â
âJust champagne, please,â you tell the bartender. He nods, quickly making your drinks and handing them to you. You turn with the flute in your hand, surveying the room. It feels less like a gala and more like a production of false niceties that will never end and never be genuine.Â
âDonât know how you deal with these fuckers all the time,â Logan mutters, glaring as a man slams into him and keeps walking without apologizing.Â
You let out a short huff of laughter, âHonestly,â he glances over at you and you shrug. âIâve got no fucking clue either.â He scoffs and takes a swig from his glass. But you canât take your eyes off of him. You feel the words on the tip of your tongue, weighing you down until you feel like you have no choice but to spit them out.Â
âYou,â his brows quirk up and he glances over at you. You take in a deep breath and start over, nerves making your palms sweaty around the glass. âYou make it bearable.â
Loganâs face falls and he sucks in a deep breath. You see the expression on his face, you know what heâs going to tell you. And you hate how apologetic he looks. You especially despise the way heâs making you feel pitied. Heâs never done that before and you donât want him to start now.Â
âDonât,â you tell him before he can say anything. You let out a self-deprecating laugh and place the champagne flute on the bar so you donât have to look at him. âI know what youâre going to say, alright. So, just, donât.â
Logan purses his lips and grabs your jaw. You try and jerk your face out of his grasp but he doesnât let you, he forces you to look at him. He only lets go once you reluctantly make eye contact. Youâre surprised by the look on his face. Thereâs no pity in his gaze like youâd expected.Â
This is something else, something darker and more twisted. You canât put your finger on what exactly youâre seeing but you know it makes your heart race and your thighs clench. âListen, sweetheart, I-â
âWhat the hell are you doing?â You jump away from him but Logan just clenches his eyes shut with a short huff of irritated breath. You clear your throat and turn to face your father. Heâs glaring between you and Logan, but smiles warmly anytime someone looks your way. âI didnât bring you here so my contributors could see what a fucking whore you are for the help.â
âDad!â You exclaim, eyes widening in horror. But Logan doesnât seem bothered by your fatherâs words. If anything it seems to incense him, his hand drifting from your jaw to drape itself over the nape of your neck. You try not to show just how much the possessive grip is affecting you but you know they can both tell.Â
Your fatherâs face pinches and he nearly stomps his foot as he looks between you and Logan. He looks like he wants to say something else but your stepmother, thankfully, calls his name. She waves him over towards her and you hold your breath, waiting to see what heâs going to do.Â
He takes in short puffs of air, straightening out his suit jacket and glaring at you. âYouâre not going to be a fucking wallflower all night, got it?â He doesnât give you a chance to respond before heâs stomping off. He calls out a warm greeting to someone across the room and you feel like you can finally breathe again.Â
You give Logan a tired smile and nod towards the rest of the party. âTime to mingle.â
He laughs, loudly, enough to make peopleâs heads turn. You can feel your skin heating up from embarrassment and flinch away from the sound. âSorry, kid, mingling ainât part of my contract.â
Your jaw drops as you glare at him. âAre you serious?â
He turns back to the bar, flagging down the bartender for a refill. âDeadly,â he tells you firmly, barely looking at you. You roll your eyes and walk away from him, glaring at his back the whole time you do so.Â
He thought coming to one of these things, being stuffed in a scratchy suit, would be his worst nightmare. He was proven wrong when he heard them talking to each other. Bitching about golf and their mistresses wanting more attention. Their kids nagging them and their wives being bitches.Â
All of it made him want to down a whole bottle of whiskey and then blow his brains out. His worst nightmare turned into ever having to hold a conversation with one of these pricks.Â
Then, he turns around, surveying the room for wherever you were lurking. He expects you to be by your fatherâs side or hiding somewhere in a corner. Instead, youâre standing close -extremely close - to some pretty boy.Â
His hand is on your waist and youâre laughing at whatever boring fucking story heâs telling you. Logan tries to pick up on your conversation but there are too many things happening at once already. His senses are on overdrive and heâs already struggling against a migraine.Â
He feels something brewing in his gut, something heâs been trying to just shove down for months. He doesnât know what it is he hates about this picture but it makes him sick to his stomach. He hears something crack and looks down to find the glass of whiskey split on one side.Â
âShit,â he hisses, slamming the glass on the bar behind him. He shakes his hand out and tries to unclench his fists but itâs hard. He couldnât have possibly been standing here long enough for you to suddenly find the love of your life. Why the fuck are the two of you so close?
This was so unlike you. Rarely did you ever have something good to say about the men you would encounter at these things. Heâd heard you bitch about it enough times. Something about this isnât adding up and he doesnât know if itâs his own jealousy or intuition.Â
Still, he finds himself pushing away from the bar and stalking towards you both. Closer, he can finally see what the problem is. Your hands are on the guy's chest but you arenât leaning against him, youâre actively trying to push him away.Â
It makes Loganâs blood boil, jaw clenching as he tries to keep himself at bay. He didnât want to cave some kidâs head in in the middle of the gala. But the closer he got the clearer he could hear your hissed warnings to take his hands off of you.Â
Logan finally reaches you and the look of sheer relief on your face makes him want to bring the claws out. Heâd love to see that smug smirk ripped off his face, but he holds back. If only so he doesnât traumatize you.Â
âAlright, bub, hands off,â he warns.Â
âWhy donât you just leave us alone?â He had to give it to the kid, heâs got balls. Rarely did anyone ever buck up to him like this. Normally, he might entertain him a bit, drag this on longer than necessary to get a kick out of it.Â
But he still hasnât taken his hands off of you and Loganâs not interested in fucking around tonight. Without a word, he grabs the kid by the collar of his jacket and tosses him away from you.Â
He lands roughly on the floor with a loud gasp and people turn to look. Logan pays no mind to the onlookers. He places his hand on your back and leads you out of the ballroom, unwilling to have eyes on you for the rest of this conversation.Â
âLogan,â you start, tone nervous.Â
âDonât,â he snaps. He regrets it immediately from the way you jump in surprise. He lets out a rough sigh, running his hand down his face, and walks through the first door he finds. âIâm sorry, kid, I just-â
âLogan,â you cut him off. The tone of your voice is enough to get him to finally look at you. Your arms are crossed and youâre glaring at him. âWhy the fuck did you drag us into a closet?â
His brows furrow in confusion and he glances around, finally realizing what he walked into, âFuck,â he hisses. He gropes blindly around the room for a light switch. Thereâs a small click and then an unflattering fluorescent light is shining down on you both. Heâs managed to drag you both into a small, incredibly cramped, cleaning closet. Â
Youâre grimacing as you push a few mops away from your head. You look over at him and something about the look on his face must be funny because you start to laugh. âWhat were you thinking?â
Your smile makes one curl up on his own lips. He canât help it, something about you eases a bit of the tightness constantly lurking inside him. âThought it was one of those stuffy conference rooms.â
You scoff and reach for the handle, âJust a stuffy closest, good going, Logan.â You roll your eyes and tug on the knob. Your brows furrow together as you jiggle the handle every which way, desperately pulling on it.Â
âMove over,â Logan mutters, nudging you to the side. He wraps his hand around the handle and yanks on it, expecting the door to swing open. When it doesnât his face falls.Â
âDid you miraculously unlock it, genius?â You demand sarcastically. Logan feels his shoulders tense up, frustration levels steadily rising. Heâs already got a shit temper, he doesnât need you adding to this.Â
âNo,â he snipes, âbut I donât see you coming up with any wonderful solutions.â
You throw your hands up in the air, wincing when your elbow collides with the shelving unit behind you. âI didnât drag us into this mess! Why did you even come in here?â You demand and he can see how angry you are.Â
It shows in the way you tapped your heeled feet against the floor and glower at him like heâs the bane of your existence. He doesnât know what happens, what comes over him, or why this is the moment he chooses to break his rule.Â
Your back slams into the shelves behind you and you gasp as he surges towards you. His hands come up to cup your cheeks and before you get a chance to question him, his mouth is covering your own. Logan buries his hand in your hair, ruining the perfectly styled curls. You donât seem to mind much if the way you arch into him is anything to go by.Â
His tongue runs across the seam of your lips, tasting the cherry-flavored gloss youâd applied earlier. He wants to devour you. Consume you body and soul, take everything you have to give, and then keep going. He doesnât want to stop, but heâs not sure he wants the first place you have sex to be in a janitorâs closet.Â
He pulls back, tugging you back when you try to chase his lips with your own. âShouldnât do this here,â he mutters. Heâs struggling to hold back. And when you look up at him, lips swollen from his kiss, and you mutter why, how is he meant to resist?
He tugs you away from the shelves, pushing you against the door so he doesnât have to see your face twist up in pain every time the corner digs into your lower back. Your hands drop down to his belt, lips desperately carving a path down his neck.Â
Heâd laugh at your eagerness if he wasnât just as desperate for you. He reaches for the hem of your dress but itâs one of those floor-length gowns with no slits. He struggled for a minute before getting too impatient and just muttering, âFuck it.â
You gasp when you feel the metal of his claw against your leg, eyes dropping down to watch as he makes himself a slit. He slices the fabric along your thigh and then just rips it. âLogan,â you hiss as he hikes the silk over your hips.Â
âSomething wrong, sweetheart?â You glare at him, eyes darting between him and his pants before you finally shake your head. He laughs slightly, hand drifting under your dress and reveling in the way you shiver under his touch. âYeah,â he whispers, âthatâs what I thought.â
His fingers move gently along your thighs, easing you into his touch. You let out breathy whimpers, tucking your face in his neck the closer he gets to your core. He lets his hand drift lower, searching out the band of your underwear.Â
Heâs pleasantly surprised when heâs met with nothing but you dripping for him. âShit, youâre not wearing any underwear?â
You freeze and keep your face stubbornly buried in his neck. Logan laughs slightly, tugging you back and forcing you to look up at him. You mumble something under your breath. Itâs said so quickly he can barely understand you. âWhat was that?â
âUgh, god, Logan.â You groan and let your eyes drop down to his shirt, fiddling with the end of his tie. âI was hoping this would happen.â
When he doesnât say anything your face shifts, worry gnawing away at you. You glance up at him and are surprised by the intensity of his gaze. Heâs staring down at you like he wants to eat you whole. His pupils have consumed all the color of his eyes, thereâs nothing but want on his face.Â
âYou wanna know why I agreed to come with you, kid?â
Your mind is completely dulled just by being this close to him. It takes you a moment to process what heâs saying before you nod your head. âWhy?â
The look on his face reminds you of a wolf guarding its territory. Itâs predatorial, animalistic, it makes you want him even more. âI didnât want any of these little boys getting a chance to have their hands on you.â His gaze drops down to your lips and he leans in until your breaths are mingling together.Â
âYou have no idea how long Iâve wanted you.â He dips his head down and his kiss isnât as intense as it was the first time. His lips move lazily over your own, tongue stroking against yours like heâs savoring the taste.Â
You can taste the whiskey heâd drank earlier, can still smell cigars on his breath. It should be revolting, youâve never liked kissing smokers. But there is something so intoxicating about him. Everything he does is enchanting to you.Â
Itâs a naive train of thought but you trust him wholly. He could do whatever he wanted to you and youâd let him willingly. His hands continue their exploration down your body and you canât help but arch into his touch. His fingers stroke languidly over your center and you moan into his mouth.Â
Your lips part with little gasps and your head thunks loudly against the door. Neither of you notice or care, youâve all but forgotten the gala outside. The government employees and rich socialites that youâre supposed to be entertaining.Â
And when he slips a finger inside you, you donât care who hears you call out his name. The rough pad of his finger creates a feeling youâve never been able to produce on your own. Thereâs something so exhilarating about this whole situation.Â
Stuck in this tiny closet, no air to breathe but each otherâs. No room for anything other than your bodies pressed as closely together as possible. You're completely surrounded by him and you never want to leave.Â
âLogan,â you gasp out his name and shove at his shoulders. He momentarily stops his ministrations, giving you a worried look. âPlease, I just want you.â You tug at his wrist, hissing when his fingers leave you with a lewd pop.Â
He looks hesitant, but you can see the way heâs straining against his boxers. You let your hand trail down his stomach, palming him through the thin fabric. His hips buck into your hands and he lets out the most attractive noise youâve ever heard. Youâve always liked guys who arenât afraid to be vocal.Â
âFuck, youâre gonna be the death of me,â he whispers. He swats your hands to the sides, tugging his boxers down and squeezing your hips hard enough to bruise. âCome on, up.â
You jump and he slings your legs around his waist, lining himself up with your entrance. He drags you slowly down his cock, resting your back against the door and giving a hesitant thrust inside you.Â
You canât help the low groan that leaves your parted lips. Itâs like youâre full of nothing but him. Youâd been mentally prepared for the stretch he would present, but you probably should have given him more time to warn you up.Â
You donât care though, this is all youâve been craving for months. To feel nothing, taste nothing but him. Youâve been praying that he feels the same way you do, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he does.Â
He looks completely wrecked, head resting on your shoulder while you both take a breath. Itâs overwhelming, this feeling of finally having what youâve always wanted. Someone you can give yourself to completely and still feel safe with them.Â
You drag your hand up his back, burying it in his hair and reveling in how soft it is. You tug him back by the roots, tilting his neck until heâs forced to look at you. Your gaze drops to his reddened lips and you smile at the gloss youâve smeared across his chin.Â
âCome on, Logan, donât tell me youâre all talk.â
His eyes narrow but you can see the amusement swimming within them. âYouâre gonna regret that.â
âOh, yeah?â You goad, grinding your hips down against his and biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. Youâre trying not to make a noise, trying to make sure he doesnât see just how much heâs affecting you. But you can already feel your orgasm forming, itâs a low tingle in the tips of your toes, a burning hot desire rushing through your thighs as you clench around him.Â
âYeah,â he promises, thrusting sharply into you. This time the moan is forced out of you, your lips parting unbidden as you slump over him, burying your face in his neck. He doesnât waste any time, using your hips as handles to pump you over his cock like youâre nothing more than a toy.Â
The door rattles behind you, each thrust of his hips makes it shake in its frame. His hands fist the back of your dress, grip so tight you think it might tear. You donât care. He could rip it off of you and youâd walk outside naked right now.Â
You donât care what happens, not when heâs beside you. Thereâs a feeling of security that comes from being around Logan and you can feel it in this moment. You trust him to take care of you in every way.Â
Maybe you shouldnât. After all, you two havenât known each other long. But thereâs not much youâre worried about when heâs moving steadily inside you. You can taste the desperation you share for each other in each pump of his hips.Â
He whispers it into your ear while you claw at his back. The shelves around you shake and you worry you might bring them down if you canât rope yourself in. But you can feel the wave building in the back of your throat, your vision blurring as you tighten your legs around his waist and begin to match his rhythm.Â
âThere you go,â he mutters, pinning you to the door and keeping your hips still while he moves inside you. âCome on, I can feel you clenching around me, sweetheart.â He manages to hold you up with one hand, the other diving between your legs to rub tight circles around your bundle of nerves.Â
It doesnât take much longer for your muscles to seize up, back bowing as you clench desperately around him. âOh, fuck, Logan,â you shout his name, and his hand quickly comes up to smother your cries. He squeezes your cheeks until your eyes snap open and he drags you down to meet his gaze.Â
âDonât want to lose my job, need you to be quiet for me,â he grunts out, his tone breathy and strained. He loses his rhythm, movements speeding up erratically while he lets out low groans and whispers of your name. You almost cum again when he finally finishes inside you.Â
Your limbs are twitching in overstimulation by the time his hips still. You feel completely boneless, body slumped lazily in his arms. He wraps both arms around you, squeezing you a little before slowly lifting you off of him.Â
Itâs a relief of pressure when he pulls out. His cum leaks out of you, dribbling down your thighs and dripping onto the floor of the closest. Your face screws up at the feeling and you internally cringe. No condom was probably a stupid call.
But you donât really want to think about the repercussions right now. Not when heâs stroking your hair and rubbing a soothing hand down your back, waiting until you can form a coherent sentence before he lets you go. âAlright?â He asks, voice bordering on something smug.Â
âMhm,â you push away from him, legs shaky as you try and straighten out your dress. Itâs a loss cause, trying to hide what happened in here at all. Youâve got a tear going up to your hip and youâre pretty sure there are holes in the back. Loganâs tie is gone and you donât even remember taking that off. His shirt is completely wrinkled and your lip gloss has stained his face.Â
Youâve both got horrific sex hair and the room reeks of it. You donât know how you're going to sneak out of here. You still try and relax your hair, patting down the flyaways while Logan retucks his shirt.Â
Itâs silent between the two of you, heavy but not awkward. You donât think either of you knows what to say now that youâve physically acted on what you want. A sudden thought hits you, makes your heart clench painfully and your tongue ties up in your mouth.Â
Heâd confirmed that he wanted your body. That he desired you sexually. But you donât think he actually said anything about a real relationship. There would be problems, of course, your father for one would have a lot to say about it. But you donât care about that. You donât care about any of the consequences, you just want to be with him.Â
You open your mouth to ask him what he wants when the door swings open. Both you and Logan whip towards it. But where you look like a deer caught in the headlights he looks like the epitome of male pride.Â
Especially when he realizes it's your father on the other side. âDad-â You start, but you have no idea what you could even say. Your dress is in tatters and both you and Logan are still mussed up. Thereâs no hiding what happened here.Â
He doesnât let you finish, holding up his hand. His voice is eerily calm as he says, âI thought I heard something banging around in here.â
âYou did,â Logan scoffs, crossing his arms and glaring at your father. You feel your heart jump to your throat, staring over at him with a horrified look on your face. How could he think that was okay to say? It was so dismissive of what you believed had happened.Â
This was more than just a quickie in the dark to you. This meant something, but youâre seriously starting to doubt that it was the same for him as it was for you. And that just makes you feel like the stupid little girl everyone seems to believe you are.Â
Your father says your name but you canât bring yourself to meet his eye. âYouâre feeling sick,â he tells you, no room for argument. âYour date had to take you home. It was just too much too soon after the incident at the rally.â When you donât say anything he shouts out, âUnderstood?â That makes you jump.Â
âYes,â you clear your throat and face him. âYes, understood.â
Your father has made his stance on mutants clear. He hates them, despises them to their very being, and wishes he could kill every last one. And as much as you were raised with those ideas, they were never truly turned on you.
But heâs looking at you right now like he wishes you were never born. You feel like shit on his shoe. Something to be hidden away and buried. It makes your shoulders slump like a hundred pounds was just tossed onto your back.Â
You try to run past him but he jerks you back, fingers so tight around your bicep you feel the skin tear. You gasp in pain but donât say anything, too afraid to argue. âPut his jacket on, I wonât have you looking like a whore.â He releases you with a rough shove and storms off.Â
You can feel something burning at the back of your eyes. A moment later Logan drops his jacket over your shoulders, pulling you back into his chest and running his hands over your arms. âCome on, kid,â he mutters. Thereâs something resigned in his voice that makes your heart drop, âLetâs get you home.â
The walk through the lobby feels like youâre walking through a dream. Youâre not completely present for it, or the ride home. Your mind and your heart are warring and you feel like youâre going to be torn apart if you keep lingering on what just happened.Â
You just canât understand how you could go from having everything you wanted to feeling like the scum of the earth in less than two minutes. Logan doesnât speak as he drives you home. His knuckles are turning white around the steering wheel and youâre afraid to even try and start a conversation.Â
You donât want to hear him tell you that he didnât desire you past your body. You donât want to discover that youâre just another notch on his belt. He seems to do this a lot, sleep with the girls he guards. The idea of just being another job, another fun night, makes you absolutely disgusted with yourself.Â
When he pulls into the driveway of your house you both just sit in the car. Neither of you knows what to say. And the air between you is so thick with tension you feel like you could choke on it. You stare down at your hands, fingers fiddling with the ripped seams of your dress.Â
You pick at the threads and feel his stare on you. You canât do this. You canât deal with the possibility of rejection. Not after what happened between you and certainly not after what your father said.Â
You undo your seat belt and Logan watches as you go through the movements of getting up. His eyes never leave you and itâs like a physical caress, his stare. Normally it would make you warm inside, comforted by his presence. But right now all you can feel is the chill of where his cum has dried between your legs and the icy-hot stab of nausea in your gut.Â
You throw the door open and youâre nearly out when he calls out a quiet, âGoodnight.â
You donât look at him, you canât. You slam the door shut and walk silently to the front door of your house. You donât look back, donât respond, you just slip inside your house and finally let the weight of the night come crashing down on you.Â
You donât cry until you hear him pull out of the driveway.Â
Your father and stepmother usually stay at the hotel the night of a gala. Most nights you come home and enjoy the house to yourself for once. Tonight, youâre woken up by the front door slamming so hard your walls shake.Â
You can faintly hear your stepmotherâs voice trying to console your father. Sheâs muttering something to him you canât make out. You shoot out of bed, running to pull some sweatpants on. After youâd cried yourself out youâd taken a shower.Â
Youâve scrubbed your skin raw but you swear you can still smell him on you. You rush to your bedroom door, turning the knob quietly and slowly peeking your head outside. Your fatherâs at the bottom of the stairs, the second he spots your open door heâs screaming your name.Â
Your stomach twists painfully and you can feel panic starting to overwhelm you. Your hands shake and your legs are stiff as you slowly step into the hallway. Youâre a grown woman. You shouldnât feel like this because your dad is going to yell at you.Â
But heâs been so good at forcing you to rely on him. At forcing you to bend and break to fit his beliefs and mold. You donât know what to do if youâre not striving for his approval. And right now itâs very clear that heâs never been more disgusted by you.Â
If the look on his face isnât enough to twist the knife deeper, his words are. âI have never,â he screams at you. You take a step back, keeping the stairs between you, refusing to meet him in the middle. âBeen more embarrassed to call you my daughter. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was for me? Do you know how many people saw you being dragged outside like a fucking whore off the corner?â
You clench your eyes shut, turning your face away from him as the shame becomes a physical thing inside you. You can feel it making its way up your throat. Because heâs right. Tonight you were nothing more than a slut without any self-respect.Â
But youâre also pissed off. Youâre fucking enraged at yourself for being so stupid as to ever believe Logan wanted you for anything more than your body. You're mad at Logan for knowing how you feel about him and taking advantage of it. And youâre so fucking tired of doing everything you can to make your father proud and it never being enough.Â
âHave you ever once asked me what I want?â You raise your voice, screaming down at him with a ferocity that surprises even you. His eyes widen, frame trembling with unreleased rage. You plow through, not stopping because you know if you do, youâll never get this out. âNo, you havenât. Not once. Because you donât fucking love me! And it has taken me years to accept that, to finally realize that youâre incapable of loving anyone but yourself.â
You gasp, the noise wet and painful as something warm trickles down your cheek. You stare down at him with your eyes wide in realization. âItâs so clear to me now, I feel like an idiot for missing it for so long. You never loved me. Youâre incapable of it!âÂ
Youâre embarrassed at the way your voice cracks. As much as you want to pretend youâre stronger than him, not afraid of him. Thereâs still a little girl inside you who wonders why Daddy doesnât love you.Â
âI donât give a flying fuck what you want, Dad. I donât care what you want my life to look like or if I embarrassed you. Iâm glad I did, glad someone finally saw a sliver of the truth you try so desperately to hide-â
âEnough!â He shouts and it startles you so bad that you jump back, your abilities reacting and a vase behind you flying off the shelf. You duck as glass shatters across the stairs and floor. You glance at the scene with shocked eyes, looking down at your father to see that heâs not even a little bit surprised.Â
Instead, he just looks so deeply disappointed that it makes you shrink into yourself. The anger within you is extinguished in a second. He rubs his face, shaking his head and turning his back on you. âDad?â You call out, voice trembling.Â
âGo to your room,â he tells you quietly. âI donât want to look at you anymore.â You hover by the top of the stairs for a moment, not quite believing him yet. And when he realizes you're still there, that youâre not taking him seriously, he finally looks at you again.Â
âI wish every goddamn day that those doctors had just put you down. Iâd rather have a dead daughter than one like you.â
You stand there, stunned, even after the rest of the house has gone to bed. You clean up the pieces of glass while you try and swallow down your tears. Let the sharp edges dig into your skin and tear until you can feel any type of pain besides the one inside you.Â
A week of solitary confinement. Youâre surprised that you havenât just been kicked out of college. Youâre sure that your fatherâs many donations to the university are the only thing stopping your professors from dropping you from the class.Â
You donât care if they do or not, though. You never actually care about what you studied. Youâd just always hoped that it would be a way for you to escape the tight grip around your neck your dad has on you.Â
Youâve figured out that no matter how hard you fight, youâll never escape him. He hates you and yet, he canât let you go. Youâd laugh if you werenât busy wallowing in your depression.Â
Someone keeps leaving food by your door but you canât find it in yourself to be hungry. Youâll nibble on something, but you feel like youâre going to throw up when you so much as breathe the wrong way.Â
You havenât heard from Logan since that night. You knew your father would fire him the second he woke up. But youâd held out hope - foolishly - that he might still try and reach out to you. You have this childish image in your head of the prince coming to rescue the princess from the dragon.Â
But youâve been naive your whole life, you donât want to keep going down this road. You donât want to keep expecting the best of people and live your life in perpetual disappointment.Â
You havenât seen or spoken to your father since that night. Wordlessly, heâd banned you to your room. No oneâs said it, but you know youâre not allowed to come out. You donât know when heâs going to deem you useful again and drag you back out into the public eye.Â
Contrary to his belief, no one had seen you leave that night with Logan. You hadnât been in any tabloids or shitty news articles. Besides emotional estrangement from your father and losing the only guy youâve ever really liked, there were no consequences to your whorish behavior - as your father so lovingly puts it.Â
You roll over in your bed and picture yourself taking a shower. It feels like such a workout but you canât stand lying in your sweat and tears for much longer. With a long drawn-out groan, you throw yourself out of bed and enter the bathroom connected to your room.Â
You know youâll feel better afterward, but everything besides sleep sounds like too much work. Still, you force yourself inside and finally clean the grime of laying on your ass for a week off.Â
You walk naked through your room, making a beeline for your dresser. You feel a little better after washing yourself off and moisturizing. But not much. Physical health can only do so much for how you feel inside.Â
You hope this will blow over soon, youâre not sure how much longer you can take feeling so awful. You hate pitying yourself, and thatâs exactly what youâre doing right now. You huff irritatedly, digging around your drawers for your favorite shirt.Â
A hand clamps around your mouth, rough and big, yanking you back into a muscled chest and keeping you quiet. You still try and scream, hands clawing at the skin of their hand until you feel blood.Â
âFuck, quit that, would ya?â
Your erratic movements slowly come to a halt. You still feel your heart pounding against your chest, adrenaline warming your blood and making you feel like you're on fire from the inside out. But, you recognize the voice, recognize thereâs no danger to the situation.Â
That doesnât make you any less pissed off. When Logan is sure you wonât keep attacking him, he lets you go slowly. You immediately whirl around on him, uncaring that youâre still naked. Energy moves quickly through you, becoming a physical thing under your skin.Â
He smiles at you and you push the energy out, throwing him across your room. He flies into your bookshelf, crashing to the ground with a loud slam. âWhat the fuck are you doing?â You scream at him.Â
Thereâs no one home right now, luckily, or else you both would be screwed. He shakes his head off, brushing pieces of wood out of his hair and slowly getting to his feet. âWell, I was coming to say hi-â
âYou say hi by ambushing naked girls?â You interrupt, grabbing the clothes closest to you and pulling them on quickly.Â
Logan rolls his neck out and shrugs. âNo, that was just a plus,â he gives you that insufferable smirk and you want to scream.Â
This is the first time you see him in a week since you had sex together and your father officially disowned you. And this is what heâs leading with? Seriously? âYouâre a real fucking prince, Logan.â You shake your head with a scoff and glare at him.
