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harrysfolklore · 2 months ago

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misunderstood hero with a heart of gold - mv1

summary: max verstappen has never been one to read books, but everything changes when he comes across a pretty booktuber who describes him better than anyone else did before

word count: 8.2k + social media posts

folkie radio: another one of my babies finally sees the light of day 🥹 this fic is really special and i was lowkey gatekeeping it but i feel ready to share it, plss take care of it <3 i hope you like it

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Max Verstappen was bored.

It was late and he was alone in his hotel room. He had a race the following day and he knew better than staying up late. His team was already on his ass for sim racing at ungodly hours of the night when he had a race, but nevertheless, he was bored and not sleepy yet.

He scrolled through his phone, not really paying attention to what popped up on his Instagram feed, Tiktok for you page or Twitter timeline.

After a few minutes, his finger landed on the YouTube app, one that he barely used if he was completely honest, but for some reason he never deleted it.

A bunch of videos showed up on his main page, most of them about F1, gaming, fitness or cats. He scrolled through the thumbnails absentmindedly until one title caught his eye: "Formula 1 Drivers as Romance Book Character Tropes."

Max had no idea how that video ended up in his suggestions page. He wasn't much of a reader—he had only read two books in his entire life, for crying out loud— but curiosity got the better of him. He clicked on the video.

The screen shifted to a bright and lively setup, where a young woman with vibrant energy and a contagious smile greeted her viewers. "Hey everyone! Welcome back to my channel. Today, we have a fun video where I'll be pairing Formula 1 drivers with romance book tropes!"

Max found himself smiling for some reason, he thought she was really engaging and funny — and really pretty—. He leaned back against his pillows, more intrigued by the second.

"As some of you might already know, books are not my only passion, I'm also a huge Formula 1 fan since I was a little kid thanks to my dad, so I thought it would be fun to do a little crossover of my two obsessions."

Max grinned again, finding himself oddly invested in this unexpected combination of romance literature and Formula 1. Or maybe just mesmerized by the pretty girl who was talking on his screen.

"Let's begin with Mercedes," she said, clapping her hands together, "Lewis Hamilton is definitely our 'Charming Prince Charming.' He's got the looks, the talent, and that air of royalty about him."

Max chuckled, thinking it was a fitting description for his rival.

"Now for George Russell," she continued, "I'm going with 'The Boy Next Door Who Grew Up Hot.' I mean, have you seen his glow-up?"

Max chuckled again, nodding in agreement. George had indeed transformed quite a bit since his Williams days.

"Moving on to Ferrari," she continued enthusiastically. Max wondered if that was her favorite team on the grid, "Charles Leclerc is our classic 'Childhood Best Friend You've Always Had a Crush On.' He's got that sweet, familiar charm, but with a spark that makes your heart race every time you see him."

Max raised an eyebrow, surprised by the change in description. He had to admit, it fit Charles quite well.

"And for Carlos Sainz," she paused dramatically, "he's either our 'Older Brother's Best Friend' or the 'Bad Guy Who's Mean to Everyone but His Sweetheart', just think about it, he's got that rugged exterior, but you just know he's a total sweetheart deep down."

Max laughed, realizing she had Carlos pegged perfectly. He watched with growing interest as she continued.

"Now, let's talk about McLaren," she said with a sparkle in her eye. "Lando Norris is our 'Adorkable Comedian Who Steals Your Heart.' He's funny, relatable, and has a way of making you fall for him before you even realize it," Max grinned at the description of his good friend, "And Oscar Piastri... he's 'The Shy Genius.' Quiet, reserved, but incredibly talented and intelligent. He might not be the loudest in the room, but he's someone you'd definitely want on your side."

Max nodded in agreement, thinking of how Oscar had impressed everyone since joining McLaren. She continued pairing each driver with a character trope, she described Daniel as the "Life of the Party with a Sensitive Soul," highlighting his infectious energy and hidden depths. Pierre was dubbed the "Resilient Underdog," emphasizing his ability to bounce back from setbacks. Yuki was described as the "Fiery Spitfire with a Soft Center" and Logan was labeled the "Rookie with Untapped Potential," suggesting a character arc of growth and discovery.

With each driver's description, Max's anticipation grew. He found himself eagerly awaiting his own characterization, both curious and slightly apprehensive about how the pretty girl with an obsession with books and Formula 1 would describe him.

When she finally got to Red Bull, he sat up a little straighter, his interest piqued.

"Now for Sergio Perez," she said, "he's our 'Loyal Wingman Who Deserves His Own Happy Ending.' Always there to support, but with a story of his own waiting to be told."

Max nodded, thinking it was a pretty accurate description of his teammate.

"And finally, saved the best for last," she said, her eyes twinkling, "we have Max Verstappen."

Max held his breath, oddly nervous about how this stranger would categorize him.

"Max is our 'Misunderstood Hero with a Heart of Gold,'" she said with a warm smile. "Often perceived as cold or distant, but actually deeply caring and protective of those close to him. He's the type who shows his love through actions rather than words."

Max felt his cheeks warm significantly. This description caught him completely off guard. It wasn't the usual 'aggressive driver' or 'arrogant champion' narrative he was used to hearing. Instead, it felt... true. Uncomfortably true. He wasn't sure how to feel about being seen so accurately by a stranger.

As the video ended after she said her goodbyes, Max found himself staring at his phone screen, replaying her words in his mind, his thumb hovering over the comment section. He had never left a comment on a YouTube video before, but something about this one compelled him to break that habit.

After a moment's hesitation, he tapped the comment box and began typing, Once he was done, he paused, reading over his words. It felt strange, almost vulnerable, to acknowledge her characterization of him. But there was also something liberating about it. He added a thumbs-up emoji at the end and hit 'Post' before he could second-guess himself.

As Max set his phone down and settled into bed, a small smile played on his lips. He had a important race the following day, but all he wanted to think and dream about was the pretty stranger who had somehow seen through his carefully crafted public persona.

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liked by username1, username2 and 10,725 others

f1gossip ��I went to bed early last night. Just listened to the team’s orders, you know?”

Max Verstappen for media day today, however he left a comment on a YouTube video around 2:46 am 😭

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username1 HES SOOOOO

username2 the fact that he left a comment on a BOOKTUBER’S channel MAX VERSTAPPEN YOU DONT EVEN READ BOOKS 😭

username3 he looks so pretty tho

username4 MAX WE ALL SAW YOU

username5 max was actually checking which romance trope is him according to booktubers

username6 HES SO RANDOM

username7 max’s search history: lestappen as fictional couples

liked by username1, username2 and 102,438 others

ynreadsbooks in honor of max verstappen x3 world champion commenting on my latest video (which is insane to say out loud wtf) should i do another f1 themed video?? any suggestions?

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username1 YES QUEEN

username2 that max comment was so random but so real

username3 max verstappen, the man who has read two books in 27 years watching booktubers was not on my bingo card

username4 @/maxverstappen1 you favorite youtuber will do another video about you

username5 BOOKS WITH RACING THEMES

username6 books inspired by f1 circuits would be fun

username7 @/maxverstappen drop a suggestion

maxverstappen1 started following ynreadsbooks

liked by username1, username2 and 15,836 others

f1gossip Max Verstappen was seen outside of a bookshop in Monaco today !

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username1 BABYYYY

username2 max ??? bookshop ????

username3 WHAT SHIFTED

username4 he thought it was jimmyz

username5 HEELPP what is he doing there

username6 hello i work there. he arrived with a list of books in hand that he wanted, he bought around 15 action and fantasy books

↳ username1 FOR REAL???

↳ username2 max said book girl summer

↳ username3 this is so random

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If someone had told Max that this year he would spend his summer break reading, he would've laughed at their faces. Yet here he was, lounging by the pool in his Monaco house, a book in his hands and a smile on his face.

As he turned the page of "The Martian," the latest sci-fi recommendation from YN, Max couldn't help but reflect on how different this summer break was.

Usually, his days off were filled with lavish yacht parties, exclusive clubs, or intense training sessions and hours of sim racing to stay sharp for the second half of the season. But now, he found himself eagerly devouring books and spending hours chatting with YN about plots, characters, and everything in between.

As the weeks passed, Max found himself growing increasingly close to YN, despite never having met her in person. Their text conversations flowed effortlessly, ranging from in-depth discussions about the books they were reading to playful banter about racing and life in general.

Max was surprised by how much he enjoyed her company, even in this digital form. Her wit, intelligence, and genuine interest in his thoughts beyond his racing persona were refreshing. He found himself sharing things he rarely discussed with others, and looking forward to her messages became a highlight of his day.

He also thought she was absolutely gorgeous.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed with a new message from her.

Max chuckled, about to reply when he heard the doorbell. He remembered Lando and Daniel were coming over for dinner. As he got up to let them in, he quickly typed a response, telling her that he would talk to her later.

"Well, well, well," Daniel's voice boomed as Max opened the door. "If it isn't the newly minted bookworm of Formula 1!"

Lando peered around Daniel's shoulder, "I half expected to find you wearing glasses and a sweater vest, mate."

"Very funny, guys. Come in," Max rolled his eyes as he stepped away from the door.

Ever since his friends noticed his brand new habit, they took it upon themselves to tease him whenever they could. As they made their way to the backyard, Daniel spotted the book on the lounger.

"The Martian?" he read, picking it up. "Isn't this a bit advanced for your reading level, Maxy?"

"Ha ha," Max deadpanned, snatching the book back. "It's actually really good. It's about this astronaut who gets stranded on Mars and has to use science and engineering to survive-"

"Whoa, whoa," Lando interrupted, holding up his hands. "Who are you and what have you done with Max Verstappen?"

Daniel draped an arm around Max's shoulders. "I think our boy here is trying to impress a certain bookish YouTuber. What was her name again? YN?"

Max felt his cheeks warm. "It's not like that. We just... talk about books and stuff."

"And stuff," Daniel repeated, wiggling his eyebrows. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Max rolled his eyes, trying to brush off their teasing. "Seriously, it's not like that. We just have a lot in common."

Daniel and Lando exchanged knowing glances before bursting into laughter.

"Sure, mate," Daniel said, patting Max on the back. "Whatever you say."

They settled by the pool, beers in hand, and started chatting about the upcoming races and their plans for the rest of the summer. Despite the playful ribbing, Max found himself genuinely enjoying their company. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed his friends.

As the evening wore on, the conversation eventually circled back to Max's books and his little friend on his phone.

"So, Max," Lando started, a mischievous glint in his eye, "have you color-coded your bookshelf yet? Or are you more of a chronological order kind of guy?"

"Nah, mate. I bet he organizes them by how many times YN has mentioned them," Daniel chimed in, "Top shelf is probably her favorites, right Maxy?"

Max felt his cheeks flush, but he couldn't help grinning. "You two are impossible."

"When are you finally going to meet her in person anyway?" Lando said, sipping from his beer.

Max shrugged nonchalantly, trying to hide the slight flutter in his chest. "I don't know. That's not something I've really thought about,"

He lied. In truth, the thought of meeting YN had crossed his mind countless times. The idea of finally seeing the girl who had captivated him with her intelligence, humor, and beauty made his heart race. He'd catch himself daydreaming about her smile, wondering if it was as warm and infectious in person as it seemed in her videos. But he wasn't ready to admit that to his friends just yet.

Lando and Daniel exchanged a look, clearly not buying Max's nonchalant act.

"Oh come on," Lando scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "You expect us to believe that? You've been glued to your phone for weeks, mate."

"I bet he's already planned their first date," Daniel leaned in, "What'll it be, Max? A romantic book reading by candlelight? Or maybe a visit to the library?"

Max felt his cheeks heating up again. "It's not like that, guys. We're just friends."

"Friends who talk every day and have you blushing like a schoolgirl," Lando teased, nudging Max with his elbow.

"I do not blush like a schoolgirl," Max protested, knowing full well that his face was probably bright red by now.

"Sure, sure," Daniel said with a wink. "Just friends. So, have you at least thought about inviting her to a race? You know, show her what you do when you're not reading about Mars?"

"Why would I invite her to a race, that would be weird," Max protested again, "And she already knows what I do, she's a fan of the sport."

"Man, you're so stubborn sometimes," Lando rolled his eyes at him, "If you like this girl, why don't you invite her to a race? It could be a great way to finally meet in person."

"And who said that I liked her," once again, Max's defensive self came through.

Daniel and Lando shared an exasperated look before turning back to Max.

"Come on, mate," Daniel said, his tone gentler now. "It's pretty obvious. We've never seen you this invested in someone before. Not to mention, you're reading books voluntarily for the first time since... well, ever."

"It's written all over your face," Lando said, shaking his head. "You like her, and there's no shame in that. You light up every time your phone buzzes. It's kind of adorable, actually."

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew his friends were right, but admitting it out loud felt like a big step. "Okay, fine. Maybe I do like her. But it's complicated, you know? We've never even met in person."

"That's exactly why you should invite her to a race," Lando insisted. "It's the perfect opportunity. She gets to see you in your element, and you get to finally meet face-to-face."

"Plus," Daniel added with a mischievous grin, "if things go well, you can always show her your trophy collection. I hear that's a great way to impress the ladies."

Max couldn't help but laugh at that. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Maybe," Daniel shrugged, "but I'm also right. What have you got to lose?"

Max pondered this for a moment. The idea of meeting YN in person both thrilled and terrified him. What if they didn't click in real life the way they did over text? But then again, what if they did?

"I'll think about it," Max finally conceded.

Lando and Daniel exchanged triumphant grins.

"That's our boy," Lando said, patting his back.

After a few more beers and food, Lando and Daniel left.

As the night deepened, Max found himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The conversation with Lando and Daniel kept replaying in his mind. His phone sat on the nightstand, silent but somehow still demanding his attention.

Max's thoughts raced. Should he text YN? Invite her to Zandvoort? The idea made his heart beat faster. He imagined seeing her in person for the first time, wondering if her smile would be as pretty as it was in her videos. But doubt crept in too. What if things were awkward? What if the chemistry they had online didn't translate to real life?

He rolled onto his side, eyeing his phone. The urge to reach out to her was strong, as it always was. Max realized that Lando and Daniel were right - he did like her. A lot. The thought of meeting her filled him with equal parts excitement and nervousness.

Taking a deep breath, Max grabbed his phone. Before he could overthink it, he started typing.

Hey YN, hope I'm not messaging too late. I was wondering if you'd like to come to the Dutch GP at Zandvoort? It's the first race after the summer break, and my home race. Thought it might be fun if you could make it.

He hit send before he could second-guess himself. The wait for her response felt eternal. When his phone finally buzzed, Max's heart leapt.

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liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 286,375 others

ynreadsbooks this week’s video will be delayed for some ~personal reasons ☺️

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username1 GIRL

username2 ARE YOU GOING WHERE I THINK YOU’RE GOING

username3 f1 x books this is literally me

username4 hot girls support max verstappen

username5 ahh if she’s going to the gp i’ll be so happy bc she’s a huge fan

username6 the way roles reversed and now max is his fan 😭

redbullracing We can’t wait 💙

↳ username1 REDBULL???

↳ username2 AHHH THEY PROBABLY INVITED HER

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As Max headed to Zandvoort Circuit for the Dutch Grand Prix, he felt the familiar weight of expectations settling on his shoulders.

The second half of the season loomed ahead, and the pressure to maintain his championship lead was on. He knew the team was counting on him to deliver strong results, especially at his home race where the orange-clad fans would be out in full force.

But amidst the pressure and responsibility, there was another emotion bubbling up inside him - a giddy excitement that he couldn't quite contain.

The thought of finally meeting YN in person after months of texts, calls, and shared book recommendations made his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with driving at a car at a very fast speed.

As he drove to the track, Max found himself smiling at random moments, his mind drifting to imagine what it would be like to see her smile in person, to hear her laugh without the filter of a phone call.

Max realized that for the first time in a long while, he was looking forward to a race weekend for reasons that extended beyond the track.

Unfortunately, his busy schedule kept them from meeting right away. Media commitments, team briefings, and practice sessions consumed his time, leaving him feeling frustrated and guilty for not being able to see her sooner. He sent her a quick message apologizing for the delay, promising they'd meet after qualifying.

As he made his way to the garage, a familiar voice called out behind him.

"Oi, Max! Ready for the big day?"

Max turned to see Daniel jogging up to him, his trademark grin in place.

"Yeah, should be a good quali," Max replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't talking about qualifying, mate. Your special guest arrives today, right?"

Max felt his cheeks warm. "How did you even remember that?"

"Please," Daniel scoffed. "It's all you've been talking about for weeks. So, have you met her yet?"

"No, my schedule's been packed. We're supposed to meet after quali."

"Ah, saving the best for last, eh?" Daniel's grin widened, "Smart move. Nothing like the adrenaline of a good qualifying session to make a great first impression."

"Or to completely mess it up," Max muttered.

"Hey, none of that," Daniel clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. Just be yourself. She already likes you for who you are, remember?"

Max nodded, feeling a bit reassured. "Thanks, Dan."

With a deep breath, Max headed into the garage, Daniel's words echoing in his mind.

Qualifying went smoothly, with Max securing a front row start to the delight of the Dutch fans. The cheers of the home crowd were deafening as he climbed out of the car, but his mind was elsewhere.

After the post-qualifying interviews, Max sent YN a quick text letting her know that he was free now and she let him know that she was around the hospitality area.

As he walked towards there, Max spotted YN standing near one of the motorhomes, looking around with wide eyes. She hadn't seen him yet, and for a moment, Max just watched her, taking in the sight of the girl who had been on his mind for months now.

She was even more gorgeous in person than he had imagined.

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in the bustling paddock around her. The way the sunlight caught her hair, the gentle curve of her smile as she observed everything with wonder - it all took Max's breath away.

He noticed little details he couldn't have seen through a screen: the way her eyes sparkled, the subtle freckles across her nose, the graceful way she moved as she looked around.

Taking a deep breath, Max walked over, his heart pounding. "YN?"

She turned, her face lighting up with a radiant smile that made Max's breath catch. "Max! Finally!"

They moved toward each other, and without hesitation, Max pulled her into a hug. The embrace felt natural, as if they'd done this a hundred times before. He was aware of how perfectly she fit in his arms, the subtle scent of her perfume, and the warmth of her body against his.

"It's so good to finally meet you," he murmured into her hair. "I'm so sorry it took so long, this weekend's been crazy."

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with understanding in her eyes. "It's okay, Max. That qualifying was amazing! I've never experienced anything like it."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Come on, let me show you around."

He took her hand and he was struck by how natural it felt. Her fingers intertwined with his perfectly, and a warm sensation spread from their joined hands throughout his body.

They strolled through the paddock, Max pointing out the various team motorhomes, the garages, and the media center. YN was all wide-eyed fascination, asking questions and soaking in every detail. As they walked, Max found himself relaxing more and more, his previous nerves about their chemistry being gone fading away.

As they rounded a corner, they nearly bumped into Lando Norris. Who couldn't help but smirk at the sight of their hands intertwined.

"You guys met already!" he cheerfully said, "You must be YN."

Her cheeks flushed, clearly surprised that Max had mentioned her to his friends. Max felt a warmth spread through his chest at her reaction.

"Yeah, this is YN," Max said, unable to keep the smile off his face, "Meet Lando, the perpetual pain in my ass."

"Nice to finally meet the girl who's got Max reading," YN laughed, and Lando extended his hand, "Quite the accomplishment."

"Nice to meet you too, Lando," YN said, shaking his hand. "I've enjoyed watching you race, I'm a big fan. Congrats on the pole position."

"Cheers," Lando replied, then turned to Max with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, has he bored you with car talk yet, or has he actually remembered how to discuss books?"

Max rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Shouldn't you be preparing for tomorrow, Lando?"

"Alright, alright, I can take a hint," Lando chuckled. "Enjoy your tour, lovebirds!"

As Lando walked away, Max felt a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. He glanced at YN, relieved to see her smiling.

"Sorry about him," Max said, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Lando has a way of making everything awkward."

YN laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. "It's fine. He seems like fun."

They continued their walk, finally making their way to the rooftop terrace of the Red Bull hospitality area. The view was stunning, offering a panoramic look at the circuit and the sea of orange-clad fans below.

"This is incredible," YN said, leaning against the railing and taking it all in. "Thank you for showing me around, Max."

"Of course," Max said, standing beside her. "I'm really glad you could come."

They stood there for a moment, enjoying the view and each other's company. Max felt a sense of contentment wash over him, the stress of the weekend melting away in her presence.

"Max," YN said softly, turning to face him. "I know this weekend is important for you, and I don't want to be a distraction. But I'm really happy to be here and to finally meet you."

"You're not a distraction," Max replied, reaching out to take her hand again. "You're the best part of this weekend, honestly."

They shared a smile, Max was well aware of the butterflies that fluttered on his stomach and the high school girl blush his friends teased him about, but he didn't care. He felt happy with the pretty girl who had been his source of comfort for months, finally face to face.