He narrows his eyes, looking to be in disbelief at your attitude. âWhat happened?â You expect to hear irritation in his tone. Anger that youâre being such a bitch right now. Instead, he sounds concerned, like he can see right through you.Â
You hate that. You used to love having someone who could see past all the pretenses and walls, but it just hurts now. âNothing,â you tell him, unable to hold eye contact any longer. âLook,â you take in a deep breath, and your brows furrow in confusion. âHow the hell did you even get in here?â
Logan doesnât look like he wants to drop the topic just yet but he relents. He nods towards your window and you fix him with an astonished look. âI climbed, I didnât want your dad to risk seeing me on the security cameras out front.â
You feel suspicion brewing inside you, tone turning defensive. âLook, if you came here because you want to fuck again, I suggest you go find another girl. Iâm not interested anymore.â
âWell,â he scoffs, âI find that hard to believe.â How easily he just dismisses your words. Like they hold no real importance. It makes you want to scream. Instead, you just flick your wrist, throwing him into another wall. You donât know how youâre going to explain these holes in the wall to your father but you donât really care.Â
âEnough,â he snaps, brushing himself off and glaring at you. Your lips curl up in amusement, the first thing youâve felt besides anger and depression for the last week. âLook, I was coming here to get you the hell out, kid. Clearly, Iâm not wanted.â
He walks towards your window, intent on climbing back down the side of your house and leaving. You almost let him, if only to see him scurrying down the wall. Instead, you take a step forward and stop him with a small, âGet me out?â
He sighs, running an aggrieved hand over his face and propping the other on his hip. âYeah,â he mutters. âLook, I canât stand the thought of you cooped up in here, isolated from the rest of the world. Itâs not fair, I was gonna see if youâŚâ He trails off and roughly swallows.Â
Your interest piques. Whatever is this hard for him to get out has to be interesting. âLogan,â you call his name softly. âSee if I what?â
He huffs out a rough breath, turning around and staring you down. Thereâs something in his eyes, something reflected in yours. Heâs looking at you the same way you always look at him. âYou wanna come with me, kid?â
Well, youâd have to be an idiot to say no.Â
You donât leave a note. You donât give them any clues or hints as to where you might have gone. They can draw their own conclusions about what happened to you. They can tell the news whatever twisted lies they want.Â
You donât care, thatâs not your life anymore. Your life is packed away in a backpack in the back of Loganâs trailer. Your new life is in the passenger seat beside him. Youâre equal parts terrified and excited to figure out what youâre going to do with the rest of it.Â
a/n: can you tell I know fuck all about politics?
Also, smut, wow, this was hard and rough to write. I donât know why itâs such a struggle. I just feel guilty writing such dirty words, itâs absolutely diabolical that I have no problem being crazy over a guy whose age gap with me is the same age as my parents, but I canât write smut.
end. â I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved Š not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
General Taglist: @evasmlp
Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1spâĄ
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine imagine#wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#hugh jackman
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CEO Bucky takes his anger out on his secretary (ft smut)
Imagine CEO!Bucky accidently taking his anger out on his already stressed out secretary. He gets mean and you will deal with it because I wanted this angst turned smut to go from chest itching to stomach fluttering.Â
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Your stomach twisted in knots looking at the pile of papers you had stacked on your desk, the phone still ringing while new messages popped up in your email inbox every 5 minutes. The files had to be organized by the next meeting and the number on the phone display was one you couldnât ignore. The back to back messages were from various investors, each person insisting they were a priority over the others. You kept the receiver between your ear and shoulder, your hands flying around your desk madly between papers and tapping your keyboard.Â
You quickly added a few more meetings to the calendar before hurrying to your bosses office to remind him of one he had later that afternoon. You hesitated before knocking at the door, the closed doors indicating he was busy, but you knew heâd want a heads up about the meeting.Â
âMr. Barnes, you have a meeting with Stark Enterprises at 3:30-
âDidnât I tell you to move this meeting to next week?â Bucky snapped, blue eyes glaring at you while you blinked in confusion. âWell?âÂ
âN-noâ You shook your head, youâd never missed an email before and youâd always been on top of scheduling changes on time. Bucky mumbled something under his breath before waving you off, the shrill sound of his phone going off.Â
âBarnesâ Bucky grunted, answering the phone without looking back at you, leaving to you scramble away and figure out if you could rearrange the date with Tony Stark.Â
Which was a mess in itself.Â
You had to argue back and forth, pleading to no end for a different day with Starks assistant only reluctantly agreeing after nearly half an hour.Â
âYou really should be more responsible, canât believe Barnes has the likes of you working under himâ the woman on the phone clicked her tongue before slamming down the receiver, cutting the call. You sighed, taking in a deep breath to calm the tightness you felt in your throat, you didnât have time to break down now.Â
You printed the up coming contracts for Bucky to sign, organizing them by name and highlighting the places he had to sign so he didnât have to bother finding the space for signatures. You scurried back into his office, dreading the tense click of his jaw, your nerves increasing even more.Â
âSir, these are your papers-â You stumbled over the corner of the rug, scattering the papers onto the floor, your heart hammering out of your chest when you saw Bucky irritatedly run his fingers through his hair.Â
âFor fucks sake, y/n, Iâm already stressed, donât screw more shit up!â He growled, eyes hardening at the sight of the papers strewn across the floor of his office while you stayed frozen on the spot. Your eyes glossed over, quickly scrambling to the floor to grab the documents, mumbling apologies over and over again, hoping none of your tears stained the paper. The sight of tears streaking down your face broke Bucky out of his frustrated state, instantly regretting the tone heâd used with you.Â
âFuckâ Bucky cursed under his breath, getting out of his chair to help you but youâd already managed to pick everything up, immediately trying to scramble away.
âY/nâÂ
You didnât stop, unable to take more of Buckyâs wrath, continuing to hurry towards the door, desperately trying to hold down your sniffles and aggressively wiping your cheeks.Â
âY/nâÂ
Bucky sighed, gently reaching out to grab your arm and pulling you to face him, his feeling even worse when you kept your eyes trained on the floor, your arms wrapped around yourself.Â
âIâm sorry, p-please d-onât yellâ You choked out, still trying to hold your composure together, fighting the way your body wanted to break down into sobsÂ
âItâs okay. Iâm sorry, Iâm sorryâ his heart broke seeing the tears collecting in your lash line, his thumb swiping away the ones that spilled out. âMâsorry babyâ he wasnât sure where the pet name came from but he couldnât help it, letting it naturally roll off his tongue. You were still rigid, refusing to look at him, nearly flinching when he pulled you closer, tilting your chin up to meet his steel blues.Â
âLook at meâ He spoke softly now, as if he were trying to coax a small animal out of hiding, his touch gentle, âIâm sorry, I shouldnât have yelled at youâ
âItâs okayâ you shrugged, slipping out of his hold, quickly wiping your face and going back to work as if nothing had happened. Even though heâd apologized, his words rang through your mind for the rest of the day.Â
In fact, they stuck with you through the entire week.Â
Bucky hated the way you didnât even look at him anymore. He missed your soft good mornings and shy smile whenever he walked into his office. Now all you did was keep your head down, freezing in fear as soon as you heard his footsteps. And it was all his fault.Â
He despised that he made you feel scared of him, his own anger being the cause of upsetting you when you had been nothing but sweet from the day heâd met you. You were also the best heâd ever had; no one else had ever come close to how brilliantly you worked; you never missed anything. He nearly spat out the coffee that was placed on his table, missing the perfect cup you made for him every morning.Â
You only spoke 1-2 words, retreating from his office as soon as you got what you needed, your eyes always trained on the floor, looking away from him. He couldnât take it anymore, feeling more guilty each day; he couldnât go on any longer without your sweetness.Â
You blinked at the baby pink roses that sat in a basket on your desk along with a little bear placed on top, a small hand made Iâm Sorry heart sitting in its furry hands, clearly in Buckyâs handwriting. You traced over the soft teddy holding it in your hands before going to his office. Before you could say anything, Bucky was up and out of his seat, desperately hoping youâd hear him out.Â
âMâsorry y/nâ His soft eyes were filled with sadness and regret as he reached out to hold your hands in his, not wanting you to run off again, âIâm so sorry angel, thereâs no excuse, I shouldnât have yelled at youâÂ
âItâs fineâ You whispered, still avoiding his gaze.Â
âHey, itâs not fineâ Bucky shook his head, cupping your face to make you look at him, âItâs not baby, I shouldnât have ever treated you that way. You do everything for me, I shouldnât have taken out my anger on youâÂ
âI shouldnât have messed u-
âDonât, absolutely not. You never do sweets, it was me who messed up. Never you. Will you forgive me, doll?â Bucky nervously bit his lip while you gave him a small nod, that adorable shy smile he loved so much making its way to your lips.Â
âGod, I missed thisâ He whispered, his thumb tracing over your lips, chuckling at the tiny confused pout you gave him after.
âWhat did you missâÂ
âThis little smile you always have whenever youâre around meâ Bucky smirked at the way you grew more bashful, doe eyes darting about, âDo you have any idea how much I love when you look at me like that?âÂ
âMr-Mr. Barnesâ Your breath hitched in your throat as his hands slowly moved to hold your waist, pulling you closer. Your hands made their way to his chest to ground yourself, forgetting how to breathe as he pressed his lips against yours. It started off soft and slow; his sweet tongue turning sinful as he walked over to his chair, pulling you to straddle him without breaking apart once. You let out a needy whimper feeling him harden under you though Bucky was still focused on kissing your soft skin, his lips fluttering across every inch.Â
Youâd never been this close to Bucky before, the intoxicating scent of his cologne making your heart race, his calloused large hands roaming your body. You hadnât even realized you were grinding down on his thick bulge until he let out a groan, stilling your hips.Â
âKeep that up bunny and youâll make me cum in my pants like a little boyâ Bucky let out a strained chuckle, using every bit of his self restraint not to tear your clothes off.Â
âPlease?â You wiggled against him again, needing to be closer, Buckyâs resolve slowly crumbling. How could he hold back when you were practically humping your soaked needy cunt right on his erection.Â
âPlease what, sweetsâÂ
âNeed you Sirâ your voice had melted in a whine and that was all it took. The sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor caused more arousal to dampen your panties, nearly drooling at the sight of his cock as he pulled it out.Â
âAre-are you sure?â He checked with you once more, not wasting a second ripping your blouse off as soon as you nodded. He threw your bra off next before lifting your skirt up and pulling your panties to the, rubbing his fingers through your folds.Â
âSir, pleaseeâÂ
âI got you, I got you baby. Wanted to make love for our first time angel, give you a bed with rose petals nâ champagne over iceâ He whispered, recounting every fantasy heâd thought of from the day heâd met you, âWanted to make you feel good baby, throw your legs over my shoulders and nurse off this little clitâ
He rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves, continuing.Â
âNâ then youâd be my sweet pillow princess. Iâd let you lie down all night while I fuck your soul angel. Iâd give you my cum all night, pump you full of my creamâÂ
âNeed you nowâ You whimpered, clutching onto the lapels of his blazer, not that you didnât want everything he was telling you but you couldn't wait.Â
âAlright baby, câmereâ He pulled you closer, your bare chest pressed against his as he rubbed his swollen cockhead to gather your slick before breeching your tight hole, his hips gently pushing up till he was buried to the hilt, âThatâs it, shhh take all of meâÂ
Bucky gave you a second to adjust to his size, his wide hands splayed across your body to hold you in place as he began to thrust up. You gasped in pleasure, your voice melting into a moan as he picked you up and placed you on his desk, pushing your thighs to hit your chest, hitting an even deeper angel.Â
âOH GOD-MR-BARNESâ You wailed as he fucked you harder, his heard thrown back, tie loosened, tightening the grip he had on your legs, keeping you spread out wide open. He groaned at the sight of his thick cock disappearing in and out of you while you moaned and sobbed on his desk, taking everything he gave you.Â
âThatâs right baby, say my name, let everyone know who makes you feel this goodâ He grunted through gritted teeth, holding off his orgasm while bringing his thumb to rub your clit again.Â
âI-Iâm gonna-OH-GOD-PLEASEE
âFuck you sound perfectâ Bucky moaned feeling you choke his length, fluttering and pulling him deeper as your orgasm washed over you, his own release dangerously close. âGod you feel so fuckinâ good when you cum baby. One more angel, just one moreâ Bucky practically pleaded with you, speeding up his fingers till he saw your eyes roll back, silent screams leaving your mouth as your juices soaked his balls.Â
âFuck mâcumming so hard for you babyâ He groaned, giving you a few more sloppy thrusts before stilling and spilling ropes of cum into you. He kept his cock inside while bending down to pick you up and sit back in his chair again. He sat with you for a while, petting your hair and kissing you, whispering sweet nothings.Â
âReady to go?â He whispered, looking down to see if youâd fallen asleep while you snuggled into him with your eyes closed.Â
âToo tired sirâ You pouted, nuzzling into his chest, refusing to move, your body too fucked out to even stand.Â
âI got you babyâ Bucky smiled, shrugging off his blazer and wrapping you up before carrying you away in his arms, ready to take you home, right where you belonged âGonna make love to my pretty girlâÂ
#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky x you#bucky x smut#bucky x y/n#bucky x reader#bucky x Female Reader#bucky x f!reader#bucky x fluff#James Buchanan Bucky Barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#ceo bucky#ceo!bucky#ceo bucky barnes#ceo bucky smut#ceo bucky barnes smut#ceo bucky x secretary reader#bucky x secretary#bucky barnes imagine#bucky imagine#bucky fanfic#bucky fan fiction#bucky fan fic#bucky barnes fanfiction
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persephone (simon riley x f!reader) age gap, a bit coercive, dark
â
it started with fruit.
you were simon rileyâs secretary, working for a man clouded in darkness and gold. youâd hear whispers on the street, see pitying faces when you mentioned who you worked for to strangers. to them, he was a cold, hard beast. to you, he was a king.
he started by bringing you fruit, pomegranate seeds and ghost-white pears. small quips about eating healthy now while you were still young enough. ms twenty something meets mr not-yet middle aged, the lines of his face just starting to crease but the beer belly nowhere to be found. he mined diamonds, you heard. he owned cemeteries, said another secretary. they call him ghost, whispered a personal assistant. you didnât care, didnât need to when that wasnât your job.
he had scarred hands, craggly things winding into the cuff of his midnight black suits. didnât wear a mask but always seemed to be covered in darkness, his face unrecognizable in half lit rooms and empty offices. he always stayed late so you did too, indulging in the extra car he ordered for you, his driver called charon. simon never held long conversations but simply beckoned you, some string in your belly pulling tight at his recognition. at least a third of his day spent with you, murmuring soft nothings, inquiring about your mother and the upcoming winter, the beauty in the death of the trees. âyâ smell like spring, love.â heâd said one morning, and you resolved to wear that same pomegranate spritz indefinitely.
and then it moved to jewels. congratulations on your one year preceded by a tennis bracelet. a trinket of a three headed dog, something small to keep on your desk. the hours draw on later and later, canceled plans with your mother and nymph-like friends piling up like leaves. his touch starts lingering, hard calluses on soft skin.
a hand on your back, guiding you into a conference room. your hair brushing against his torso, the intimacy of it jarring. you twisted your ankle one day, the height of your heels overindulgent. ended up on the couch in his private office, his hands massaging your foot. âlike a delicate flower.â heâd murmured, rewarding you with an anklet of diamonds once the pain wore off.
three years in, an invite to his private island. no service, leave your phone at home. sign an nda, weâll work remote, gone for a month maybe more. pack some nice clothes, maybe a white dress if youâve got one. take my card if you donât.
stepping off the helicopter, charon at the helm. you werenât there against your will but the hairy arm around your waist was heavy, a reminder of the cost youâd paid to visit the underworld. two weeks in and you couldnât even act surprised when he proposed, on one knee with a glint in his eyes. âyou and me, love, against thâ world.â
and if you said yes to the fruit, the diamonds, the care, the attention - saying yes to this was just the next step. an elopement, heâd already drawn up the license - âwhy wait, dove? yâr so fragile already.â youâre not, have a hidden strength under you, but ghost doesnât care, ghost takes what he wants, and you, legs spread and eyes soft, are it.
when he fucks you, thatâs when itâs settled. cunt dripping on his fingers, his face, his cock. he mutters something about a vasectomy and youâre taking him bare, making eye contact with a ghostlike gardener who walks past the window. your jaw unhinged, drool at the corner of your mouth as he fucks you from behind, one hand on your throat.
âsuch a good secretary, hm?â and you nod ferociously like the three-headed puppy on your desk. youâll never work again, too busy with his cock in your mouth or his remote vibrator in your cunt at dinner. the jewels drip into a roar - diamond encrusted toys youâre not sure are entirely safe, bejeweled handcuffs, glittery collars. heâs pluto, the riches of the earth following his orders when he chases you in his private woods. simonâs presence is otherworldly, taking you with the strength of a god as you squirm against his grip. his oldness disgusts you but makes you gush all the same. âgonna be good for daddy?â and you agree vehemently at the king before you, on his knees.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#cod 141#tornadothoughts#ghost call of duty#simon riley smut#dark!simon riley#persephone#simon riley x female reader#simon riley x f!reader
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The Princess and the Piastri
Oscar Piastri x Princess of Denmark!Reader
Summary: in which you follow the time-honored tradition of Danish royalty falling in love with Australians
Note: dedicated to my favorite Dane, @struggling-with-drivers, who had to put up with me taking months to finally get the proper inspiration to write this
âAnd if youâll just follow me, Your Majesty and Your Royal Highnesses, Iâll take you to meet Kevin now,â the overly peppy Haas PR representative says as she gestures down the garage.
You force a smile, trying not to physically recoil as you take in the assault of garish Haas branding surrounding you. The white, red, and black color scheme is far too harsh on the eyes this early on a Saturday morning.
âOh goody,â your younger sister Josephine says flatly, eliciting a snort from your younger brother Vincent.
Your mother, Queen Mary, shoots the two a reproachful look before turning back to the PR rep with a polished smile. âWeâre very excited to meet Kevin and support Denmarkâs driver.â
The PR rep beams and starts leading you further into the Haas garage, rattling on about Haasâ ambitious goals for the season as you pass mechanics in matching black Haas polos barely paying you any mind.
You internally groan, already dreading the interaction ahead. As the Crown Princess, youâve long perfected the art of feigning interest, but this weekend has tested even your limits.
âAnd I know meeting the future queen will just make Kevinâs day!â The rep continues enthusiastically. âHe was so honored when King Frederik reached out about you all coming this weekend to support him.â
You resist the urge to snort. More like the royal communications secretary reached out when they realized the Australian Grand Prix overlapped with your visit to your motherâs family in Australia. Nothing like conveniently timing a royal appearance to drum up positive press.
Your younger sister, Isabella, sidles up next to you, linking her arm through yours commiseratingly. At 16, sheâs already mastered your familyâs signature skill â conveying boredom through a pleasant facial expression.
âI have some fresh sets of Haas merch we would love for you to wear when you meet Kevin,â the rep says, holding out stacks of Haas emblazoned caps and shirts insistently. âIt would mean so much to the team for you to showcase your support.â
You force a smile, already shaking your head. âOh, Iâm afraid we canât wear anything with advertisements or sponsors per royal protocol.â
The PR repâs face falls slightly before she plasters the smile back on. âOf course, Your Royal Highness, I understand. Shall we?â
She gestures further down the garage to where the Haas drivers are standing with team personnel. Kevin Magnussen spots your approach, nudging his teammate before they turn towards you.
As you reach them, Kevin steps forward first, offering a short bow. âYour Majesty, Your Royal Highnesses, itâs an honor to meet you.â
You offer your hand, which he takes, bowing again as he brushes his lips over your knuckles. âThe honor is ours, Mr. Magnussen. Denmark is proud to have you representing us in Formula 1.â
Kevin smiles bashfully as you drop his hand. âPlease, call me Kevin.â
You return his smile politely. âVery well, Kevin it is.â
The rest of your family exchanges pleasantries with Kevin before the PR rep guides you towards the pit wall to observe the action on track. Practice is getting underway, and youâre grateful for any chance to extract yourself from the oppressive Haas environment.
As you exit the garage into the sunlight, you breathe a sigh of relief. Two bodyguards fall smoothly in step behind you as you start down the paddock, taking in the buzz of activity.
You smile softly, the excitement infectious despite your general disinterest in motorsports. Thereâs something about the frenetic energy at a race that gets your blood pumping.
Your eyes light up as you spot the unmistakable papaya motorhome of McLaren up ahead. Now thatâs a team you can get behind. Cool retro appeal and a driver line-up youâve heard is full of young talent â whatâs not to love?
You pick up your pace, eager to get a closer look at the iconic livery, when suddenly you collide headlong into a firm, muscular body.
You gasp as strong arms wrap around you, stopping your momentum abruptly. Your hands brace against a solid chest as you glance up, prepared to stammer out an apology.
But the words die on your lips as you find yourself staring into warm brown eyes set in an unfairly handsome face. The eyes widen in surprise, clearly not having expected the Crown Princess of Denmark to go careening into his arms.
His mouth opens, no doubt to ask if youâre okay, but you stand frozen as the hustle of the paddock fades into background noise.
In this moment, itâs just you and this beautiful stranger. A stranger who hasnât let go of you yet, one hand still pressed gently against your back.
You know you should pull away, apologize for your clumsiness and be on your way. But something about his eyes makes you want to stay right here, wrapped safely in his arms.
You stand frozen, lost in the strangerâs mesmerizing brown eyes. You vaguely register your bodyguards stepping forward on either side of you.
âYour Royal Highness, are you alright?â Henrik, your lead bodyguard, asks urgently.
You blink, the spell broken as Henrikâs hand lands on your shoulder, gently tugging you back.
The strangerâs eyes widen further as understanding seems to dawn. His eyes flick over the royal crest on Henrikâs suit jacket before moving back to your face, a hint of panic in his gaze.
Before you can offer any reassurance, a voice calls out sharply from behind the man.
âOscar! What are you doing, mate? Weâve got the strategy briefing in five!â
You watch as the man â Oscar, apparently â glances reluctantly over his shoulder to where a thin harried man bearing a McLaren team pass stands tapping his foot impatiently.