"You know," YN said softly, "when I made that video calling you a misunderstood hero with a heart of gold, I never imagined I'd get to see it firsthand. But being here, seeing how you are with your team, with the fans… I was right about you, Max Verstappen."

Max felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. He had always been guarded about his public image, but hearing her perspective meant more than he could ever imagine.

"I'm glad you think so," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "You know, that video... it changed things for me. Not just because it led to us talking, but because it made me reflect on a lot of things."

"Who would've thought," YN said with a smile, "When I recorded that video, I never thought you would ever see it, let alone have an impact on you and let alone lead us to talking and me being here."

"Everything happens for a reason, right?"

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liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 301,257 others

ynreadsbooks best experience ever. thank you, thank you, THANK YOU 🥺💙

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username1 OMFGGGG

username2 no one deserved this more than her for real

username3 SHE MET MAX TOO?? DESERVED

redbullracing Come back soon! 😉

username4 red bull finally inviting people who actually love the sport

username5 GIRL WE NEED A VLOGGGG

username6 omg how did this happen spiiiill

↳ ynreadsbooks let's say i got invited by the world champion

↳ username1 WTF

↳ username2 so MAX invited her not redbull help he really did become a fan after that video

danielricciardo Hope to see you around soon, love ! 👀

↳ username3 how do i sign up for this

username7 THAT PIC OF MAX IS SO BOYFRIEND CODED

maxversteppen1 Thank you so much for coming and making this day special ☺️

↳ username1 OMG MAX

↳ username2 i'd be screaming if i was her

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maxverstappen1 Enjoyed every moment in Zandvoort with this amazing atmosphere and the best company 🧡

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username1 KIIING

username2 how can a man be so babygirl

username3 all smiles even tho he finished p2

danielricciardo 🦁🦁

landonorris Simply lovely

↳ username1 menace

username4 bro who got you smiling like that

ynreadsbooks ❤️

↳ username2 biggest max girlie

↳ username3 WE NEED THAT VLOG

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When it came time for YN to leave the Netherlands, Max insisted on driving her to the airport himself. The car ride was filled with comfortable silence and soft conversation, both of them trying to stretch out their remaining time together.

Despite their short time together, Max found himself completely smitten, captivated by YN's intelligence, humor, and the way her eyes lit up when she talked about books or reacted to the thrill of the race.

He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was head over heels for her.

As they stood in the departure terminal, Max felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her. He hesitated, his heart racing, but ultimately settled for a long, warm hug, breathing in her scent and committing it to memory. As he watched her walk through security, he already found himself missing her presence.

Now, a week later, Max was in Monza for the Italian Grand Prix. The day had been busy with media commitments and team meetings. Finally back in the quiet of his motorhome, Max flopped onto the couch, feeling drained but content. Without thinking, he reached for his phone and hit the FaceTime button next to YN's name.

Her smiling face appeared on the screen, and Max felt an immediate surge of warmth.

"Hey, you," she said, her voice soft and welcoming even through the phone's speakers.

"Hey," Max replied, unable to keep the grin off his face. "How's your day been?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Editing videos, reading, missing the excitement of the paddock," YN teased. "How about you? Surviving the media circus?"

"Barely," Max groaned dramatically, "I swear, if I have to answer one more question about RedBull and their big mess, I might go mad."

YN laughed, the sound making Max's heart skip a beat. "Poor Max. Whatever shall we do to take your mind off your beloved team?"

"Well," Max said, shifting to get more comfortable, "I've been reading that new sci-fi book you recommended. 'The Martian-like Odyssey to Titan,' or whatever it's called."

"'Project Hail Mary,'" she corrected, "And? What do you think so far?"

"It's incredible!" Max's eyes lit up, "I mean, the science is fascinating, and the way the main character problem-solves is just... I don't know, it reminds me a bit of what we do in racing, you know? Constantly adapting, finding solutions on the fly."

"That's exactly why I thought you'd like it! The way Andy Weir writes about scientific problem-solving is so engaging."

They dove into an animated discussion about the book, Max marveling at how easily conversation flowed between them, how YN's passion for books was infectious. As they talked, a thought that had been brewing in Max's mind for days suddenly surfaced.

"YN," Max said, his voice softer than before. "There's actually something I've been wanting to ask you."

"Oh? What is it, Max?" she tilted her head, curiosity evident in her expression.

Max took a deep breath, suddenly feeling like he was about to qualify for a crucial race. "Well, I was wondering... have you ever been to Monaco?"

"No, actually, I haven't," YN's eyebrows raised in surprise, "It's always been on my travel wish list, though. Why do you ask?"

Max felt his heart rate pick up. He'd rehearsed this moment in his head countless times over the past few days, but now that it was here, he found himself fumbling for words.

"Well, you see, I have a two-week break coming up before the Baku GP, and I was thinking... maybe... if you're free, of course, and if you'd like to... you could come visit me in Monaco?"

The words tumbled out faster than he intended, and Max felt a blush creeping up his neck. He watched YN's face carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. His mind raced with possibilities - what if she said no? What if this was too forward?

YN's eyes widened, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. "Oh, Max, that's... wow. That's really sweet of you to offer."

Max, sensing a hint of hesitation, quickly added, "You could stay at my place. I have plenty of room, and it would be great to have you around. Plus I have two adorable cats that I'm sure you'd love."

YN's expression softened, a mix of excitement and uncertainty in her eyes. "That sounds amazing, Max. But… are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose on your personal space or your time off."

Truth was, Max wanted to spent every free moment he had with her, but he wasn't sure how to let her know without sounding too forward or like a creep, so he just pressed on.

"You wouldn't be imposing at all, I promise. I really want us to spend more time together, away from the craziness of the race weekends. And I'd love to show you around Monaco."

He watched as YN bit her lip, considering his offer. The silence stretched for a moment, and Max found himself holding his breath.

"If you're not comfortable staying at my place," he added quickly, "I could book you a hotel room, or there are some great Airbnbs with amazing views of the harbor. Whatever makes you feel most at ease. I just… I really want to see you again."

As he spoke, Max realized just how true his words were. The thought of having YN in his space, sharing meals, exploring the city together - it filled him with a warmth he couldn't quite describe. It was more than just attraction; there was a comfort in her presence that he craved.

YN smiled, a warm look in her eyes. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"I do. Look, I know it might seem like a big ask, but I just... I can't stop thinking about how much fun we have together. And Monaco is beautiful this time of year. We could go for drives along the coast, have dinner at some amazing restaurants, or just relax by the pool if you prefer. No pressure, just... us. And well, the cats."

Max held his breath, waiting for her response. The thought of having YN in Monaco, of being able to spend uninterrupted time with her away from the pressures of the race weekend, made his heart soar. He imagined showing her his favorite spots in the city, maybe taking her out on his boat, or just lounging by the pool and talking for hours.

"Alright, Verstappen, you've convinced me. But I have one condition."

"Name it." Max grinned, relief and excitement washing over him.

"If I'm staying at your place, you have to let me cook my infamous waffles for breakfast. They're a secret family recipe, and I guarantee they'll be the best you've ever tasted."

"Deal," Max's smile widened, a burst of joy exploding in his chest. "But I warn you, I take my waffles very seriously. They better live up to the hype."

"Oh, they will. And I can't wait to meet the cats."

As they continued to chat and make plans for YN's visit, Max felt a warmth spreading through his chest. The prospect of having YN in his home, of waking up and knowing she was just in the next room, of being able to spend lazy mornings together over homemade waffles - it all seemed almost too good to be true.

He found himself imagining what it would be like to have her there. Would she curl up on his couch with a book? Would they watch the sunset from his terrace? Would he finally get the courage to kiss her?

The thought made his heart race. He remembered the moment at the airport when he had wanted so badly to kiss her goodbye. This time, he promised himself, he wouldn't let the opportunity pass by.

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The day of YN's arrival in Monaco had finally come, and Max felt like a giddy teenager preparing for his first date.

In the days leading up to YN's visit, Max had found himself unusually preoccupied with preparations. He wanted everything to be perfect for YN's stay. He'd bought new sheets for the guest bedroom, making sure they were the softest he could find. He'd stocked the fridge with an array of foods, unsure of her preferences but making sure to have options. He'd even gone so far as to buy a small collection of books he thought she might enjoy, arranging them carefully on the nightstand in her room.

The morning of her arrival, Max woke up early, his stomach a knot of excitement and nerves. He double-checked everything one last time - fresh towels in the bathroom, extra toiletries in case she forgot anything, a vase of fresh flowers on the kitchen counter to brighten up the space. He felt almost silly with how much effort he was putting in, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted everything to be perfect for the girl he was smitten with.

As the time to leave for the airport approached, Max found himself pacing, checking his watch every few minutes. He'd planned the route to the airport meticulously, factoring in potential traffic to make sure he'd be there in plenty of time. Just as he was about to grab his keys and head out, the doorbell rang.

Confused, Max paused. He wasn't expecting anyone - he'd made sure to clear his schedule completely for YN's visit. Frowning slightly, he opened the door to find Lando standing there, a wide grin on his face.

"Lando? What are you doing here?" Max asked, glancing at his watch.

"What, can't a mate drop by for a visit?" Lando replied, trying to peer past Max into the apartment. "Thought we could hang out, maybe play some FIFA."

Max shifted awkwardly, blocking the doorway. "Lando, mate, I'm actually just about to head out. I can't hang out right now."

"Oh, come on," Lando's grin faltered slightly, "Just for a bit? We haven't had a proper catch-up in ages."

"I'm sorry, I really can't," Max insisted, glancing at his watch nervously. "I have to pick up a friend from the airport."

Lando's eyes narrowed suspiciously, a mischievous glint appearing. "A friend, huh? Is it that your book dream girl? You're flying her out over here?"

Max felt his face heat up, a blush creeping up his neck. He tried to deny it, but his reaction gave him away.

"It is! Oh man, this is brilliant," Lando's eyes widened in delight, "Max Verstappen, blushing like a schoolboy over a girl."

"Shut up," Max grumbled, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. He couldn't help but smile.

"So, YN is finally gracing Monaco with her presence," Lando teased. "No wonder you've been so distracted lately. When do I get to hang out with her?"

"You don't," Max rolled his eyes, "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go."

"Alright, alright," Lando stepped aside, still grinning. "But I want details later, yeah? And tell YN I said hi."

Max waved him off, hurrying to his car. Despite Lando's teasing, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. The excitement was bubbling up inside him again as he drove to the airport.

As he parked and made his way to the arrivals area, Max felt his nerves almost making him want to throw up. He found himself fidgeting, alternating between pacing and sitting, his eyes glued to the arrivals board.

Finally, he saw that YN's flight had landed. His heart rate picked up as he watched the doors, scanning the crowd for her familiar face. And then, suddenly, there she was.

YN emerged from the arrivals gate, looking a bit tired from the journey but still radiant. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and when they landed on Max, her face lit up with a brilliant smile.

Max felt his breath catch in his throat. He raised his hand in a small wave, a grin spreading across his face as he walked towards her.

"Hey, Max," she said as she reached him, her voice warm and slightly breathless.

"Hey," he replied, suddenly feeling shy. "How was your flight?"

Without thinking, he pulled her into a hug. As he wrapped his arms around her, breathing in the scent of her hair, he felt a sense of rightness wash over him. It was as if all the pieces were falling into place.

"It was good, just long," she hugged him back tightly. "I'm so glad to be here though."

As they pulled apart, Max found himself reluctant to let go completely. He kept one hand on her back as he reached for her suitcase with the other. "Here, let me get that for you."

"Always the gentleman," YN teased, but her smile was soft and appreciative.

As they walked towards the exit, Max found himself stealing glances at her, still hardly believing she was really here. "So, um, I thought we could grab some lunch if you're hungry? Or if you're tired, we can head straight to my place so you can rest."

YN considered for a moment. "Lunch sounds great, actually. I'm starving, and I'm too excited to sleep just yet. I want to see Monaco."

Max chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at her enthusiasm. "Lunch it is then. I know just the place – it has a great view of the harbor."

As they made their way to Max's car, chatting easily about YN's flight and Max's plans for her visit, Max felt a sense of contentment he hadn't experienced in a long time. The nervousness from earlier had melted away, replaced by pure happiness.

Loading YN's suitcase into the trunk, Max caught her eye and smiled. "I'm really glad you're here, YN."

She returned his smile, her eyes sparkling. "Me too, Max. Me too."

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ynreadsbooks roomates for the week 🥺

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username1 AWEEE

username2 those are cute kittens

username3 those look like max verstappen's cats

username4 JIMMY AND SASSY VERSTAPPEN??

↳ username1 how CRAZY would it be

danielricciardo Don't hesitate to shout if he's much trouble

↳ username2 HOLD ON??

↳ ynreadsbooks he's just fine don't worry 😅

↳ username3 IS SHE REALLY WITH MAX??

↳ maxverstappen1 I'm not trouble...

↳ username1 OMFGGG

↳ username4 THIS PLOT TWIST

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Three days had passed since YN's arrival in Monaco, and Max couldn't remember a time when he'd been happier.

True to her word, YN had cooked her infamous waffles for breakfast on the second morning of her stay. As Max had taken his first bite, his eyes had widened in surprise and delight. The waffles were light and crispy on the outside, yet fluffy on the inside, with a perfect balance of sweetness and a hint of vanilla. He'd declared them the best he'd ever tasted, earning a proud smile from her.

The days that followed had been filled with laughter, conversation, and exploration. They'd spent hours by Max's pool, talking about everything and nothing. YN would often bring a book, reading aloud passages that she found particularly interesting or amusing, while Max listened, content to hear her voice and watch the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about something she loved.

They'd explored Monaco together, with Max showing YN his favorite spots and discovering new ones together. He'd taken her to the Monte Carlo Casino, where they'd marveled at the architecture and people-watched. They'd strolled through the streets of Monaco-Ville, the old town, where YN had been enchanted by the colorful buildings. They'd even spent an afternoon at the Oceanographic Museum, where YN's enthusiasm for learning had been infectious, and Max had found himself just as excited as she was about the marine life exhibits.

Throughout it all, Max felt himself falling deeper for her. It wasn't just her beauty or her intelligence that captivated him, but the way she saw the world. Her curiosity, her kindness, her ability to find joy in the smallest things - it all made Max see his surroundings through new eyes. He found himself noticing details he'd never paid attention to before, appreciating moments he might have otherwise overlooked.

What struck Max most was how easy and right it all felt. There was no pressure, no awkwardness. Being with YN was as natural as breathing. They could talk for hours without running out of things to say, but they were also comfortable in silence, simply enjoying each other's presence.

As they returned from another long day of exploring the city, both Max and YN retreated to their respective rooms to change into more comfortable clothing. Max opted for a soft t-shirt and sweatpants, relishing the feeling of being relaxed and at ease in his own home.

When he emerged from his room, he found YN already settled on his couch, her legs tucked under her, a book in her hands and one of his cats curling beside her. She was wearing one the t-shirt she picked the night she arrived when she realized she forgot to pack pajamas. It was too big for her frame but Max felt like melting knowing she was wearing his shirt.

The sight made Max's heart skip a beat. There was something so intimate and domestic about the scene - YN looking completely at home in his space, in his clothes, absorbed in a book as if she'd always been there.

Max couldn't help but smile, a warmth spreading through his chest. He found himself wanting this view in his life every day - coming home to find YN there, comfortable and content. The thought both thrilled and terrified him. He'd never felt this way about anyone before, never wanted to intertwine his life so completely with another person's.

YN looked up from her book, catching Max's gaze. Her lips curved into a soft smile. "Hey. Want to join me?"

Without hesitation, Max crossed the room. Instead of sitting next to her, he surprised both of them by lying down on the couch and resting his head in her lap. He looked up at her, his eyes vulnerable. "Would you read to me?"

YN's expression softened, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Of course," she said, her free hand moving to gently run her fingers through his hair.

Max closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation. He felt her shift slightly, getting comfortable, and then her voice filled the air, soft and melodious as she began to read.

Max's lips curved into a smile. "Emma," he murmured. "I remember you mentioning it was one of your favorites."

YN paused her reading, looking down at him with surprise and pleasure. "You remembered that?"

"Of course," Max opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. "I remember everything you tell me."

A huge grin appeared in YN's face, and she bent down to press a soft kiss to Max's forehead. The gesture was so natural, so tender, that it made Max's heart flutter.

As she continued to read, her fingers still combing through his hair, Max found himself only half-listening to the words. Instead, he was acutely aware of every point of contact between them - the warmth of her lap under his head, the gentle touch of her fingers, the soft cadence of her voice washing over him.

In that moment, Max realized with startling clarity that this was what he wanted for the rest of his life. Not just the glamour of racing or the thrill of victory, but this - quiet moments of intimacy, the comfort of being with someone who understood him, who made him want to be better.

He reached up, gently taking YN's free hand in his own, intertwining their fingers. She paused in her reading, looking down at him with a question in her eyes.

"YN," Max said softly, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm really glad you're here."

She squeezed his hand, her smile radiant. "So am I, Max. So am I."

As she resumed reading, her voice mixing with the soft sound of the Mediterranean breeze outside, Max closed his eyes again, a sense of peace settling over him. Whatever the future held, he knew that this moment, this feeling, was something he'd cherish forever.

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ynreadsbooks monaco you're the dream 🤍

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username1 GIRL

username2 THIS ESCALATED QUICKLY

username3 how do you go from max randomly commenting one of your videos to this

username4 girl we can tell that's max dw 😭😭

username5 YOU OWE US A TWO HOUR STORYTIME VIDEO

username6 anything you want to tell us best friend?

username7 she just had a book and a dream fr

landonorris Has he bored you yet?

↳ username1 IM DYING

↳ username2 she really masterminded her way into the f1 circle

↳ ynreadsbooks he's nice, makes good smoothies 😉

↳ maxverstappen1 Good to know that ❤️

↳ landonorris I'm disgusted

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As the final day of YN's stay in Monaco dawned, Max found himself feeling so many bittersweet emotions. The past week had been nothing short of magical, and the thought of it coming to an end left a hollow feeling in his chest. She hadn't even left yet, and already he missed her.

For their final day, Max had decided to take YN out on his yacht. He wanted their last hours together to be special, just the two of them away from the bustling streets of Monaco. As they prepared for the day, packing a picnic and gathering sunscreen and towels, Max couldn't help but reflect on the past week.

Daniel and Lando had teased him mercilessly about his sudden disappearance from their usual hangouts. They'd made jokes about Max being "whipped" and how he'd fallen hard for his "YouTube dream girl." But Max didn't care. He was too happy, too caught up in the bubble of joy that surrounded him and YN.

As they boarded the yacht, the Mediterranean stretching out before them in shades of turquoise, Max felt a pang in his chest. This perfect week was coming to an end, and he wasn't sure he was ready to face reality again.

Once they were out on the open water. YN leaned over the railing, a look of wonder on her face.

"This is incredible, Max," she said, turning to him with a dazzling smile. "I can't believe I'm here, experiencing all of this."

Max moved to stand beside her, their shoulders brushing. "I'm going to miss you," he said softly, "This week has been… I don't even have words for it."

"I'm going to miss you too, Max. So much. But you know I have to go back home. I have videos to make for my channel, work stuff to catch up on…"

Max nodded, understanding but not liking it. "Maybe you could make a video about 'A Week with an F1 Driver'? I'm sure your subscribers would love that."

YN laughed, playfully shoving his shoulder. "Oh yes, I'm sure that would go over well. 'Day 3: Watched Max eat his bodyweight in pasta. Day 5: Learned that F1 drivers are actually big babies when they lose at Mario Kart.'"

"I am not a baby!" Max gasped in mock offense. "I'm just… competitive."

"Uh-huh, sure," she teased, her eyes twinkling. "Is that why you pouted for an hour after I beat you?"

"I did not pout," Max protested, but he was grinning.

"You know, it's still surreal to me that a random video I published got us here. If someone had told me a year ago that I'd be spending a week in Monaco with Max Verstappen, I would have laughed in their face."

Max reached out, caressing her cheek softly. "I'm glad you made that video," he said softly. "I'm glad I stumbled across it. I can't imagine not knowing you now."

As they stood together on the boat, the gentle rocking of the waves mirroring the tumultuous emotions within them, Max found his gaze drawn to YN's lips. They were slightly parted, soft and inviting. His heart raced as he lifted his eyes to meet hers, a silent question in his gaze.

YN's eyes, warm and full of affection, met his. A small, knowing smile played at the corners of her mouth, and in that moment, it was all the permission Max needed.

With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer, one hand coming to rest on the small of her back while the other cupped her cheek. Time seemed to slow as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the space between them. And then, finally, their lips met.

The kiss was tender at first, a soft exploration. But as YN's arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair, it deepened into something more passionate. Max poured all of his pent-up emotions into the kiss - his joy, his longing, his hope for what they could be.

When they finally parted, YN's eyes were sparkling. "You know," she said, a playful tone to her voice, "I've been waiting for you to do that all week."

Max couldn't help but laugh, a mixture of relief and happiness bubbling up inside him. "Really? All week, huh?"

"Mmhmm," she nodded, her smile widening. "I was starting to think I'd have to make the first move myself."

"Well," Max said, his voice low and teasing, "allow me to make up for lost time."

With that, he pulled her in for another kiss. This one was different from the first - more confident, more passionate. His hands roamed her back, pulling her flush against him as her fingers tangled in his hair. The world around them faded away until there was nothing but the two of them, the taste of salt on their lips, and the warmth of the setting sun on their skin.

When they broke apart this time, both were slightly dazed. Max rested his forehead against YN's, unwilling to put any distance between them.

"I really like you," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "More than I've ever liked anyone before. This week with you… it's been incredible. I don't want it to end."

YN's hand came up to cup his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his skin. "I really like you too, Max," she replied, her voice equally soft. "These past few days have been like a dream."

Max pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes. "I know you have to go back, but… I want to make this work. Us, I mean. If that's something you want too."

"I do want that. Very much. It might not be easy with our schedules and the distance, but I think you're worth it."

"We'll figure it out," he said, determination clear in his voice. "I'll come visit you when I can, and you can come to some of my races. We'll make time for video calls, and I'll text you so much you'll get sick of me."

YN laughed, the sound like music to Max's ears. "I don't think I could ever get sick of you," she said, her eyes twinkling. "But I'm holding you to that promise about the races. I expect VIP treatment, Mr. Verstappen."

Max grinned, pulling her close again. "For you? Always," he murmured, before capturing her lips in another kiss.

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The month following YN's stay in Monaco had been blissful happiness for both YN and Max. Their parting at the airport had been bittersweet, filled with lingering kisses and tight embraces. They had spent a good hour cuddling in Max's car in the airport parking lot, neither wanting to let go.

"I'm going to miss you so much," YN had whispered, her face buried in the crook of Max's neck.

Max had tightened his arms around her, breathing in her scent. "I'll miss you too. But we'll see each other soon, I promise."

When they finally managed to separate, their goodbye kiss had been passionate and filled with promise. As Max watched her disappear into the airport, he already felt a piece of his heart leaving with her.

In the weeks that followed, they took every opportunity to be together. Max would fly to YN's home during his breaks between races, often arriving exhausted but immediately revitalized by her presence.

Their reunions were always intense, filled with desperate kisses and roaming hands as they made up for lost time. But it was the quiet moments that Max treasured most - waking up with YN in his arms, her sleepy smile the first thing he saw; cooking breakfast together, stealing kisses between flipping pancakes; or simply sitting in comfortable silence, each lost in their own tasks but finding comfort in the other's presence.

Now, as they walked hand in hand through the paddock in Austin for the USA Grand Prix, Max felt a sense of pride and joy unlike anything he'd experienced before. Having YN by his side at a race weekend, this time as more than just a friend, felt right in a way he couldn't fully express.

"This is incredible, Max," YN breathed, squeezing his hand. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

Max grinned, his heart swelling with affection. He loved seeing the paddock through her eyes, rediscovering the magic that he sometimes took for granted.

"Wait until you see the track," he said, pulling her closer. "And the sound when all the cars start up… there's nothing like it."

They paused for a moment, watching as a group of mechanics wheeled a set of tires past them. Max took the opportunity to really look at his girl. She was radiant in the sunlight, her hair catching the light and her eyes sparkling with excitement. He couldn't resist leaning in to place a soft kiss on her cheek.

YN turned to him, a playful smile on her lips. "What was that for?"

"Do I need a reason to kiss my girl?" Max replied, his voice low and teasing.

She laughed, the sound music to his ears. "I suppose not. But maybe save some for later? We are in public, after all."

"You're killing me," Max groaned dramatically. "How am I supposed to focus on racing when you look like that?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll manage," YN teased, patting his chest. "After all, I hear you're quite good at this driving thing."

Their playful banter was interrupted by a familiar voice calling out. "Oi, Verstappen! Finally decided to grace us with your presence?"

Max turned to see Daniel approaching, his trademark grin in place. Lando was close behind, an equally mischievous look on his face.

"Hey guys," Max greeted, unconsciously pulling YN closer. "You remember YN, right?"

"Ah yes," Daniel's grin widened. "Nice to see you again, love."

"It's great to see you too, Daniel," she smiled warmly. "And you, Lando."

Lando's eyes darted between Max and YN, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "So, Max, finally managed to seal the deal, huh?"

Max felt his cheeks heat up, but before he could respond, YN jumped in.

"Oh, he did more than that," she said, her tone light but with a hint of something that made Max's pulse quicken. "He's been quite… impressive."

Daniel let out a low whistle while Lando burst into laughter. Max couldn't help but join in, marveling at how effortlessly YN fit into his world.

As they chatted, Max couldn't keep his hands off YN. He found himself constantly touching her - a hand on the small of her back, playing with her fingers, rubbing her arm softly. Each touch was like a spark, reminding him of their passionate reunions over the past month.

He thought back to their last meeting, just a week ago. He had flown to her place straight after he was done with some meetings in Monaco, exhausted but desperate to see her. The moment he stepped through her door, all fatigue had vanished. They had barely made it to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. The memory of her skin against his, the taste of her lips, the sound of her gasps and moans… it was enough to make him want to whisk her away to his motorhome right now.

Max was pulled from his thoughts by the approach of another familiar face. Charles Leclerc was walking towards them, his trademark charming smile in place.

"Max! Good to see you, man," Charles said, clapping Max on the shoulder before turning his attention to YN. "And who might this lovely lady be?"

Without hesitation, the words tumbled from Max's lips: "This is YN, my girlfriend."

He felt the girl stiffen slightly beside him, and for a moment, panic flared in his chest. Had he overstepped? They hadn't explicitly discussed labels yet. But when he glanced at YN, she was smiling warmly at Charles, her hand still firmly in Max's.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Charles," YN said, shaking his hand.

Charles raised an eyebrow at Max, a hint of surprise in his expression. "The pleasure is all mine. I hope you're enjoying your time in the paddock."

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, they parted ways. Max led YN towards his driver's room. Once inside the relative privacy of the small space, YN turned to him, a playful glint in her eye.

"Girlfriend, huh?" she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of something Max couldn't quite identify.

Max felt a flutter of nervousness in his stomach. "I… yeah. I mean, if that's okay? I know we haven't really talked about it, but…"

YN stepped closer, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. "It's more than okay, Max. I was just surprised. We've been in this beautiful bubble, and hearing you say it out loud… it made it feel real in a way it hasn't before."

Max let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His hands found their way to YN's waist, pulling her closer. "It is real," he said softly. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. Feels like you're everything."

Her eyes softened, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "You're everything to me too, Max. I love you."

The words hung in the air between them for a moment, both realizing it was the first time either had said it. Then Max surged forward, capturing YN's lips in a kiss that was equal parts tender and passionate.

When they broke apart. Max rested his forehead against YN's, his eyes closed as he savored the moment.

"I love you too," he whispered. "God, YN, I love you so much."

YN's answering smile was radiant and she pulled him in for another kiss.

"So," he said, his voice husky, "ready to watch your boyfriend win a race?"

YN laughed, the sound filling the small space and Max's heart. "Always," she replied. "My misunderstood hero with a heart of gold."

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st-fanfic-bookclub · 24 days ago

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Comment resources

Receiving comments means so much to fic authors so we’d love to encourage people to leave more. But we appreciate that leaving comments can be a bit daunting or draining, especially on days when we are tired or already stressed. So here are a few resources to hopefully encourage us all to leave more and to make doing so easier.

Archive of Our Own floating comment boxes

There are a couple of versions of these out there and they can be helpful. They are browser extensions that allow you to keep the comment box on the screen whenever you like so that you can easily comment as you read, rather than getting to the end and panicking about what to say.

Here are two different versions:

AO3 Floating Comment Box by ScriptMouse

Floaty Review Box by ravenel ← I use this one and think it’s great - Squid 💕

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Have you heard of the @feedthefandomfest bingo cards? Because if you’re participating in these, maybe one of the recs on this blog could be the perfect way to tick off a square on these cards. Or, if you’ve not started one yet, why not pick one to encourage yourself to comment more and have some fun while doing so?

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Or put your own together!

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AO3 Random Nice Comments

This browser extension will give you a short, nice comment from a list at the press of a button. It may be useful for beginner commenters who want to say something nice but are unsure what.

Comment prompts

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Speculate on what could happen after the end of the fic

How did you react emotionally? Did you laugh? Cry? Smile? Scream?

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Keyboard smash

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Our comment stickers

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html for the above, in order:

#commenting resources

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rafecameronssl4t · 17 days ago

Text

What’s in My Bag Interview || Drew Starkey x actress!reader

Summary: Reader partaking in Refinery29’s What’s In My Bag interview!!!!!!

Warnings: none!!!

Word count: 1,127

MASTERLIST

The camera pans in as two smiling women stand before a white table. One speaks first, "Hi, I'm Brianna," she says, flashing a grin. "And I'm Sara," the second chimes in, her energy equally lively. "And we're about to spill it!" Brianna declares. "And guess whose celebrity bag this is!" Sara finishes.

Off-camera, you sit comfortably in front of a monitor, arms crossed and lips curved into an amused smile. as the two dive into your bag with giddy curiosity. The first item they fish out is your phone. "Okay, wait—no case?" Brianna gasps, holding it up for the camera to see. "Bold choice," Sara agrees, examining it closely. Then her eyes narrow.

"Wait, who’s this on the wallpaper?" They angle the screen toward the camera, revealing the photo. "Is this her boyfriend?" Sara guesses, her tone suddenly conspiratorial. "Or maybe just some random guy at Disneyland," Brianna jokes, though the way she squints at the image suggests she doesn’t fully believe it.

Behind the monitor, your shoulders shake with silent laughter, enjoying the speculation. Next, Brianna pulls out your sunglasses. "Ooh, vintage Chanel," she gushes, inspecting the delicate details on the frames before showing the camera, "she's got style." "Agreed," Sara nods.

Then she pulls out something heavier. "Okay, so there's a camera in here, like old school film camera" Sara announces, holding it up. Brianna digs deeper in your bag, before pulling out a roll of film. "So is this a clue? Should I open it?" Sara wonders aloud. "Maybe don’t," Brianna laughs nervously as they exchange giggles.

"Okay, next—Ted Gibson Texture Spray," Sara announces, holding up the bottle like a prize. "We love this!" "So good," Brianna agrees, nodding. "So she's got great hair," Brianna continues as you make eye contact with the camera that is focused on you and playfully flip your hair. "And what’s this?" Brianna pulls out your hand cream.

"How do you even say this? Goe… Go-ee oil?" Brianna stumbles, sniffing it cautiously. "Interesting smell," Sara comments, scrunching her nose. "It kinda smells like sunscreen," Brianna comments as you let out a soft snort, leaning closer to the camera and whispering "I thought it smelled good!"

Sara's hand then closes around something shiny and gold. "The only way out is through," she reads from the surface of a coin, inspecting it closely. Sara furrows her brow. "Is this… a medal?" "No, wait—it says ‘challenge coin,’" Brianna corrects, turning it over in her hands.

"Is this, like, a secret society thing?" Sara wonders. "Or maybe a movie prop?" Brianna counters. Behind the monitor, you laugh to yourself, your shoulders shaking slightly. "Drinking game!" You say lowly to the camera, amused by their speculation. "Maybe an actress?" Brianna says as Sara hums thoughtfully.

You turn your head to the camera again, winking. Sara then pulls out a small pin with the text “LOVE DC, GO” embossed on it. "Okay, are you from DC?" Brianna asks, holding it up for the camera. Laughing, you shake your head. "Initials!" you say quietly, clearly enjoying yourself.

"Ooh, cute," Sara pulls out your nail paint. "OPI in the colour 'Girl', super cute," Sara says. You flash your nails at the camera. "Did these in the car on the way here!" you confess with a cheeky grin. Brianna then pulls out your car keys. "Keys to a Mercedes," Brianna observes, dangling them in the air. "She’s driving in style," Sara teases.

They then pull out some gum. "So she's definitely someone who talks to people a lot," Sara guesses as Brianna pulls out some cash. "Canadian money?" Brianna says, unfolding the bill. "Is she Canadian maybe?" Sara questions. "Wait—there’s also Barbadian dollars. Are you Bajan?" Brianna asks, genuinely curious as she looks at the camera.

You silently laugh, throwing your head back, unable to hold yourself back. "A fan favourite!" Brianna gasps, holding up your Baccara Rouge 540 perfume. "She smells good!" Sara comments. They then pull out some bar wrappers. "She's on the go! I feel like she is someone who travels a lot. She's either an actress, or a travel influencer." Sara comments.

"She's an important person, obviously, she's in front of the camera. Whether that's her own, or other people's camera." Brianna guesses. "Can we get a hint?" Sara questions. "She's in the Outer banks cast," the producer says as the two girls look at each other with a knowing look. "Is it Y/n Y/l/n?" They say, "Yes! You're right!" The producer confirms, and you step into view, pulling off your headphones with a big grin as they squeal.

"Hi!" you greet, waving as you step onto the set. "You’re even more gorgeous in person!" Sara exclaims, pulling you into a hug. Laughing, you return the embrace before turning to Brianna. "Aw, thank you! It’s so nice to meet you both!" you say, settling between them.

"How did it feel watching us go through your stuff?" Brianna question, "Hilarious," you admit, still laughing. "I was cracking up the whole time," you say as they chuckle. "I thought this was a good clue because we shot OBX in Barbados the past couple seasons," you say picking up the Barbadian money as their mouths drop in synchronised surprise.

"And this," You pick up the coin, "Charlie, who plays Big John in the series, gave everybody this coin for a drinking game. It’s part of a drinking game and basically, if someone challenges you with their coin and you don’t have yours, you buy drinks." You explain.

"And I think it says," You start, opening the coin package, "yeah, Outer Banks season three," You chuckle. "Oh my goodness, we should have opened it but we didn't want to be nosey," Brianna says as you laugh. "Yeah, no you should!" You say. "Now we know next time," Sara adds on as the three of your chuckle.

"This is a pin I got when we wrapped Glass Onion," you explain, holding up the small, gold-embossed pin. "The ‘DC’ stands for Daniel Craig," you add with a smile. Their eyes widen, and Brianna lets out an excited gasp. "Love Daniel Craig!" she exclaims, her tone brimming with enthusiasm.

"Same," you chuckle, enjoying their reactions. "This is actually my second pin, though," you admit, tilting your head slightly. "I lost the first one but he was sweet enough to give me this replacement just last week in London," You explain.

Next, you pick up your phone. "This is my co star and boyfriend Drew Starkey," You reveal with a grin as the girls erupt into cheers "I thought this would be another fun clue," You chuckle. "That we failed," Brianna chuckles. You laugh. "One of my favourite people. Hi, babe!" you add with a wink at the camera.

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wttcsms · 3 months ago

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ when they act this way (i know i got 'em) !!

ᝰ.ᐟ kiyoomi sakusa is used to getting what he wants, and what he wants most right now is you. too bad you’re the biggest fucking tease in the world. fine by him, though. because when he gets his hands on you — and he will — you’re going to see what exactly all your thirst traps did for him. ( fem!reader )

pairing kiyoomi sakusa x reader word count 3.6k content contains angry sex/rough sex, overstimulation, semi-public location, pop star!reader, cheeky/bratty to sub!reader 😭, he manhandles you a bit, creampie kinktober masterlist

“What’s his fuckin’ problem?” Atsumu grumbles, tossing his sweaty practice jersey onto one of the benches, mindful of avoiding the bench Sakusa is currently occupying. He takes this extra precaution since he doesn’t want to get yelled at again by Sakusa, who did snap at Atsumu five seconds prior for almost getting his dirty jersey thrown on top of him.

“Maybe you just stink, ‘Tsumu.” Bokuto’s grinning, but Hinata shakes his head, gesturing for both of his teammates to come closer so he can whisper to them.

“I think Omi’s in a bad mood because he’s mad.”

“No shit, Ginger!” Atsumu groans. “People who are in bad moods are usually mad. We didn’t need you to spell it out for us.”

“You didn’t let me finish!” Hinata whisper-shouts. “He’s been looking at [Name] [Surname]’s Instagram since before practice ended.”

“Who the hell is that?” Atsumu hisses, and Bokuto hits him on the shoulder.

“Bro! That singer!”

“Yeah, that clears shit up.” Atsumu rolls his eyes, yanking open his locker to find a clean shirt to wear. “Why would Omi be mad at lookin’ at some girl’s Instagram?”

The trio is silent for a moment before a lightbulb practically appears over Bokuto’s head.

“Hey! Maybe she got a boyfriend, and he’s jealous!”

The group ponders this hypothetical.

“Why would Kiyoomi get jealous, though?” Hinata asks. “It’s not like he’s dating her or anything.”

“Unless they had some weird situationship shit goin’ on.” Atsumu suggests. “Should we ask? Shoyo, go ask him.”

“Why do I have to ask?”

“Nope. She didn’t post anything with a boyfriend…” Bokuto mumbles, scrolling through your feed.

“Lemme see.” Atsumu snatches the phone from Bokuto’s hands and lets out a wolf whistle. “She’s hot. No wonder Omi-Omi’s pissed off.”

“Huh?” Hinata whines. “Let me see, too!”

Atsumu faces the screen towards Hinata. “She’s the type of pretty that makes you mad just ‘cause ya can’t have her.”

The girl on the screen is you. Posted not even an hour ago but already generating over six hundred thousand likes, Hinata understands what Atsumu means. Your back is turned towards the stage you’re on, but you’re looking back, giving the camera a coy smirk. You’ve got a rhinestone bedazzled microphone in one hand, and you’re wearing the shortest baby-blue minidress in existence; so short, in fact, that because your knees are bent just a bit, the current pose you’re sporting causes the fabric of your dress to rise, giving everyone viewing the image an unfiltered view of the built-in panties of the dress. The caption speaks volumes: too much for you to handle?.

“You realize I could hear you idiots the whole entire time, right?” Sakusa doesn’t sound very happy, and Atsumu is quick to shove the phone back into Bokuto’s hands. “I’m not in a bad mood, and I’m not mad, and I don’t care about [Name] [Surname].” He grabs his gym bag, making a face at the trio, before storming out of the locker room.

Sakusa’s upset, and his bad mood only sours more whenever he realizes that his idiotic teammates are more perceptive than he would like. Yes, he was mad at practice the minute he saw your latest post. And why wouldn’t he be? It’s clear that you’re fucking sub-posting him. You would’ve been better off just DM’ing him yourself and asking that stupid question.

Too much for you to handle?

Fuck you, he thinks bitterly. Before realizing that, yes, that’s exactly what he wants to do to you.

Everyone knows it, including you, which makes the whole situation even worse. Your mutual friends keep trying to persuade the two of you to finally ease the tension and just get a room, but Sakusa’s always been a touch too prideful.

The two of you have always been constantly warring with each other; you’ve got the coy, flirty, cocky personality that doesn’t mesh well with his own stoic, cold, perpetually unimpressed one. You always flirt with him, but he’s seen you flirt with everyone — it’s basically your whole brand. It’s precisely what your popstar image is built upon — the fun, flirty idol who’s carefree and the poster girl for no-strings-attached.

And Sakusa, for what it’s worth, is a very strings-and-all type of man.

The reason why he won’t pursue you is because you’re the first person to catch him off guard. He can’t get a good read on you. He has no clue what your intentions actually are, and he’s not about to make a fool of himself by asking you if you’re serious when you told him you were.

That stupid fucking party — he knew he shoudn’t have attended. It was another teammate’s birthday, and he was hosting it at his place, and since it wasn’t a nightclub or anything, Sakusa assumed it was safe enough to attend. Too bad he forgot that his teammate was dating some other singer, someone who happens to be one of your friends.

Everyone there kept pushing the two of you together, and as the night progressed and everyone was getting drunker and drunker, there was intoxicated, slurred commentary on how the two of you just needed to fuck once and get each other out of your systems.

“It’s true.” Even with heels, you’re still shorter than Sakusa, and you have to get on the tips of your toes to whisper in his ear. “You wanna know the reason why we haven’t had sex yet?”

“Because I’m not interested.” He tells you flatly. He’s lying, and you know it.

You pout, your plush bottom lip on display. “It’s because I don’t want you out of my system, and I’m hoping you don’t want to get rid of me either.”

He snorts, even though his heart jumps at the thought. He wants to tell you to quit playing these games and be serious, but he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps himself guarded. “Like I said. Not interested.”

“Why won’t you just give in?” You tilt your head. “You scared? Or maybe…” The dress you’re wearing makes your legs look even longer. Every centimeter of bare skin you expose has him spiraling into overdrive. He maintains his facade of nonchalance and looks you in the eyes, looking entirely unimpressed with your antics. “I’m too much for you to handle? Wouldn’t want to go around breaking Japan’s favorite outside hitter, after all.”