Oscarâs hands slip from your waist as he takes a small step back. âSorry, Iââ
But whatever he was going to say gets lost as the man strides forward, clapping a firm hand on Oscarâs shoulder.
âCâmon, letâs go. No time for chatting up fans when weâve got quali coming up.â
Oscar allows himself to be steered away, casting one last, almost wistful look back at you before the brisk man hustles him around the corner.
You stare after them for a long moment before Henrikâs voice breaks through your daze once more.
âYour Highness, are you injured at all? Shall I call for a medic?â
You blink, shaking your head quickly as heat floods your cheeks. Honestly, they must think you a simpleton, standing here gaping after a man you collided with.
âNo, no, Iâm fine,â you assure him quickly. âJust a bit clumsy this morning it seems.â
You force out a breathy laugh, hoping your flaming cheeks can be explained away as embarrassment from your blunder.
Henrik eyes you skeptically for a moment before nodding. âVery well. But please be more careful, Your Highness. Next time we may not be so lucky.â
You nod contritely before allowing Henrik to usher you back towards the Haas garage, your other bodyguard falling smoothly back in step behind you.
As you near the garage, you spot your family gathered by the pit wall, watching as a group of track marshals examines a particularly suspicious drain cover. Your younger siblings all turn as one to look at you, eerily in sync.
The knowing looks on their faces make you shudder. Of the many curses of growing up in a big family, the inability to keep secrets ranks near the top. Youâre sure theyâll have the truth out of you before long.
âNice of you to join us, Y/N,â your younger brother Christian remarks wryly as you reach them. âHave a nice stroll?â
You resist the urge to stick your tongue out at him. Barely.
âLovely, thank you,â you reply breezily instead, moving to stand between your mother and Isabella.
You determinedly avoid meeting any of your siblingsâ gazes, focusing on the timing sheets instead. But you can feel their curious stares boring into you.
âYou look a bit flushed, darling. Are you feeling quite alright?â Your mother murmurs, pressing a hand to your forehead in concern.
âJust peachy!â You chirp in response, internally cringing at the unnatural brightness in your tone.
From your other side, Isabella leans in, voice sly. âYou do seem rather ⌠distracted. Anything you want to share with the class?â
You glance at her sharply, taking in her knowing smirk. You narrow your eyes in warning, but Isabella just smiles innocently.
âOh leave your sister be,â your mother chides. âIâm sure Y/N is just overwhelmed by the excitement of experiencing her first Grand Prix.â
You make a noncommittal noise of agreement, turning your focus back to the timing sheets. Isabella elbows you subtly and you pointedly ignore her, keeping your gaze fixed ahead.
Youâre immensely thankful when the Haas PR rep appears again, ushering you towards the back to âgive the team space to prepare for qualifying,â and drawing your familyâs attention away from you.
You trail after your family to the cordoned off hospitality area, gratefully accepting a bottle of water from the proffered cooler.
As the mechanics spring into action around you, Isabella sidles up next to you again, playful smile still in place.
âSoooo,â she drawls, bumping your shoulder with hers. âWhoâs got you all flustered then?â
You nearly choke on your water, whipping your head to face her. âWhat? No one! I donât know what youâre talking about.â
Even to your own ears, the denial sounds feeble. Isabella merely arches one perfect brow, clearly not buying it.
You huff out a breath, scanning the room quickly to ensure none of your other family members are in earshot before hissing under your breath. âI may have accidentally careened into a McLaren crew member during my walk.â
Isabellaâs grin turns positively feline. âOh, do tell ...â
âThereâs nothing to tell!â you insist, face flaming once more. âWe collided and his reflexes were quick enough to catch me before I fell. Thatâs all.â
âMmhmm, Iâm sure that blush is just because youâre so very embarrassed by your clumsiness and nothing else.â
You scowl and take a long swig of your water.
Isabella chuckles. âSo was this mystery McLaren man at least handsome?â
You nearly choke again. âIsabella!â You admonish under your breath.
She holds up both hands innocently, still grinning. âWhat? Itâs a perfectly reasonable question. No judgment here, promise.â
You narrow your eyes, considering her carefully. Before you can think better of it, you mutter reluctantly, âHe ⌠wasnât entirely unfortunate looking.â
âAha!â Isabella crows triumphantly. âI knew it!â
You shush her frantically, glancing around to make sure her outburst didnât draw any unwanted attention.
âDo you know his name at least?â Isabella asks, slightly more quietly this time.
You hesitate before admitting, "... Oscar, I think. His colleague called him that.â
Isabella hums thoughtfully. âVery mysterious ...â
You roll your eyes, shoving her shoulder. âOh stop it. Can we please just drop this?â
âOf course, of course,â Isabella relents, though the impish twinkle remains in her eye.
Youâre prevented from further interrogation by the start of qualifying. You rejoin your family, studiously keeping your gaze away from your siblingsâ knowing looks.
You determinedly put the morningâs events from your mind, focusing on Kevinâs qualifying efforts. Though you canât help the occasional wish that the handsome stranger from McLaren â Oscar â was the one flying around the track instead.
The session proceeds fairly predictably, with the top teams claiming the top spots and the backmarkers bringing up the rear.
As Kevin pulls into the garage after qualifying 17th, you paste on an encouraging smile.
âExcellent job out there, Kevin! You and the team should be very proud.â
Kevin smiles wryly back at you. âYouâre too kind, Your Highness. But I think we all know 17th is nothing to celebrate for a team with our aspirations.â
You nod sympathetically. âOf course, thereâs always room for improvement. But you showed admirable pace given the circumstances.â
Kevin inclines his head gratefully at your measured response. âYou have a bright future ahead as queen with such judicious words.â
You thank him sincerely for the compliment before your family takes their leave, the dayâs obligations finally complete.
As you all pile into the waiting cars, Isabella leans over and whispers, âDo you think Kevin wouldâve qualified higher if Haas wasnât so slow?â
You have to smother your snort of laughter into your hand.
âWithout question,â you whisper back. âI think a snail could qualify ahead of Haas at this point.â
Isabella dissolves into muffled giggles next to you as the cars pull away from the circuit, leaving the chaotic world of Formula 1 behind. At least until tomorrow.
***
You stare contemplatively out the car window as the city lights of Melbourne streak by in the darkness. Despite your familyâs teasing, you canât seem to remove a certain McLaren crew member from your thoughts.
Oscar. Even his name sends a flutter through your stomach.
You know itâs foolish to get caught up over a brief collision with a stranger. And yet ⌠those eyes. You canât shake the connection you felt in that moment, however fleeting.
The car slows to a stop outside your hotel and you make a split-second decision. Turning to your mother, you adopt your most winsome tone.
âMor, I was hoping you might allow me to go out for the evening. To experience the Melbourne nightlife before we depart.â
Your motherâs eyebrows raise in surprise. âGo out? Alone?â
You rush to reassure her. âOh no, Iâll take Henrik and Simone with me of course. I would just love the chance to explore the city a bit, like a normal young woman.â
You see a flash of understanding on your motherâs face and press your advantage. âIn fact, didnât you and Far meet during a pub crawl?â
Pink stains your motherâs cheeks but her lips quirk up. âI suppose we did. But those were different times ...â
âPlease Mor?â You plead. âWhen will I have a chance like this again?â
Your mother regards you shrewdly for a long moment before sighing. âOh very well. But Henrik and Simone must accompany you at all times. And I want you back by midnight at the latest.â
You beam, leaning over to smack a kiss on her cheek. âThank you, thank you! I promise Iâll stay safe.â
As you exit the car, your younger brother Christian pipes up from behind you. âHey, can I come too?â
âAbsolutely not,â your mother shuts him down swiftly, leveling a quelling look at his crestfallen face.
You hide a smile as you sweep into the hotel to change, giddiness rising in your chest. A night out is just what you need to clear your head from a certain handsome distraction.
An hour later you slide into the backseat of one of the discreet royal security vehicles, now wearing jeans, heels, and a silky camisole, your long hair spilling over your shoulders.
Henrik raises his eyebrows at your outfit but doesnât comment as he pulls away from the hotel, heading for the club district.
When you arrive, the bouncerâs eyes widen at the royal crests adorning your bodyguardsâ suits. But a few quick words from Henrik and youâre granted access without a fuss.
The heavy beat of the music washes over you as you enter the fashionable club. Bright lights flash hypnotically over the crowded dance floor. You glance back at Henrik and Simone stationed near the entrance, allowing the music to carry you further inside.
You weave your way to the bar, excitement simmering in your veins. Tonight youâre just Y/N, anonymous clubgoer. No titles, no expectations, no watching eyes judging your every move.
Well, except for your bodyguards of course. But theyâre discreet enough to give you space.
Youâre so lost in the heady freedom of anonymity that you donât notice the nearby figure doing a double take. But as you step up to the bar, waiting to order, a now familiar voice sounds behind you.
âY-Your Highness!â He stammers, nearly dropping the drinks he just received. âI mean, Princess, uh Crown Princess? Sorry, Iâm not actually sureââ
You whirl around to see Oscar standing there, looking devastatingly handsome in a button-down and jeans.
âOscar!â You gasp, a smile breaking across your face unbidden. âWhat are you doing here?â
Pink stains Oscarâs tanned cheeks. âAh, well my mates from the team wanted to go out and blow off some steam before the race tomorrow.â He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. âBut what brings Denmarkâs future queen out to the clubs?â
You shrug lightly, grin turning impish. âCanât a girl just want to dance and have some fun?â
Oscarâs eyes gleam with understanding. âSuppose she can. Well then, may I get you a drink ⌠er ...â
He trails off, clearly unsure how to address you in this unusual context.
You take pity on him and lean in conspiratorially. âTonight, Iâm just Y/N. No need for fancy titles.â
Relief flashes across Oscarâs face and he smiles. âY/N it is.â
Soon youâve got drinks in hand and are chatting easily at a tall table beside the dance floor. Oscar is witty and charming, and laughs freely at your sarcastic commentary about Formula 1.
Youâre amazed by how at ease you feel in his presence, the crownâs ever-present weight lifted from your shoulders. With Oscar, youâre not an heiress apparent, but just a girl talking to a boy she really really likes.
When he asks what you think of McLaren, you perk up eagerly. âOh yes, what is it exactly that you do there? Are you an engineer or mechanic of some sort?â
Oscarâs eyes shutter briefly and he clears his throat. âAh, something like that. Mostly just tinkering to try and make the car faster.â
He steers the conversation to safer waters before you can inquire further. You make a mental note to look up the full McLaren staff list later and figure out his specific role.
The night flies by in a blur of laughter and stolen glances. Oscar gamely joins you on the dance floor, his hands resting lightly on your waist as you sway together.
When at last you note the time, disappointment sinks heavy in your gut. Oscarâs face mirrors your own regret as he insists on walking you to meet your bodyguards.
Outside the club, you turn to him reluctantly. âI wish this didnât have to end. Thank you for a wonderful evening.â
Oscar shuffles his feet, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. âWould ⌠would you want to meet up again tomorrow? Maybe outside the McLaren garage before the race?â
Your face lights up. âIâd love that.â Overcome by boldness, you lean in and brush a feather-light kiss to his cheek.
Oscarâs hand drifts up to his cheek, eyes dazed. âBrilliant. Iâll see you tomorrow then.â
You bid him goodnight before allowing Henrik and Simone to usher you into the waiting car, unable to keep the giddy smile from your face the entire ride back.
***
The next morning, you awake with a smile stretching across your face. The memory of Oscarâs brown eyes gazing into yours as you swayed together in the club fills you with warmth.
As you dress and prepare to head to the circuit, an idea strikes. Thereâs no rule saying you have to spend the entire pre-race hours cooped up in the Haas garage after all.
You slip into the hotel dining room, grabbing a piece of toast. âIâm afraid the petrol fumes in the garage were giving me a dreadful headache yesterday. I think Iâll take a walk around the paddock this morning for some fresh air before the race.â
Your motherâs brows furrow in concern. âOh dear, that wonât do at all! Yes, a nice walk sounds wise.â
You thank her profusely on your way out, hiding your triumphant smile until the door closes behind you. Phase one complete.
You hold yourself back from rushing through the paddock once at the circuit, maintaining a sedate royal pace. But inside, excitement bubbles through your veins at the thought of seeing Oscar again.
As you make your way to the McLaren garage, your steps falter at the larger-than-life image emblazoned on the wall. Oscar beams back at you, brown hair just barely poking out from under his McLaren cap. The block letters beside the photo proclaim OSCAR PIASTRI #81.
You press a hand to your mouth to smother your gasp. Oscar is a driver? Your Oscar?
Speak of the devil, you spot him emerging from the garage, already dressed in fireproofs with his race suit half hanging around his waist. His face lights up when he sees you, lips curving into that boyish grin that makes your knees weak.
âGood morning!â He chirps, moving in for a brief hug.
You return the hug distractedly, still grappling with this new discovery. As you pull back, you arch a questioning brow at him.
âSo ⌠youâre a driver. Funny, I donât recall you mentioning that last night.â
Pink stains Oscarâs cheeks and he rubs the back of his neck. âAh, right. I may have omitted certain details about my role here.â His eyes turn pleading. âI hope you can forgive me? I just liked talking to someone who didnât already know everything about me for once.â
You regard him thoughtfully before allowing a teasing grin to emerge. âWell, I suppose I can understand the appeal of a fresh slate. And itâs not as if I was fully forthcoming either.â
Oscarâs shoulders sag in relief. âToo right. Quite the pair we make, Princess.â His eyes dance playfully.
You open your mouth to respond but are interrupted by a shout from the garage. âOscar! Debrief in two minutes, letâs go!â
Oscar smiles apologetically. âDuty calls. But letâs continue this later?â
At your nod, he squeezes your hand briefly before jogging back inside. You make your way back to Haas, butterflies still fluttering wildly.
Once the race starts, you have to work to restrain your enthusiasm as Oscar quickly moves up the field. More than once, you catch your lips curving upward as he deftly overtakes a competitor, and have to rearrange them into careful neutrality.
A discreet glance sideways shows your family members focused intently on Kevinâs efforts in the Haas. You allow yourself a small smile. Watching Oscar race with no one the wiser feels like getting away with something deliciously secretive.
The checkered flag finally waves after 58 intense laps. Your heart leaps as the McLaren crew begins celebrating Oscarâs podium finish. You have to force yourself not to join the applause as he climbs from his car, settling for clasping your hands tightly to contain your glee.
Meanwhile, Kevin finishes in 18th position while his teammate Nico suffered a mechanical retirement. You paste on an encouraging smile, tamping down your excitement over Oscarâs podium.
âNice recovery there at the end, Kevin. Surely the team can build on this result in the next race.â
Privately, you think Haas would be lucky to keep a wheel attached long enough to make it to the end of a full race, let alone fight for points. But you keep that thought to yourself for now.
As your family rises to congratulate a dejected Kevin on completing the race, Isabella leans in close to whisper in your ear. âNot a great showing, I dare say. Perhaps you are considering transferring allegiance to a certain papaya team instead?â
You press your lips together to contain your smile. Trust Isabella to have guessed your conflicted loyalties.
âIndeed,â you murmur back. âOne must be open to supporting all teams in the spirit of global unity.â
Isabellaâs eyes dance with mirth, but she simply links her arm through yours, giving a sage nod. âSpoken like a true diplomat.â
As the celebrations kick off for Oscarâs first home race podium, you sneak glances over your shoulder, hoping for another glimpse of him through the chaos.
Someday soon, perhaps youâll be able to cheer for him openly. For now, you hold the image of his smiling face in your mind as you reluctantly follow your family back out of the disappointing Haas garage.
If nothing else, this surprise-filled weekend has shown you that your heart will not be so easily commanded. And it seems to have rather fixated itself on a certain charismatic McLaren driver.
***
You hover near the paddock exit, half hoping to catch one last glimpse of Oscar before your departure. Your family made their polite farewells to the Haas team and you seized the opportunity to slip away.
Youâve just resigned yourself to missing him when hurried footsteps sound behind you.
âPrincess! Wait up!â
You whirl around to see Oscar jogging towards you, face freshly showered but still flushed with elation. He draws up before you, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.
âIâm so glad I caught you before I had to leave,â you smile brightly. âI had to come say a proper congratulations for your podium first!â
Oscar ducks his head bashfully even as his eyes shine. âAnd, well, I hoped maybe you were cheering me on out there today?â
Heat floods your cheeks as you let out an embarrassed laugh. âYou know I canât answer that. But I will say you drove brilliantly and Iâm so pleased for your result.â
Oscarâs grin widens, clearly reading between the lines of your diplomatic answer.
âWell Iâm glad I could end your weekend on a high note after the woeful introduction to Formula 1 from Haas.â
You groan good-naturedly. âUgh yes, I think Kevin was grateful when I finally made myself scarce from that garage of doom.â
Oscar chuckles before his expression turns wistful. âI suppose this means youâll be heading back to Denmark now though?â
You shake your head, curls spilling over your shoulders. âOh no, weâre spending a few more weeks visiting my motherâs family in Tasmania first.â
At Oscarâs look of surprise, you elaborate, âMy mother is originally Australian. Her family is from Tasmania.â
Understanding dawns on Oscarâs face. âWell how about that! Danish royalty certainly seems to have a taste for us Aussies.â He winks playfully.
Heat blooms in your cheeks but you rally to return his banter. âI suppose we do. Though from what I hear, McLaren seemed rather keen on Danes once upon a time as well.â
A rather in-depth Google search earlier that day taught you that Kevin Magnussen once raced for the papaya team. You rather wish he never left, if only so you did not have to suffer through the tedium of being in the Haas garage for the past two days.
Oscar barks out a laugh, eyes dancing with mirth. âToo right, youâve got me there.â His laughter fades to a soft smile. âBut I canât say I blame my predecessors in the slightest.â
The tender look in his eyes makes your breath catch. Before you lose your nerve, you hurriedly dig out your phone.
âI should give you my number. So we can keep in touch.â
Oscarâs face lights up as he scrambles for his own phone. You quickly swap devices, inputting your contact info and trying not to notice how his name looks lighting up your screen.
Once youâve traded phones again, an awkward silence descends. You clutch your phone tightly, unsure how to say goodbye when this thing between you feels so new and delicate.
Oscar clears his throat, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. âWell, I suppose I should let you get on your way ...â
âRight, yes ...â You trail off, searching for the right words. Because as silly as it sounds, the thought of not seeing Oscarâs smile for who knows how long makes your chest unexpectedly tight.
Acting on impulse, you step forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders in a hug. Oscarâs arms immediately curl around your back, clutching you close.
You breathe him in, imprinting this moment in your memory. The noise of the paddock fades away until itâs just this â the two of you suspended in time.
Far too soon, Oscar pulls back reluctantly. His eyes search your face like heâs trying to memorize it.
âTravel safely, Princess. Iâll see you soon.â His voice holds a promise.
You nod, not trusting your voice. With a final squeeze of his hand, you turn and walk steadily towards the exit. Your bodyguards fall in step behind you.
You donât look back, though you can feel Oscarâs gaze on you until you disappear from view. As your car pulls away, you finally chance a glance backwards, just in time to see Oscar still watching wistfully after you.
Your breath escapes in a shaky exhale and you clutch your phone like a lifeline. Everywhere else suddenly feels much too far away.
***
You collapse back onto your bed, phone already pressed to your ear before the first ring even finishes. Oscar picks up on the second, voice warm and teasing as always.
âEager today, are we Princess?â
You roll your eyes even as your lips quirk up. âOh hush, you know you wait just as anxiously for my calls.â
Oscarâs answering chuckle makes your heart skip a beat. âGuilty. Iâll gladly admit your voice is the highlight of my day.â
Warmth floods your cheeks as you get comfortable against the pillows. âFlatterer. Now distract me from the drudgery of royal life with some F1 gossip. How go things in the glamorous world of racing?â
âOh where to even start!â Oscar launches eagerly into the latest paddock drama â teammate clashes, contract disputes, and salacious hookups. You listen eagerly, living vicariously through his tales.
âMeanwhile Lando has been his usual chaos gremlin self ...â Oscar continues, recounting his teammateâs latest antics.
You laugh until your sides ache, picturing the outrageous scenes. âHonestly, I donât know how McLaren copes with you two!â
âWe keep things lively, thatâs for sure,â Oscar agrees, audibly grinning. âAlthough weâd love an even livelier paddock with a certain Danish princess around again ...â
He leaves the statement hanging tentatively. You chew your lip, heart racing as you gather your courage.
âFunny you should mention that ⌠Iâve been thinking lately that it would be nice to attend a race again soon.â
Oscarâs sharp inhale crackles through the phone. âReally? Youâd come to another race?â His voice turns playful. âAny particular reason for the sudden interest?â
You laugh, hoping he canât hear the breathlessness in it. âOh you know, miss the atmosphere, the excitement ...â You pause before adding softly, âGetting to see a certain Aussie driver again.â
Oscar makes a pleased little noise that sends butterflies swirling wildly. âWell Iâm sure that driver would be absolutely thrilled to see your face in the paddock again.â
Warmth spreads through your chest, emboldening you further. âAs it happens, my godmother is the Queen of Belgium. So it should be easy enough to arrange an appearance at the Belgian Grand Prix.â
âThatâs perfect!â Oscar enthuses. âSpa is one of my favorite circuits too. Say youâll be there?â
His boyish eagerness melts your heart. âIâll speak to our communications secretary this week. Iâm sure they can make it happen.â
âBrilliant.â The tender hope in Oscarâs voice finds its mirror in your own thudding heart. A new chapter is beginning.
You chat longer about lighter topics until Oscar reluctantly says he should get some rest before practice tomorrow.
âI suppose I should let you go then ...â He trails off reluctantly, neither wanting to be the one to end the call.
You clutch the phone tighter, casting wildly for an excuse to keep him on the line. âWait, you havenât told me what ridiculous outfit Lando is wearing today!â
Oscar huffs out a laugh. âTrust me, words donât do justice to the monstrosity. Iâll send pictures so you can experience it fully.â
âItâs a deal.â You know youâre only delaying the inevitable, but the thought of hanging up is unbearable.
Just then, the bedroom door crashes open and your younger brother Christian strolls in.
âHey Y/N, Mor wants to know if ⌠is that Oscar youâre talking to?â He raises his eyebrows knowingly.
You frantically shoo him away but Christian swoops in and plucks the phone from your hand. âSorry mate, gotta steal my sister back. Royal duties call and all that. But great chatting, bye now!â
Before you can wrestle the phone away, Christian ends the call with a cheeky grin.
You smack his shoulder indignantly. âYou little brat! I was right in the middle of important diplomatic relations!â
Christian just cackles gleefully. âOh yeah, I could tell. Your dopey romantic sighing was a big clue.â He laughs harder at your outraged stammers.
âJust you wait until youâre madly pining over someone, Iâll get my revenge,â you threaten.
But inside, not even Christianâs teasing can diminish your euphoria. The promise of seeing Oscar again soon eclipses all else.
***
Your heels click rapidly over the pavement as you sweep through the Spa paddock gates. Bodyguards trail discreetly behind but you barely notice them, eyes scanning the bustling crowd for one face.
And then you see him. Oscar stands just ahead, back turned as he bounces on his toes, head swiveling in search of you.
Joy bubbles up in your chest. You break into a run, calling his name. âOscar!â
He whips around, eyes lighting up when they land on you. His arms open wide and you launch yourself into them with a breathless laugh.
Strong hands grip your waist, swinging you in an enthusiastic circle before setting you back on your feet. Neither of you make any move to step back, standing tangled together.
âYou came,â Oscar murmurs, voice awed like he canât quite believe youâre real.
You lean into him, his warmth chasing away the months spent missing him. âOf course. After all, I made a promise to a certain driver.â
Oscarâs answering smile outshines the sun. Reluctantly, he loosens his hold, keeping one hand entwined with yours.
âWell then, allow me to escort you inside properly.â He presses a quick kiss to your knuckles before leading you towards the paddock entrance.
After scanning your VIP guest pass, courtesy of Oscar, you pass through security hand-in-hand, giddy smiles fixed in place.
The paddock buzzes with activity but you only have eyes for Oscar as he guides you straight to the McLaren garage.
Mechanics glance up curiously as you enter behind Oscar. He squeezes your hand, leaning in close.
âReady to meet the team, Princess?â At your answering nod, he steers you confidently through the organized chaos.
You run a suddenly nervous hand over your hair as Oscar approaches a genial looking man conversing with a slimmer bearded man.
âZak, Andrea â thereâs someone special I want you both to meet.â
The two men turn, eyebrows raising in polite expectation. Oscar gently tugs you forward.
âThis is Crown Princess Y/N of Denmark. Y/N, meet Zak Brown, our CEO, and Andrea Stella, team principal.â
Zakâs eyebrows climb higher but he recovers smoothly, extending a hand. âYour Royal Highness, welcome. Weâre honored to host you in our garage.â
You return his firm handshake. âThe honor is mine, thank you. Your team has been so welcoming.â
After greeting Andrea as well, Oscar steers you further inside just as a mop of fluffy brown hair zooms by.
âOscar, mate! There you are, Iâve been ...â The words die on his lips as he spots you, mouth falling open comically. His eyes dart between you and Oscar rapidly.
âLando, come meet the princess!â Oscar calls out cheekily.
Lando snaps his jaw shut, looking utterly bewildered but offering you a hasty bow. âYour Highness! I mean, lovely to meet you, really.â
Amusement flickers through you at his gobsmacked expression. Oscar shoots you a playful wink over Landoâs shoulder as he scrambles to regain composure.
âBut, wait.â Lando glances between you again in confusion. âYou mean all those times you cooed âgood morning, Princessâ over the phone ⌠you were talking to an actual princess!â
Oscar bursts out laughing while you press a hand to your mouth to smother your own giggles. Lando flushes but eventually joins in your laughter.
After extracting a promise to explain everything later, Oscar steers you away so they can focus on final prep.
âIâll make sure youâre taken care of during the race before I have to suit up,â he promises, getting you settled with refreshments.
The anticipation builds until finally the cars are screaming away from the grid in a blur of color. Your nails dig into your palms as positions shuffle wildly on the first lap.
But soon Oscar settles into a rhythm, battling wheel to wheel with Lewis Hamilton. Youâre on your feet with every overtake, yelling yourself hoarse.
The final laps loom with Oscar still fighting for a podium finish. But suddenly disaster strikes for the leaders. Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc collide attempting to lap a backmarker on the Kemmel Straight.
You watch in disbelief as both the Red Bull and Ferrari limp to a stop off the track, clearing the path for Oscar to sweep through into the lead.
The McLaren garage roars in elation as Oscar maintains the gap and finally, finally crosses the line to claim his maiden Grand Prix win.
Chaos erupts as a stampede of papaya uniforms makes its way towards parc fermĂŠ but Oscarâs performance coach Kim grasps your arm urgently. âQuickly, heâll want you there for this!â
Kim rushes you down towards the area where Oscar guides his car to a stop. He vaults out, pumping both fists and clambering atop the chassis in triumph.
Your breath catches at the sight of his windswept hair and exultant grin. As McLaren swarms Oscar, his gaze catches on you at the barrier, pressed close by Kim.
In two strides Oscar is right there, joy and adrenaline shining in his eyes. His hand cups your cheek ⌠and then his lips find yours.
The roar around you fades away. For one perfect, suspended moment, your world narrows down to Oscarâs lips slanted over yours, his fingers tangled in your hair.
When you break apart, eyes flying open, the full reality crashes back in. But with Oscarâs breathless laugh warming your skin, the rest of the world no longer matters.
***
You pace the plush hotel carpet, nerves jangling as you await the imminent video call with your family. Since Oscarâs podium kiss yesterday, youâve been hyper aware of your phone blowing up with notifications but too anxious to check them.
A brisk knock precedes your royal secretary poking his head in. âThe call is ready whenever you are, Your Highness.â
Squaring your shoulders, you take a seat at the polished desk as the large monitor springs to life. Your familyâs faces fill the screen, ranging from sympathetic (Isabella) to highly amused (Christian).
Before you can get a word in, the royal PR advisors elbow into view, expressions like thunderclouds.
âYour Royal Highness, might we have a word about this ⌠incident from the race?â The chief advisorâs tone drips disapproval.
Ice trickles down your spine but you keep your face neutral. âOf course.â
âI trust youâve seen the coverage?â At your hesitant nod, the advisor continues, âThen you understand what an embarrassment this is, how damaging to the dignity of the crown.â
You clench your jaw, anger rising. But he barrels on, âSuch scandalous behavior, and broadcast globally! You must see how this recklessness reflects poorly on Denmark.â
The rest of the advisors murmur emphatic agreement. Your cheeks burn in humiliation even as you desperately blink back furious tears.
âThe narrative has already spiraled out of control. Such associations cannot be tolerated from the future queen.â
The scorn in his tone ignites your temper. But before you can spit out a scathing retort, a commanding voice interrupts.
âEnough!â Your fatherâs stern face fills the screen, pinning the advisors with an icy glare. They recoil, mouths snapping shut.
Satisfied, your father turns to you, expression softening. âMy dear, youâve done nothing wrong. What matters most is that youâre happy.â
Hope flickers tentatively inside you as the advisors gape. But your father silences them with another quelling look.
âI know a thing or two about duty versus matters of the heart.â His eyes soften, finding your mother. âIâll not see my daughter denied the same chance at love that brought me such joy.â
Your mother smiles gently, affection shining through the screen. On her other side, Isabella squeezes her shoulder in solidarity.
The fight drains from the advisors under your fatherâs resolute gaze. With a few grumbled concessions, they disconnect from the call.
Your muscles uncoil in relief as your attention returns fully to your family. Isabella waggles her eyebrows.
âSoooo ⌠looks like someone had an eventful race!â
Heat floods your cheeks but you canât suppress a giddy smile. âIt just sort of happened in the heat of the moment.â
âThis Oscar must be something special,â your mother remarks kindly.
Your insides turn to mush at the memory of Oscarâs kiss. âHe really is. I canât explain it, but it feels ⌠right with him.â
Your normally stoic mother looks touched. âThen he has my blessing.â
On her other side, Christian smirks. âYeah, yeah, we get it, youâre in looooove.â He exaggerates a swoon, cackling when you stick your tongue out at him.
âHush dear, let your sister be happy,â your mother chides, swatting his shoulder before smiling indulgently. âReminds me of another young prince long ago, besotted with an Australian girl ...â
Your father laughs, eyes crinkling. âToo right, darling. Clearly our Y/N takes after me.â He winks at you. âWe Danes do seem to have a weakness for Aussies.â
You groan good-naturedly at the gentle teasing, buoyed by your familyâs support. With their love behind you, the rest no longer matters.
You conclude the call with hugs blown through the screen and a heart full to bursting. No matter what the coming days hold, you wonât be facing them alone.
Later, a hesitant knock interrupts your contented musings. You open the door to find Oscar, eyebrows pinched anxiously.
But at the sight of your radiant smile, the tension melts from his frame. His hands settle comfortably on your waist like coming home.
âSo ...â he begins, nose scrunching up adorably, âThink your family will let you keep me around?â
You answer by pulling him down into a long, sweet kiss. When you finally separate, foreheads pressed together, Oscar sighs out, âIâll take that as a yes.â
Your answering laugh fills the space between you as he lifts you effortlessly into a spinning embrace. The setting sun gilds the hotel room in amber, basking you both in warmth and promise.
Let the world say what they will. Youâve made your choice, the only one your heart would allow. And with Oscarâs arms encircling you now, you know youâre right where you belong.
***
âCome on, itâll be great! Whenâs the next chance youâll get to come down under?â
Oscarâs pleading face fills your laptop screen, bottom lip poking out beseechingly. You try to stand firm, but your resolve is crumbling.
âI donât know ⌠wonât I be imposing on your family time?â
Oscar waves a hand breezily. âNah, Mum and Dad have been hassling me nonstop to bring you for a visit. Trust me, theyâll smother you with Aussie hospitality.â
You chew your lip thoughtfully. A trip together does sound tempting. And youâre endlessly curious to see where Oscar grew up.
Sensing your wavering, Oscar presses his advantage. âThereâs so much I want to show you! The beach I learned to surf at, my favorite cafes and shops ...â
His voice turns coaxing. âAnd just think, falling asleep under the southern stars ...â
Your heart flutters traitorously. Oscar knows your weakness for astronomy. With a defeated huff, you nod.
âOh alright, youâve convinced me. Iâll see if I can clear my schedule for next month.â
Oscar whoops, pumping a victorious fist. âYes! Youâre gonna love it, I promise.â
The rest of the call passes in eager planning until Oscar reluctantly disconnects to start his day. As the screen goes dark, butterflies swell in your stomach. A whole trip together!
The weeks crawl by agonizingly until finally youâre boarding the royal jet bound for Melbourne, giddiness rising with each mile.
Oscar is waiting when you deplane, sweeping you up joyfully the second your feet hit the tarmac. You cling to him, breathing in the scent of home youâve missed so much.
As the hug extends well past proper etiquette, your bodyguard Henrik pointedly clears his throat. You spring apart, blushing when you meet his knowing gaze.
Oscar just grins unrepentantly, grabbing your hand to lead you towards where his parents are waiting.
You spot them immediately â Oscarâs smile mirrored on his motherâs face and his kind eyes reflected in his fatherâs crinkled gaze. They hurry over, clasping your hands warmly.
âYour Royal Highness, weâre so honored to finally meet you!â His mother gushes. âOscarâs told us so much, I feel as if we know you already.â
You smile, charmed by her easy manner. âThe honor is mine, Mrs. Piastri. Please, call me Y/N.â
She pats your hand merrily. âOf course, dear! And you must call me Nicole. Now come, letâs get you home and settled.â
The ride to Oscarâs childhood home passes quickly, filled with lively conversation. His parentsâ sweet banter reminds you so much of your own.
When you arrive, Nicole loops her arm through yours, bustling you inside. âWeâve freshened up Oscarâs old room for you, I do hope itâs comfortable.â
You take in the posters of racing legends and cricketers adorning the walls, the cluttered bookshelves full of well-loved texts. âItâs perfect, thank you.â
âExcellent!â Nicole claps her hands. âNow, you two get settled. Dinner will be ready shortly.â
She disappears down the hall with a parting wink that makes Oscar flush beet red. You stifle a laugh and let him tug you further inside.
Dinner passes in a blur of delicious food and easy laughter. Chrisâ eyes twinkle knowingly as he refills your wine.
âWeâre just delighted to finally meet the girl whoâs made our Oscar so happy.â
Oscar covers his face in exaggerated mortification, but his fingers squeeze yours under the table. You lift your joined hands to brush a kiss over his knuckles when his parents arenât looking.
The peaceful mood continues as Nicole breaks out photo albums. You coo over baby pictures of Oscar, smothering laughter at his gap-toothed grin and wild hair.
Yawns eventually take over and everyone reluctantly shuffles off to bed. In Oscarâs room, you borrow his old karting club shirt to sleep in.
Oscar looks up from turning down the duvet, eyes darkening as he takes you in. âThis was a terrible idea, you looking so cute in my clothes.â
You giggle and kiss the tip of his nose before climbing into bed and patting the space next to you. Oscar obliges, pulling you close and nuzzling into your hair.
Outside the window, the infinity of the southern skies beckons. But here in Oscarâs arms, you have everything you need.
Oscar hums contentedly, dropping a kiss to your hair as your eyes drift closed.
âSweet dreams, my princess,â he whispers. You float off cradled in his warmth, perfectly at peace.
The rest of the trip passes in blissful domesticity â lazy beach days, intimate dinners, long talks under the stars. Meeting Oscarâs family feels like coming to a second home.
On your last night, you creep outside to sit curled against him on the back porch, committing every detail to memory.
âI donât want this to end,â you whisper into the quiet night.
Oscar presses a lingering kiss below your ear. âItâs only the start for us.â
And basking in his touch, the infinite potential of the future unfolding before you, you know heâs right. This is just the beginning.
***
You smooth your hands over your dress, peering anxiously out the palace window overlooking the winding driveway. Any moment now, the car bringing Oscar should pull through the gates.
Itâs his first time visiting the palace and meeting your family officially as your boyfriend. You know theyâll love him, but nerves still flutter in your chest.
The crunch of tires on gravel draws your gaze back outside. You watch Oscar emerge from the car, craning his head back to take in the towering palace facade.
Unable to wait any longer, you gather your skirts and hurry downstairs just as he steps inside the grand entryway.
Oscar turns at the click of your heels, face melting into a smile. In a few quick strides, he sweeps you into his arms, spinning you joyfully.
You cling to him, breathing in the soothing scent of home youâve missed. When he sets you down, hands come up to frame your face tenderly, thumbs brushing over your cheeks.
âThereâs my beautiful girl. Iâve missed you so much, Princess.â
Heart swelling, you lean in to capture his lips in a kiss that conveys weeks of longing. Oscar responds urgently, fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close.
A pointed cough interrupts your reunion. You pull back to see your brother Christian smirking knowingly.
âWell now I see why you were so eager for Oscarâs visit. Should I come back later?â
You stick your tongue out at him even as a blush stains your cheeks. Taking Oscarâs hand, you lead him towards the family wing.
âCome on, everyoneâs excited to finally meet you properly.â
Voices carry from the dining room as you approach. Inside, your family looks up, faces alight with warmth and curiosity.
Your father strides forward first, clasping Oscarâs hand firmly. âOscar, welcome. Weâre delighted to have you here.â
Oscar returns the handshake graciously. âThe honor is mine, Your Majesty. Thank you for the invitation.â
More greetings follow before your mother guides everyone to the table. Oscar pulls out your chair, pressing a discreet kiss to your temple as you sit. Happiness bubbles up inside at having him here with your family.
Dinner passes enjoyably, conversation flowing. Oscar charms them all effortlessly with his quick wit and humor. Laughter fills the room, the atmosphere light and intimate.
With dessert finished, your siblings seize their chance to grill Oscar playfully.
âSooo tell us,â Isabella begins, propping her chin on her hands. âWhat exactly are your intentions with our dear sister?â
Oscar just grins, unfazed. âWhy, to make her happy every single day, of course.â
You melt at his simple sincerity, grasping his hand under the table.
âGood answer!â Christian crows. âBut know if you ever hurt her, youâll have the entire Danish army to answer to.â
Despite his teasing tone, you know Christian means every word. Oscar inclines his head solemnly.
âYou have my word such a day will never come. Her happiness means everything to me.â
Your siblings appear satisfied, moving on to pepper Oscar with questions about his career and interests. He takes their antics in stride, witty comebacks drawing fond laughter from your parents.
The relaxed family atmosphere reminds you so much of that first dinner at Oscarâs childhood home. Your heart swells with quiet joy at how seamlessly he fits here too.
Eventually Oscar politely extracts you both, citing early flights in the morning. Alone in the hall, he sags against the wall in exaggerated relief.
âWhew, your family is something else! I think that interrogation was more intense than any press conference.â
You laugh and swat his shoulder before lifting on your toes to kiss him sweetly. âYou were wonderful. Iâm so happy youâre here.â
Oscarâs eyes soften. âMe too, Princess. Being here with you feels like home.â
Heedless of any lingering eyes, you kiss him again under the twinkling chandelier.
A loud retching sound interrupts you. âUgh, get a room you two!â Christian complains, dodging your swat.
Oscar just tugs you closer with a chuckle. âDonât worry mate, I plan to.â
He silences Christianâs protests with another searing kiss. And surrounded by Oscarâs warmth, you canât bring yourself to care who sees.
***
Moonlight filters through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft glow. You lay curled against Oscarâs chest, fingers tracing idle patterns over his heart.
The steady rhythm soothes you, but your own heart feels anything but calm. Thereâs something you need to discuss, but nerves stall your tongue.
Sensing your tension, Oscarâs hand comes up to sift gently through your hair. âPenny for your thoughts, love?â
You lean into his touch, gathering courage. âI was just thinking about the future. Our future.â You twist to meet his gaze. âI know itâs still early days for us, but if this continues to get more serious ...â
You trail off uncertainly, but Oscarâs eyes are warm with encouragement. Bolstered, you continue.
âThere are certain expectations that come with being attached to the heir to the throne. Traditions and duties to learn.â
You watch Oscarâs face closely, but he simply nods thoughtfully. âOf course, that makes sense. Iâm happy to learn whatever I need to.â
Relief trickles through you. You prop yourself up on one elbow, smiling softly down at him.
âFor example, even before my mother was engaged to my father, she decided to learn Danish. The protocol and duties, the public role ⌠it was a massive life change.â
You take a bracing breath. âI donât expect you to make such changes overnight. But someday, if this continues on the path we hope ...â
You trail off meaningfully. Oscarâs hand comes up to cradle your face. âHey, if being with you means learning Danish, or attending stuffy banquets, or anything else, Iâm in this 100%.â
His eyes bore into yours. âIâll do whatever it takes to build a life together.â
Emotion clogs your throat. You have to swallow thickly before responding. âWell, maybe we start small then. How about I teach you a few phrases?â
Oscar grins, pulling you back down against him. âJa, det lyder perfekt.â
You jerk back in surprise, swatting his chest. âYou brat, have you been practicing without telling me?â
Oscarâs eyes dance with laughter. âMaybe just a few key phrases. Wanted to surprise you.â
His smile turns tender. âIâd love nothing more than for you to teach me, sweetheart.â
Happiness bubbles up inside you. You snuggle closer, thinking. âAlright, letâs start simple. Like hej simply means hello.â
Oscar repeats the phrase dutifully, brow furrowing in concentration. You cover his hand with yours.
âJeg elsker dig,â you murmur, gazing into his eyes.
âJeg elsker dig,â Oscar echoes. âWhat does it mean?â
Sudden shyness has you ducking your head. âIt means I love you.â
Oscarâs sharp inhale lifts your head. He grasps both of your hands, staring deeply into your eyes.
âJeg elsker dig,â he repeats reverently.
Emotion clogs your throat. You lean in, whispering against his lips, âJeg elsker dig, Oscar.â
The kiss starts soft and unhurried, a confirmation of feelings conveyed best without words. Oscarâs arms wrap securely around you as the kiss deepens, pouring every ounce of love and promise into it.
When you eventually break apart, Oscar keeps you cradled close, dropping kisses into your hair. âWhat else can you teach me?â
Happiness bubbles up at his tentative Danish endearment. You settle back against him, whispering translations as his steady heartbeat lulls you towards sleep.
But too soon, Oscar is reluctantly packing to leave, both clinging to these last private hours before he has to set off for the next race.
You wind yourself around him, unwilling to let go. Oscar holds you close, murmuring promises of next visits and calls into your hair.
As you finally part at the airport, his whispered âjeg elsker digâ warms you from the inside out. No matter the miles between you, your hearts remain entwined.
***
You adjust the diamond clips in your elegantly twisted updo, scanning your reflection critically. The deep blue gown hugs your frame perfectly, but nerves still flutter in your stomach.
Because tonight, Oscar will be attending his first official function as your partner â a lavish gala in honor of the new childrenâs hospital bearing your motherâs name.
A knock precedes Oscar peeking his head in, hands clapped over his eyes. âSafe to look?â
You smooth your skirt with a shaky exhale. âYes, come in.â
Oscar drops his hands, mouth falling open. âWow. You look absolutely stunning tonight, my love.â
He takes your hands, eyes roving appreciatively over you. âGoing to have to beat all the envious blokes away with a stick.â
You laugh, swatting his shoulder lightly. âOh hush. You look rather dashing yourself, Mr. Piastri.â
And he does in his impeccably tailored tuxedo, hair swept back neatly. You brush a piece of imaginary lint from his lapel, nerves melting away under his warm gaze.
âShall we?â He offers his arm gallantly. You lay your hand atop it, spine straightening.
âWe shall.â
The ballroom glitters under fairy lights as you make your entrance, immediately garnering interested looks and murmurs. On your arm, Oscar draws admiring glances of his own with his rakish good looks and easy confidence.
You greet various dignitaries and philanthropists, Oscar a steady, charming presence at your side. As you speak with the hospitalâs key figures, his hand at the small of your back anchors you.
But as the speeches drag on, Oscar leans in subtly. âIs it terrible Iâm already bored senseless? Iâd rather actually meet these kids weâre meant to be helping.â
You hide a smile behind your wine glass. The same restlessness plagues you as schmoozing patrons preen and prattle.
As dessert wraps up, an idea strikes you. You catch Oscarâs eye, tilting your head meaningfully at a side exit before excusing yourself discretely.
Understanding dawns on his face and he trails casually after you. In the entry hall, you hurry to a secluded alcove, grabbing his hand.
âQuick, while we wonât be missed. Letâs actually go see the children.â
Excitement flashes across Oscarâs face. âBrilliant thinking. Lead the way, Princess.â
Adrenaline courses through you as you sneak out to the waiting car, bodyguards eyeing you curiously.
âRigshospitalet, please. Quickly.â
At the childrenâs hospital, you sweep inside, Oscar at your heels. The receptionist gapes as you approach.
âSo sorry to drop by unannounced. We were hoping there might be a chance for us to visit with some of the patients?â
The receptionistâs mouth opens and closes before she stutters, âO-of course, Your Highness, right away!â Clearly your boldness has paid off.
You exchange exhilarated looks with Oscar as she pages a nurse to escort you up. On the cheery pediatric ward, you peek into rooms, greeting curious families.
At one doorway, a gasp stops you short. A little girl sits up in bed, pointing.
âMama, itâs the princess! And her boyfriend!â
You glance at Oscar to find him rubbing his neck bashfully. Clearly his fame extends beyond the F1 sphere here.
You laugh and enter slowly. âWe were hoping we might visit you, if thatâs alright?â
The girl â Else â nods eagerly, blond braids bouncing. Her mother rises to curtsy but you wave her off kindly as Oscar produces a small plush racecar from his pocket, to Elseâs delight.
As you chat and play with Else, joy lights up her face. For a short time, sheâs just a normal girl again. Your chest aches at her bright spirit despite her poor health.
All too soon, a nurse taps her watch. As you make your goodbyes, Else throws her thin arms around your waist.
âThank you! This was like a fairytale.â Over her head, her mother mouths a tearful thank you of her own.
You hug Else gently before kneeling down. âIt was our honor. You stay strong, little one.â
Her returning whisper warms your heart. âDonât worry, I will!â
Similar scenes play out in room after room. Your cheeks ache from smiling but itâs a welcome ache. The childrenâs awed joy makes the real reason for tonight crystal clear.
Watching Oscar kneel patiently as a shy boy shows him a prized toy car, your heart clenches with love. Catching your gaze, Oscarâs eyes mirror the same emotion.
Far too soon, your bodyguards notify you itâs time to return before your absence draws notice. A chorus of disappointed groans follows you out.
Back at the gala, you slip in just in time for closing toasts. No one seems the wiser about your little detour.
Under the table, Oscar squeezes your hand. The contact says it all â this is what truly matters. Not accolades or commendations, but joy brought to hurting hearts.
You know youâll be back. Both of you. Not for galas or acclaim, but for the chance to see young faces light up, if only for a moment.
Late that night, you slow dance alone in the empty ballroom, music and laughter faded. Oscarâs arms circle you from behind, chin tucking onto your shoulder.
âI think tonight was the most important royal function Iâve ever attended,â he murmurs.
You cover his hands with yours, leaning back into him with a contented sigh. No more words need be said.
The rest of the world may see events like tonight as social currency and networking. But you hold the truth in your heart â the only currency that counts canât be bought, only given freely through love.
***
Two Years Later
You smooth your hands over your dress, pulse thrumming as you await the imminent news conference. Just hours ago, the palace formally announced your engagement to Oscar, sending the public into a frenzy.
Now, youâre about to face the media together for the first time as an engaged couple. Press stands crowd the palace gardens, cameras poised and ready.
At your side, Oscar seems calm and collected, fingers threaded loosely with yours. But you sense the storm brewing beneath his tranquil surface.
You reach up and gently adjust his suit collar, fingers lingering on the lapels as you meet his eyes. He gives you a small, grateful smile before you both turn to face the expectant crowd.
Because today also brings another announcement â one that will upend Oscarâs world irreversibly.
Your father steps forward first to formally confirm the engagement and expound on Oscarâs character. As he returns to your side, Oscar squeezes your hand and you nod in encouragement.
Oscar clears his throat, stepping closer to the microphones. âThank you, Your Majesty. Y/N and I are over the moon at the chance to spend our lives together.â
He gazes at you softly before continuing. âIâm truly the luckiest man in the world to have won the heart of Denmarkâs lovely princess.â
You have to resist the urge to kiss him senseless then and there. Cameras flash brightly as Oscar details your romantic (and heavily abridged) love story, punctuated with charming wit.
But gradually, his mirth fades. With another fortifying hand squeeze, he steels himself for the harder part.
âWhile Iâm elated at this new chapter ahead, it also brings difficult changes. Iâm announcing my retirement from Formula 1 following this seasonâs conclusion.â
Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Oscarâs grip tightens as he pushes forward.
âAs a member of the royal family, I will no longer be able to continue racing competitively. I am grateful to have achieved my dream this year of winning the championship.â
His voice falters briefly and your heart clenches. Racing is Oscarâs passion â having to walk away is unimaginably hard.
Oscar visibly gathers himself. âBut as difficult as this is, marrying Y/N is worth any sacrifice. She is my true dream now.â
He turns to you then, eyes glistening. âThe honor of being your husband eclipses any trophy or medal. You are my greatest victory.â
Emotion clogs your throat and without thinking, you wrap him in a fierce embrace. The rules of propriety fade away, only your pride and love for Oscar remain.
His arms clutch you close as flashes erupt around you. But in this moment, you see only each other.
Eventually you separate and Oscar takes your hand once more, gracing you with a tender smile. He turns back to the microphones for one last address.
âTil Danmark og det danske folk. Jeg lover at tjene jer med ĂŚre, respekt og kĂŚrlighed.â
The Danish press reacts first, visibly surprised and impressed at Oscarâs speech in their native tongue.