You smile at him, giving a tiny giggle. “Yeah. I think that’s exactly the reason.”

Sakusa is many things, and you somehow negate everything. He’s blunt; you either leave him speechless or determined to lie to save face. He’s generally unaffected by most people; you get under his skin. He doesn’t like being made out to be a fool; you make him feel like the biggest idiot, and other people know it too. He likes to have everything in his life sorted out properly; you and him have nothing but unfinished business.

Let it be known that Kiyoomi Sakusa only came to your concert rehearsal purely because he wanted to get closure. When he walked into the stadium, hands in his pockets, watching you dance on the stage, he did not intend for you to immediately halt practice. He did not intend for you to gesture for him to follow you, and he did not intend to be taken backstage. There’s surprisingly less people back here than he thought, and you explain to him that it’s because rehearsal technically starts two hours later. You just wanted to run through it beforehand, to warm up.

(Sakusa admires that about you; no one ever seems to acknowledge the hard work you put in, and it’s your work ethic, really, that slowly started to endear you to him.)

Let it be known that Kiyoomi Sakusa had absolutely no intention of fucking you backstage. Because, in his defense, you have a way of making him act entirely out of character.

The constant teasing, the back and forth, your coy smiles and flirtatious remarks that he can never truly decipher. And here you are, standing all pretty in your sparkly minidress, and you just keep taunting him. Even when he’s trying to have a serious conversation with you, all you do is skate around his questions. It’s like your default mode is set to toying with men.

“Seriously,” he grits his teeth, backing you into one of the walls. You’re completely cornered by him now. It’s easy to forget how much bigger Sakusa truly is. He towers over you, makes you feel like a little kitten backed into an alleyway by a big dog. “You can’t take me seriously for one fucking second?”

His brows are furrowed, and he’s frowning. Somehow, the sight of him angry only gets you more excited. You like Sakusa. You like him much more than you originally anticipated, and this whole cat-and-mouse charade is just that: a charade. Of course you meant it when you kept flirting with him. But you’re not used to being the one who has to chase after someone, and you refuse to give in now. With both of you having too much of an ego to give in, it’s a battle of individual pride now.

A battle that you think you might lose once you and him both realize that you’re pressing your thighs together to apply some pressure to the growing need between your legs.

“Are you—?” He lets out a short, sharp laugh. “Fucking slut. You really did want me to fuck you this whole entire time.” He takes another step towards you; there’s no more space for you to back into. You’re already pressed against the wall, and now he’s looming over you, an impossible obstacle to get over. Somehow, you don’t mind being trapped, as long as it’s Kiyoomi Sakusa that’s holding you down.

“You wish.” You try to sound snarky, but it’s hard when Sakusa is looking down at you like that. Dark eyes, strands of hair hanging down his forehead, a cold, calculating smile on his face as he watches the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you struggle to breathe normally. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s capable of hearing how fast your heart is beating.

“So you don’t want me to fuck you?” It should be illegal for his voice to get this low, to sound this husky. He’s leaning down far enough to where he can whisper this question in your ear, and your breath hitches as you feel thick fingers toying with the waistband of your panties.

Right now, you are backstage, and your employees and team could be coming in any second now, and you don’t care. You don’t care, because all you care about is the fact that Kiyoomi Sakusa has you pressed against the wall, and his hand is up your dress, and he’s about to make his way into your panties.

You gasp as you feel two of his fingers press directly against your clit, before traveling downwards and toying with your folds. There’s no actual penetration, just the tantalizing touch of his fingers rubbing against you, gathering up your slick.

You make a tiny noise, and Sakusa chuckles softly. “You’re so wet, it feels like you want me, though.” The tips of his fingers prod at your entrance, only for him to abruptly remove his hand altogether, leaving your needy hole clenching and grasping at nothing. You whine as he examines his fingers, separating his index and middle fingers, allowing the both of you to watch closely as viscous strands of your juices coat his digits. He shrugs nonchalantly, leaning away from you. “I’ll let you get back to your rehearsal.”

“No!” You shut your eyes, cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. You bite down on your lip before opening your eyes, peering up at him through thick lashes. “I-I do want you.” You’re mumbling, but it’s clear Sakusa’s heard you, loud and clear.

“Sorry, what was that?”

You’re wet, unsatisfied, and absolutely down bad for Kiyoomi. You’ve wanted him for months now, and he has you right where he wants you: so needy that you’re willing to let him do whatever he wants to you backstage. The thrill of potentially being caught, the excitement of finally just giving in to your desires…

“I want you, Sakusa. Please.” You beg him, rubbing your thighs together to try and get some sort of friction. “I need you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sakusa might sound cocky, but there’s something equally needy in his touch. He’s back to pressing you against the wall, leaving practically no space between the two of you. He plants his hand right back into your panties, stroking your folds a few times, gathering the slick only to insert two fingers right where you need him most. He watches your expression, the way you try to tilt your head back, your little moans of pleasure as he starts to thrust his fingers in and out.

“You could’ve had me sooner if you weren’t busy playing coy all the damn time.” Sakusa frowns, as if the memory of how long you’ve had him chasing after you has suddenly been brought back to his attention. When he says this, he picks up speed, pistoning his digits. You’re getting even wetter now, the lewd sound of him toying with your cunt the only noise in this empty backstage. He’s adding a third finger into the mix, now, and your cunt tries to resist, fails to adapt to the thickness of three of his fingers.

“Mmph — ‘Kusa, slow — fuck!” You whine out, unable to speak properly as your walls clamp down on his digits. He presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing rough, unforgiving circles on the nub, never slowing down the pace of his fingers, even when you beg him to take it easy. “I’m gonna— I’m gonna cum!” You wail out, legs almost failing you from the force of your orgasm.

The only thing keeping you upright is Sakusa himself. He wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you steady, but even after watching you fall apart from just his fingers, Sakusa isn’t satisfied. You little brat — you’ve been depriving him of seeing your precious, pretty face you make when you cum, and as a result, you’ve also been depriving yourself of all the pleasure that could’ve been yours, that’s rightfully yours, all because you wanted him to chase after you.

Well, he’s got you now.

And he’s going to want to give you both what the two of you have been missing out on, plus interest.

You’re still recovering from your climax, legs feeling like jelly, vision blurry as you try to blink out the haze of pleasure from your vision, when you feel him shove the fabric of the skirt of your dress into your open mouth.

“Bite down on this.” He grunts out, and you follow his command as if it’s simply second nature to. “Be a good girl, and keep holding it up, okay?”

You nod weakly, but it’s easier said than done when you almost let out a gasp as you feel the tip of his cock prodding at your soaked entrance. Your eyes go wide, and he smirks at the sight of the country’s most beloved pop star reduced to nothing but his little slut. Your mouth is shoved with the fabric of your dress, keeping it up so he can continue to admire the sight of your wrecked pussy, still sensitive from when he banged you with his fingers. Your panties are pulled down, a crumpled mess around your ankles, and there’s drool gathering ‘round the corners of your mouth, your lipgloss staining the fabric of your dress. Messy girl. His messy girl.

It’s easy for him to slide into your needy hole, and he hisses when he feels the way your walls clench around his cock, squeezing him. There’s no better feeling, he decides, than the feel of your pretty, needy pussy yielding to him with absolutely no resistance. Even your cunt knows who owns it now.

A soft whine, muffled by the dress occupying your mouth, slips from your lips. Sakusa’s cock is thick. Thicker than anyone else’s you’ve ever taken. It sinks into your snug cunt with a push forward that you feel entirely unprepared for, even though you’re so wet, it’s easy work for him to make himself at home in your pussy.

His pace is unforgiving. He gives you no time to adjust, and he doesn’t seem to care about the way your pussy is still recovering from his fingers. He wastes no time in pounding into you, and even he’s panting at the exertion he’s exercising. Some tiny strands of his black curls are stuck on his forehead from the sweat, and you can’t help but think that Sakusa is beautiful, even when he’s scowling and fucking into you with a fervor that feels like he’s treating this like the only time he’s going to fuck you.

You hope that isn’t true. You knew that the minute you’d get a taste of Sakusa, you’d never want to let him go.

“Fuck.” He hisses, never slowing down his pace. He’s being rough, almost brutal. It’s like he’s chasing after his own pleasure, forcing you to find your release all on your own. But the thing is, it’s so easy to come apart. It’s so easy to come apart when you think about how this is Sakusa’s cock battering into you, how it’s Sakusa that’s panting and groaning from pleasure, how it’s Sakusa that is making your pussy his. You keep clenching down on his length, making it harder for him to continuously thrust in and out of you. “Fuck.” He repeats. “It’s like you don’t want to let me go.”

You can’t speak, can’t tell him that it’s the truth, that you want him here forever.

The echoing sound of the entrance of the building opening and then slamming close has your eyes going wide with fear. Someone has just entered.

You’re now acutely aware of how loud the noises the two of you are making. The constant wet, slapping noises of his skin against yours, your messy pussy making a mess between your thighs and on his dick, his groans, your weak whimpers. All of it is now suddenly amplified as you listen in fear — and excitement — as footsteps echo around the hall.

“[Name]?” Someone calls out. Your assistant. Fuck.

You look up at Sakusa, curious as to why he’s still not stopping, but he only holds a finger to his lips, telling you to be quiet. “I haven’t finished yet.” He whispers into your ear, and you shake your head, panicking.

“No? You want me to stop?” He buries his cock to the fucking hilt, shoving himself so deeply inside of you, you let out a surprised, pleasured squeal. “I’ll stop if you cum on my cock. For a slut like you, that should be easy.”

You want to protest, you want to snap back that you are not a slut, but it’s hard to prove him wrong when his words, his cock, only have you tightening around him. He chuckles as he feels the pressure of your pussy clamping down on his dick, and he resumes fucking into you.

Your hips start to buck needily against his, the pleasure making you feel delirious and reckless. You seem to have ditched all common sense, and as the footsteps continue to echo throughout the building, sounding closer and closer to where the two of you are currently fucking like rabbits in heat, you only succumb to the delirious, delicious heat of pleasure. Legs wrapping around his tight waist, you succumb hopelessly and happily to the pleasure he seems to effortlessly wring out of you, your body needily twisting and pushing against him, needing more of him. Your moan is long and would’ve been drawn out had he not pressed a calloused palm against your mouth. The dress fabric falls from your lips, and your moan is silenced as you stare up at him. He doesn’t look angry, just pleased.

He’s turned you into such a little fucked out mess that he made you cum on his cock, despite the fact that there is someone else roaming this place, calling out for you.

If only he got here sooner; then, he could’ve played with you for a bit longer, toy with you the way you’ve been toying with him. You’re lucky that he doesn’t plan on getting caught being balls deep in you, even though the idea of announcing to the world that you’re his gets him off.

Muffling his own moan of pleasure by biting down on the soft skin between your neck and shoulder, Sakusa finishes deep into your wrecked cunt, letting out ropes and ropes of hot, white spurts of cum. He’s panting, removing his mouth from your skin, licking at the bite he left on your soft skin, as if to apologize.

Both of your chests are rising and falling, the two of you greedily gulping for more air. He pulls out, a few drops of his cum already leaking out of your cunt.

“This isn’t over.” He mutters, pulling up your panties, a puddle of his cum starting to pool into the seat of your underwear. He fixes your dress, smooths the fabric, and plants a surprisingly chaste kiss on your spit-slick lips. “Unless this really was a one time thing?”

“As if this was ever going to be a one time thing.” You’re too tired to roll your eyes, but when he smiles, you find enough energy to smile back. “There’s a backdoor over there that you can leave. No one will see you.”

“I’ll text you later.” He tells you, straightening his back and walking to the exit you just directed him to. “Like I said, this isn’t over.”

Everyone on your team is worried when, during rehearsals, you complain that your legs are too sore to do the choreography.

#kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #smut #one shot #kinktober 2024

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reidmarieprentiss · 4 months ago

Text

Textual Tension

Summary: You accidentally send a very suggestive text to your awkward coworker, and he replies...

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, awkward tension

Word count: 6.1k

a/n: has anyone ever sent a sext to the wrong person?? i've only ever sent them to my friends on accident and for that i am so thankful

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (fem receiving), mild breast play, soft dom spencer

You sit on your bed, the soft glow of your phone illuminating your face as you type out a rather suggestive message to the person you've been casually hooking up with. A smirk tugs at your lips as you hit send, confident that the message will hit its mark.

I've been thinking about you… Can't stop imagining what I'd do if you were here right now. I want to feel your hands all over me, the way you’d make me moan… Let’s make fantasy a reality?

But within seconds, your heart stops as you realize the terrible mistake you've just made.

You’ve sent the message to Spencer.

Spencer.

Your coworker. The brilliant, kind, and awkwardly charming genius who you’ve always had a friendly, professional relationship with. And, of course, the one who has been harboring a massive, secret crush on you. A fact that, unbeknownst to you, has led to countless daydreams and wishes that you might feel the same.

The blood drains from your face as you stare at your phone, horrified, praying that somehow the message didn’t actually go through, or maybe, just maybe, Spencer won’t read it and will simply delete it. But you know better—Spencer is meticulous about everything. Of course, he’ll read it. You’re absolutely mortified, every worst-case scenario flashing through your mind.

Meanwhile, in his apartment, Spencer is settling down with a cup of tea, ready to dive into the book he’s been reading. When his phone buzzes, he picks it up absentmindedly, assuming it’s just a work-related message or something mundane. But as he reads the words on the screen, his eyes widen in shock, his breath catching in his throat.

His thoughts run wild, heart pounding as he rereads the text, each time wondering if it could possibly be real. Could you, the person he’s admired from afar for so long, actually want him in the way he’s secretly yearned for? The idea is intoxicating, and before he can second-guess himself, he responds with a message that matches your energy, his pulse quickening at the boldness of it.

Wow… I didn’t know you were into me like that. I’ve been thinking about you too. If you want, we can definitely make that happen.

The moment you see his reply, your stomach drops. You can't believe this is happening. You’re completely mortified, your mind spinning with the implications. How could you ever face him again? You don’t respond, the fear and embarrassment paralyzing you, leaving you in a state of panic.

The next day at work, you’re a bundle of nerves. Every step you take towards the bullpen feels like you’re walking to your own doom. When you finally arrive, you try to act normal, but the tension is palpable. You can’t even bring yourself to make eye contact with Spencer, every interaction feeling like it’s laced with the humiliation of last night’s mistake.

Spencer, on the other hand, is caught in a whirlwind of emotions. At first, he’s elated, thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance you were into him. But as the day drags on and you remain distant, the excitement turns to confusion, then a sharp sting of rejection. Did he misread the situation? Was it all just a mistake? He’s left feeling awkward and exposed, unsure of where he stands with you now.

—

The tension between you and Spencer had become a nearly tangible thing, a thread pulled taut between the two of you, ready to snap at any moment. At first, your glances in his direction were purely out of necessity—quick, fleeting looks to gauge his mood, to see if he was as affected by this as you were. But as the days passed, those glances became more frequent, more lingering.

It started innocently enough. You’d look over and notice how effortlessly his hair seemed to fall into place, the soft waves framing his face in a way that made him look almost ethereal. You’d never paid much attention before, but now you couldn’t help but admire how it suited him, how it added to his charm.

Then, it was his forearms. You’d catch him pushing up the sleeves of his button-down shirt, revealing the sinewy strength beneath the fabric. There was something about the casual way he did it, the way the muscles in his arms flexed ever so slightly as he worked, that made your heart skip a beat. It was such a simple thing, but it had a profound effect on you, stirring something deep within.

And then there was the way he licked his lips when he was focused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he concentrated on whatever task was in front of him. You couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have his attention focused solely on you, to feel the intensity of that gaze as he looked at you, not with confusion or uncertainty, but with desire.

The more you noticed these little things, the more conflicted you became. This was Spencer—sweet, brilliant, and awkward Spencer. The idea of seeing him in a different light had never really crossed your mind before, but now… now it was all you could think about. The memory of his bold response to your accidental text played on a loop in your mind, taunting you with the possibilities.

What if you responded? What if you stopped overthinking everything and just… saw where it could go? The idea terrified you, but it also excited you in a way you hadn’t expected. There was something thrilling about the thought of exploring this new dynamic, of seeing if there was something more between you and Spencer than just a shared workspace.

You found yourself daydreaming about it, wondering how he would react if you sent him a message, if you matched the energy of his reply. Would he be as nervous as you were, or would he surprise you with a confidence you hadn’t seen before? The thought of it made your pulse quicken, a flush of warmth spreading through you.

But with the excitement came doubt. What if this was a mistake? What if you were reading too much into things, and responding to his text would only make the situation worse? The fear of making things awkward again, of possibly ruining your work life further, held you back. Yet, the thought of doing nothing felt like a missed opportunity, like you were letting something potentially amazing slip through your fingers.

As the day dragged on, you found it harder and harder to focus on your work. Every time you saw Spencer, every time you noticed another little detail about him that you hadn’t before, the urge to reach out grew stronger. It was like there was a tug-of-war going on inside you, with one side urging you to take the risk and see what could happen, and the other holding you back out of fear.

Finally, as the workday was winding down, you made a decision. Maybe you were overthinking this—maybe it was time to just go for it and see what came of it. After all, Spencer had responded positively, hadn’t he? There was a chance, a real chance, that he felt something for you too, something more than just a workplace friendship.

Sitting on your couch with your heart pounding in your chest, you pulled out your phone, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you debated what to say. You didn’t want to be too forward, but you also didn’t want to be vague. After a few moments of contemplation, you typed out a message, your hands trembling slightly as you reread it.

Hey, about that text… Maybe we should talk. Or… you know, not just talk. If you’re still interested.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, your heart racing as you watched the message deliver. There was no going back now.

The rest of the evening was a blur of anxiety and anticipation. You couldn’t stop thinking about what his response might be, what it could mean for the two of you. When your phone finally buzzed with a new message, you hesitated for just a moment before opening it.

I’m definitely interested. Let’s talk… or not just talk, whenever you’re ready.

The words were simple, but they held so much promise. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you read them, a mixture of relief and excitement flooding your senses. This was happening. You and Spencer were about to cross a line, to explore something new and thrilling.

Just as you were contemplating what to say, how to navigate this sudden and unexpected turn in your relationship, another notification lit up your screen.

Come over? Now?

The message was short, simple, and completely electrifying. It sent a jolt through your system, leaving you momentarily speechless. The implications of it were clear—Spencer wasn’t just thinking about this; he was ready to act on it, to turn this accidental confession into something real and immediate.

Your mind raced as you considered what to do next. Just minutes ago, you were agonizing over whether or not to even respond, and now he was inviting you over, as if the decision had already been made. The sheer boldness of his message left you breathless, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement.

You couldn't help but imagine what it would be like—showing up at his place, the air thick with the unspoken tension that had been building between you all day. The thought of being alone with him, of crossing that line from coworkers to something more, sent a thrill through you.

You took a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. This was a pivotal moment, and whatever you decided now would set the course for what happened next.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of internal debate, you typed out a response, your heart racing as you hit send.

I'll be there in 20 minutes.

—

You parked outside Spencer’s apartment building, your heart racing as you took a deep breath to steady yourself. The 20-minute drive had been filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions—excitement, anticipation, and a lingering thread of uncertainty. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect when you arrived, especially considering how different Spencer had seemed over text compared to how he usually was in person. The Spencer you knew was shy, adorably awkward, and hesitant when it came to personal matters. But his texts had shown a side of him that was bold, confident, and unafraid to take charge.

As you approached his door, your nerves started to get the better of you, but there was no turning back now. You lifted your hand to knock, hesitating for just a moment before finally letting your knuckles rap against the wood. The seconds that followed felt like an eternity, your mind racing with possibilities of how this night could unfold.

When the door finally opened, you were taken aback by the sight that greeted you. Spencer stood there, shirtless, the soft glow of his apartment’s light highlighting the lean lines of his torso. He wore nothing but a pair of low-hanging gray sweatpants, the waistband slung low on his hips, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the defined muscles and trail of hair beneath. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run his hands through it moments before opening the door, and his eyes, usually filled with a mix of curiosity and gentle kindness, now held a smoldering intensity that you had never seen before.

For a moment, you couldn’t find the words, your breath catching in your throat as you took in the sight of him. This wasn’t the Spencer you were used to—this was the man who had responded to your accidental text with a confidence that had both surprised and intrigued you. The awkward, hesitant Spencer you knew seemed to have taken a backseat, making way for someone who knew exactly what he wanted.

And what he wanted, it seemed, was you.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched your reaction. There was a heat in his gaze, a silent challenge that dared you to step inside, to see just how far this newfound confidence could take him.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m glad you came.”

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts, but the sight of him standing there like that—so effortlessly confident, so unapologetically enticing—made it difficult to think of anything but the rush of desire that was quickly building within you.

“Hey,” you managed to reply, your voice a little breathless. “You… uh, look different.”

Spencer’s smile widened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped aside to let you in. “Well I should hope so,” he said, his tone teasing, but with an underlying seriousness that sent your heart racing even faster.

You stepped inside, feeling the warmth of his apartment wrap around you as the door clicked shut behind you. The atmosphere between you was charged, electric, every moment filled with unspoken possibilities. Spencer moved closer, his presence almost overwhelming in its intensity. The scent of him—a mix of something clean and masculine—filled your senses, making you even more acutely aware of the heat radiating from his skin.

“I’ve been thinking,” Spencer began, his voice soft yet steady, as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “About what was said...”

Your breath hitched at the light touch, your skin tingling where his fingers had just been. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid that your voice might betray just how much his presence was affecting you.

“I don’t want this to be awkward,” he continued, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “But I also don’t want to pretend that nothing’s changed… because it has.”

He was right—everything had changed. The air between you was thick with tension, with the unspoken acknowledgment of what you both wanted but were too nervous to voice. And yet, here he was, standing so close, shirtless and confident, laying it all out in front of you.

Taking a deep breath, you finally found your voice. “So… what happens next?”

Spencer’s lips quirked up into a small, almost mischievous smile. “I think that depends on what you want.”

His words hung in the air between you, a challenge and an invitation all at once. You could feel the pull, the magnetic attraction drawing you closer to him, and in that moment, you knew there was no turning back.

With a boldness you hadn’t known you possessed, you stepped even closer, your body nearly brushing against his as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “I want to find out what happens when we stop pretending.”

The last remnants of hesitation melted away as Spencer’s smile turned into something more—something hungry and determined. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips descended on yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. It was fierce, consuming, a release of all the tension that had been building between you.

As his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer still, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you had only begun to scratch the surface of the side of Spencer Reid you were about to discover tonight.

The world around you blurred as Spencer’s lips moved against yours, his kiss deepening with every passing second. Time seemed to lose all meaning as you lost yourself in the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the way his hands gripped your waist with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. It felt like you had been kissing for an eternity, and yet when he finally pulled back, you found yourself gasping for breath, your mind spinning, and your body aching for more.

Spencer’s eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, filled with a heat that made your pulse quicken. Without saying a word, he took your hand, his grip firm yet gentle, leading you down the hall towards his bedroom. The anticipation thrummed in your veins, every step heightening the tension between you. But just as you reached the doorway, Spencer suddenly stopped, turning to press you against the doorframe. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing kisses that made your knees weaken and your breath hitch.

You barely had time to process the sensation before he pulled back again, a playful gleam in his eyes as he gently but firmly guided you into the bedroom. With a swift motion, he pushed you onto the bed, and you bounced slightly, a surprised giggle escaping your lips. The unexpected shift in his demeanor—this newfound confidence, this playful dominance—left you both intrigued and a little off-balance. You’d known Spencer as the quiet, reserved, and somewhat shy genius, but this side of him was something entirely different, and you couldn’t help but be captivated by it.

As you lay there, still trying to wrap your head around this change, you found yourself blurting out a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind. “Do you do this a lot, Reid?”

Spencer chuckled, the sound low and deep, sending a ripple of warmth through your body. He shook his head with a smile that was equal parts reassuring and teasing. “No, not ever really,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady, as he reached for your ankles and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between your legs. His hands rested on your thighs, the warmth of his touch seeping through your clothes, grounding you in the moment.

“Call me Spencer,” he added, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, his gaze locking onto yours with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. There was something intimate about the way he said it, as if this wasn’t just about physical attraction, but about letting you see a side of him that no one else had.

Your heart skipped a beat at the request, the simple act of calling him by his first name in this context making the moment feel even more personal, more real.

“Spencer,” you repeated, the name slipping from your lips like a secret, a promise. His smile widened, a spark of something almost wicked flashing in his eyes, and you realized that you were about to discover a side of him that you’d never imagined existed.

Spencer leaned in, his hands sliding up your thighs, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’ve been wanting this for a long time, you know. I just never thought…” He trailed off, as if realizing that words weren’t enough to express what he was feeling. Instead, he captured your lips with his again, his kiss searing and insistent, as though he were making up for lost time.

Spencer's hands, warm and steady, slowly trailed up your sides, his fingers grazing the soft fabric of your t-shirt as they moved. When he reached the hem, he hesitated, his touch gentle but deliberate as he curled his fingers around the edge. He looked up at you, his expression a mix of desire and tenderness, but there was something else too—a careful consideration, a need to ensure that you were just as willing as he was.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. The intensity of his gaze held you captive, his eyes searching yours for the reassurance he needed.

For a moment, you were too caught up in the heat of the moment to respond, your heart pounding in your chest. The way he looked at you, with such raw want and yet so much care, made it hard to think clearly. You nodded quickly, your eyes wide with anticipation, but Spencer didn’t move.

His grip on your shirt tightened slightly as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’m going to need you to use your words, sweetheart.”

The way he said it—his voice rough, almost gritted out with barely restrained desire—made your head spin, the sheer force of his need for you sending your pulse into overdrive. There was a command in his tone, but also a gentle reminder that this was your choice, that he needed to hear you say it.

You swallowed hard, your voice catching in your throat as you tried to find the words. The air around you felt thick with tension, every second stretching out as you stared up at him, the look in his eyes making it impossible to deny him—or yourself.

“Ye—yes, please,” you finally managed to say, your voice a little breathless, but full of the same want that you saw reflected in his eyes.

Spencer’s eyes darkened with satisfaction at your response, a small, almost predatory smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he began to lift your shirt. The fabric slid up your torso slowly, the cool air of the room hitting your skin as he revealed more of you. He took his time, savoring the moment, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside.

For a brief moment, you felt exposed, vulnerable under the weight of his gaze. But the way Spencer looked at you, with a mixture of awe and hunger, made all your insecurities melt away. His hands roamed over the newly exposed skin, his touch both soothing and electrifying, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with sincerity and desire, as he leaned in to press a kiss to your collarbone, his lips lingering against your skin.

You had forgone a bra that night, thinking nothing of it when you slipped into your comfy clothes after a long day at work. After all, you hadn’t planned on anything like this happening. But now, with Spencer’s hands on you, his eyes filled with something that looked a lot like awe, you found that you didn’t care in the slightest. If anything, it added to the intimacy of the moment, the rawness of it, making you feel closer to him than you ever thought possible.

His touch was slow, deliberate, almost as if he was savoring every moment, every reaction he elicited from you. His fingers brushed over your skin, exploring you with curiosity and desire, as if he was trying to learn every detail, every response, to what he was doing. When his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, you couldn’t suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips, your body arching towards him instinctively, craving more of his touch.

“Spencer…” you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper, but filled with so much emotion that it felt like a confession. There was something in his name, in the way it rolled off your tongue, that made the moment feel even more intimate, more real. It wasn’t just a name anymore—it was a declaration, an acknowledgment of what was happening between you, of the connection that was quickly forming.

Spencer’s eyes flicked back up to yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race even faster. There was something almost primal in the way he looked at you now, a hunger that was barely restrained, but also a tenderness that made your chest tighten with emotion. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this… how long I’ve wanted you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the sheer weight of them. It wasn’t just lust in his voice—it was something deeper, something that made you feel cherished, desired in a way that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The realization that Spencer had been holding back, that he had wanted you for so long, made your heart swell with emotion, your need for him growing even stronger.

He kissed you again, his lips capturing yours in a way that was both gentle and demanding, his hands continuing their exploration of your body. Each touch, each caress, was filled with passion and care, as if he was trying to show you just how much you meant to him without needing to say the words. And with every kiss, every brush of his fingertips, you found yourself falling deeper into the moment, your own desire for him becoming overwhelming.

You reached up, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel the heat of his body against yours. The way he responded, the way his hands gripped you tighter, as if afraid to let go, made it clear that he was just as lost in the moment as you were. There was no more hesitation, no more awkwardness—just the two of you, finally giving in to the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Spencer’s hands were warm against your skin as he gently laid you back on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he hovered above you. The intensity in his gaze was almost overwhelming, his pupils blown wide with desire, but there was something else there too—curiosity, maybe even a hint of vulnerability. His fingers trailed down your sides, the touch sending shivers through your body as he slowly leaned in, his lips brushing against the soft skin of your chest.

“Tell me, Y/N…” His voice was a low murmur, filled with an edge of something deeper, as he kissed his way down your chest, taking his time, savoring the feel of your skin beneath his lips. “Did you think about me too?”

The question hung in the air, making your breath hitch as you squirmed beneath him, the sensation of his kisses igniting a fire deep within you. Your mind was spinning, every nerve in your body on high alert as you felt his breath ghost over your skin, his lips moving lower, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“I did,” you admitted, your voice a little breathless as the confession slipped out. It was the truth, after all—you had thought about him, more than you ever wanted to admit. The idea of Spencer, sweet, awkward Spencer, being the one to push you to this point had always been a secret fantasy, buried deep within you. But now, with him here, in this moment, it was no longer just a fantasy—it was real.

Spencer’s lips curved into a smirk against your skin as he reached your hip, his teeth nipping playfully at the delicate flesh, making you gasp. The sensation was a mix of pleasure and surprise, and you couldn’t help but arch your back slightly in response. His hands moved to your shorts, his fingers hooking into the waistband as he tugged them down slowly, teasingly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he did.

“That text wasn’t for me though, was it?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he watched your reaction. The smirk on his face was something you’d never seen before—confident, almost cocky, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on you.

You froze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as the realization hit you. You hadn’t expected him to catch on to that detail, but of course he had—Spencer was nothing if not observant. The thought that he knew the text wasn’t meant for him, but was still here, still wanting you, made your pulse quicken even more.

“Uh, no, it wasn’t,” you admitted with a whine, the words slipping out before you could stop them. There was no point in lying—not when he was looking at you like that, his gaze full of heat and understanding. “But I’m glad I sent it to you,” you added quickly, your voice filled with sincerity and a hint of desperation.

Spencer’s smirk softened into a small, almost tender smile as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your navel. “Maybe your subconscious wanted you to,” he suggested, his voice low and smooth, each word making your head spin. The idea made you dizzy, the thought that some part of you had always wanted this, had always wanted him, even if you hadn’t fully realized it until now.

“Uh huh,” you breathed out, your voice floaty and airy, your mind clouded with desire. The sensation of his lips on your skin, his hands on your body, was intoxicating, making it hard to think clearly. All you could focus on was the way he made you feel—alive, wanted, and completely lost in the moment.

Spencer’s fingers continued to work on removing your shorts, sliding them down your legs with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something almost worshipful in the way he touched you, as if he was savoring every second, every inch of skin he revealed.

As he finally discarded your shorts, leaving you completely exposed to him, he took a moment to just look at you, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and admiration. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

The words made your heart swell, a wave of warmth washing over you as you reached out, your fingers tangling in his hair. There was nothing left to hide now, nothing left to hold back. This was exactly where you wanted to be—where you were meant to be.

“Do you always skip out on bras and panties, Y/N?” Spencer’s teasing comment sent a ripple of laughter through you, the sound mingling with the rapid beat of your heart. The playful banter between you only intensified the electric connection that was already sparking between you both. His bite on your inner thigh was both a tease and a promise, igniting a fire that made every nerve in your body come alive.

“N–no, only at home,” you managed to scream out, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The combination of his touch and the vulnerability of the moment made it impossible to hold back any longer.

He chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, echoing softly in the room as his fingers continued to explore your skin. “But you didn’t put any on before coming over?” His tone was light, yet there was an undeniable edge of desire that underpinned his words.

You took a moment to catch your breath, the playful challenge in his eyes urging you to respond. “Are you–are you complaining?” you asked, your voice wavering between breathless laughter and the growing urgency of your emotions.

Spencer shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not at all, although–” His sentence was cut short as your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him fully into you. The sudden, decisive movement left no room for hesitation, and the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, entwined in each other’s embrace.

“Oh my god, Spencer, just shut up,” you laughed, the sound filled with a mixture of amusement and desire. “Put your mouth to use.”

His response was immediate, his lips finding your core with a fervor that matched the intensity of your own longing. The way he ate you out was everything you had been waiting for—passionate, deep, and downright filthy. His hands left their place on your thighs, tracing the contours of your body with a reverence that made you feel both cherished and desired.

As he sunk his mouth deeper, sucking your clit into his mouth, Spencer guided you gently but firmly onto the bed, the softness of the sheets a stark contrast to the heat that radiated between you.

“Spencer,” you moaned, the name slipping out like a sacred vow, sealing the moment between you. His response was a dirty smile, his mouth shining with your juices, making your pulse throb.

He paused for a moment, just enough to look into your eyes, “You’re fucking delicious,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”

As Spencer’s mouth continued to work its magic on your core, a whirlwind of sensations overwhelmed you. Each touch, each stroke of his tongue, sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything but the intense feeling of being completely consumed by him. The way he moved, so skilled yet so attentive to your every reaction, left you breathless, your hands clutching at the sheets as your head swam in a sea of ecstasy.

But amidst the pleasure, a fleeting thought crossed your mind—how close you had come to letting this moment, this incredible opportunity, slip through your fingers. You couldn’t believe that you had almost dismissed the idea of responding to his bold text, that you had almost let fear and hesitation keep you from experiencing this side of Spencer. A side that was confident, passionate, and utterly devoted to your pleasure.

How could you have been so close to missing out on this? On him? Spencer, who had always been there, quiet and thoughtful, had somehow managed to unlock a part of you that you hadn’t even known existed—a part that craved the connection and intimacy he was now offering with every caress of his lips.

You let out a soft moan, your hips arching towards him as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level. The sounds you made only seemed to spur him on, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pulled you closer, his tongue working with a precision that left you teetering on the edge. Every nerve in your body was alive, the world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you, the heat of his breath against your skin.

“Spencer,” you gasped out, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. It wasn’t just the pleasure he was giving you—it was the realization that this was Spencer, the man you had known for so long, who was now showing you a depth of care and passion that you had never imagined.

The way he responded to your every movement, the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed, made you feel cherished in a way that went far beyond the physical. It was as if he was attuned to your very soul, using his touch to communicate something deeper, something that had been building between you for far longer than either of you had realized.

As you felt the tension within you coil tighter and tighter, ready to snap, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easily you had fallen into this moment with him. All the hesitation, the uncertainty, had melted away, leaving only the pure, unfiltered connection between you and Spencer. A connection that had been there all along, waiting for the right moment to be brought to life.

And now that it had, you knew you could never go back to the way things were. Spencer had opened a door to something new, something beautiful, and you were ready to step through it with him, no matter what the future held.

With a final, skillful flick of his tongue over your clit, Spencer sent you tumbling over the edge, your body trembling with the force of your release. The world around you seemed to dissolve into a haze of pleasure and warmth, your mind barely able to process the overwhelming sensations that flooded through you.

As you came down from the high, Spencer’s hands and mouth softened, his touch becoming gentle, almost reverent, as he coaxed you through the aftershocks. When he finally pulled back, he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a sincerity that left no doubt about how much this moment meant to him. He crawled up the bed to join you, his body pressing against yours as he captured your lips in a slow, languid kiss, allowing you to taste the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips.

You smiled against his lips, a sense of contentment and excitement washing over you as you whispered, “I’m glad I’m here too, Spencer. So glad.”

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dollyichi · 15 days ago

Text

A LITTLE MYSTERY NEVER HURT ANYBODY . . . pro-hero katuski bakugou x f ! actress reader. m—dni / fluff / hints of ‘tension’ and maybe suggestive… / established relationship / little smau at the end / not proofread / minors don’t read this !!

despite being a fairly new actress, you were able to catch the attention and hearts of the fans from your recent debut just two years ago. becoming a highly in-demand star, given every project possible just to be seen on the screen. however, you kept a secret. that one secret that could cause a frenzy, that the beloved actress of the nation is dating the one and only pro-hero dynamight.

they all assumed that they definitely knew the both of you are in a relationship… somehow. you had that certain glow and katsuki definitely made it sure that he’s not available. no matter how many fans tried to flirt, no matter how many interviews he’s gone through he says one thing very clear, “got a pretty girl already.” however, nobody knew it was with the two of you together.

countless articles are read about you, how you were overheard with a director from your upcoming series that you wanted to avoid any romantic scenes or a partner in general. which boosted more speculation on your ‘mysterious’ love life.

now, your manager says that she got you booked with a new project. you’ll be in a promotional shoot with a pro-hero for a fashion campaign with an upcoming designer. “that’s fine right? you’d be with someone in the shoot though.” your manager says. you shrug, looking over at the recent line the designer put out.

“it’s fine. no point in declining opportunities right?”

she nods enthusiastically, “that’s the spirit! we were actually surprised the team agreed immediately when they found out it was you. i heard they only accepted solo projects for him.”

you smile, “well whoever it’ll be i’m sure we’ll do great.”

the moment you step foot on the set, you were immediately greeted by the designer themselves. “y/n you’re so beautiful, you’re so perfect for us!”

“thank you for believing in me! please take care of me well.” you bow and was brought to your own dresser. quickly dressed in a silk robe and getting your makeup done. your hair was in curlers, the team taking their sweet time to make sure they enhanced your features for the shoot.

you hear a knock on your door, and you could hear your manager gasp when she opens it. peeking at the mirror with one eye, you see a familiar figure walking towards you, messing with the collar of his shirt.

“hey baby.” voice raspy and hoarse. now everyone in the room was shocked. looking at the two of you. to top it all off, katsuki places a quick kiss to your cheek and getting a stool to sit beside you.

your manager definitely felt like she was gonna faint. she had no idea what this was or when, or even how. everyone else was also in shock and confused, felt like time stopped somehow.

why is he now acting all lovey dovey in public? is what they all, including you, wondered.

“fuck baby you’re looking too pretty.” you giggle, trying to stay in place while the makeup artist adds their finishing touches. “thank you katsuki, no wonder you agreed to this shoot.” you say. the makeup artist finally says you’re done, you were all ready, just needed to change into the outfit.

katsuki was in a fitted velvet button up shirt with low-rise slacks. only the middle section of the shirt was buttoned, and for the first time in your career, your professionalism was definitely getting tested. just a little lower you could probably catch a glimpse of his happy trail. “who allowed you to wear that?” you motion with your head. but before he could answer you’re already turned around, moving behind the divider to dress up.

“aw come on, i know you fuckin’ like it.” he says loudly, then followed by the door closing. suddenly the staff was all on you after you stepped out. complimenting how you looked so good, how you’re going to be the new face of the brand after this. but most especially, the elephant in the room.

“i know everyone’s thinking you have a boyfriend but… dynamight?!”

“where, when, why, and how?”

“i never saw him speak that sweetly to anyone before….”

“i thought it was another celebrity! this is really unexpected.”

lots and lots of questions but they were immediately shut down by your manager who wanted to maximize the time. “we still got a shoot. y/n can tell us the details another time.” she gives you that look that reads ‘you better tell me everything’ and you give her an apologetic smile.

you take a look in the mirror, seeing how you matched with him. in a tight velvet dress that hugged your figure really well, probably a piece from the earlier collections. it’s pretty, the skirt is slanted with peaks of ruffled tulle.

you’re start walking to the set where katsuki was already waiting. “oh our princess! you look amazing.” the designer says, holding his hands to his chest. “i knew you and dynamight would look amazing together, i thank you both really.”

you grab their hands, “i’m really happy you paired me with him too!”

you approach katsuki with a smile, and he’s already grinning at you. “well shit this might be the hardest job i’ve taken yet.” he chuckles, placing a hand on your back to help you on the extravagant set.

you’re shining so bright and in your element that he’s just happy to be there. yet, the whole time he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you, how his hold on you lingered, wanting to touch you even more, even deeper. despite the director giving clear directions that you followed with no fuss, he on the other hand just has to have a hand on you. but it definitely gave an effect on each shot.

katsuki couldn’t help but keep his eyes on you, eyes glimmering with desire. and how you’re looking at him with such a cool glare—it just felt so out of character for the both of you. who’s usually so sweet and him who’s usually so out for reach. “think i need you in this dress when i take you home.” he would whisper. and you’ll playfully hit him on his arm.

when you prepare for the next shot he’d always tell you things that’d rile you up. and when nobody’s paying attention he’d be looking you up and down. “bet you’re even prettier under this fuckin’ dress.”

even in between clothing changes you both looked picture perfect. both complementing each other’s visuals. he’d sneak you out from time to time to get a smooch here and there, resulting in the makeup artists on the set to fix him up because his and your lipsticks would smudge, wondering why he gets messed up all of a sudden.

“you’re so damn pretty baby. too bad the makeup’s gonna get ruined when we get home.”