You blink back a fresh wave of tears at his poignant promise â to serve Denmark with honor, respect, and love.
Overcome with emotion, you step forward to the microphones as well.
âOscarâs love for me and Denmark is clear to all who meet him. I am truly blessed to have found such a selfless, caring partner.â
Your voice wavers with feeling. âThough it grieves me to see his racing career ended prematurely, I could not be more proud of the man he is.â
You reach for Oscarâs hand, gazing at him through tear-filled eyes. âHe gives up much out of love for me. I only hope I can bring him a fraction of the joy in return.â
Oscarâs fingers tighten around yours, eyes shining with affection. Cameras flash furiously at your raw display of love and emotion.
But you remain lost in Oscarâs eyes, the rest of the world fading away. In this moment, all that matters is your shared devotion and the bright future stretching before you.
Questions start flying from the excited press corps but Oscar politely extracts you both, ceding the floor to the waiting palace officials.
Alone inside once more, Oscar sags against the wall in clear emotional exhaustion. You wrap him in your arms, heart aching for the pain this transition causes.
Oscar clings to you tightly, face pressed into your hair. âI meant every word,â he whispers fiercely. âYou are my whole world now.â
You draw back just far enough to meet his eyes, hoping he can see the depths of your love reflected there.
âI know, min kĂŚreste. Weâll face this new future together.â
The answering kiss speaks what words cannot. No matter what comes, your love remains constant.
A new path lies ahead now, one you will walk hand in hand, till the end of your days.
***
Five Years Later
The roar of engines draws nearer as your car nears the Copenhagen street circuit. In the seat beside you, Oscar bounces his leg restlessly, face alight with anticipation.
In the backseat, your three-year-old daughter, Margrethe (affectionately called Maise for short), mimics her fatherâs excitement, chattering cheerfully about anything and everything.
You reach over to still Oscarâs jostling knee, smiling indulgently. âEasy there, weâve barely arrived and youâre already wound up.â
Oscar shoots you a boyish grin. âCan you blame me? Itâs been so long since I was last in the paddock. Feels like a lifetime ago.â
Your heart swells with quiet awe once more at the sacrifices Oscar has made for your future together. While racing still runs through his veins, his duties as Crown Prince of Denmark now take precedence.
But today offers a joyous reunion, with Oscar instrumental in bringing Formula 1 racing back to Danish soil for the first time since 1962.
As the car pulls through the paddock entrance, Oscar cranes his neck eagerly, drinking in the familiar organized chaos. Before the door even opens, you hear a familiar voice shouting.
âHe lives! The prodigal prince returns!â A blur of McLaren papaya hurtles towards Oscar as he steps out.
Oscar just manages to brace himself before Lando Norris tackles him in an exuberant hug. Laughter bubbles out of Oscar as he returns the embrace.
âGood to see you too, mate. Itâs been way too long.â
You round the car to find Oscarâs former team already swarming him, clapping his back and jostling each other good-naturedly to greet their long-lost driver.
Oscarâs eyes shine as he falls back into easy banter, trading inside jokes and reminiscing. With Maise balanced on your hip, you hang back contentedly, letting Oscar have this moment.
As the reunion finally winds down, Lando gestures to you and Maise. âAnd who do we have here? Donât tell me this little beauty is your daughter?â
Oscar beams, waving you both over. âShe is indeed! Lando, meet my little girl.â
Lando pretends to stagger back in shock. âNo way, our little Oscar is all grown up and domesticated now!â
Oscar shoves him playfully before sweeping Maise into his arms. âWhat can I say, my fast living days are behind me now.â He kisses Maiseâs wavy hair, eyes finding yours. âIâve got all I need right here.â
Your insides turn mushy at the adoration in his voice. The years have only deepened your love further.
More drivers trickle over to greet Oscar, ribbing him good-naturedly about his new royal status. But the obvious affection underlying the teasing is clear.
Zak Brown claps Oscar on the back. âItâs so good to have you back, even just for a day. You and your family should stay, watch the race from the garage!â
For a fleeting moment, naked longing flashes across Oscarâs face at the thought of experiencing race day excitement again up close.
But reality settles back in quickly, his expression turning regretful. âThatâs a lovely offer, truly. But Iâm afraid weâll have to make our way to the royal box.â
He bounces Maise gently, tone wry. âSome of us have a job to do handing out trophies later.â Maise giggles and tugs at his ear happily, blissfully unaware of the wistfulness simmering beneath her fatherâs smile.
You slip your arm through Oscarâs, offering a comforting squeeze. His answering smile doesnât quite reach his eyes.
After more fond farewells, you exit the nostalgic bubble of the garage. Oscar pauses, taking a moment to just breathe and gather himself.
You shift Maise to your other hip, wrapping your free arm around his waist. Oscar leans into you gratefully, pressing a kiss to your hair.
âCanât believe itâs been five years already,â he murmurs. âFeels like another lifetime.â
You smile up at him sadly. âI know, my love. But look at everything youâve accomplished for Denmark in that time. This race wouldnât even be happening without you.â
Oscar huffs a small laugh. âToo right. Who needs driving when Iâve got you two anyway?â
He tickles Maise playfully, eliciting delighted giggles. The melancholy edge has left his eyes now, replaced by contentment.
Hand in hand, with Maise toddling happily between you, the three of you set off together towards the royal box. The Danish Grand Prix awaits, along with the bright future you continue building as a family.
This may no longer be Oscarâs world, but he now shapes the path for future generations of drivers. After the race, as Oscar graciously awards the beaming winner while Maise excitedly cheers from the side of the podium, you know this is precisely where heâs meant to be.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#oscar piastri#op81#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#oscar piastri x female reader#oscar piastri x y/n#mclaren#oscar piastri one shot#oscar piastri drabble
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Seduction Techniques (mommy!wanda x sub!fem!reader)
[minors don't interact, 18+]
pairing: mommy!wanda maximoff x sub!fem!reader (set in the 1960s decade of wandavision, i forgot she doesn't have children at this point but I'm not rewriting it so pretend pls <3)
summary: You work for Stark Innovations as a secretary for Vision. After getting invited to a party at his house you turn up with a clingy and flirtatious colleague. Wanda immediately takes a likening to you, wanting to make you hers, but when she see's your colleague trying to mark her territory, she has to teach you a lesson.
content warnings: shameful mommy kink, gagging, slapping, praise and degradation, slut shaming, masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, choking, toxic possessive wanda, mention of innocence and wandas fascination in your age gap and inexperience, images linked to breast feeding, adultery and gloriying affairs.
word count: 8k (strap in, its a long one)
Seduction Techniques
Stark Innovations, you read tracing the words with your finger. You hadnât been at the company long, but to be completely honest you had no idea what you were actually working for. You knew that it was a leading technology and defence contractor, known for pushing the boundaries of modern engineering, but that wasnât where your specialities lied. Youâd been Visions secretary for about a week now, basically just running files between different sectors, answering emails and calls, but mainly you felt like you floated around the brightest minds within a 40 mile radius of Westview.Â
This morning you were sitting at your desk, papers scattered across the surface, trying to figure out what you were supposed to do with all the folders. The office as a whole is a large, sterile space, intimidatingly quiet and you would do anything you could to avoid being noticed by the people who worked around you. This was impossible considering the only woman in the office was sitting adjacent to your desk and every time you glanced over at her, she was always looking curiously at you.Â
The door of the main office creaked open and everybody looked up as Vision walked into the room, visiting each and every person at their desk with little A6 pieces of card. Once he got to you he spoke in a professional manner, âI wanted to give you this,â He reaches over the unorganised mess of your desk, acting as if he was pretending not to see the state of all of his files, giving you the benefit of the doubt considering it was only your first week.Â
You take the card, glancing over the elegant script. It was an invitation to a party at his house, seemingly addressed as a mildly professional birthday gathering for himself. âIt will be good for you to meet some people outside the office so please come along if you can,â He suggests, âAnd get this sorted out, come on.â His hands gestured to the stacks of paper all out of order.Â
You nod, returning the gentle smile, though your mind is already racing with anxiety. You hadnât expected to have to attend something quite this personal, a considerable line you were forced to cross so soon. You looked around the room, nobody else seemed mildly interested in the invitation, clearly a usual event for the rest of your colleagues. You glanced down at the invitation again, it was signed, Wanda and Vision.Â
As you looked up from your desk, the brunette woman from across the room was now perching against your desk. âHi, Iâm Natasha by the way, I felt rude for not introducing myself.â She spoke softly, her eyebrow raised slightly as you held your hand out to meet hers in a shake. âEspecially considering the testosterone in the room.â
You both giggle, yours slightly more nervous than hers. âAre you going to this thing?â You ask, unsure if youâd be able to attend without a friendly face you could use as a safety blanket if things went south.Â
âI wasnât planning on it,â Her eyes flickering over you in a way that makes your pulse quicken, even if you werenât entirely comfortable with how publicly she was speaking to you. âBut if youâre going, maybe I could tag along with you?â
âWell Iâve got an invitation, so I guess Iâll see you there.â You laugh nervously, not wanting to seem too thrown by her advances, considering she was the first person, other than your boss, to make an effort to talk to you. Not seeing you as below her as Visionâs secretary. âWhoâs Wanda?â You ask, trying to shift the conversation away from her advances.
Natashaâs raised eyebrows tell you all you need to know, her expression clearly surprised. âYou havenât heard about Wanda? Everyone knows who she is.â She smirks, stepping back a little as she sips her coffee out of her floral patterned mug. âSheâs Visionâs wife, youâll see her this weekend. Trust me, you wonât miss her.â She winks, brushing her arm past yours as she walks away. You just nod, feeling a strange flutter of anticipation in your chest at the mystery that went by the name of Wanda.Â
A few days went by and you were finally in your car, parked outside the address on the envelope. You were a little later than planned, but the grandeur of Visionâs house sat in front of you and you felt a wave of nerves pass over you. It was taking every part of you to not pull out and drive away from the white picket fence that enclosed the well-manicured lawn and perfectly trimmed hedges. You take a deep breath and decide to just face it, knowing that this might be your only chance to be forgiven for what you had to admit was a very bad first impression on your first week.Â
Inside, everything is even more pristine than the front, polished wooden floors and family souvenirs scattered purposefully everywhere that you looked. It was a warm and welcoming atmosphere, aided by the warm lighting and harmonies of multiple conversations that was happening in the main room. You felt a little out of place, glancing around the small crowd that had gathered all together. You pull at your white buttoned blouse, re-adjusting your collar and smoothing down the creases in your forest green pencil skirt.Â
Your eyes quickly find Natasha, standing in the corner with a glass of champagne in her hand. She notices you immediately, flashing you a mischievous grin as she saunters over, a slight sway in her hips as she approaches you. âYou made it!â She says, her hand sliding casually onto your lower back as she leans her hip slightly closer to yours. You stiffen slightly but you try to play it off, not wanting to break friendships already.Â
âYeah, I couldn't miss it.â You admitted honestly, feeling stuck in a state of awkwardness which was quickly cut off by Vision approaching you both, dressed in a well tailored suit.Â
âIâm glad you could both make it.â He exclaims, his voice slightly tired from the endless introductions and greetings that he was forced into at his own party. He shakes your hand briefly, then glances over his shoulder. âWanda, darling, come say hello.â
You feel the air shift as Wanda emerges into your eyeline. Sheâs breathtaking in a subtle, but devastating way. Her red hair twisted into a French plait, pinned elegantly at the back of her head, the soft curled strands falling loose around her face. Sheâs wearing a deep green dress that hugs her curves in a professional manner, the material catching the warmth of the light just right. Her eyes are green, sharp, almost knowing as they settle on you. Then came her smile, one that could make you melt in an instant, making it hard to look away.Â
âSo, you must be the new one Visionâs told me about.â Her voice is rich, with a slight teasing edge that makes your hairs stand on end. She looks you over in a way that feels far too intimate for a first meeting, her eyes lingering just a little longer than they should, not remaining solely on your face.Â
Before you have a chance to respond, someone calls her name from across the room. âSorry I have been summoned,â She laughs, âBut please get yourself a drink darling, donât make me look like a bad host.â You watch her walk away, your eyes drawn to the casual sway of her hips, the graceful way she appears to move through people, like they magnetically moved and formed a path for her.Â
For the next hour you tried to remain focused in your conversation with Natasha and other fellow colleagues who dropped in and out of your small circle. There was a pull in your chest that kept drawing your gaze back to Wanda, her auburn hair bounced as she spoke, that blush across her cheeks was a magnetic pull. Your stare always seemed to find her figure in the crowd, barely adding anything to any conversation.Â
âIâm just going to grab another drink.â You say, interrupting the aimless conversation that you werenât the slightest bit interested in. You, less elegantly, move through the crowd and through the arched doorway into a kitchen that was so suburban you thought youâd stepped into a film. It certainly was no match for your tiny apartment where you can sit on your bed and also open the oven at the same time. There was metres of space around you, but still photo frames and childrenâs paintings littered the room.Â
You walked by, eyes catching a wedding photo of Wanda and Vision and you felt guilty for drooling over the way the housewife looked in her wedding dress. You immediately put the frame down, walking to the bottles of wine that were stacked on the counter, twisting the lid open and refilling your own glass.Â
Youâre lost in thought when you hear the soft click of heels against the wooden floor. You turn and your breath hitches when you see Wanda entering the room, a glass of red already in her hand, her lips, slightly wine-stained curling into a smirk as she catches your eye.Â
âHiding in here?â She asks, her voice low and smooth as she steps closer. You swallow hard, feeling your heart race in your chest, silently praying that she couldnât hear it thump against your skin.Â
âJust needed a moment,â You say, trying to sound casual, âAnd you know.â You laugh nervously, lifting your freshly refilled glass as Wandaâs eyes beam at you with satisfaction. The tension between the two of you is palpable, almost like you could slice through it with a knife.Â
âHm, I donât think youâre supposed to refill your own glass, especially not at your boss's party.â She teases humorously, watching the pink flush into your cheeks and you hold up your hands ready to apologise. âAh, ah no need, youâre always welcome.â She reaches over you, your back up against the counter as her fingers graze your upper arm as she grabs for the bottle that you opened. You feel the spark of the touch, sharp but settling as you swallow hard.Â
âItâs a lovely party Mrs Maximoff.â You compliment, not sure what else to say. She looks down at you, satisfaction lies deep within her green eyes. She waves her hand as if to say sheâd heard enough of the small talk all night.Â
âI couldnât help but notice how close you and Natasha are.â She asks with genuine curiosity, but you blink surprised by her unashamed bluntness.Â
âNatasha? No, Itâs not like that.â You stammer, caught off guard as your bodies remain intensely close. âWe work together, thatâs all.âÂ
Wanda laughs softly at your nervousness, her eyebrow arched as she presumed you were suggesting that she would have a problem with it even if you were more than colleagues. âRelax, Iâm not that kind of woman.â Her eyes gleam as she takes a deliberately slow sip of her wine, never once breaking eye contact. Your flush was creeping up your neck now, unsure of how to respond. âSo no one special hm? Pretty girl like you.â
You couldnât almost choke on your small sip of wine at the compliment, the liquid getting stuck in your throat. âNo, I donât, most of my time is spent taking care of Vision and work.â Youâre not sure why youâd lied, you spent the majority of your time worrying about your job, spending less time doing what you were actually paid to do. There was something about her gaze that was making you feel strangely exposed to the point you were making stuff up on the spot.Â
Wandaâs lips twitch in amusement as she swirls the wine around her glass at your response, âOh trust me, I know what thatâs like.â There's a wicked glint in her eyes, and just as youâre about to ask what she means, a familiar figure fills the doorway as Vision walks into the room.Â
âWanda my darling, can I steal you for a moment.â Wanda nods instantly, turning back to you and rolling her eyes, but not before stealing another slow and lingering glance as she steps past you, her hand brushing your arm, this time her fingers squeezing harder against your skin, lasting far too long to be deemed as innocent.Â
âWeâll talk later,â She says softly, almost under her breath before she slips out of the room, leaving you standing in the empty space of her kitchen, breathless and more confused than ever. You gulp down the wine, refilling your glass once again.Â
You noticed how quickly you were getting through drinks, beginning to feel yourself get a little more tipsy. You were now perched on a stool in the living room, listening to the drunk slurs of Natasha still rambling on about something that you lost interest in about half hour ago. Your eyes were still fixed on Wanda, who by the continuous scrapes on the back of her neck and quick breaths that she took when she walked away from someone, you could tell was also becoming slightly more tipsy. She was holding herself better than you, somehow her heels keeping her stable as she pranced elegantly around in that dress that was driving you crazy.Â
The evening continued to progress and the effects of the wine were at the forefront. It was more than a gentle buzz now leaving your thoughts clouded and your steps a little uneven. You were trying so hard to leave Wanda alone, but the faint clicks of her heels against the polished floor kept bringing you back to watching the way her emerald dress clung to her curves. You watched as a faint shadow of discomfort clouded her usually poised face and you watched her try to slip away unnoticed towards the hallway, which would have been successful if you werenât watching her so closely.Â
The tension in her shoulders when she walked made you feel uneasy at your core. Instinctively, you followed her steps, slow and measured, trying to stay upright as you trailed her toward the bathroom. You stop in your tracks when you hear muffled voices behind the door. You could recognise it anywhere, Visionâs voice stern and sharp cutting through the silence.
âYou shouldâve paid more attention Wanda. Do you know how stupid youâre making yourself look?â His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the irritation beneath it. You could barely make out her response, but the emotion in the silence that followed was clear. Moments later, the door flew open and Wanda rushed out, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She didnât see you as she brushed past, head down, her heels clicking faster as she made her way to the back door, escaping into her back garden away from the crowd.Â
You didnât know what came over you, your heart racing at the sight of her as you followed her out into the garden. The cool night air hit your wine muddled brain and you spotted her sitting on the low stone wall that bordered the garden, her head in her hands, the hem of her dress sitting perfectly around her form. Her red hair was slightly messed from the evening, a few stray tendrils escaping the elegant french plait she had worn so proudly earlier, but you thought she still looked beautiful.Â
You hesitated, questioning whether the wine was pushing you forward, but you needed to make sure she was okay. âMrs Maximoff,â Your voice was soft as you stepped closer, she lifted her head quickly, her tear-streaked face turning toward you. In a flash, she wiped at her eyes, trying to compose herself.
âHi, sorry itâs my turn to have a moment.â She tried to laugh, but her voice was hoarse and the lie was painfully obvious.Â
You sat down beside her, keeping a respectful distance. âYou donât seem fine,â You reach out, placing a comforting hand on her knee. While the contact meant to be reassuring, it sent a jolt of electricity through you both.Â
Wandaâs lips twisted into a wry smile, her hand overlapping yours as a silent thanks, âItâs just hard you know, You think youâre doing everything right and then it's suddenly not enough.â She let out a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. âIâm trying to be a good wife, a good mother, but I donât know what Iâm saying, youâd have no idea, youâre so young.â You could hear the wine laced tone in her voice as she continued rambling, but the genuine hurt was written all over your face. Without thinking, you reached out, brushing her hair back gently, your fingers lingering at the nape of her neck.Â
âYou are an amazing wife Mrs Maximoff, Vision is lucky to have you. And your kids? Theyâre lucky to have a mother like you,â You compliment honestly, letting your wine thoughts take over, âYouâve got them all plastered all over your house, Itâs obvious how much you care about them.â
She paused, her eyes widening slightly, a mixture of surprise and hope. There was a flicker of something deeper in her gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the world around you both faded away.
âYou think so?â Her voice softened, a hint of unexpected vulnerability breaking through. Yet despite it all, the tension hung tick in the air as she searched your eyes, her expression shifting. âYou barely know me. How could you possibly think that?â
You felt a surge of confidence as you leaned in slightly, heart racing quicker than before. âI donât need to know everything about you to see what kind of person you are.â You paused, letting your gaze roam over her face, the way the moonlight illuminated her features. âI can see good people from the moment I meet them.â
Her lips now formed a teasing smile, her eyes holding a certain depth that made your breath hitch in the back of your throat. They were flickering with something unreadable. She leaned in just an inch closer, her voice low and laced with flirtation. âGood people, hm?â Her fingers now create circles against the back of your hand, âCareful darling, you might find that Iâm not as good as you think.â She tilted her head, deciding to go easier on your innocent face that responded silently to her teasing, âI canât imagine a young, attractive girl like you could really mean that.â
You felt heat flood your cheeks, caught off guard by her compliment. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady, though you were sure she could hear the slight tremble in it. âI do mean it. I might not know everything about you, but youâre more than just Visionâs wife or your children's mother.â You shifted closer, your heart pounding harder in your chest as you dared to let your gaze linger on her lips. âYouâre something special Mrs Maximoff.â
Her face darkened at your words, her smile fading into something softer, more intense. She let out a quiet breath, every inch of your skin tingling with anticipation. Her thighs subtly began to squeeze together, every time you addressed her by her title rather than her name which she had introduced herself as, but you choosing to remain innocently respectful was driving her crazy. Wanda couldnât help but imagining corrupting your innocent little mind, having you bent over for her while she fucked you dumb.Â
âSpecial... is that what you think I am?â Her voice was barely above a whisper, dripping with curiosity and something elseâsomething far more dangerous.
You nodded, the words caught in your throat as your pulse quickened, your heart hammering in your ears. Her fingers stopped their slow, deliberate movements and instead curled gently around your hand, her thumb brushing the side of your palm in a way that sent shivers down your spine.
Wandaâs eyes darted down to your lips, her breath warm and shallow. She hesitated, her voice now even softer than before, vulnerable beneath the weight of the growing tension between you. âYouâre so sweet to me honey, and you barely know me.â Her lips now hovered inches from yours, so close you could feel the warmth of her breath against your skin. âI might not be the good person you think I am. What if I make you regret it darling.â
Your core trembled at how close her face had become to your own. The desire in her voice was slowly unravelling you, but instead of pulling away, you allowed the wine to give you the confidence to lean in further, closing the distance until your lips were almost touching. Your voice trembling, âI donât think I could regret you Mrs Maximoff.âÂ
That was her final straw, she snapped the tension as she closed the gap between you with a soft, deliberate kiss, the kind that felt like a blow burn igniting deep in your chest. The touch of her lips was light at first, testing, teasing, but when you didnât pull away from her advance, her hand cupped the back of your neck, tangling itself in your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss.Â
Your fingers instinctively gripped her waist, feeling the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her now bunched up dress, and for a moment, nothing else mattered but the way her lips moved against yours, her tongue swiping your bottom lip before taking it into her teeth and tugging against it, making you whine desperately against her mouth.Â
Wanda pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours, her breathing uneven as she whispered, âI told you, Iâm not as good as you think,â Her thumb brushed over your jaw, her lips ghosting yours again, a low, teasing chuckle escaping her, âBut I could take care of you, you know that donât you.âÂ
Her voice dropped lower, that familiar tone slipping into something more playful, more commanding, âMommy knows how to make her good girl feel special.âÂ
Your pulse quickened again, heat flooding your body as her words wrapped around you. You were at a loss for words, you were particularly inexperienced and youâd never had anyone that looked or sounded like the way Wanda spoke to you. You could feel the arousal pooling between your legs, your mind reeling from the kiss, from her touch, from the way she held complete control. Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps approached from behind you.
âWell this is cosy.â Natashaâs voice broke the tension like a whip. You jerked away from Wanda, your heart racing as Natasha appeared at the edge of the garden, her expression one of amusement, but there was something dangerously possessive flashing behind Wandaâs eyes. âThere you are,â She slurred, her hand reaching out to grab your arm and you could see Wanda desperately trying to not stand up for your defence, âCome on, let's get back inside gorgeous.âÂ
You were too stunned to resist as Natasha pulled you up from the wall. You glanced back at Wanda, your heart aching at the sight of her. She sat there, watching you with a look that was far more than just jealousyâit was something primal, something dark.
Your chest tightened with a sense of dread, knowing you were in deep trouble. Youâd crossed a line, and there was no going back.
The rest of the night passed in a blur, but Wandaâs gaze never left your mind. You didnât see her again before you left, and now, the thought of returning to work and seeing Visionâafter kissing his wife in their own gardenâwas enough to make you feel dizzy.
That night, after youâd managed to find your way home, you felt a shameful amount of guilt and you couldn't sleep. Even as the moonlight spilled through the slats of your blinds, casting a soft glow across your room, your mind was racing. Every time you close your eyes, you see her. The way her lips had felt pressed against yours, the warmth of her breath, her voice, thick with desire, echoing in your ears.
"Mommy knows how to make her good girl feel special"
The words sent a shiver through you, settling deep in your core. Your body stirred, heart pounding harder as you recalled the way her fingers had brushed over your skin, the unspoken promise in her touch, the way her lips had lingered just a moment longer than necessary. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away, but it was no use. Wanda was all you could think about, and the more you tried to ignore it, the worse it got.
Your hand moved slowly beneath the sheets, almost without thinking, fingertips grazing over your stomach as a small gasp escaped your lips. You hesitated for a moment, but the memory of her was too strong, too intoxicating. Your body ached with need, your breath coming quicker as you gave in to the desire swirling inside you.