“stop teasin’ during work kats…”

the last shot had you both seated on the carpet. it was sexy, your hand’s on his bare chest and he’s leaning in towards you with a finger under you chin. the two of you together felt magnetic. it’s so interesting to everyone in that room how the hero who’s usually uncontrollable became so compliant because if you. overall, it just felt too romantic, that petals of roses were somehow seen falling down on the both of you while you posed.

what was most unexpected was how katsuki really enjoyed being in front of a camera, as long as it’s with you (might’ve gotten a few ‘creative’ ideas too). he’s definitely making one of these photos his wallpaper when they upload it.

and the next day, that one shot trended all over the internet. blasted all over the digital billboards in the city too. finally seeing the elegant y/n who seemed to have helped show a new side of the pro-hero to the public.

showering the brand with praises and how much of a ‘genius’ they were for even choosing the two of you as the muses. because it really was just a coincidence that the owner was a fan of you both.

then there goes the online articles, the video complications, the noise that just won’t die down. tweets and photos, even a sudden rise in fanpages. dynamight and y/n, and the public that’s trying to piece every evidences of your interactions. how they were all tricked that your relationship was just under their noses. how in events you’re always seen together, or how your car was spotted in his neighborhood that one time. or when katsuki always keeps saying in interviews that his favorite shows and media always had you in it—main lead or not. the way nobody caught it even when you mentioned that dynamight was one of your favorite heroes. even showing them a small plushie charm that you carried on you hanged on your bag—everyone was stunned.

still, neither of you confirmed anything, yet.

till the moment the official account of the brand posted all the shots of you together, and it was very obvious how the two of you were actually in love, like the head over heels type.

well, the both of you are gonna have more projects together soon for sure.

bonus!

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : i really like this actress au i’m definitely gonna make more 😔🙏 different versions for sure

#bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #ᦾִ⁠❤︎ by cola

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sailortongue · 6 months ago

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Good Luck Charms

pairing: kenji sato x reader

summary: Kenji has misplaced his earrings and refuses to leave without a pair. so you loan him a pair of yours

an: I wrote two blurbs involving his piercings bc I couldn't decide which one I liked more. one where he wears yours (this one) and one where you wear his (here!)

-------

“Hey, baby, have you seen my earrings? I can’t find them,” Kenji called out from the bedroom.

“Have you checked your nightstand?” You asked as you walked into the bedroom to see him looking around frantically for his lost jewelry.

“Twice. I’ve looked all over but I can't remember where I put them. Only that when I put them down I told myself I'd definitely be able to find them there.”

You chuckled, knowing the feeling all too well. “Why don’t you just go without them? I doubt anyone will be looking that closely”

He looked scandalized at the mere suggestion. “I can’t go without them because I’m hotter with my earrings.”

“Kenji, you'd still be hot in a burlap sack. And who exactly do you need to look hot for, hmm?”

He smiled slyly “For you obviously. Can’t let people think my girlfriend has bad taste.” He shot a conspiratorial wink at you.

“Would you like to borrow a pair of mine?” You offered.

He thought about it for a moment before nodding. You walked over to your jewelry box and he sidled up next to you, browsing through your collection. He picked up a pair of chunky hoops—a far cry from his usual studs—and held them up to his ears. “These are definitely the ones,” he joked, mirthful laughter bubbling from his plump lips.

“Oh, for sure,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your words but your giggles from his antics still seeping through.

He set them back down and watched as you dug for a more suitable pair. “What about these?” He asked, pointing to a much more modest pair this time. They were a favorite of yours, ones you wore often. “It'll be like having you there with me,” he said, a soft smile settling on his face.

You melted at his sappy words. How could you possibly tell him no? You gave him permission to wear them, and he excitedly ran to the bathroom to put them in. When he came back out, the small jade studs were secured in his earlobes, the wide grin on his face displaying how pleased he was with his choice.

He walked up to you and leaned down for a kiss. “Thank you,” he said sweetly.

“Consider them good luck charms,” you said. “Now get going before you’re late.”

He swooped in for one more kiss before rushing out of the bedroom to make it to his interview on time.

-❀-

“So, Ken, a lot of your fans, especially the women, seem to be very fond of your jewelry, but they can’t help but notice you don’t wear a ring. Is there any special lady in your life? I'm sure they’d love to know,” the interviewer teased.

Kenji chuckled, knowing that you were without a doubt watching this interview live from the comfort of the living room. “There is,” he replied. He brought his hands up to finger at the delicate jewelry in his ears. “These belong to her actually. She has wonderful taste. I mean, she must if she’s dating me, right?”

-❀-

You heard the crowd laugh at his response, a grin of your own spreading across your face. The show went on a commercial break shortly after, and you decided to get ready for bed while waiting for Kenji’s gorgeous face to once again grace your screen. You entered the bathroom and stood in front of the sink, opening the medicine cabinet to grab your dental floss—but something else caught your eye. Lo and behold, there, on the bottom shelf, were Kenji’s missing earrings.

#kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #ken sato #ken sato x reader #ultraman rising x reader #ultraman rising

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ariestrxsh · 2 months ago

Text

🖤 content warning: 🖤 smut, sneaking around, getting caught, jealousy, daddy kink, praise/degradation, sensory deprivation (blindfold), threesome, oral(m!receiving), unprotected sex, jealous!matt, jealous!chris, sneaky!reader

🖤 summary: 🖤 while exchanging information about their sex lives, matt and chris find out you've been hooking up with them both behind the other's back.

i got this idea from @sturnobessed who had the idea for this plot, and it was also heavily inspired by these two edits ( 1 & 2) that make me cum everytime. okay, enjoy! (also, chat, i think i might be a chratt girl???)

soaked

"Who are you textin'?" Chris collapsed down onto the couch, teasingly nudging his brother Matt, who was smirking down at his phone. "Just a girl I've been talking to," Matt vaguely responded, eyes glued to your text. "Is that code for fucking?" Chris chuckled, nudging him again. "It might be," Matt replied, silently reading the dirty message you'd just sent him:

"In desperate need of your cock. Come over. I'll do that party trick with my mouth that you like so much."

"How long have you guys been talking?" Chris asked his brother, eager to hear more about the girl that had him smiling like that. "A few weeks. It's nothing serious. We're just messing around," Matt shrugged, still gazing down at his phone screen. "I've been talking to a girl for about the same amount of time. She's really fucking hot," Chris bragged. "Can't be hotter than my girl," Matt scoffed.

"She does this thing when she's giving me head," Chris started to say, but then he stopped himself. "Go on. Finish your sentence," Matt perked up, curious to hear what he was going to say. "She just does this thing with she teases the tip with her tongue while she's sucking and bobbing up and down on it. And she'll moan while she does it. It's like, multi-dimensional," Chris relayed, his cock twitching at the thought of it.

"Wait, because my girl does the same exact technique," Matt narrowed his eyes at his brother. "I mean, that's probably common. I don't know. I haven't gotten head from that many people, but I didn't know it was possible for someone to do that many things with their mouth at one time. She calls it her party trick," Chris responded, running his fingers through his hair. His body temperature was rising just thinking about it.

Matt stared intently off into the distance, taking in this familiar information. "Chris, I think we may be fucking the same girl," Matt admitted after a few seconds of silence. "No way. What would even be the odds of that ever happening?" Chris gave the boy to his left a skeptical look.

"On the count of three, say her name," Matt replied, setting down his phone and turning towards his brother. They counted to three in unison, and then at the same time, your name passed through both of their lips. The two of them stared at each other with widening eyes and dropped jaws as it dawned on them that you might have been sleeping with both of them behind the other's back.

"There's only one way to know for sure," Matt said, picking up his cellphone and going to his gallery. "I'll pull up a picture of my girl, and you pull up a picture of yours," Chris suggested, flipping through his camera roll. They placed their phones side-by-side, each clicking on your photo and confirming their suspicions.

"Holy shit, it's the same girl," Matt replied. He felt jealousy coursing through his veins. "I mean, I'm not planning on dating her. Is it weird if we both just keep fucking her?" Chris wondered out loud, laughing. "I have a better idea. What if we confront her?" Matt asked with a twinkle in his eye. This idea piqued Chris' interest. "I'm listening."

"She's texting me right now, practically begging me to go over and do her. What if we both show up?" Matt devilishly grinned at his brother. "Why the fuck is she texting you and not me?" Chris asked, checking to see if the service on his phone was working. "Maybe I just give better dick than you," Matt nonchalantly responded, knowing how to push his brother's buttons.

"Or maybe she's just saving the best for last. You know, asking you to come over first as a warm up before she invites me over later to finish her off," Chris shot back. Matt punched Chris in the arm. Hard. "We'll see about that," Matt muttered. "What do you mean? Are you suggesting we..?" Chris raised an eyebrow at Matt.

"I'm suggesting we make her choose. Have her tell us who fucks her better. She put us in an uncomfortable situation, and now we're going to put her in an uncomfortable situation," Matt shrugged. "Get even. I like it," Chris nodded, impressed by his brother's plan.

"I'm on my way over. Leave your door unlocked. Wear that pretty lingerie set I like. I want you blindfolded and waiting for me when I get there," Matt maliciously texted back.

Matt couldn't help that he was always one step ahead of everyone. He wanted to get back at both of you, at you, for lying to him and at Chris, for his smart mouth.

He drove over to your house, going a bit faster than normal. The entire time he was death gripping the steering wheel and clenching his jaw. Chris sat beside him playing a new Lil Skies song as they cruised through the winding roads and mountains to your place.

"So, what's the game plan?" Chris asked Matt as the two of them pulled into your driveway. "She doesn't know we know yet. I told her to wait up there in her room for me. Blindfolded. Just follow my lead. Let me do the talking," Matt relayed to Chris as they got out of the car and let themselves inside.

Matt held his finger up to his lips as they made their way up the stairs, trying to synchronize their steps as much as possible, so you couldn't distinguish between their two sets of footsteps. Matt rested his hand on the doorknob of your room and began to turn the handle.

"I've been waiting for you," you lustfully responded, laying on your bed with your legs spread while you were in your pink lingerie with a matching blindfold covering your eyes. They both took in the sight, burning your image into their memories.

"Hey, baby. Sorry it took so long. My brother, Chris and I had to clear something up before I could come over," Matt smirked at the way you laid there, unsuspecting. "Oh, yeah? Well I hope you guys got it figured out," you nibbled on your lip, nervous to hear Matt say his brother's name. "Oh, we sure did. You look so pretty, baby," Matt said, wandering over towards you and starting to run his fingers under the pretty fabric of your panties. You let out a soft whine.

"What are you doing?" Chris silently mouthed to Matt with a confused expression. Matt held his finger to his lips again while he gazed into Chris' eyes. "Trust me," Matt silently replied. Chris read his brother's lips, but he couldn't help but be skeptical of him.

"I know you don't like to talk about the other guys you see, and don't get me wrong, we're not official or anything, so I respect that. But wouldn't it be hot if I fucked you in front of one of them and made them watch?" Matt asked you, a malicious smile overcoming his face while he pulled his dick out of his sweatpants.

"Oh, my god. That does sound kind of hot," you whimpered back as Matt pulled your panties to the side and started teasing your hole with his tip. Chris' jaw tightened as he realized what Matt was doing. He was totally cucking him.

"I know you must really like those other guys you entertain, but you must like me the most, huh? Is that why you're always begging me to come over and ruin you?" Matt cooed, sinking into your heat. "Ahhh. Yes, daddy. You treat my pussy so good," you murmured back, adjusting to his thick rod as it stretched you out.

"Tell me I do it the best," Matt replied, glancing up at Chris, who was shocked, angry, and admittedly a little turned on. "You do it the best, daddy. No one could ever fuck me as hard as you," you cried out as Matt started thrusting inside of you. Chris' cock twitched as he listened to you moaning his favorite word to hear during sex, daddy.

"You know. We have a little bit of a problem, sweetheart. Daddy knows you've been naughty," Matt cooed, still picking up the speed as he pounded into you. "Yeah? Have I been a naughty girl?" You wondered in a flirtatious tone, assuming it was all part of the role play.

"You know you have. Why did you lie to me and tell me you've never met my brothers, hmm?" Matt asked in a sweet sounding voice, but his intentions were far from it. You gulped. "I haven't. I've never spoken to Chris," you said defensively, hoping Matt wasn't onto you. "Blowing your cover already. I didn't say which brother. You know, you're not a very good liar," he replied to you.

"I-I'm not lying," you said in a quiet voice. Panic flooded your system. You thought you'd done such a good job at sneaking around with both of them, making sure they'd never crossed paths when leaving and coming to your house.

"I'm not enough for you, huh? You need my brother, too?" Matt smirked, still rocking his hips back and forth. "I don't know why he'd say that," you responded in between moans, still playing dumb. "Yeah? You think he's just jealous or something?" Matt asked.

"Yeah, maybe he's just jealou- oh!" You whimpered as Matt grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him, filling you to the hilt with his length. "If he's never met you, then why does he know about that thing you do with your mouth?" Matt questioned you. "I don't know what you mean," you bluffed.

"Sure, you do. I know how proud you are of that trick. Remember? You used it to make me cum a few days ago? I complimented you on it," Matt grunted. You reached up to peek under your blindfold, but Matt stopped you. "Ah, ah, ah. No peeking," he swatted your hand away. "How does he know about it?" Matt asked again, his voice becoming more stern, envy seeping into his tone.

Your stomach dropped, and you swallowed hard. You decided to double down. "I don't know, daddy. I don't know how he knows," you whined as Matt pumped into you mercilessly. "Well, he seems to know a lot about it, so why don't you ask him?" Matt chuckled.

"Ask him?" You said with a confused inflection. "Yeah. Since you don't know, just ask him yourself," Matt said, removing the blindfold you had wrapped around your head and throwing it back at you. Your gaze immediately met the eyes of the brother you didn't even know was in the room with you yet. "Chris," his name escaped your lips as more of a sultry moan. "Yeah, now you know who he is, don't you? Does he make you cum as hard as I do, baby?" Matt asked, leaning over and grazing your cheek with the back of his hand.

You nervously shifted your glance between both of them. Fuck, you thought to yourself. "I thought I was the only one you called daddy in bed," Chris told you with a twinge of jealousy and hurt in his voice, taking a few steps closer to you.

"So, we don't really appreciate that you've been keeping us both a secret from the other, and we're gonna make you choose. Which one of us do you want more?" Matt wondered, studying your pathetic expression while he hit your sweet spot. "I can't choose," you softly mewled, shaking your head.

"Come on, sweetheart. Just pick one. Who fucks you better, hmm?" Chris asked, coming around to the side of the bed to brush a few stray hairs out of your face. "Yeah. Pick one. Who's it gonna be?" Matt chimed in. "Both of you," you whispered.

"What was that, sweetheart? Speak up," Chris smirked down at your needy expression and started teasing your nipples through your pretty, pink bra. "Both of you," you cried out. "Both of us?" Matt chuckled at how desperate you sounded. "If I can't have you both at the same time, then I don't want either one of you," you said in a bratty tone.

"Yeah, sure. I've had to share my toys with Chris my whole life, and now I have to share my favorite one?" Matt sighed and rolled his eyes. "You really can't pick just one? You know I get jealous easy," Chris peered down at you lustfully, pulling out his throbbing member and sliding it between your lips.

"Yeah. Come on. Don't you know I'm the jealous type, too, baby?" Matt cooed, reaching down and stimulating your clit with his thumb. "Such a greedy little slut. One of us isn't enough to satisfy you, hmm? Open up," Chris demanded, You stuck out your tongue, and Chris began gently tapping the head of his dick against your tastebuds while he reached into your lacy bra and cupped your breast.

"It's okay, baby, you don't have to lie to spare Matt's feelings. I know I make you feel so much better than he ever could," Chris whimpered, running his pink tip along your soft tongue. "I bet Chris has never made you squirt like I did the other night," Matt shot back, digging his fingers into the fleshy insides of your thighs while he rammed into you.

"Who cares if you made her squirt once?" Chris sneered at Matt. "Remember when I made you cum five times in a row last weekend, baby?" Chris turned his attention back to you, sinking more of his length behind your pouty lips. "Five times?! Jesus, Chris. Quality over quantity," Matt ranted.

"Come on, babe. Do that little thing I like," Chris cooed, ignoring his brother and stroking your cheek. You generously bobbed your head while you circled his tip with your tongue, suckling as you did so and moaning against all his sensitive nerve-endings.

You loved the way Chris reacted to your party trick. The way he'd hold eye contact and grip the back of your head while smiling and biting his lip. You relished in the sweet sounds from Chris that filled your ears as a bit of his pre-cum pooled onto your tastebuds.

Matt continued jackhammerimg into you, bringing you to the brink of orgasm. "You don't even have the patience to edge her and make her squirt, do you?" Matt snarked at Chris. "Why the fuck would I wait when I can make her finish over and over?" Chris retorted.

The way they were arguing with one another, fighting over you, and taking verbal jabs at each other made you clench around Matt. Chris grabbed ahold of your hair while you hummed against his cock, and you stared into his beautiful blue eyes.

"Don't fucking look at him. I'm the one making you cum right now," Matt glared at you while you came undone around him. "Maybe I'm just more fun to look at," Chris shot back, giving you a devilish grin. You glanced between them both, unsure of who to give your attention to. You couldn't get enough of either one of them.

Your climax washed over you, trapping you in its riptide and flooding your system with immense waves of pleasure, ebbing and flowing through every inch of you. Soon, you weren't looking at either one of them, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, but both of their mental images played on the insides of your eyelids.

It was happening again. You felt yourself squirt, your fluids spurting all over Matt's rod as the knot in your stomach came unraveled. Your whole body violently shook as you soaked your sheets, and you let out a slew of delighted sounds as you finished.

"See how good I make her feel?" Matt snarked at his brother. "Just wait until it's my turn to make her cream all over my cock," Chris challenged. After your orgasm subsided, you breathlessly shifted your gaze between them again. They each slowed their movements, pulled themselves out of you, and switched places.

"Why don't you clean up the mess you made?" Matt suggested, a double meaning in his words while he shoved his sensitive head between your lips. Chris lined himself up with your entrance and slowly pushed in his tip, letting you get used to him inch by inch. He watched the way he disappeared into your hole, flickering his gaze up at your desperate expression.

He gently rested his hand on your lower stomach and started applying pressure while he was inside of you, deviously smirking up at you while your eyes rolled back once more. Matt sweetly smiled down at you and the way you generously accepted him.

"That's it. Show me that trick again," Matt demanded. You obediently listened, encircling all his favorite nerve endings with your tongue while you sucked on it. You pumped him in and out of your mouth while your lips vibrated against him, and you watched his reaction.

You loved watching him lose his composure, the way his forehead would wrinkle, and the way his jaw would drop. Matt's knees grew weak, and his eyes lost focus as you swirled your tongue around on it. "You're so good at that," he whimpered, savoring the sensation.

"Stop watching him," Chris gently smacked his hand against your face a few times to pull you out of the trance Matt had you in. "Look at me instead," he said with an imperative and dominant tone. Your eyes shot up at Chris, who was burrowed deep inside of you. "Don't listen to him. Look at me," Matt cooed, carressing your face and tilting it further in his direction.

"Matt can fuck off. Listen to me. Look me in the eyes while you cum for me," Chris commanded you, maintaining his stamina and tilting your chin to make you watch him instead. "Shut up, Chris," Matt barked, fucking your face. "You shut up. Let her enjoy how good I make her feel," Chris shot back, his tip getting to all your hard-to-reach places.

An explosive feeling brewed deep within you. You could feel your heat rhythmically clenching around Chris as you reached your climax. Your juices flowed out of you, coating Chris' length in your essence. "One," Chris counted, smirking down at you.

You felt desire burning in your core as he continued pumping in and out of you after he made you finish, coaxing another orgasm out of you. "Two," Chris cooed, mercilessly fucking you harder than before. You lost control of your body, giving into the throes of ecstasy that overtook you. Your legs trembled as you reached your third climax in a row.

"Three," Chris grunted, pumping in and out of your pink hole that was drooling all over his dick. You felt yourself fluttering in and out of consciousness as Chris pulled climax after climax out of you. "Okay, I get the point, Chris," Matt replied. "Get on your fucking knees, you two-timing slut," Chris commanded you.

You obediently fell to your knees in front of them and opened your mouth for them. They both fervently pumped their cocks back and forth while you hungrily waited to swallow their loads.

Simultaneously they each finished onto your tongue, filling your tastebuds with their flavor and moaning in unison as they smirked down at you. You loved the way they looked, towering over you with the pleasure you made them feel engraved into their expressions.

"You really can't choose, huh?" Chris asked, peering down at the mess you were after they were done. You glanced back and forth between them with your big doe eyes as you wiped their cum from the corners of your lips, "I can't. I really mean it."

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king-craftsman · 2 months ago

Text

Gamer Bro

The office was tense as the news of possible layoffs started circulating around. Mark sighed as he sat back down in his seat, he played around with his phone for a short time but ended up throwing it back on his desk. He sat around, switching between nervously tapping his fingers on his desk or biting his nails as he glanced back intermittently at the door of his manager. Things didn’t get any better when he saw his annoying coworker, Jason, his attire barely “formal” and heading towards him with a big grin.

“You okay Mark? What’s going on?” asked Jason, Mark rolled his eyes, he couldn’t even tell if he came back from his lunch break or if he just turned up to work and the last thing he needed was to deal with some obnoxious jock.

“I’m fine, just worried about all the layoffs going around,” answered Mark, it took everything in him not to glare as he saw Jason grin.

“Aw man that sucks, well you look like you need to relax,” suggested Jason. “I recently started this server for me and a few friends, just to talk and play stuff together. Why don’t you join?” Mark wanted to say something, but he just found himself nodding. It wasn’t like he had much to do after work anyway and he did get a new console but hardly found any excuse to use it as opposed to trying to focus on doing more work from home. “Cool! So what do you play on?”

Mark had a feeling the next hour was going to be hell to get through.

Later on after work, he found himself thankful that he still had a job, but wanting to kick himself for agreeing to play with Jason today. He didn’t even take the time to change out of his clothes, still dressed in his office shirt and suit pants as he sat down and switched on his console, toying around with his console and getting used to the controller once again. He cringed slightly as he saw Jason’s invite appear on screen and he put on the headset before joining, hearing Jason’s voice.

“Hey there bro, how are you doing?” came Jason’s voice, Mark saw that there were a couple others that joined the lobby.

“I’m doing okay Jason, thanks,” replied Mark.

“Hey Jason, who’s this?” came a voice almost as obnoxious sounding as Jason’s. Mark wondered why these people sounded the same and as he tried to introduce himself, he was interrupted.

“Oh hey Scott! This is Mark, he’s a friend from work. Yeah, I recently started going gym with him and thought he should hang out with us here,” said Jason. Mark immediately furrowed his brows. He was a pretty healthy guy but he had never gone to the gym or with Jason. “Isn’t that right Mark?

“Uhh…” Mark started, for some reason he found the right words hard to come by as he suddenly grunted at the feeling of his own shirt starting to feel too tight. His own hand began unbuttoning his office shirt, fanning himself as Mark’s torso began to grow more muscular, beginning to spill out of the shirt and causing some of the last buttons to tear themselves off. Mark blinked, unable to process what was happening and feeling like he was in some sort of dream as he looked down at his torso.

His chest pushed out, his upper chest suddenly developing pecs that bounced as they fell forward after their surge of growth, both his nipples enlarging as blonde hairs began to replace his own darker chest hair. The hairs travelled down forming a treasure trail as Mark felt his lower chest suddenly begin to house a set of picturesque six pack abs.

“You okay there Mark?” asked Scott, as a final tear came about as the last of Mark’s office shirt tore away to allow his much larger body to be free as his back started to stretch as he sat up, causing him to grow taller by every second.

“Yeah uhh I just feel-”

“Oh I’m sure he’s fine, probably just stretching. We even went to the gym today, working on biceps,” interrupted Jason. Each part of his torso seemingly bloated as Jason went on and on about their gym routine and Mark simply shrugged his shoulders as his arms were the next to expand, widening as his hands grew to get a firmer grip on the more familiar feeling controller. It felt as if coming home from work or gym to spend time playing with Jason was the norm as Mark’s growing fingers wrapped around the controller and he only just noticed he was mindlessly playing a game with Jason and his buddies. “How are you feeling Mark?”

I feel weird, Mark wanted to say.

“I’m good man,” replied Mark as he felt one hand coming to his crotch, adjusting it as his bulge began growing in his own pants, beginning to feel his calves and thighs threaten to burst his pants.

“Yeah we’ve been working on his quadriceps and stuff too,” assured Jason, Mark kicked off his shoes, almost drooling as his eyes were glazed over and playing the game with no real focus and no attention to his changing body. As his feet began to grow, Mark began to feel all his focus and passion to work and the office shrinking. He found himself still adjusting on his seat as his legs continued to grow more muscular as he scratched at his blonde facial hair that continued to grow and spread around his chiselled jaw. “Mark do you wanna meet at the gym later?”

As Mark stifled a groan from the feeling of his larger throbbing crotch, he felt his changing face. His nose shrank. his eyes blinked and became blue, no longer needing his glasses which he tossed away and his neck thickened to allow a deeper voice to sound out of his thinner and smaller lips.

“Yeah bro that’d be great,” said Mark. He almost sounded exactly like Jason and his friend Scott now as he looked down at himself. “Give me a minute.” The dedicated office worker was now a more relaxed gym bro and as he stepped away to go change into some clothes when he realised he was almost naked except from some tight fitting underwear.

Nonetheless Mark decided not to wear too much, he enjoyed feeling and being able to look down to see his muscular body, and he couldn’t believe it when he thought that he couldn't wait to go to the gym to hang out with his bro.

Click here to read more stories of transformation and hypnosis, all available here.

#male transformation #jock transformation #male tf #himbofication

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dellalyra · 1 year ago

Note

OMG I WAS JUST HAVING BRAINROT ABOUT GOJO AND Y/N IN THEIR TEEN YEARS AND

imagine that back then they had to participate in a talent show or something and megumi and the rest watch the old video tape they found in the darkest corner of the library on campus.

the tape was in a box with a label reading "the best jujutsu tech students' and its just filled with memories of their teen years.

they decide to watch the talent show one and its just chaotic as hell. mid way through megumi, nobara and yuuji get caught watching it lmao

𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨, 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖, 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣! 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴

A/N: this request. came in last night - and it’s all I’ve done today because it was so perfect it’s all I could think about. ur amazing ily

CW: swearing, weed, suggestive stuff, mdni i stg shoo

“Itadori! Bring these to the garbage!” Nobara shouts.

“Why me?! Why can’t you do it?!” He retorts as Megumi just rolls his eyes at the two of them, he wonders how they turned into siblings so easily.

“Fushiguro! Tell your boyfriend to take this to the garbage. It’s heavy and he should use his freaky wall-breaking strength for something useful!” She shouts back.

“Eh?! Is exorcising cursed and carrying you like a sack of flour not useful?! Or always carrying all your dumb shopping?!” They’ve broken into an all out sibling squabble by now, Megumi just turns away and continues the task of clearing out the storeroom behind the dojo in the school. Pushing boxes of old files and reports out of the way, he finds a box covered in doodles and stickers, taped shut at the top. He goes to inspect the very out of place container and finds words among the doodles of weirdly shaped beings and flowers.

‘The Best Jujutsu Tech Students.’

“Will you two shut up for two minutes, come look at this.” He says over his shoulder to the two, with Nobara releasing Yuuji from the headlock she somehow got him in.

“Ancient treasure! I told you we’d find something cool.” Yuuji shouts, pumping his fist into the air.

“What is this, Pirates of the Caribbean?! We’re clearing out a high school storage room, dumbass.” The girls rolls her eyes.

They inspect the box, trying to figure out the doodles.

“It doesn’t look super old? Open it, Itadori.” Nobara says.

“Will you quit telling me what to do?!” He says, huffing.

While they resumed the bickering, Megumi took a knife he had hidden in the shadows and sliced through the lines of tape holding the box together. The sound alerted the other two who peered into the box alongside him.

“Wait, are they… DVD’s?” Megumi asks.

“Yeah - but they’re homemade ones. Is there a label on them?” His boyfriend says, leaning in to get a closer looks.

The box itself was filled with small DVD cases of many colours - all labelled in a scrawling handwriting the kids felt like they knew.

“There’s a DVD player in the room where I hung out when I was dead.” Yuuji says, and hauls the box up and begins to walk. None of them even needed to discuss whether or not they’d be watching them, like a hive mind - but with maybe two shared brain cells.

They all made their way across campus, to a room in the same building as their Sensei’s office.

Nobara insisted on grabbing snacks from the vending machine en route, and they sat down on the sofa while Yuuji loaded the first date labelled ‘2003, December.” Well, that’s what they think it’s said. The handwriting was such a chicken scratch it almost looked like a doctor’s unintelligible writing.

The screen came to life - sounds buzzing and voices echoing (albeit muffled) as the screen panned from looking at the floor - to the sky, the the floor again. Then - a face came on screen.

A very familiar one - but… a hell of a lot younger.

“Wait… is that -?” Nobara asks.

“Shoko-sensei?!” Yuuji exclaims.

“That’s kinda how she looked when I was a kid. She’s in her uniform, so this must be when she was in school.” Megumi adds.

The camera pulls away from the close up on her face as another figure enters the shot - a man with odd bangs, silky black hair tied up into a bun and piercing dark eyes. He had a lazy smile in his face as he looked into the camera, poking a finger into Shoko’s cheek.

“What the fuck, Suguru?!” She says as she flicks his hand away.

“That’s - that’s Geto Suguru.” Megumi says. Geto had always been a bittersweet topic in their house, only getting worse in the last year and a half since… since he died.

The next action causes a gasp to echo across the room. A smiling face pops up between both figures.

Dark, circular sunglasses perched on a slim, pale nose and a wide, toothy, cheeky smile sat under a mop of shocking white, messy hair.

“Holy shit! That’s -” Yuuji starts.

“Dad.” Megumi whispers, seeing Satoru so young, probably around his age was amazing to him.

“Wow! It’s working! Is it on? Is it filming?” 16 year old Gojo says, voice eerily familiar, but much younger.

The three faces were all staring into the lens of the camera, only visible from the shoulders up. On screen, Shoko looked down and moved her arm and another head popped up from the bottom of the screen, trying to squeeze in.

The head of H/C hair and shiny eyes wiggled their way into the shot between Suguru and Shoko, and under Satoru.

“Did you say it’s on? It on recording right now?” The new figure pokes the camera.

“No fucking way… Fushiguro! That’s -” Nobara says, swirling to look at the taller boy.

“My mom.” He says, eyes fixed on screen. Your face was younger, hair the same as ever, eyes still full of excitement and curiosity and voice slightly higher than it is now. A hand pats the top of your head, a pale one - Satoru.

“Do a dance for the camera, Y/N.” Satoru says, smiling.

And you do a little wiggle in your spot squeezed between everyone as the other three burst out laughing.

The camera cuts off, and the screen changes to a view of the outside - all of them immediately recognising the training field.

In view is Geto and Gojo, sparring at such a ridiculously quick speed it’s barely visible. He could hear giggling behind the screen and recognised the voices of you and Shoko laughing about something that happened in class.

“They’re such show offs.” Your voice says.

“Geto genuinely wants to train, Gojo is just trying to impress you.” Shoko says, voice muffled by something - which he later sees as a lollipop, figuring it out when it gets launched across the field - presumably in retaliation for her comment by you.

“No way, Koko! That’s just dumb, he’s just a show off in general.” Your voice echoes.

“Whatever you say, Y/N.”

The camera cuts off again. The next thing they see is the night sky, and raucous laughter. The camera is being held by Shoko again, and she points it to a view of a rooftop - the flat part of the roof of the dorm building. The camera turns to one Suguru Geto, eyes hazy and smile even more languid than normal. In his hand was a smoking object - which he passed to Shoko.

They were both laughing together about Shoko saying she could see a constellation shaped like a penis, and the hysterical giggles and she rested her head on the boys shoulder told them that the joint in Shoko’s hand was very much affecting them.

There were clambering sounds.

“I can’t reach!” Came your voice, distant and off screen.

“C’mere shortstack, I’ll give you a boost.” The teasing lilt of Gojo’s voice came after.

“Thanks, Jack the Beanstalk.” Your retort sent the two original stars into another round of laughter before you and Gojo enter the frame, both holding a plastic bag of snacks.

Shoko gives you the joint as you sit, and you take a quick puff and pass it back to Suguru. Satoru declines it, saying it makes his eyes feel funny to which you all nod and say ‘makes sense’.

“Did you get me spicy chips?” Suguru asks, combing through the bags.

“Yes. But - you had to tell me you love me to get them.” Satoru says, smirking.

“Gojo Satoru - you are the light of my life, the centre of my world, the reason my heart beats, please, May I have my child you absolute fuckwad.” He says, as Satoru throws his head back laughing and throws a red bag of chips at him before tackling him to the ground demanding a kiss.

You laugh at the scene, turning to Shoko.

“See - that’s how Geto has at least one date every weekend.” You say, opening your chocolate.

“Man-whore.” She responds, sucking on a lollipop.

The screen flashes black. The same view is on the screen, but the atmosphere is much calmer. Suguru lay, head on Shoko’s lap and her deft fingers carding through his hair as he listens to whatever nonsense Gojo is spouting. The camera turns to a view that has Nobara and Yuuji cooing. Satoru is sitting, arm around your back to keep you upright with your head on his shoulder, eyes closed and clearly sleeping.

Suguru’s voice whispers into the camera.

“And these two say they’re not into each other.” Followed by a scoff from Shoko.

Next up is a view of the training field again, with a sight that made the three current first years laugh. Suguru was laying on the grass, and he was bench pressing you - his makeshift weight - as you lay relaxed horizontally reading a book, the casual nature made it clear this was a daily occurrence.

Once his reps are finished, he gently lets you down and you don’t even react, just laying on the grass continuing your book. He stands up and waves to Shoko, who he’s just noticed with her camera and proceeds to take off his shirt and let down his hair.

“Put your damn shirt back on!” Shoko shouts.

“God damn, maybe I should be a curse user.” Nobara utters, whistling and fanning herself.

The camera is next held up by Satoru - who smiles and puts a finger to his lips to symbolise silence, for some reason, like the camera would be unexpectedly loud. He turns the camera and in the backseat of a car is Shoko and you, both asleep and earphones split between you with a bright pink iPod on Shoko’s lap. Her head was resting in the crook of your neck, and you cheek rested on top of your head.

“They really have always been best friends, haven’t they?” Yuuji says. Megumi is reminded of last week, when Nobara and Yuuji fell asleep in the back of Ijichi’s car, in the exact same position.

The camera operator is back to Shoko now, who is filming the most beautiful scenery. Sakura petals are drifting through the air as throngs of people wander around what appears to be a festival. There’s food stalls and trinket stands and everyone around is in their finery.

“Suguru! Show the camera your best pose.” Shoko says, as Suguru appears on screen decked out in a black and grey kimono with his hair in a half up, half down style.

He throws a peace sign at the camera and then takes it so he can film Shoko who’s in a pretty red Yukata pattered with black and white koi. She smiles and then waves as she looks off camera.

“You’re late, Satoru. Where’s Y/N?” She says as Gojo comes on screen.

He’s wearing a dark blue and silver hakama which looks like it cost the same as a house, Suguru wolf whistles and Satoru pretends to fawn over him.

“She was having lunch with her mom, she’s probably going to be here - holy shit.” Satoru says, but cuts himself off halfway as his jaw drops open.

The camera pans messily as Suguru turns to where Satoru is looking.

You’re walking toward them, smile on your face and usually messy hair styled in a beautiful updo, make up making your skin glow in the afternoon sun. You were wearing a light pink, billowy, gauzy hanfu with tiny pale green flowers and leaves around the edges. You did truly look incredibly stunning. You had a little bag in your hand, and the camera flew back to look at Satoru who was gaping at your approaching figure. His usually pale skin flushed with a pink dusting.

His mouth moves, and it seems unconscious when he whispers to himself.

“Beautiful…”

You walk into the frame, smiling brightly and hugging Shoko and then freezing when you see Satoru, eyes widening at the strikingly handsome figure he makes, every inch a fairytale Prince. The pink on your cheek matches your outfit as you stammer out a breathy,

“Hi, Satoru.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He says, mouthing opening and closing as you look at him through fluttering lashes.

There’s a jolt as it seems Suguru holding the camera elbows his best friend and whispers in his ear, just audible to the camera.

“Bro, tell her she looks beautiful, damn it.”

“You… you look um - beautiful, Y/N.” He stammers out, and the three first years watching laugh at how their oh-so-smooth sensei was once such a mess he needed prompting to flirt from his friends.

You flush even deeper.

“Thank you, Satoru. You look really good too. The um… the blue really suits you. The restaurant I had lunch with my mom had Sakura mochi, so I - I got you some.” You say as you shove a small nicely wrapped box at him and Satoru seems to melt. Shoko appears on screen, making a circle with one hand and poking a finger through it repeatedly in a very lewd gesture that has Suguru cackling.

“Wait - they’re not even together yet. They didn’t get together until the end of their second year.” Megumi muses, smirking.

“So they’ve always been this whipped for each other.” Nobara laughs.

The DVD ends there, and Yuuji jumps up to put in the next one, labelled ‘second year’.

The video begins with you sprinting toward Shoko and her catching you in her arms.

“I missed you so much! A whole summer without you, it was torture. How was the medical camp?” You ask her, barely taking a breath between words.

“Did you not miss me, lil’ lady?” Came a smooth voice as one Geto Suguru wraps his arms around you too, and you squeal in excitement. The three standing are then abruptly tackled to the ground as a blur of white and black whizzes toward them.

“Satoru!” Came three scolding voices.

“How the fuck did you do that, you lanky - oh.” Shoko is stopped abruptly as they all stand up and the change in Satoru is clearly visible. Long gone is the beanstalk boy of their first year, all arms and legs at 16 and now at almost 18 - a broad shouldered, 6ft 3, sharper jawline and longer hair Gojo stands before them. You look like you might faint.

The video stops and then resumes looking at a very familiar blackboard, and a much younger Yaga beside it.

In front of the blackboard there’s two students in Jujutsu High uniforms - both in party hats and standing under a banners with ‘Welcome First Years!’ written in big bubble writing on it, the sounds of streamers and party poppers came through the room as the camera was set down on a desk.

Gojo comes on screen and waves his arms as if to show off the two students. One looked incredibly happy, a beaming smile full of excitement and the other looking absolutely miserable, but given how painfully 2005 emo he looked - it wasn’t surprising. Megumi smirked, seeing the blond boy on screen and knowing exactly who it was from photo albums you kept - but he waited to see when the other two would notice.

“Welcome to Yu Haibara! Please - introduce yourself!” Gojo says, pointing a bottle of cola at him like a microphone.

“Hi! I’m Yu! I’m 16 and I like rice and people!” He says, voice full of enthusiasm.

“Thank you! Next up, Gerard Way!” Satoru smiles and point the mock microphone to the other boy.

“Do I have to? This feels unnecessary.” He says, grimacing.

“Yes! You do!”

“Fine. My name is Nanami Kento -”

Megumi didn’t hear the rest of the sentence as a chorus of ‘What the fuck!?’ Echoes from the two beside him.

“Nobara, rewind that - I think I heard it wrong, I thought the emo kid said his name was Nanami, hah!” Yuuji exclaims.

“No need. You heard right.” Megumi smirks.

“No fucking way! That’s Nanamin?!” Yuuji is smiling so wide at the sight of his mentor as a moody teen.

“Yup. I remember his hair like that, he had a lip ring and a nose ring too. Geto Suguru pierced his nose with Shoko’s med kit for him when they drank too much whiskey at my mom’s 18th. There’s a picture of them doing it framed in their room at home.” Megumi scoffs a laugh, the other two in shock at the revelation.

The camera stops again and next time is looking from an upstairs window as voices whisper.

“What is she doing?” Shoko asks.

“It looks like she’s talking?” Geto asks.

“There’s a tiny spike in her cursed energy - wait, I’ll try see if there’s someone around.” He says and the clink of his sunglasses hitting the windowsill breaks the quiet.

On screen, there’s you in a pair of fluffy blue pyjamas and a winter knitted hat as you seem to be kneeling and ushering something small out of a bush. Satoru seems to have gotten distracted and the camera pans to him - who’s just staring out the window with the most dopey, lovestruck smile on his face.

“Satoru.” Suguru says, flicking his ear.

He snarls, but blushes.

“I - I can’t tell but, it kinda seems like? She is trying to talk to something.” He says, as they all crane their necks as you pull something into your arms and stand up, taking off your hat and tucking whatever you found into it and scurrying back inside.

An obnoxious ringtone of crazy frog blasts through the room and Satoru flips open his phone and answers it.

Since it’s you, he puts it on speaker.

“Hey, Satoru - are you still at the store? I - kinda need something, urgently.” Your voice asks.

“Eh - yeah, I’m at the store. What do you need?” He says, trying to hush the two sniggering traitors beside him who are fully aware that he came back from the store an hour ago and is sitting in Suguru’s dorm with them.

“I - um, I need kitten milk.” Your voice says, just as the camera cuts off.

The next few videos are just videos on videos on you and a tiny, tiny kitten, feeding it from a small bottle and it sleeping on your chest, or Satoru playing with it and a ball of wool in hysterical laughter. One video is taken by Shoko with Suguru in the frame playing with the kitten who is trying to catch his bangs and on the sofa, is you sitting on Satoru’s lap, as he looks at you adoringly and you giggle and place a kiss on his lips. Given that it’s about 3/4 of the way through your second year, it means you’re freshly together after torturing your friends with mutual pining.

Megumi looks closer at the kitten, and the tabby is very recognisable to him - given that to this day, the hairs of that kitten, now 13 years old and still thriving due to your unwavering spoiling, still decorate any black fabric in your home.

“Is that baby grumpy George?!” Nobara asks, hitting the nail on the head.