You imagined herâher red hair falling in loose curls, the way her lips had formed into that teasing smile. The way her eyes had darkened with want when sheâd leaned in close, her voice a low murmur meant only for you. "Youâre so sweetâŚ" her voice replayed in your head, as though she were there beside you, whispering in your ear. "But maybe Iâm not as good as you think..."
Your hand slipped lower, and you bit your lip as a soft moan escaped you, your body responding to the thought of her, the memory of how sheâd kissed you in the garden, her fingers so possessive, so commanding. Every touch, every word, was still fresh in your mind, and it made your pulse quicken.
You imagined her voice, soft and sultry, like velvet wrapping around you. "Youâre such a good girl, arenât you?" you could almost hear her purring, her lips ghosting over your neck as her hand trailed lower, just like yours was now. "I could take care of you, make you feel so goodâŚ"
Your breath hitched as your fingers dipped lower, finally giving into the need that had been building since that kiss. The pressure of your hand, the soft movement, made you arch into the sensation, biting your lip harder as the heat coiled in your belly. You imagined that it was her touching your clit, making you gasp carefully at the touch. The image of Wandaâs smile, her possessive gaze, fueled the fire, every thought of her pushing you closer to the edge.
"Mommy knows how to make her good girl feel specialâŚ"
Your fingers moved faster, the wetness between your thighs a stark reminder of how much she had affected you. You pressed your head back against the pillow, your free hand gripping the sheets as the memory of her touch consumed you. The way her voice had dipped, teasing and dangerous, the way her hand had lingered on your skinâeverything about her had left you aching for more. Your eyes were closed, the image of her face hovering over you, that smirk cutting through you as she watched you fall apart underneath her touch.Â
Your breath came out in soft pants, your body tense as the pleasure built, spiralling out of control. It was all Wandaâher lips, her touch, her dominanceâeverything about her had ignited something in you that you couldnât ignore. Your hips bucked against your hand as you chased that release, imagining her there with you, whispering in your ear, telling you how much she wanted to take care of you.
"Good girl."
That was all it took. Your body tensed, your back arching as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, your soft moan filling the quiet room as your hand stilled between your thighs, shivering in the aftermath. The tension released in a rush, your body trembling as you slowly came down from the high, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.
But even as the pleasure ebbed away, Wandaâs presence lingered in your mind, a constant pull that you knew would only grow stronger the more you thought of her. And you couldnât stop thinking about her.
As you lay there, your heart finally slowing, one thought circled back in your mind, sending a thrill through you: this was far from over. You had tasted something dangerous, something forbiddenâand you werenât sure if youâd be able to hold yourself together if you got the chance to see her again.Â
You woke up a few hours later to the sound of your alarm, hitting the clock you rose and was immediately drawn to the stickiness between your thighs from your activity the night before. Youâd made such a mess of yourself to the thought of her, something that you had barely done before. Even without her there she made you feel so dirty and a part of you absolutely loved it. You decided to leave the same underwear on, enjoying how uncomfortable you felt sitting in the dampened fabric, a constant reminder of Wanda.Â
Your head was aching from the alcohol youâd consumed, but you managed to find your way to your desk as the office settled into its usual afternoon quiet. Youâd been struggling to stay focused all day and when Vision approached you earlier you felt your voice squeak, squirming in your chair as you felt your arousal grow just at the thought of his wife.
Once again, Natasha was hovering over your desk, finding reasons to brush her hand over your arm, her touch lingering in a way that sent mixed signals. You were trying your best to stay focused, but your distracted mind didnât have the energy to shake her away from you.Â
âI wouldnât mind taking you out for a drink later, If youâre up for it.â She leans in, her voice low and teasing but unlike Wandaâs tone from the night before, she didnât make you want to drop everything in order to go on an uncomfortably flirtatious date with your needy colleague. You felt bad leading her on, but your mind was elsewhere.Â
Before you can even formulate an excuse, you catch a flash of red out of the corner of your eye, the familiar daunting sound of the click of heels against the laminated floor. Everything around you seems to freeze. Wanda Maximoff. You tense up, recognising her immediately before her mind catches up to you. She walks into the office, a few greetings heading her way from the other men sitting at desks closer to the door. Your mouth hung ajar slightly at her figure wrapped in an elegant dress.Â
You try to maintain your composure, but as you watch Wanda glance around, her expression purposefully remaining neutral, yet you still feel the weight of her gaze land briefly on Natasha, who still stands too close to you.Â
âIâm just dropping off some files for Vision.â Her voice is calm, smooth, but you can sense the underlying tension in the way her eyes dart between you and Natasha.Â
âVisionâs actually out for the day, but I can take care of that for you.â You stand up from your desk, stepping towards her as you gesture toward the file in her hands, hoping to appear professional though your nerves are evident in the tremble in your fingers.Â
Wandaâs lips twitch into a smile, her fingers tightening slightly around the folder as if she was considering whether to hand it over. For a moment, her gaze locks onto yours, and there's something intense, something dangerous simmering just beneath her incredible composed exterior.
âAre you sure? Itâs important.â She says, her voice dropping with faux innocence, though the way her eyes linger on you sends a very different message. You nod, managing a small smile.Â
âIâve got it. You donât need to worry.â You reach for the file, your fingers brushing hers briefly as you take it from her. That sends a jolt through your core and you canât help but notice the slight smirk that pulls at Wandaâs lips as she watches your reaction.Â
Natasha is standing behind you, recognising the obvious tension between you both. âAlways so helpful, arenât you?â She teases, but there's a sharp edge to her tone now. She steps closer to you, her hand lightly brushing your shoulder once again, as if claiming her territory in front of Wanda.Â
Wandaâs eyes narrow ever so slightly, though her smile remains calm and composed. âIâll leave it in your capable hands then.â Her voice is velvet, but you can feel the jealousy bubbling beneath her words.Â
âIâll make sure your husband gets them.â Natasha says, a harsh tone to her voice, accentuating heavily on the reminder that Wanda is married. The brunette continues to hover far too close to Wandaâs liking and you watch her gaze harden, her green eyes practically burning with unspoken possessiveness. The air between the three of you feels suffocating, and all you can do is stand there, caught in the middle, your heart pounding in your chest.Â
Suddenly Wanda retracts her previous statement as she was about to leave, âActually we need to talk privately,â She doesnât wait for a response, her hand lightly gripping your arm as she gestures towards Visionâs office, âNow.â
The way she says it makes it sound less like a suggestion and more like an order and you follow her without hesitation, your heart racing as she sways her hips purposefully in time with the click of her heel as she steps.Â
As soon as the door closes behind you, the atmosphere shifts. Wanda is no longer the calm, collected housewife she usually presents herself as. She turns to face you, her eyes darkening with something that was dangerously close to fury. Before you have a chance to greet her properly she shoves you harshly into the office door, the blinds to the door window already closed from Vision before he left.Â
âWhat the fuck was that.â She spits at you, her voice dripping with disdain. She grips your jaw between her hand, forcing your face up to look directly at her, her thumb digging particularly hard into your cheek. âNatasha is a bit too friendly, don't you think?â She growls her name, her manicured nails scratching into your skin as she sputters her name.Â
You blink, taken aback by the sudden change in her demeanour, yet there was something so intoxicating and addictive about it. âI didnât mean to-â
âDidnât mean to what? Let her flirt with you.â She leaned in closer, her lips almost brushing against your ear as her grip on your jaw tightened. âYou think you can play around with people like her? Youâre just a little girl, you donât know what's good for you.â
Your heart raced at her words, the fire in her tone igniting a thrilling mix of fear and desire within your core. âYouâre so young, so naive. You think you can handle this?â She steps back slightly, her eyes narrowing as she assesses your body trembling, wincing as she roughly tugs your face up further, making you uncomfortable. âYou need someone to teach you, to take care of you. Someone who knows whatâs best for you.â There was an edge to her voice, a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.Â
You opened your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off. âNo, donât say a word.â Her voice was low, commanding, stepping in closer again, feeling the heat radiating from her fury. She leans into your neck, her grip tugging your head to one side as she licks a strong stroke up the length of your throat, biting into your ear lobe making you whine.Â
âYou need to learn your place.â Her other hand gripped your wrist, shoving you harder into the door, âYour place is with me, not that pathetic little whore.â You felt a rush of submission wash over you at her words.Â
âMrs Maximo-â
She delivered a sharp slap to the side of your face and you let out a sharp moan at the hot sensation spread across your cheek. âYou donât get to speak right now.â Her eyes flashing with a fierce protectiveness, âYou are mine, you listen to me.â Her hand finds its way to your throat, gripping you so tightly sheâd cut the oxygen completely off, your eyes fluttering as you went lightheaded.Â
She loosens her grip, not letting you go, your head still flush against the door looking up to her with your innocent eyes. âYouâre not ready for that type of attention.â She was looking at you now as if to be assessing your worth to her, âI will teach you to be good, how to belong to someone.âÂ
âBut I want to make my own choices.â You plead, your cheeks flushed as her grip tightened harder than before, your throat caught in the whirlwind of her anger and jealousy.Â
âNo you donâtâ Her voice had calmed and her grasp around your neck was now just fingers brushing against your skin, finding the curve of your jaw and gently caressing you. âYou want me to take care of you.â
You couldnât help but nod, the truth of her words resonating deep within you. You had wanted this since the moment you set your eyes on her, you just didnât really know what this was before now. You felt your innocent leaking out of you in the form of your arousal dampening your already ruined underwear.Â
âYou donât think pretty girl, just let Mommy think for you.â Her fingers like fire brushing against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the anger still simmering beneath the surface. âAw, you like the idea of that donât you.â Her breath was stern against your neck, âYouâre so cute when youâre flustered.â Her hand brushing the pink flush of your cheeks, one side significantly darker from the slap you received earlier.Â
âNow Mommyâs going to teach you how to behave.â She teases, finally letting go of your face and your throat and you breathe heavily in order to catch up with your racing heart race. Youâre stuck flush against the door, watching as she packs up a section of Visionâs desk, tapping the top of the wooden surface, gesturing you to come and sit up on it.Â
You do it immediately, but as you go to perch against it she grabs your thighs from underneath and roughly pushes you to where she wants you. Her hands bunch your dress up to your waist, revealing your light pink underwear, a little bow sewn in the middle of the hem. She also saw that you werenât wearing tights, but thigh high socks and she scoffed at the sight of you.Â
She cups your pussy, only again chuckling at the warm dampness that immediately soaked into her palm. âHoney youâre soaking for mommy.â She places more pressure into you, the heel of her palm pushing dangerously into your sensitive clit, making you yelp. You could tell that you looked guilty, immediately remembering how youâd ruined them a few hours before. âHave you touched yourself in these?â
You nod shamefully and she hooks her finger under the hem at the side, yanking them down quickly and removing them completely from your legs. âDid you get some big feelings, pretty girl? Tell me.�� She bunched your panties in her hands, bringing them up to her face and inhaling your sweet scent before tossing them to the side.Â
You could choke on her words, but when she pushed your thighs apart wider, standing between you, forcing them to stay open as she roughly pushed two fingers inside of you, immediately curling them upwards at a relentless pace you had never experienced before. âTell me.â She warns dangerously, quickening her pace, wanting to hear the desperate shake in your voice.Â
âThere was a funny feeling in my stomach that night you kissed me.â You panted heavily, âI had to touch myself, imagining that it was you.â You sounded so pathetic but Wanda was lapping it up, her thumb finding your clit as you leant back against the desk, holding yourself up by gripping the opposite end of the desk.Â
âWhen was this pretty girl?â Wanda asks, her motions now remaining a continuous pace now that sheâd found the one level higher than it seemed you could take comfortably.Â
âLast night.âÂ
âAnd you wore them today.â Wanda scoffs, her smirk dangerous and sultry, her green eyes dark as she starts thrusting hard into you. You nod in shame, your head hanging low as she scrunched your eyes at the rough contact against your bundle of nerves. âYouâre filthy arenât you, a filthy little girl for mommy.âÂ
âYes Mommy, Iâm your filthy little girl.â You could barely string sentences together, each word caught in a high pitched moan. You hear footsteps from outside the office, people walking by and Wanda stills her movements, pulling out of you and moving backwards remembering that sheâd forgotten to lock the door.Â
âYou sound so pretty for Mommy, but you need to stay quiet.â She whispers, her own hand dipping underneath her dress, feeling the soaked fabric of her own underwear before pulling them off. You watch in awe as her black laced panties hooped at her ankles, she steps out of them, the click of her heels louder as they step back to the ground. She bunches them in her hand, her other hand grazing your lips, prying them open before slotting her dampened underwear between your lips, âFor safe measure.â She smirked, you looked so pathetically desperate with her laced lingerie gagging you.Â
You felt dizzy as the taste of her arousal leaked onto your tongue, you groaned at the sweet taste of her, but your groan was painfully muffled. She delivered a quick slap to your thighs, you opened your legs immediately and she pushed her fingers back inside of you, once again not giving you a chance to react before she was thrusting harshly into you. âYou enjoy the taste of Mommy while I ask you why youâve come to work looking like such a slut when you donât work for me, but rather my husband.âÂ
You try to defend yourself, but no words come out as your tongue continues to circle the dampened fabric, barely able to see as Wanda adds a third finger to the other two relentlessly working inside of you. âWho are you trying to impress?â You shake your head at the accusation, no other way of getting your words across.Â
Your core is trembling as Wanda harshly fucks you with her fingers, her nails now digging into your back, forcing you forward to lean into her chest. The new angle made her go insanely deeper inside of you, leaving you moaning loudly into her chest. Your head rested right against her breasts and you could feel her painfully erect nipples against your cheek through her dress.
As her thumb begins to draw torturous circles around your clit, the sensations are way too stimulating for someone of your little experience. You tug desperately at the buttons of her dress and she looks down at you while her wrist continues its same rough thrusts. âYou wanna suck on Mommy?â You nod frantically at the assumption and she smiles at you, placing a gentle kiss to your temple, your emotions confused at the gentle gesture while her fingers were fucking you dumb. She removed her underwear from your mouth, draping them over the edge of the desk as a constant reminder that she could gag you if you mess up.Â
She allows you to undo the top of her dress, managing to find your way to her soft porcelain skin, her breast perked upwards and you immediately latch onto her hardened nub. You whimper softly at the feeling of your lips against her nipple, using your tongue to softly flick over her breast, making it easier for you to manage the pace in which she was fucking you, her nails gripping into your waist, pulling your front flush against hers as your mouth refuses to let go of your natural gag.Â
Each time her thumb flicked your clit so precisely, you whined against her nipple, the vibrations making her wrist pump harder into you. She felt you suckles getting harder, your teeth lightly grazing as you felt your core tighten around her fingers. âYouâre close arenât you princess.âÂ
You nod desperately, letting go of her aching nipple with a pop as you look up at her pleadingly. âThose puppy dog eyes arenât letting me forget how you let Natasha touch you, only good girls get to cum when they want.â Then suddenly all contact was removed from you and you looked up at her with desperate confusion. She brushes her hand across your lips, your sweet arousal lingering on your mouth.Â
âMommy?â You say, your voice laced with confusion as you are left on the brink of your orgasm, your hips jutting uncontrollably to try and gain contact.Â
âMommy wants to taste you, Iâll give you what you want once I hear what I want from that pretty mouth of yours.â She says, her voice stern as she drops to her knees in front of you, her hands caressing your inner legs through those sheer thigh-highs that were driving Wanda crazy. She imagined having you in her and Visions bed, ankles lied to your wrists as you lied on your front before she fucked you senseless with her strap. But she was more than satisfied as she smelt your arousal in front of you, your wetness glistening against your skin and your perfect folds. She was obsessed with the way your pussy looked, so tight and neat, perfectly untouched.Â
Wanda pushes her hair behind her ears, diving in to consume you, taking one long lick from the bottom of your slit, right up to the top of your trembling clit. She looked up at you, trying your best to sit so she could see your face, your eyes crunched and bottom lip between your teeth. âWho do you belong to?â She asks, before sucking against your exposed clit, protruding desperately as she clasps her lips around it.
âYou Mommy only you.â You pant breathlessly, your feet digging hard into her back in an attempt to stay still and docile for Wanda. She continued to suck against you, pulling back, kissing an individual kiss against your bundle of nerves.Â
âWho is not allowed to go near you.â She says, before diving straight back in, this time her hand reaches the top of your mound, stretching your skin upwards so her tongue could flick harshly against your aching clit, pushing you dangerously close to the edge.Â
âNatasha.âÂ
With the name spoken, her teeth gently nip at your clit and you let out an exasperated cry of pain before she soothes it with her saliva, spitting softly onto your cunt so her tongue would glide effortlessly through your folds. She pulls back one more time, enjoying the sound of your worn out voice, still trying so hard to please her. âWhat happens if Mommy finds out something like today happens again.âÂ
âMommy will punish me.â You gasp, your core burning as the orgasm twirled in your stomach, threatening to rip right through you as Wanda maintains her hold, leaving your clit completely exposed to the rough attack of her tongue. You were doing everything you can to drag out the feelings of pleasure and pain against your cunt, not wanting this spaced out feeling to end, you knew youâd do anything she asked, take anything she wanted you to in this moment. With the grip of her nails into your waist, her tongue relentlessly working you up you reach the point of no return, the inevitable orgasm ripping through you at an intense level, your skin felt like it was burning apart as her name tumbled from your lips, her tongue not once stopping.Â
She continued until you rode out your high, your hips rutting against her tongue as she tried to hold you down, but secretly loving the feeling of your body not being able to control itself, knocking into her mouth over and over again. Once you let out your last heavy breath, Wanda emerged from under your bunched up dress, one final kiss delivered to your entrance before immediately grabbing you into a soft, gentle kiss that shared your arousal through your tongues sliding against each other.Â
âThat's a good girl, I think you learned your lesson.â Wanda smirks, pulling you into a careful embrace as your body shakes against her hold. âNow you go back out there and pretend Mommy didnât just fuck you dumb in your bosses office.â
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Cop More than a Feel
Kinktober Day 10: Spitroasting Two DILF Cop Alpha Yanderes x Gender Neutral Omega Reader CW: Noncon, omega discrimination, bigotry, a/b/o dynamics, musk, pheromones, abuse of authority, spitroasting, oral sex, threesome, knotting, general yandere behavior, reader fucked big stupid Word Count: 2k (Hope you guys enjoy this!)
You were in your car, a quiet moment of dread before going into work. It had become something of a daily tradition. You knew it would be another day of being belittled and harassed but if you gave up now it would be like admitting to all the people who told you you couldnât amount to anything that they were right. You were an omega who had put themselves through the rigorous training to be a police officer, and you had managed to land a job in a short staffed department.
But no matter what you did or how many times you had proved yourself, you were still treated as a glorified secretary. The most dangerous thing you had ever been allowed to do was to go and get doughnuts and coffee by yourself.
It was humiliating. But it was not the worst thing that you had to put up with.
The worst of it were the snide remarks you could hear them make. Not even out of earshot, they didn't care if you heard. Awful comments about how you should be happy to even be a secretary around this kind of work. Comments about whose knot you should wind up bouncing on. Comments about what they thought your pheromones were like without your suppressants making them nearly undetectable. Comments about what your slick tasted like.
Those remarks made you angry, frustrated, and depressed. You wanted to scream and cry, but neither of those were options, lest you validate the emotional omega stereotype. It was pure gaslighting. But as ugly and bigoted as those remarks had been, they still weren't the end of things. It wasn't uncommon for a wandering hand to slide up your thigh when you had to sit by one of the alpha officers or grab your ass when you bent over.
The only time they didn't make any crude comments or get touchy with you were the times when the chief of police or the captain were around. You thought this was a hopeful sign that some of your superiors were open to the idea of an omega on the force and that they had told your other coworkers to treat you as an equal. At the very least, their commanding presence brought you some relief. They were ex-military, after all. This was not a just world, though, and you could not have been more wrong.
When you eventually mustered up the mental fortitude and could avoid it no longer, you went into the building.
For the most part, it was a standard and uneventful day, or at least what could be considered uneventful relative to what you normally suffered through. There were still comments and lecherous hands. Just not to the extent that there could have been. Though your day was fated to get much worse as right after lunch you were called into the chief's office.
Were you finally going to be given a chance to do some real police work?
No.
You entered to find both Chief Markey and Captain Nelson were present, and for some reason, the desk had been cleared. They did not look happy at all. It was a surprise performance review. This was not the first review that you had failed, but it was the one they were most negative with.
They said that while you clearly wanted to succeed and put in effort that it simply wasn't good enough. You were constantly jumpy and distracted, on edge constantly. Not to mention emotional. No major outbursts per se, but you were constantly glaring at your fellow coworkers. You tried to point out that your behavior reflected a hostile work environment.
Chief Markey raised his voice as he replied while Captain Nelson smirked.
"That proves you aren't meant for this job, you cannot even take responsibility for your own mistakes! Furthermore..."
He then went into great detail about how you made the men uncomfortable and then laid out accusations of you purposefully putting pheromones out to seduce or entice your fellow officers. Combined with your glaring, it was basically sexual harassment.
"This is insane! They get to grope and comment about me, but if I complain, it is my responsibility? But they get to just make up random bullshit about me, and I get admonished without proof!?"
"Calm down!"
"Yeah, you're being hysterical! Proving everyone completely right. It is obvious an omega can't be an officer."
Chief Markey scratched his well-groomed beard before smirking.
"But we have thought up a position for you..."
The position they had thought of was any that involved taking their knots.
Apparently, they were completely obsessed with you. A strong omega that would produce healthy babies, so resilient. But your place was riding one of their cocks, not in a dangerous job. It's why the other officers stopped harassing you when they were around. Markey and Nelson had marked you as theirs. They didn't like the others touching you, but thought it was a useful way to get you to break down, so they had an excuse to give you bad evaluations. Of course, they knew such a prideful omega would never just go along with being "reassigned," so they made sure you couldn't refuse.
They said that they'd plant evidence on you, get you fired from any new job, and track you down to the ends of the earth. No matter what, they'd ruin your life if you didn't submit.
"But don't worry, we'll let you wear the uniform and even keep the word "officer" in your title."
Nelson stroked your cheek and wiped away your tears with a rugged calloused hand.
"Yeah, you'll be our personal morale officer and take our knots every day when not working as our personal secretary."
Markey closed the blinds that hung in front of the large windows that overlooked the rest of the department and then locked the door.
"And look on the bright side. None of the other officers will give you any trouble after this."
You wanted to scream, to fight back, to run. Do anything, but take it. But that was all you could do. Well, that and cry. They had finally won. Captain Nelson wiped away your tears and pressed his lips to yours as you held back ugly sobs.
"Typical omega, so emotional. You'll feel better after you've had some good breeding."
Chief Markey made his way behind you and attended to the task of removing your uniform.
"No... no ple-"
You had started to protest somewhat loudly but were cut off by more unwanted kisses before Nelson spoke smugly.
"Now. Now. Don't want to protest too loudly and have all your coworkers hear, do you?"
You were shivering in fear.
"Don't be scared, it will all be over soon."
Markey rubbed a teasing finger around your hole.
"Oh, you're much too dry."
"We can fix that, though."
They each nibbled and gnawed a side of your neck, The Chief from behind and The Captain from the front. Your trembling in fear became involuntary quivers of pleasure.
They could tell the difference. Smell it easily. And then feel it as slick leaked from your hole and onto Markey's fingers. He left your neck to lick his thumb.
"Tastes ripe," he chuckled.
You were in such shock by the circumstances and physical stimulation that you didn't even notice when they had pulled down their pants and underwear, large throbbing cocks on full display and eager to be buried inside of you. One of them pulled out a thick blanket from beneath the desk and spread it out on top of it. They picked you up and laid you down carefully on the desk.
Ah... so that's why the desk had been cleared.
Chief Markey groped your ass while Captain Nelson held his cock in his hand and lightly smacked your face with it, smearing your face with its scent as you tightly closed your eyes. You gasped as Markey dipped his dick into you, your open mouth taken as an invitation for Nelson to slip his prick in. It tasted salty, probably from sweat and the near comical amount of precum he was producing. There was no choice but to swallow it  as he flooded your mouth.
Markey smacked your ass hard, causing you to jolt in surprise.
"Careful! I don't want them to bite my cock!"
"Sorry..."
They started out moving in tandem, Markey's thrusts pushing you onto Nelson's cock and Nelson pushing you onto Markey. But that didn't last as they began to lose themselves and go a bit feral. It only spurred them onward when you started twitching and convulsing in the pleasure that had been forced upon you, betrayed by your own body.
Deep anxiety and dread bubbled within you, but even as it did, another instinctual part of you was demanding that you submit and let your alpha mates breed you deeply. As the small room began to fill with the pheromones of two alphas and their cocks continued to plow into you, you felt your body slowly relax and become pliant to their touch.
You flinched in slight discomfort as Markey's knot swelled inside you and throbbed as he filled you with his cum. Nelson followed suit, filling your throat with his seed, but careful not to knot your mouth and risk choking you. Though that didn't stop you from gagging a bit as his nuts emptied into you.
"Oh, you haven't gotten your release yet... can't have that. What kind of mates would we be if we didn't make you feel good?"
Markey rolled his hips, moving his knot inside you until you convulsed and moaned out softly. Once his knot deflated and unbound the two of you he and Nelson swapped positions until you were brought to climax and knotted by Nelson while Markey made you suck his cock, slick with your mingled juices.
They played with you in a few other positions for over an hour until you were just a limp little sex doll. They took you on the floor, against the wall, on the desk some more, on the chairs. Your hair, face, thighs, crotch, and butt were covered in musky alpha seed. It oozed out of your hole. You were left slouched in the chair and too fucked out of your mind to do anything but mumble and drool. You were the very picture of someone who was utterly debauched.
"So quiet and well behaved. Will definitely pass a new performance review."
"Just proves that omegas need knots and not a high stress job."
To complete your new look were twin claiming bites on each side of your sensitive neck. They wiped you clean as best they could but you still absolutely reeked of cum and musk, though they didn't want their scent removed from you anyway. Nelson clothed you and covered you up with his jacket, feeling that if you were in your right mind, you wouldn't want to be seen in this state. And while he was proud of fucking you into such a stupor, the sight was for his and Markey's eyes only.
To be honest, he hadn't really wanted to share you, even with Markey. But the two of them had been old military buddies, so they decided not to let an omega come between them.
Except for when they literally had you between them.
They had come to the agreement that they would switch who you lived with weekly and share you on weekends. And of course they'd have you at work as their assistant/secretary... and as their cumdump on slow days... Captain Nelson was given the rest of the day off to get you situated and inform you of your happy new homes. You were in no state to take in new information, poor dear, but you'd be better in an hour or so.
#yandere x reader#gender neutral reader#yandere boyfriend#male yandere x gn reader#male yandere#Male yanderes#alpha yandere#omega reader#alpha yanderes#kinktober#kinktober 2024#My OCs#My OC Captain Nelson#My OC Chief Markey
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â DAY 2 â POWER IMBALANCE
kinktober 2024. â masterlist | ao3
â including. â neuvillette, diluc, ayato
â warnings. â fem! reader, power imbalance, toxic & manipulation, hard syx, dom/sub, reader teases in diluc's part, ayato is really toxic in this one kinda???
â â NEUVILLETTE
when neuvillette tells you to do something, you're doing it, point blankâ because you see, he's your master, the man who's saved you, not to mention your literal boss since he was so nice to give you a job as his sweet n pretty secretary.
as it was, in the grand halls of fontaine's court of justice, neuvilletteâs word were law itselfâ precisely when he tells you to do something, it becomes absolute, you're immediately on your way without processing any of it.
his presence alone commands respectâ coldness, it reveals a composed man, an untouchable oneâyet his touch, it's surprisingly warm despite the fact that he rarely spoke about love or intimacy.
despite the fact that the subtle gestures on your bodyâ the little kisses and reassuring tugs on your flesh whenever he fucked you on his desk were maddening, never leaving out the best part of it; when he places his palms around your head so you wouldn't hurt yourself, immediately resulting in you melting underneath his broad body as he revealed a softness beneath the stern exterior.
you feel the weight of his authority in every thrust, every grind and harsh squeeze of his palms reaching for your tits.
the unspoken pressure to be perfect for him was there, yes, to make him feel perfect while you're also contemplating if you'd ever be enough for an enigmatic individual like him.
face nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you feel how his fingers apply more strength as he flexes his digits into the flesh of your hips, dragging you deeper towards his cock twitching between your wallsâ the desperate milking compression of your warm cunt making him want to lose control.
you begin feel lightheaded at the arousal messing him upâ and ugh, how much there was, and ah, youâre so tight, even after multiple rounds, desperately waiting for him to drag you against his desk and make your pussy squeeze him, wanting him to feel like you pull him.
â â DILUC
in front of strangers, dilucâs intensity was something which was being noticed right from the startâ and well, he wanted it that way, it meant that he had one headache less to worry about.
it doesn't matter though, because behind closed doors, your hand slips under his loosened shirt like it's meant to, graciously rubbing at his bare muscles flexing underneath the softness of your palms. having an affair with your boss surely wouldn't look good to bystanders, nor was it something diluc wanted to get out in the first placeâ hence why he'd never fail to subtly show you, also throwing a slight passive aggressiveness into it, that he was in charge of this, or whatever you might call the situation between you both.
he sucked in a sharp breath as his dick gradually got hard under his tight pants, pulsating on all the sharp edges and rough lines when you began to fidget with the belt, "hey now, you shouldn't get so bossy," he smiles down at you, cupping your cheek before placing his thumb on your bottom lip to tap it repeatedly
"you have quite the personality today, master diluc," you frown at him, with one hand grabbing at his biceps as he breathesâ for a second deflecting the real reason as to why he would pretend to care about what other people thought about him, or about this.
or perhaps he was utterly scared of showing genuine emotions to someone he hasn't known for long.
yet instead of going through with his newfound thought, diluc instantly grabs at your hips to make you fall against his chest in combination with him bumping down the large sofa, the leather of the furniture creaking.
he licks his lips, fuckâ diluc forgot how much passion could manifest in simply being felt up a little and he desperately attemps to focus on playing with your tits, or at least watch how pretty and nicely they fit in is hand.
be as it may, all that has really gotten his attention was the feeling of your hand on his cock, fiercely palming him through his boxers, your fingertip teasing along the edge of his waistband.
"you'll get in trouble," he manages to breathe out, whimpering when you angle your hand upwards so he could feel the heat of your hand on his tip.
â â AYATO
ayato, most famously known as the head of the yashiro commission, had an unique gift inside of himâ you see, he knew how to use words like deadly weapons.
when he wants something, really craves and desires a certain being, it felt like the world immediately bends to his willâ including you, the person he was actually after. ayato will convince you that his decisions are in your best interest, even when they serve his own.
"oh, is my sweet girl worried about me?" he breathes out before placing his wet tip on your clit, tapping and nudging at itâ the sound echoing through the room and standing over your head was making you feel hot and cold at the same time.
you can sense the painful squeeze in your stomach to just want to be filledâ please, get his thick shaft into your intimate space until it's obvious on your face, sending him back a doe-eyed look while he towers on top of your naked frameâ thighs twitching, his dick sinking back into your mushy cunt.
okay, maybe he's gotten a little too lost in you.
since you're intriguing in his eyes, wellâ ayato knows he can get a hold of you, that you admire him and are more than happy with the job that he's given youâ not that he cares, in fact, he need you, that constant drive of feeling you was burning hotter and turning him insane.
his body trembles as he watches your liquids stick around the base of his cock, proving his point that you're as desperate for him as he was for you as he smeared your slick back inside your trembling walls, your skin throbbing and twitching with every unforgiving push of his hips.
with how big he was, in every aspect imaginable, you begin to feel like he was stretching you forever as you gasp out a broken mumble of his name, the waves of his thrusts and rolls stinging along your nerves as you begin to moan out shamelessly, feeling every detail and vein of his cock moulding into your walls and marking its shape inside.
ayato was intoxicatingâ no, stop it, he's your boss, okay, cool down.
yet it never ever felt fucking better.
Š 2024 anantaru  do not repost, copy, translate, modify
#genshin x reader#genshin smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact smut#ayato x reader#neuvillette x reader#diluc x reader#diluc smut#neuvillette smut#ayato smut#kamisato ayato x reader#kamisato ayato smut#genshin x you#kinktober#genshin impact x you
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come right on me (i mean camaraderie!)
á°.á starting a new job is scary, especially when it seems like you canât do anything correctly. good thing that your manager is always so kind and reassuring and supportive. when a client meeting ends terribly and runs so late that the two of you have to check into a hotel to spend the night, your sweet manager knows a good way to cheer you up⌠( fem!reader )
pairing tetsurou kuroo x reader word count 4.9k content contains praise kink, oh no!!! there's only one bed!!!, coworkers/power imbalance (he's your manager, you're the newest and youngest member on the team), slight manipulation from kuroo (he's aware of your crush on him and uses your admiration as leverage), occasionally refers to you as his kouhai, you call him kuroo-senpai, creampie, sex in an enclosed, semi-public space (the office's supply closet), first time blowjobs kinktober masterlist
If you had known that your transfer would have resulted in you getting fucked boneless in the supply closet of the company you work forâŚ
Well, you would have announced your job transfer a little bit sooner.
âKurooâ Ah!â You let out a helpless yelp as you feel Kurooâs teeth bite down on the soft part of your shoulder, sure to leave a mark. âK-Kuroo, slow down!â
âKuroo? Really?â He snarls, lifting his head up to glare down at you. âTsk, and here I thought you were a star employee. Is that any way to speak to your manager, or is it because youâre moving that youâre deciding to drop the formalities?âÂ
Your heart drops at the sound of Kuroo seemingly dissatisfied with you. Out of everyone in this office, heâs always been the one to root for you the hardest. You look up to him! Even when heâs upset, all you want to do is make him feel better. Just like how he made you feel better that time after that horrendous client meeting last monthâŚ
âKuroo-senpai,â you mutter out, avoiding staring at him entirely. âIâm sorry.â
Youâre bowing your head in apology, but Kuroo merely laughs, shaking his head.
âDonât apologize. These things happen.â Kuroo is smiling, and from the crinkle of his eye and the carefree tone heâs using, itâs genuine. Kuroo isnât upset with you, and somehow, this only makes you feel worse.
âBut I ruined the meeting.â You remind him. âI stuttered when speaking to the client, and then I totally didnât know how to properly react whenever heââÂ
This is when Kurooâs friendly demeanor darkens. âThere would be no proper reaction to what he said.â The client, an older man whoâs been working for so long in corporate Japan that back in his day, women could only serve as secretaries and belittled assistants, had made a less-than-savory remark on you and the way your pencil skirt hugs your figure. It had been a test of self-restraint for Kuroo to remain civil and smiling and to not punch him from across the table, but you donât know that. âOur company shouldnât sign contracts with men like him, anyway. Iâll write up everything in the report, and you wonât get reprimanded at all, okay?â Heâs back to his normal, cheery self, and you nod.
Kuroo always knows what to do.Â
And in your case, Kuroo is always making you feel better for being inadequate. A fresh college graduate, itâs a wonder how you managed to snag a position on one of the marketing teams for Japanâs Volleyball Association. Now, in your head, itâs a wonder how you manage to keep the damn position. You just canât seem to do anything right, and even your coworkers are no longer shy in shaking their heads and sighing every time you mess something up.Â
The only person who doesnât seem to mind the little mistakes you make or the minor trouble you cause is Tetsurou Kuroo, the official unofficial golden boy of the sports promotion division. Heâs a bit older than you, but still one of the youngest members belonging to the JVAâs marketing and promotional division. Already, thereâs whispers about how Kuroo is most likely going to move up the hierarchy and soon â the Chief of Public Relations position will be opening up due to an early retirement from the current chief, and everyone knows that Kuroo has connections with a majority of the monster generation; not to mention, heâs charming enough to get everyone to go along with what he says.
You admire your senior colleague greatly, and because of your admiration and the fact that heâs the most sympathetic towards you, causing him trouble always makes you feel ten times worse than when you normally mess up. Even if he tells you everything is alright, youâre still frowning, staring down at your shoes.Â
âAh, shit.â Kuroo curses, staring up at the darkening sky as rain starts to descend down on the two of you. âLooks like the storm is coming early.âÂ
âItâs more like weâre just running late.â You say miserably. Because of you, the client meeting dragged on for even longer than scheduled, and the two of you were already running on a tight enough schedule as is. The JVA needed to secure a contract with a sneaker company to do some joint collaboration billboards, and even with a major thunderstorm predicted for this evening, the company was convinced Kuroo would be able to wrap up the meeting (successfully) and get the both of you on the train home before the storm came.
Now, though, itâs later than when you two were supposed to catch the train, and with the way the weather is worsening at such a rapid speed, it seems like making it to the train station before the last one runs will be impossible.Â
âFollow me.â Kuroo tells you, trying to be heard over the wind. You nod, but you donât expect him to grab your hand. With the wind whipping in your face and the chill of rain soaking through your work clothes, Kurooâs hand is surprisingly warm. You allow yourself to be practically dragged behind him as he jogs to the nearest inn. Even in a soaked suit, running against the stormâs wind, Kuroo still manages to hold his own just fine. Youâre glad his back is turned to you; at least this way, you can admire his athleticism in private.
Kuroo leads the two of you into a nearby hotel. The place looks fancy; way out of your budget. You feel bad as you practically stand there awkwardly, wetting the nice, expensive looking marble floors of the hotel while Kuroo talks to the woman up front. You notice that sheâs biting her lip, eyeing the way the fabric of Kurooâs suit clings to his body because of the rainwater. It only serves to emphasize the muscles he continues to maintain despite no longer playing the sport heâs paid to promote. Seeing the way sheâs admiring him gives you a weird feeling inside, so you turn away, avoiding looking at them.Â
âBad news.â Kuroo runs a hand through the wet strands of his hair. âTurns out theyâre fully booked. Thereâs only one room left, but itâs a coupleâs suite.â
âOh.â It makes sense that the two of you would have to spend the night in the city. The trains have probably stopped running now, and with the storm, itâs only reasonable to just wait it out âtil the morning. âWell⌠A coupleâs suite should be big enough, right?âÂ
âSpace wise, yes.â Kuroo clears his throat. âBut itâs for couples. Thereâs only going to be one bed.âÂ
Oh.Â
You feel heat rising to your cheeks as you let this information sink in. A fancy hotel. A fancy hotel with a fancy coupleâs suite. A fancy hotel with a fancy coupleâs suite that only has one bed. And youâre with Kuroo, your very kind, understanding coworker. Your senior colleague. Your manager. Your totally hot manager.Â
âWhat should we do?â You peer up at him, looking at him for the solution. You donât know it, but he loves the face you make when youâre asking him for help. Your eyes go all wide and seek him out, eagerly awaiting for him to guide you.
âYou can have the room. This isnât the only hotel in existence, so Iâll probably head out and try to find a room somewhere else.âÂ
âNo!â Youâre shocked he would even want to go back out in this storm. Your exclamation is literally punctuated with the crack of thunder booming from the sky. âYou canât go back out there.â And because youâre aware of how rude your outburst was, you soften your voice. âKuroo-senpai, I donât think it would be reasonable for you to put yourself in harmâs way. Weâre both adults, right? I⌠I donât mindâ We can just figure out the sleeping arrangements when we get into the room?âÂ
Kuroo smiles.Â
âMy kouhai has a point. Youâre always so sharp, [Name].âÂ
You donât know why, but despite the chill of your wet clothes and the air conditioning of the hotel lobby, you feel a warmth settling in your tummy and rising all the way to your chest as you let Kurooâs praise blanket you.Â
For a coupleâs suite, there really isnât much space to work with. The bed takes up most of the room, a grand king-sized mattress, plenty of space for two people to sleep on (and with each other). Thereâs a tiny loveseat in the corner that might just have been there for decoration or the opportunity to try out a different position, youâre not quite sure. The bathroom is connected, and the place has rose petals all over the floor and floral scented candles lit up.Â
Kuroo lets out a whistle. âThey werenât kidding when they said coupleâs suite.âÂ
You can only nod in agreement.Â
âDo you wanna shower first?â The minute Kuroo suggests this, youâre instantly aware of just how wet your clothes are. Your white blouse is clinging to your skin, and when you look down slowly, youâre horrified to realize just how transparent the material got when drenched. Before you can get too embarrassed over the situation, Kuroo puts you (or tries to, anyway) at ease, just like he always does. âIâm glad no one else was in the lobby when we came, because Iâm sure I look a mess.â
A hot mess, maybe. And hot in the sense that Kuroo looks too good right now. He looks like he just came straight out of a designer cologne ad or something.Â
âY-you can shower first.â You manage to squeak out. âItâs only fair. Youâre the one whoâs been doing most of the work all day.âÂ
While Kurooâs in the bathroom, youâre practically spiraling. How are the two of you going to explain the charge of a coupleâs suite on the company credit card? It wouldnât have been so weird if you had been with one of your female managers or vice versa, but you and Kuroo are the closest in age to each other. The meeting dragged out for far longer than originally planned, and youâre worried about how the two of you will be perceived. If anything, Kuroo has the most to lose. Any enemies of his could easily use this as a way to stop him from getting his well deserved promotion. Oh God, you definitely ruined his shot at promotion. Youâre terrible. Youâreâ
âSeems like someoneâs thinking a little too hard.â Kurooâs teasing tone pulls you from your rapid fire overthinking.Â
You wish you hadnât looked up. Standing in front of you is a shirtless Kuroo, his abs tight and glistening with droplets of water left over from his shower. The white towel is wrapped around his waist, but the view heâs providing is already enough to make you acutely aware of the fact that Kuroo is a man. His normally uncontrollable hair is weighed down with water, damp strands hanging in his face. And he has the nerve to just stand in front of you so casually, as if he isnât practically naked!Â
Maybe youâre the weird one. Great. So youâre practically eye-fucking your manager after despairing over how you basically might be the reason why heâs going to miss out on a great job opportunity. Right after you performed horribly during a client meeting, and then made him save you by finding you shelter in a very nice hotel.Â
âIâm the worst.â You groan, frowning as you look up at him.Â
âHey, donât say that.â He frowns right back at you. âThatâs not true at all.âÂ
âYouâre just saying that because youâre nice.âÂ
He lets out a short, sharp laugh. âA lot of people wouldnât call me nice. Itâs sweet that you would, though.âÂ
âHow can that be true? Kuroo-senpai is the nicest person to me at work!âÂ
âAm I really?â You donât notice how dangerous the glint in his eyes are, but you do have enough intuition to sense a shift in his demeanor. âDo you like that your senpai is so nice to you?âÂ
You donât know what you do to him. Itâs why you donât realize how youâre essentially unchaining the beast locked up inside of him as you reply, âI like everything about Kuroo-senpai.âÂ
âIâm glad to hear that, because I like everything about my little kouhai, too.âÂ
Your eyes widen at this confession. The butterflies in your tummy are doing cartwheels right now. You canât believe what youâre hearing, what youâre seeing. Are you hallucinating right now? Thatâs the only reasonable conclusion, but as Kuroo leans forward, you find yourself leaning a bit further back, just on instinct. Heâs so much larger than you, more imposing. You feel like you have to shrink when he starts to close the distance between the two of you. He places his hands on the mattress youâre sitting on, effectively caging you in between his arms as he leans down even closer to you. So close that a drop of water from his hair lands right on your thigh.Â
âDo you like me enough to let me kiss you?âÂ
Apparently, you like him enough to let him do much more than just kiss you. The kisses start off gentle enough. His lips are a bit chapped, but you like the feel of them against your much softer ones. He swallows up your little desperate whimpers, and he moves at a pace you can adapt to. When he notices you getting more confident in your movements, he gets rougher, more aggressive. Itâs not just whimpers that heâs inhaling, now, but moans. Even in the heat of the moment, though, Kuroo still has enough restraint, enough decency, left in him to continue to ask for your permission.Â
âDo you like me enough to let me do this?â He asks you, fingers prodding at the buttons of your work attire. You nod weakly, dizzy with pleasure from just a few kisses. He takes a sharp inhale of breath when your bra is revealed to him, and then heâs helping you slip out of your skirt, and he has to take a few seconds to admire the matching lace set youâre wearing. âI didnât know my little kouhai was hiding this underneath her work clothes.â He mutters, and you canât help but thrive off of the attention heâs giving you.Â
He leans down âtil his mouth is so close to your ear, you can practically feel the heat of his breath as he whispers, âDoes my precious kouhai like me enough to let me play with her cute pussy?âÂ
You think youâre going to faint. You can barely breathe as you nod your permission, but he merely tsks. âUse your words, sweetheart. Otherwise, I wonât know.âÂ
Heâs toying with you now. Thereâs a purpose to him asking his questions the way he does; he wants to see how far your admiration, your devotion, to him runs. A workplace crush might let him get away with a few kisses, but what about pounding into your sweet cunt? Do you like him enough to let him do that?Â
Apparently, you do. Because youâre getting over your shyness. Because youâre whispering, âYes. I l-like you enough to let you play with my pussy.âÂ
âAtta girl.âÂ
Heâs on you within milliseconds. The pretty panties youâre wearing are now on the floor of this hotel room. Heâs quick enough to figure out how to unclasp your bra, and thatâs thrown to the ground as well. Laying completely bare and exposed, your work senpai wastes no time in having his hands explore your body, feeling out all the curvatures and angles that make you you.Â
He takes a finger to pet at your cunt, humming approval when he already feels traces of slick gathering on the pad of his ring finger. âDid you get wet just from a couple lilâ kisses?âÂ
You donât want to answer him, turning your head to the side in embarrassment because yes, you did, but his grin only widens. He presses a kiss to your cheek, finding you downright cute. âDonât be shy. You did nothing wrong.âÂ
You did nothing wrong.Â
Heâs always telling you this, and the kind words never fail to make you feel all warm inside. Thatâs one of your favorite phrases to hear, but somehow, it hits differently whenever heâs pairing that heartwarming phrase with his finger in your cunt.Â
âAh, fuck, youâre so tight, baby.â He grunts out, moving his ring finger in and out, in and out. âYou know what I think you need? I think you need your senpaiâs help in loosening you up. Itâll be good for you, wouldnât you agree?â
You nod your head enthusiastically, and because you think he might like to hear you say it, you admit what he already knows. âKuroo-senpai is right. You always know what I need.âÂ
âGood girl.â The praise has you tightening around his finger, and your reaction doesnât go unnoticed. He smirks, pleased with how sweet and pliant you are for him. A few bits of praise thrown your way, and you become a slut for him.
Itâs a good thing your senpai cares about you so much. He cares about you so much that heâs adding his middle finger to the mix, curling the two fingers against your walls, relishing in your little mewls of pleasure. Heâll have to stretch you out, get you all nice and prepped for his cock. He cares about you, which is why heâs going to let you cum.Â
âFeelinâ good?â He asks, knowing that from your moans of pleasure, you definitely are. His fingers work wonders within you, and Kuroo canât help but admire how cute you are, his little kouhai. What would you do without him, hm? He loves the way your knees jerk and how you whimper every time his fingers curl right up against that sweet spot inside of you, the one your tiny fingers canât seem to reach no matter how hard you try. Your cute little cunt is already so wet, so ready for his cock, that neither of you can seem to ignore the squelching sounds itâs making as he continues to work his fingers in and out of you. When he presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing tiny figure-eights on the bud, you cry out his name, tacking on that familiar honorific he loves to hear falling from your sweet lips, as you cum all over his fingers. You cum so much that your essence is dripping onto his palm, trailing down to his wrist, and he thinks that this is exactly where you should be, where you always should be.Â
âYouâre so good for me. Look at how much my good girl came.â He coos, and you should be embarrassed about the mess you made, but when he sings out his praise for you like that, you canât help but feel a tiny bit proud.Â
âCan my good girl make me even prouder? Can you take my cock right now, [Name]?âÂ
Even if you couldnât, you still wouldnât have denied him. Itâs a lucky thing, then, that youâre so desperate for him. You spread your legs even wider, inviting him, and who is Kuroo to leave such a precious girl waiting and wanting? Itâd be cruel to.Â
Which is why he doesnât make you wait.Â
Instead, he plunges his bare cock right into your pussy, groaning with satisfaction as he feels you clamp down on him. Of course youâd be clinging to him; youâre always clinging onto him, always following after him. Such a sweet girl, his lovely, adorable junior colleague. The kouhai who likes him so much, youâd allow him to fuck you nice and hard, to really make use of this coupleâs suite and its obnoxious sized bed.Â
He quickens his pace almost instantly, giving you no time to adapt to his girth and length. He grins when he sees your little fucked out expression, the way your tongue peeks out from between your pretty, pink lips and the way your cheeks are flushed, your hair a mess. The soft, breathy moans that escape from your mouth. Youâre going dumb on his cock, and thatâs perfectly fine by him. Let him do all the thinking, anyway.Â
Kuroo places a hand on your lower belly, trying to gauge just how deep heâs thrusting into you, and when he finds out, he applies more pressure, pressing down on your soft skin, forcing you to take every inch he has to offer. Heâs wringing out soft âah ah ah!âs from you, and your legs wrap around him almost instinctively as you warn him that youâre about to cum once again.Â
âSo soon?â He grunts out, grinning meanly. âNormally, senpais donât expect such slutty behavior from their coworkers, but since itâs me youâre going stupid for, Iâll let it pass.â Your legs are closing in on his body, your whole body jerking a bit as you start to lose control. âGo ahead and make me proud. Cum all over my cock like a good kouhai.âÂ
The minute the request leaves his mouth, you do. You cum all over his length, as he instructed, and he lets out a short laugh at how devoted you are to him.
âGood girl, my best girl.â He grunts out, fucking your cunt at a leisurely pace now before stilling, letting his own cum flood inside your perfect pussy. âMy perfect little kouhai. You did so good for me.âÂ
And with your cunt full of your senpaiâs cum, his cock still plugging you up and keeping everything tucked safely inside, he gives you a rather chaste forehead kiss that has you swooning.
Honestly, you donât expect much to change between the two of you. Itâs not like you think Kurooâs just going to get down on one knee and let you take his last name or anything. Youâre still trying to convince yourself that that night wasnât some hyper-realistic dream, and the only proof that it was real was the remainder of his cum still settled inside your pussy when you woke up the morning after.Â
Kuroo is still a good work senpai, always coming to your defense and fixing your mistakes.Â
But you canât help but wonder if he thinks that night he fucked you is just another work mistake of yours that he has to fix. Because of this, youâve gone out of your way to avoid him as much as possible. So when the director of your team calls you to his office to let you know that the transfer request you put in months ago, way before that night at the hotel, finally got approved, all you can do is bow your head in thanks and return to your cubicle in a daze.
You donât know what to do, and the person you would normally come to for guidance is the one person youâre trying to minimize interaction with.
However, word of your transfer spreads fast. After all, itâs a cause for celebration when the weakest link of the team is finally moving far, far away. Your coworkers are all being much kinder to you, and in the middle of them congratulating you on your move, you look across the room and lock eyes with Kuroo. His facial expression betrays nothing, but he quickly mouths supply closet before sneaking out of the office.
Five minutes later, you manage to follow him, gently opening the door to the closet, only to be dragged in immediately. The click of the door locking is loud, heard even above your rapidly rising heart beat, and thatâs how you find yourself being ravished by Kuroo, during work hours, at your workplace.
When he chastises you for addressing him so casually, you immediately feel terrible.Â
âKuroo-senpai,â you mutter out, avoiding staring at him entirely. âIâm sorry.â
âYeah?â He growls out, keeping you pressed firmly against the wall. âWhatâre you so sorry for? For avoiding me, or for withholding the fact that youâre going to move all the way to Kyoto?âÂ
You shake your head, tiny droplets of tears gathering up in your eyes. When you look at him like that, like a little puppy who just got kicked, it only makes him want to ruin you some more, if only so he can have the honor of being the one to piece you right back together again.Â
âSenpai, I-I didnât know what to do.â You wail out. âI was scared that that night at the hotel didnât matter to you, and I was embarrassed of how I acted then, and I applied to transfer to the Kyoto office ages ago, and when they finally approved it, I didnât know if it would be smart to pull back my request. Iâm sorry, Kuroo-senpai. Please donât be mad at me.âÂ
He leans down, pressing his forehead against your own. âNot mad, baby. I was just a bit upset, thatâs all.â He rests a hand against your hip, toying with the waistband of your skirt. âYou shouldnât have been embarrassed, though.â
âR-really?â
He nods. âYeah. I fuckinâ love my little kouhaiâs reactions. You shouldnât be embarrassed around me.â He looks you in the eyes, tugging down your skirt and enjoying the hitch in your breath. âBut it doesnât change the fact that I was hurt.â
âIâm sorry!â You squeak out again, and he sighs.Â
âIf youâre really sorry, youâll show me.âÂ
Apparently, the proper way to show him youâre sorry is to get down on your knees, ignoring the cold tile of the closet, and to unbuckle his belt, pull down the zipper of his slacks, and tug at his briefs in order to free his cock. Heâs already hard, the tip of his cock an angry red with pearly white droplets of precum already gathering at the head. You shouldnât be nervous; you had the full length of his dick inside of your pussy, but somehow, the task of taking him down your throat seems rather daunting.Â
âCâmon, [Name]. Is my little kouhai getting shy again?â Kuroo teases, gently nudging his cock against your parted lips. Your tongue reflexively comes out, and before you realize it, your giving tiny kitten licks, getting your first taste of salty precum. You must make a face, because he laughs, before carding his fingers through the locks of your hair and suddenly, very suddenly, pushes you forward.Â
He isnât rough, but the presence and pressure of his hand is firm. He doesnât push you down any further, but the first few inches of his cock is now resting against your tongue, and heâs savoring the warmth of your mouth, groaning as he feels the vibrations of you mumbling something in surprise.Â
âMm, this is a good starting point for an apology, donât you think?â He muses, knowing that in your current position, you canât really reply back. âSuch a good kouhai for me. What am I gonna do when you move to Kyoto?â
His voice gets a bit huskier as he forces you to take more of his length into your mouth. When he starts thrusting gently, slowly getting you used to the feeling of him fucking your mouth, he lets out a groan. âSo good, baby, so good. Do you normally let your senpais fuck your mouth like this?â
You mumble something, finding enough room to shake your head.Â
âNo?â He says, picking up his face. Every time he thrusts back in, he hits the back of your throat a bit harder, forces more of his length in. âYouâre so good at taking my dick right now, though. Donât tell me that this is your first time?â He looks down at you, eyes lighting up and a smile brightening his expression. âThis is your first time sucking off a cock? Of letting someone fuck you like this?â He laughs, the sound full of genuine joy.Â
âYouâre the fucking best.â He tells you, before tightening his grip in your hair and pushing you down onto his cock. This is the only warning he gives you before you feel spurts of hot cum flooding into your mouth, and your eyes widen in surprise at the sheer amount thatâs being poured into you. He lets out a little groan, tilting his own head back in pleasure as he keeps your head pushed down. The stimulation from you gagging around his girth only prolongs his climax, and you still canât find relief when he pulls out of your mouth because heâs instantly demanding you open up and show him what a mess he made inside of you.Â
You whimper, giving into your senpaiâs request. You open up wide, sticking out your tongue to reveal the thick globs of white cum coating the appendage. Fuck, just the sight of you all submissive, on your knees, teary eyed and ready to please, mouth full of his cum⌠Itâs enough to get him hard again.Â
âYouâre the best kouhai in the world.â He hums, patting your head, and you swallow up his praise just like you do his cum.Â
#tetsurou kuroo x reader#kuroo x reader#tetsuro kuroo x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu x reader#smut#one shot#drabble#lemon#kinktober 2024#kuroo smut#haikyuu fanfiction#imagine#well better late than never LOL
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Want to make a minor adjustment to my Steve With Much Older Siblings post from yesterday. I think itâd be a much more interesting dynamic if heâs actually their half sibling from an affair.
Their father had an affair with his secretary and then married her when she got pregnant. It broke up their family and they blamed Steve for it for years.
When they stayed over for their weekend with Dad, they were either outright cruel to him or pretended he didnât exist. When they were old enough to stop coming over, they did. Itâs only after growing up and maturing that (most of) his siblings were able to acknowledge that Steve was never at fault for their family breaking up.
They tried to mend their relationship with him, especially after realizing how absent his parents are, but by then Steve was old enough to build up his own resentment. Itâs an uphill battle.
Itâs a lot of actually coming around for holidays and a lot of teasing when they do. Itâs actually picking the phone when the hospital calls, something thatâs happening with increasing frequency.
Steve has never asked any of them for anything until one day, he shows up on Richieâs front porch smelling like death and gasoline. Heâs got blood drying all over him and is visibly shaking, and Richie thinks that heâs been hurt in the earthquake but Steve barely acknowledges the concern, âI need you to represent my friend.â
âWhat?â
âYouâre the only lawyer I know, and -â Steve takes a big shuttering breath. âTheyâll kill him, Rich. He never hurt anybody but no one will listen. Theyâll lock him up and it wonât be fair, and Dustin canât⌠I never ask you for anything but. But I needâŚâ
âEddie Munson?â He asks incredulous. âYouâre friends with Eddie Munson?â
#Eddie meeting his lawyer for the first time: This is your brother? Dick?#Richie: Rich#Eddie: Iâm sure you are#update made because I upset myself with my original post as a person who has a good relationship with their big age gap sister#I figure Steveâs got four siblings#the oldest is his sister Elizabeth who pretends his doesnât exist and never comes around#and then Richie who was named after their dad. heâs a lawyer#and then Jason who was the family fuck up until Steve came along#and then Claire who is twelve years older than Steve#sheâs a nurse#steve harrington#stranger things#Steve Has Older Siblings AU
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You know how... world leaders can't just? SAY stuff? Because when they DO it's the Offical Stance(tm) of their Country?
That makes their Fuck Ups(tm) all the more serious. It's WHY they have press teams.
But!!!
WHAT IF?
They said something, PUBLICLY, on LIVE TELEVISION, that? Can not be taken back? Full on "masks off, behold the horrors you have payed for" moment?
Sure, they could SAY "that wasn't me" and "I was brainwashed" etc etc. But? If it's BIG enough? UGLY enough? TRUE??? People WILL find it. Dig and dig and dig like termites in the walls. Hunt like bloodhounds.
Riot in the streets.
Because? All it would TAKE? Is ONE half ghost, a few too many long nights trying to balance college classes and his internship, a bigotry filled call from back home, and staring down that empty fridge with just one box of moldering take out, because he's been too busy and stressed to remember to get GROCERIES AND-
Ah.
So this is what "so stressed you feel calm, I have run out of Fucks too give" feels like. Neat. *picks up phone* Hey, Sam? You still at that protest? Outside the presidential speech? Neat. Don't move.
One Phone Line Express later. SAM is telling him to breathe. Maybe... maybe calm down. Think about this. Others around her can see the same "spark of madness" glint in his almost zen like smile.
It Fiiiiine, Sam.
He's just here to Talk.
He disappears. Sam's freaking out. President stumbles but catches himself on the way to the mike. Up in the watch tower, various Magic users choke on their lunches, because a ghost just possessed the United States President.
ON LIVE TELEVISION.
He taps the Mike, smile, leans in real close like he's gonna Tell You Folks A Secret.... Aaaaand~
"The second you Die, you no longer have human rights. Doesn't matter how brief. Heart stops? You're sub-human scum! Non-sentient by American law. We here in the United Stares PROUDLY desecrate the bodies and graves of the dead. Tear apart the immortal souls of the innocent. And condemn you to oblivion crying, begging, and screaming for mercy! Why, obviously, is an act. Because souls don't have the RIGHT to feel fear or pain!
And YES. We do mean EVERYONE'S. Atlantian, Kryptonian, Martian. Canadian, Mexican, Russian, AND Chinese! I could keep going! Once you die? You belong to the United States to experiment on as we see fit! You're PROPERT now! So turn your nonrights having, nonsentient self in to the nearest GIW! For the good of AMERICA. Ectoplasmic Scum!"
*drops mic*
Jaws are on the floor. This was VETERANS DAY. Dead military Heros and smile for the cameras. A cake walk. Do a patriotism, rah rah. There.... there are DIPLOMATS in the crowd. Sure as SHIT, were more then a few foreign nationals WATCHING. Religious leaders looking on in fury, grief, and horror.
Reporters. Oh sweet Jesus the reporters.
The press secretary faints.
PANDEMONIUM. The president, still dazed and confused from being possessed, gets PUNCHED on live television be his VP, a deeply religious if moderately shady man. Take bribes? VP is cool with that. Bootstraps, peasants, and all that. But how DARE you fuck with the Souls of the dead. How DARE you!
Phones are blowing up, questions are being shouted, the JLA Dark FEEL like they should tell somebody about the ghost kid... but also this feels VERY "Call for help-y" so they might throw their weight around instead and pretend they know nothing. World leader are meaningfully staring at their Dear Beloved Dead Grandmother's photos as they send LIVID assistants to hound the American into answering the DAMN PHONE-!
And Danny?
Danny feels calmer now. He has stolen like....700 bucks from secret security's various wallets. He's going to buy himself BOUGIE groceries. Some...some NICE take out. Maybe a little cake. Yeah~ Cake for Danny~
If anyone needs him? No you don't. He needs to go do some shopping, eat, lie on the floor of his shower and just... vibe for a bit under the spray. In the dark maybe. Sleep for a week. Have his food. Yummy little treats.
Or he's gonna fuckin LOSE IT, man.
(Tucker is actively hacking his college schedule as they speak. He KNEW it. Called it! Too many classes! But does Mr "I can handle it" listen? Noooooooo! Now look what happened! Holy SHIT, Danny!)
@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter
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First born Headcannons! Multi/Fem!Afab! Reader - Angel, Colossus, Nightcrawler, Gambit OKAY FUCK I don't know what came over me it just happened okay??? This whole thing started thinkin about colossus and a lil baby and then I was thinking about Warren taking the nightshift with his own baby and I spiraled from there. Warren's is like twice as long as everyone elses my bad yall. If there are any typos don't make fun of me ill fix them tomorrow I'm so tired lol TWs: Childbirth mentioned (Not described tho), Babies, wholesome shit. I know that some of these characters have had kids in the comics and that these hcs may be ooc, but I do not care lol. Little bit of anxiety and panic, but everything is okay.
Warren Worthington
Warren is such a dad. I don't even know how to describe it. Like, he's not as effortlessly fatherly like Piotr is, but once he has a kid he's devoted to making sure this kid gets all the emotional, physical, and financial support they would ever need.
He had such a rocky childhood with his own dad, so he hates the idea of his child ever going through the same sort of thing.
He might be a little clueless with the actual baby things, like when to feed, how to dress, and what to feed his little one, but he does take diaper duty as his sole purpose in life. He does adjust for the things he lacks though, and gradually adjusts to be better at them!
He's strangely good with babies, even before he had his own! There's just something about him that makes them stop crying. He's also an expert at nap times.
    Itâs an early weekday afternoon. The sun is shining through the blinds in warm golden rays, the sink clean and the dishwasher running. Thereâs a click once the message on the answering machine stops playing, and you have an uncertain frown on your face as you take it all in.
    The house is silent, brightly decorated with pictures of your close friends lining the walls of the hallway. The sounds of your husband quietly shushing your infant son gradually become easier to hear when you reach the cracked door of the nursery, pushing it open as quietly as you can.
    Warrenâs back is facing you, fluffy wings almost glowing where the sunrays touch his feathers. Your newborn is sleeping in his arms, napping after a lunchtime bottle. Heâs bouncing the baby just slightly, and you swear you can see his smile without ever having to see his face. Itâs a sweet moment you want to crystalize in your memories. You lean against the doorway, smiling just as bright as youâre sure he is.
    "Hi~" You say sweetly after a moment. You were right. Warrenâs happy smile is bright and blinding when he turns to look at you.
    "Hey," He says quickly, lifting your sleeping son so that you can see him better. "Hi Mama, say hi Mama!" Warren whispers as he lifts the babyâs pudgy little hand to wave at you. You canât help but giggle, walking forward to kiss both of them on their cheeks- your little one not stirring from his nap. You take a breath afterward, leaning against his side as you debate telling him.
    âSomething wrong?â Warren asks, one of his wings stretching out to wrap around your side and pull you closer to him. Normally you giggle, but today you bite your lip, unsure.
    "Your dad called." Your words are soft when you say it, and Warren immediately laughs in a way that sounds more like a scoff.
    âHis secretary, you mean.â Warren attempts to correct, and his joking tone makes you frown a little, rubbing his upper arm in an attempt to be soothing.
    âNo, not her, honey.â Warren stays silent after you say it, his brow furrowing as his face turns into a reflection of confusion and sadness. You can see the conflict as he turns the words over in his head, cooing and shushing your son back to sleep when he starts to stir a little, feeling the atmosphere shift.Â
    â...what did he want?â He asks, voice low and quiet.
    âHe left a message on the answering machine if you want to listen to it.â You tell him. âHe, well⌠He wants to meet his grandson.â Warren scoffs at that, shaking his head as he starts to pace the room a little. You stand there, grounded as you watch him process the sudden contact.
    âHe really said that? After all heâs put me through, he wants to meet our son⌠What a joke.â You grimace when Warren starts to laugh. He finally stops pacing to gently lay your son back in his crib. He leans against the side with one hand as the other rubs his eyes before it slides up to run through his hair.
    âDo you want him to?â You ask after a moment, stepping over to his side. He leans into your touch when you reach out to hold his cheek.
    âI-â Warren stops himself, taking a deep breath as he takes your hand in his own. âWhat do you want to do?â He asks instead. You shake your head at him, taking hold of his hand in both of yours, tracing the wedding band on his finger.
    âHeâs your dad, love. Itâs your choice.â You say softly. Warren is still frowning, and he lets out a long breath, deflating a little bit. He turns around to face you, pressing a kiss to your temple and holding you there for a long moment. You wish you had even a fraction of Jeanâs or the Professorâs power, if only you could see what was going on in that head of his. He pulls you into a side hug, and the two of you spend a long while looking at your infant in the crib. The perfect mixture of the both of you. Certain to be a mutant in his own right. You can tell Warren spends every second thinking about it.
    When he steps away from you, Heâs silent.
    âWarren?â You call out for him as he leaves the room. Youâre about to follow when you hear the distinct sound of your son about to wake up, the little whine catching your attention as you coo him back to sleep instead. The door to the nursery is open, and just faintly down the hall, you hear the sound of the landline starting to ring.
    âHey, Dad, itâs Warren. Is Saturday okay?â
Piotr Rasputin
GOD this man is so good with kids. I mean, have you seen those comic panels with him and his sister??
This man was made, built, forged to be a dad. He's protective but encouraging, and although he may be blunt, he knows when his kiddo needs some comfort.
He takes all the classes with you during the pregnancy, and he knows he'd never hurt his baby, but there's always a lil bit of worry in the back of his mind. He's a little too strong, and he hates the thought of slipping up and accidentally harming this fragile little soul the two of you brought into this world.
He gains confidence with time, and when the baby arrives he's always carrying them securely on one thick arm, belly down as they sleep soundly against him.
    His baby is so small when they hand her to him in the hospital. She's tiny. Smaller than the width of his arm. He looks like a giant as he holds her, sat next to your bedside as you recover from her delivery. He's in awe as he looks at her, a tiny little life, the greatest gift you've ever given him besides your hand in marriage.Â
    You and others had always joked that his baby would be huge, big-headed, 99th percentile, and he never minded it. It was no secret that he was a big man, and he didn't mind what size the baby was as long as it was healthy, and looking at the little bundle of joy in his arms, he decides he wouldn't have it any other way.
    It's almost comical, how small she is. Hell, even you might have doubted the paternity of the baby girl if it hadn't been for her head of pitch-black hair, and pretty blue eyes. Almost a carbon copy of himself.
    âShe has your eyes.â You say once her cries quiet down, and she begins to fall asleep in her father's arms.
    âNo.â Piotr hums, gingerly touching his daughter's face. âThey look much more like Illyana's.â You hadn't thought about that before, but now that he mentions it, the resemblance is undeniable. You giggle at that, Scooting closer so that you can lean on his shoulder.
    âThe nurse said that she's waiting outside, when you're ready. I'm sure she's beyond excited to meet her niece.â You mumble. Piotr has placed a finger in the palm of your baby's hand, both of you smiling when the little fingers do their best to try and close around his fingertip. Piotr cannot wait to see the face of his sister when she sees your baby, but he'll be the first to admit, he'd like it if this moment could just last a little while longer.
Kurt wagner
Kurt is such a good dad oh my god.
He's always talking about you and the kids, bragging about literally everything you do ever. He's the kind of dad that has endless photos of his kiddos in his wallet, car, locker, everywhere.
And he's so devoted, too. He'll do anything you ask him to do during the newborn stage (and after) and is beyond supportive. His goals are happy Spouse, Happy kids, Happy life.
He's also very sentimental :) he thanks god every day for you and the blessing that is your baby.
    Kurtâs side of the bed was empty when you woke up this morning, and despite the normal amount of anxiety you normally feel when that happens, you feel peaceful. Youâre smiling at the empty mattress, rolling over to his side to push your face into his pillow, taking a deep breath. Used to, you would be worried. You would wonder where he was, or if he was safe. If he had gone off on some x-men mission without telling you (which he never did). But today, you know exactly where he is. Youâre smiling now as you think about it, pressing a kiss to his pillow before standing up.
    Thereâs a soft humming in the house, quiet and soothing. Itâs not hard to figure out where itâs coming from, the path to the spare room having become second nature to you- although, it really wasnât much of a spare room anymore. You try not to be too loud when you enter the room through the cracked door.
   Kurt is humming sweetly, your son laid out on the changing table as Kurt finishes worming his pudgy little legs through a new onesie. The baby whines a little, squirming around as Kurt attempts to change his clothes.Â
    âPatience, Mein kleiner Schatz. This wonât take long.â Kurt says sweetly. Your son isnât really having this whole changing business, and it makes Kurt chuckle. His tail is wrapped around a bottle of milk, and he sets it to the side right before he snakes his tail over the crib. He brushes the spaded end lovingly over your babyâs cheek as a distraction, and the infant coos as he finishes getting his arms through the sleeves. His tail takes over from there, buttoning the onesie's clasps as he turns to grab the bottle of milk instead- stopping for a split second when he sees you in the doorway. Kurt smiles.
    âHow are my boys?â You ask, voice a little rough from sleep.
    âGut! And lively, it seems.â He tells you. He passes the bottle off to his tail again when you walk over, taking you into his arms as he shakes the formula up a little more. Kurt kisses you sweetly on the lips, pressing his forehead against your own when you separate.Â
    âGuten Morgen, Schatz. How are you feeling?â You swear you fall in love with him all over again each day when he greets you like that. You shrug your shoulders in response, smile dropping just a little bit.
    âIâm okay. Still tired, and definitely still bloated, but Iâm okay.â You admit. Kurt frowns a little, brushing some hair from your face.
    âDid you see the medicine I left for you on the nightstand?â Kurt asks, and you immediately make a bit of a silly face, remembering that you didnât exactly get up on your own side of the bed today. Kurt knows what that looks means and begins to laugh, just as your son begins to whimper and whine to be held and fed. You try to go pick him up, but Kurt stops you as he picks your baby up instead, bottle at the ready.
   âGo take your meds, Iâve got him, Liebchen.â
Remy LeBeau
Remy is a little nervous to be a dad.
Not in a flight way!! He's just a little worried that he'll be a bad influence on the kiddo. and well, I mean sure. If you're worried about the kiddo being a little rager and being into a few to many wild hobbies I guess (usually comes with the cajun territory)- but overall, Gambit is such a sweetheart, and if anything his kiddos would be so respectful and loving towards their parents.
Remy's very protective over your baby. The protectiveness is at it's height around 0-3yrs of age, but it never, ever goes away completely.
He might talk some smack about how a little bit of dirt/germs never hurt anyone, but He's actually the kind of dad that makes everyone put germex on before even thinking about holding the baby.
He's on top of feedings, and never fears a blowout when it comes to changing diapers (no matter how much he might gag). He might not have the diaper back stocked and loaded 24/7, but he's doing the best he can.
    When you wake up, Itâs about 3am. Your eyes blink oper wearily, and the light from the alarm clock is practically burning into your eyes. You want nothing more to curl up and go back to sleep, and you almost do, until the time actually registers.
    3am. Its 3am, and you went to bed at 10pm. This is the first time youâve woken up since then. Your veins feel like ice when you realize that you haven't heard the baby cry once. You rip the cover off of you, breaking out in a panicked run across the hall to check on your newborn. You donât even realize that Remy isnât even in bed until you slam the door open and see him standing there, your daughter in his arms as he rocks her to sleep in the rocking chair You breathe a sigh of relief as he looks at you with a tired smile, but your anxiety still remains.
    âRemy? Is she okay?â You whisper, practically leaping over to his side to take the little one out of his arms.
    âSheâs Okay, Cher.â Remy replies softly. He stands from the chair, wrapping his hands around your back, the infant snug in between your bodies. You sigh again, taking a moment to look at your daughter carefully, eyeing her chest as it rises and falls, and straining your ears to hear her breathing. Remy gives you a second to get situated, yawning just a bit as he sways the three of you as you stand there. You relax as he holds you both, resting your head against his shoulder.
    âWhy donâ you go back to bed.â Remy says after a long minute. âThat was the longest Iâve seen you sleep in a while.â You frown. Heâs not wrong. Your newborn has been a bit colicky lately, crying for nights on end since you brought her home with very few things to keep her comfortable. She has started to grow out of it, but the effects still remained. She cries a lot at nighttime, and it makes you wonder if thatâs why you had slept so long, because of Remy staying up to keep her quiet.
    âAnd leave you here? Remy, how long have you been awake?â You ask, looking up at his face. He shrugs, smiling still as the three of you sway.
    âIâm fine. I can stay up all night if I need to, as long as you get to catch up on some sleep.â If it were any other circumstance, you might have swooned at the words. As sweet is he is, you canât let him do that! He begins to step away to place your daughter in her crib, and you hold yourself back from trying to take her from him and commanding him to just go to bed.
    âRemy-â
    âAh ah ah, Cher, donât wake ma petit, now.â Remy cuts you off with a whisper, turning around to place a finger against his lips in a shushing motion. He almost makes you giggle, but instead, you simply shake your head at him. He pulls you into a loving kiss when heâs close enough, running his hand through your hair. You know heâs waiting for you to pull back, to retreat into the bedroom to sleep like he asked you to, but youâre still hesitant. He knows your stubbornness firsthand and chuckles when he pulls back a little.
    âDo I need to tuck you in, too?â
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