The video fades again, and then the screen is illuminated by a makeshift stage in the school sports hall. Another large banner is on the wall, with ‘Talent Show’ written in large writing, Megumi now noticed the big bubble writing was the same as had been on every ‘happy birthday’ banner he’d had every year.

The announcer, he recognises as a smiling principal Yaga - even though this is surely not a school organised or endorsed event, but probably the work of the couple he now calls his parents.

“Welcome to Jujutsu Talent Show! The rules of tonight are as follows a) no cursed techniques or cursed energy and absolutely no sabotaging! Panda! Do you want to say who’s going first?” Yaga announced as he lifts up a baby panda and the voice of the baby says “Nanami and Yu!”.

Yu skips on stage, decked out in a cape patterned with stars and a large top hat, followed by a very sullen Nanami Kento, adorned with a nose and lip ring now.

“Ladies, gentlemen, cursed corpses! My name is Yu the Magic Man and this is my assistant, the Fantastical Nanamin! Does anyone here like rabbits?” He announced, and takes off his hat, revealing a stuffed rabbit on his head - commencing the world’s worst magic show. The highlight was definitely Yu asking Nanami to pull the scarf from his sleeve and after pulling and pulling and pulling, a very frustrated Kento growls ‘Fucking hell, Yu - how long is this thing?’ Completely breaking what little mysticism surrounded the performance. Geto didn’t help, when he muttered ‘that’s what she said’ after Nanami’s complaint, setting the second years off.

After a bow to his rapt audience, and lots of cheering and supportive clapping from you all - the first years leave and Yaga announces the next performance.

A loud bang echoes through the room,

“Holy shit!” Your voice, the 28 year old you, carries through the room as three heads spin around to see their sensei’s back, arms supporting the thighs around his waist, belonging to his wife who’s lipstick is smudged across her cheek and her husband’s face. The white haired man’s white shirt was partially unbuttoned and your sweater had fallen completely off you shoulder - combined with the position you entered the room and the ruined cosmetics it was quite clear why the teachers had stumbled into this forgotten room of jujutsu tech.

“Get a fucking room.” Megumi grumbles.

“We were! But you’re here! And just for that I’m gonna tell you that the sofa you’re sitting on was where Akio was conceived.” Gojo retorts, trying to fix himself as all the kids groan.

“Both of you, hush. ‘Toru - look at the screen.” You were transfixed on the paused screen.

“Wait! Is that - that’s our talent show! From second year! Where did you guys find this?” Satoru says, leaping over the back of the sofa and plopping down but not before turning around and picking you up by the waist and sitting you in his lap.

“I thought all the DVD’s were lost! Koko couldn’t find them after we graduated!” You say, as you keep staring at the screen.

“We were clearing out the storage room, like Ijichi asked and we found a funky box with DVD’s in it.” Yuuji says.

“Oh my god! Press play!” You say, clapping.

“Look at angry Nanamin!” Gojo says, smiling.

“Next up is Y/N and Shoko!” Screen Yaga announces.

You and Shoko are dressed in the most colourful outfits ever, you’re beaming and Shoko looks exhausted. Large headbands, crimped hair, tutu skirts, leggings, neon leg warmers and beads were the costume of choice as Geto stood on one side of the stage.

“Welcome to - Y/N and Shoko’s dance bonanza!” You both say, and Geto presses play so that Girl’s Just Wanna Have Fun plays to match the 80s Cyndi Lauper style outfits. Having danced ballet as a little girl, and being a big fan of Just Dance and Dance Dance Revolution - you decided that you and Shoko would do this for the show, exhausted and unenthusiastic - but endlessly loyal to her best friend and determined to not let Gojo win the show. You guys danced a perfectly in sync routine with 28 year old you shouting ‘Oh my god, I still remember the routine!’ Halfway through. Yuuji was hopping along on the sofa beside Megumi.

Before Shoko could collapse into a heap as the song finished, she was thrown over Suguru’s shoulder and hauled off stage with Gojo doing the same for you.

After a brief intermission, Geto and Gojo were welcomed on stage in matching black tuxedo’s, off camera your voice could be heard saying ‘ugh, I’m gonna climb that man like a tree later, suits are the best.’

“Ladies, gents - tonight welcome to The GS squared stand up comedy show, enjoy your night and Geto’s number is available after the show.” Gojo drawls into the mic.

Megumi didn’t expect the routine to be as funny as it was, everyone especially enjoyed the part where they did impressions of different Jujutsu Elders, including Naobito Zen’in and Principal Gakuganji - which were unnervingly accurate but highly offensive to them, especially when Gojo got on his knees to imitate how short the elder Kyoto principal was and Geto kept playing Looney Tunes on the projector to show Naobito’s ‘cursed technique’.

When the audience were thoroughly hysterically laughing, with the audience being Yaga, MeiMei, Panda, Y/N, Shoko, Yu, Kento and Utahime who was visiting Shoko for the weekend, the boys bowed, winked and walked off stage and the camera caught Gojo bending down to whisper something in his ear which had you looking at the sky and blushing - still getting used to openly loving each other.

The voting wasn’t recorded, but the winners announcement was and it was shown to be Yu and Nanami - who everyone, except for themselves had voted for.

“Oh my god, these are priceless! I can’t believe I got even funnier with age, and look at your cute little outfit, princess!” Satoru coos.

“There’s a whole box of them, we’ve only watched 2!” Yuuji says, bouncing and handing the box to you and Satoru.

“No way, it’s the whole box! I remember decorating it with Koko! Hold on, I’m gonna ring her to come here.” You say as you take out your phone, smiling at the lockscreen of Satoru, Megumi and your 6 month old son and pulling up Shoko’s contact to ring her to ‘get her ass down here for a surprise’.

“Oh, ‘toru! I bet our DVD of our trip together to Fiji in the summer of third year, Shoko lent us her came for it!” You say, wrapping your arms around him and settling in while Yuuji loads the next DVD.

“Classes are cancelled, I’ve decided it’s home movie day - do we have any popcorn?” Satoru says, smiling at how fondly Megumi is looking at the screen, a still pause screen of himself and you smiling in the training yard together - still looking as lovingly at each other 13 years later. Yuuji has his arm wrapped and Megumi’s shoulders and is leaning into him, as the dark haired boy rubs circles on his boyfriend’s knee - Nobara has her legs stretched across the laps of both boys as the newest video begins.

The door swings open, Shoko entering -

“No fucking way! You found them! Kids, move up - let Aunty Koko sit.” She says, plopping herself between the arm and her two best friends, her nephew and their bonus kids.

She’s glad she bought that camera.

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #anime #family formations extras #dad!gojo

4K notes · View notes

solxamber · 3 months ago

Text

Coughing up Love - Idia Shroud x reader

You don't think much of it when Idia starts acting weird because let's be real, that seems to be his default around you. Wait are those flowers he's coughing up?

There’s something odd about Idia lately. He’s acting weird—well, weirder than usual, and that’s saying a lot for someone who’s mastered the art of avoiding people for weeks at a time. It’s subtle at first. His normally snarky, rapid-fire commentary seems more hesitant, his usual screen-lit complexion a bit paler, and he’s excusing himself mid-game way more often than usual.

And, most bizarre of all, every time you hang out, he always seems to keep something in his mouth. Gum, candy, or, more suspiciously, a fist pressed against his lips like he’s hiding something. You know Idia— he's socially awkward, sure, but when it’s just the two of you gaming or chatting, he’s rarely this strange.

Today, the two of you are halfway through an intense raid when he suddenly stands up, his chair creaking violently as he jerks upward.

“Pause! Time out, emergency bathroom break,” he blurts out, yanking his headset off with lightning speed and scrambling for the door.

You frown, watching his character get obliterated on screen. “Dude, you could’ve at least—”

“BRB!” he shouts, voice trailing off as he disappears into the hall. He’s gone in a flash, leaving you blinking at the door, wondering what just happened.

But that’s not the first time, nor will it be the last. Over the next few days, Idia pulls more disappearing acts than a badly programmed NPC. Mid-conversation? Poof, gone. Halfway through a snack? Vanished.

It takes a while, but eventually, the pieces staet to click together. You catch him out of the corner of your eye, face flushed pink, a hand pressed firmly to his mouth as he stifles a coughing fit during one of your game nights. At first, you’re concerned—it’s not like him to get sick, not seriously anyway. You suggest getting him medicine or a trip to the infirmary, but Idia adamantly waves it off.

“I-it’s nothing!” he stammers, trying to hold it together while choking down the coughs. “Just, uh, allergies! Y’know, dust and stuff. Old consoles… gotta, uh, clean them more…”

Suspicious. Old consoles? In Ignihyde? Yeah, right. You narrow your eyes, but drop the subject—at least for now. It’s not until later, when you see something float from his mouth—something blue and oddly petal-like—that you realize what’s happening.

You’ve heard of Hanahaki before. It’s practically a meme among some circles—an outdated trope, really. People coughing up flowers because of unrequited love? What is this, a 2000s anime fanfic? But now, watching a crumpled blue petal fall to the floor in slow motion, you realize that your very own shut-in gamer might be the rare exception to the rule.

The worst part? He’s really, really bad at hiding it.

A few days later, you invite him to hang out at Ramshackle, hoping the quiet environment will calm whatever’s been causing his weird behavior. Things seem fine at first—until you notice him coughing into his sleeve again.

This time, he has a backup plan.

“Are you okay?” you ask, brow raised as he muffles yet another cough.

“Yeah, totally! Just, um…” He rifles through his bag and pulls out a—oh dear sevens, is that a mask?

You can’t help it—you burst out laughing. “You’re… you’re seriously wearing a mask now?”

“It’s for—” He coughs violently again, eyes darting around as if looking for an escape. “For, uh, germs! You know, flu season! Gotta… gotta be prepared…”

You squint at him. “We’re indoors. And it’s summer.”

“Exactly!” he says, as if that makes sense. “The germs are, like, in the air! Sneaky buggers!”

The mask stays on for the rest of the evening, and every time you glance at him, you see his eyes flick away like he’s hiding something worse than a little cough.

His next attempt is, frankly, genius in its stupidity. You’re in his dorm, playing a co-op game, when the inevitable happens: he starts hacking up petals. At first, he plays it off with a hurried gulp of water, but soon the coughing becomes too much. With a gasp, he fumbles for something on his desk—a box of tissues? No, it’s a full-on dust mask this time.

“Idia, what the fu—”

“Pro-gamer tip,” he interrupts, voice muffled behind the mask. “Always be prepared for, uh… dust allergies! It’s, uh, a top-tier strat. Totally not s-suspicious.”

Dust? When he has Ortho making sure that he doesn’t perish? You stare, absolutely dumbfounded. “I’m starting to think you’re more allergic to honesty than dust.”

He laughs—well, tries to. It comes out as a garbled mix of coughing and awkward chuckles. “W-what are you talking about? I’m fine! Really!”

“Fine?” You raise an eyebrow, watching as more petals spill out of his sleeve. “You’re literally falling apart, dude.”

At this, his face burns bright pink, and his hair flares up, turning from it's usual blue to a mortified rosy hue. “N-no I’m not!” he protests weakly. “J-just a little springtime cold, that’s all.”

“Yeah, sure,” you say, crossing your arms. “Because spring colds definitely involve coughing up whole bouquets.”

There’s a brief pause as you both stare at the mess of petals on the floor. Idia winces, clearly defeated, and slumps back into his chair.

“...Crap.”

The look of his face tells you to let it go and you do, believing that it'll probably resolve itself. You weren't from this world, maybe it was common here and you were the one that's overreacting?

After another week of weird excuses, mask-related antics, and watching him suffer through increasingly ridiculous attempts to hide his Hanahaki, you’ve had enough. You’re going to get to the bottom of this once and for all.

You catch him mid-cough during one of his solo raids, bursting into his room without warning. Idia practically jumps out of his seat, slamming the pause button and whirling around with wide eyes.

“W-what are you doing here!?” he yelps, trying (and failing) to hide the petals littering his desk. “I—uh—this isn’t what it looks like!”

“Really? Because it looks like you’ve been coughing up whole flowers,” you say, deadpan, as you point to the pile of blue petals strewn across his keyboard. “Seriously, Idia. What’s going on?”

He freezes. For a moment, the room is deadly silent—except for the faint sound of digital gunfire in the background. His face, already pale, turns ghostly white, and his flames flicker pink in embarrassment.

“I…” He stammers, looking everywhere but at you. “I didn’t… It’s not…”

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Spit it out. Or should I say, ‘cough it out?’”

It’s the worst joke you’ve ever made, and yet, somehow, it breaks the tension. Idia lets out a wheezing, awkward laugh, though it quickly dissolves into another coughing fit. This time, he doesn’t even try to hide it—just pulls his knees up to his chest and buries his face in his arms, defeated.

“I’m such a loser,” he mumbles, voice muffled. “I thought maybe… maybe if I ignored it, it’d just go away. Y’know, like a glitch or something.”

Your heart clenches at the sight of him, all curled up and vulnerable. It’s so unlike the cocky, trash-talking gamer you’ve come to know. You crouch down beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Idia,” you say softly, “you’re not a loser.”

He peeks out from behind his arms, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Y-yeah, right. I’m just the guy who gets Hanahaki because I can’t even confess like a normal person.”

You blink. “Wait—Hanahaki? Like actually?”

You did not expect that. You expected it to be some weird disease that was native to twisted wonderland and not actually Hanahaki of all things.

Idia winces, his hair turning a bright shade of pink as he realizes what he’s just admitted. He looks away, fiddling nervously with the edge of his sleeve. “...Yeah. It’s stupid, I know.”

For a moment, you’re speechless. All those strange behaviors, the coughing, the flowers—it all makes sense now. He’s got Hanahaki, and he’s been trying to hide it because…

“Idia…” you whisper, heart pounding. “You love me?”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his whole body trembling. “I-I mean, i-it’s not like I expect you to feel the same! I know I’m not, like, Vil-level handsome or anything. I just… didn’t want to ruin things.”

You feel a warmth spreading through your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Idia goes completely still. His hair flares up, a brilliant pink, as he slowly opens his eyes in disbelief.

“Y-you…” he stammers, voice barely a whisper.

You smile softly. “I love you too, you dork.”

For a second, he just stares at you, as if he can’t quite process what you’ve said. Then, with a choked sob, he flings himself into your arms, burying his face in your shoulder as the last of the petals fall away.

“I’m such an idiot,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of relief in his voice. His arms tighten around you, and you can feel the rapid thumping of his heart against your chest.

"You’re not an idiot," you murmur, gently running your fingers through his hair. The flames have cooled down to a soft, warm pink, flickering faintly in the dim light of the room. "And you don’t need to be Vil-level handsome. You’re just you, and that’s more than enough."

Idia snorts, though it’s more out of disbelief than amusement. "Yeah, right. I’m just the weirdo who plays video games all day and coughs up flowers. Super attractive."

You pull back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes. "Hey, I don’t care about that. Do you think I’d be hanging out with you all the time if I didn’t like you? I’m here because I care about you, Idia."

For a moment, Idia just stares at you, his mouth slightly open like he’s trying to come up with some kind of retort, but nothing comes out. He looks… overwhelmed, his usual sarcastic defense mechanisms short-circuiting under the weight of your words. His eyes dart away, then back to you, and finally, with a shaky breath, he mutters, "I don’t get it… Why me?"

You smile, brushing a stray petal from his hair. "Because you’re kind, even if you don’t realize it. You’re funny, you make me laugh all the time—even when you’re not trying. And you’re smart, way smarter than you give yourself credit for. I like being with you, Idia. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t."

His face flushes a deeper pink, his flames flickering erratically as he shifts nervously in your arms. "I-I… I don’t know what to say…" he stammers, his voice cracking slightly. "I thought for sure you’d think I was a weirdo or something."

You chuckle softly, resting your forehead against his. "Well, you’re my weirdo, then."

That earns a shaky laugh from him, though it quickly turns into another coughing fit. You gently rub his back as he coughs, but this time, instead of petals, there’s just the sound of his breath gradually evening out. He looks at you, wide-eyed, as if expecting to see more flowers—more proof of his self-doubt.

But the petals are gone. The weight that’s been crushing his chest, suffocating him with every breath, has finally lifted.

Idia stares at you for a long moment, his expression softening as the reality of the situation settles in. His arms loosen around you, but he doesn’t pull away—he stays close, resting his head on your shoulder with a sigh that’s both relieved and exhausted.

"Does this mean…" He hesitates, his voice barely above a whisper. "Does this mean we’re… together now?"

You grin, tilting his chin up so he has no choice but to meet your gaze. "If you want us to be."

Idia’s face erupts into a brilliant shade of pink, and for a moment, you think his face might actually catch fire. He quickly looks away, fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt, but there’s a small, shy smile playing on his lips.

"I-I guess that’d be… kinda nice," he mumbles, almost inaudible.

You laugh softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. "It’s more than nice, Idia. It’s perfect."

For the first time since you’ve known him, Idia doesn’t argue. He doesn’t self-deprecate or brush off your words with sarcasm. Instead, he lets out a soft, content sigh, resting his head against you again, his flames warm and steady.

"Yeah," he whispers, his voice filled with quiet relief. "I think it is."

And for once, Idia Shroud—the boy who always felt like he didn’t deserve happiness—finally lets himself believe it.

You stay like that for a while, curled up together in the quiet of his room, the low hum of his gaming console filling the background. It’s peaceful in a way you never expected with Idia, who’s usually so frantic and anxious. But now, with the weight of unspoken feelings finally lifted, he’s calm. Happy, even.

After a long moment, he pulls back slightly, glancing at the screen. "Uh… w-we left the raid halfway through," he mumbles, as if the thought had just occurred to him. "My bad. We probably wiped the whole party by now."

You laugh, ruffling his hair. "I think they’ll survive without us for a bit. But we can jump back in if you’re up for it."

Idia hesitates for a second, then shakes his head. "Nah… I’d rather just… stay here. With you."

The admission is so soft, so vulnerable, that it makes your heart ache in the best possible way. You smile, pulling him close again, and this time, he doesn’t flinch or make any excuses. He just rests his head on your shoulder, his pink flames flickering contentedly.

Maybe it’s not the typical "fairy tale" kind of love. It’s awkward and a little messy, filled with gaming mishaps and coughing up flowers. But it’s real. And for Idia, that’s more than enough.

he's reminds me of a pathetic wet cat left in the rain but god do I love him

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #idia #hanahaki #hanahaki au

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alygator77 · 5 months ago

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ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 4 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse (emotional abuse but it can be a bit suggestive/interpreted as physical, from naoya not satoru) » 【note, this chapter contains extreme emotional manipulation from naoya, reader discretion advised】

ꨄ words: 9.3k

ꨄ a/n. okaaaay time for some angst ya'll. this series is taking a serious turn 🥲 also, as i said earlier, originally this chapter was 20k words buuuut i decided to split it up. i know ya'll said you wouldn't mind one long chapter but it's just, there are moments that i really want to give more time to breathe. you'll get ch 5 soon though, enjoy ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

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series masterlist ꨄ︎ previous chapter ꨄ︎ next chapter →

ch 4 // shadows of doubt

“…you sure you’re okay watching Haru?” you ask, hovering by the doorway, your fingers lightly brushing the doorframe as you steal one last glance into the living room.

The television screen casts a soft glow over Satoru and Haru, nestled together on the couch.

Satoru’s brow is furrowed in concentration as he fumbles with the TV remote, cycling through the menu. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his tongue peeking out slightly at the corner in a classic expression of someone deeply focused.

His usually tousled white hair is messier than usual, as if he’s run his hands through it a few too many times in frustration, and his sweater hangs loosely on his frame, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

It’s a stark contrast to the sharp, tailored suits you’re used to seeing him in.

But that’s because right now, he’s just Satoru—the guy who’s clearly struggling with something as simple as setting up a kid’s TV show, and yet, there’s something incredibly endearing about it.

Haru, oblivious to his difficulties, swings her tiny legs back and forth in a rhythm of excitement as she sits beside him.

It’s a picture of domesticity that feels almost too perfect to disrupt—a scene that brings warmth, but also a sharp pang of guilt.

Guilt—of what you are about to do.

“Yes, of course,” he replies without missing a beat, light yet reassuring. He glances up at you briefly, offering a warm smile. “Do what you need to do, it’s important to have time to yourself.”

Right now, it feels like you don’t deserve that smile.

The ache in your chest intensifies at the sincerity in his words, making the lie you’re carrying out feel even heavier.

Finally, after a few more clicks, the TV springs to life, and a triumphant grin spreads across Satoru’s face as the familiar Digimon theme song bursts through the speakers.

The sound seems to ignite a spark of joy in Haru, her face wide eyed as she turns her full attention to the screen.

“Besides, I promised her we’d watch Digimon together,” Satoru says, his voice laced with affection as he glances at Haru. “Now’s the perfect time. Right, Haru?”

Haru beams, her small body practically vibrating with excitement as she snuggles closer to him.

“Wow, look ‘toru, look!” she exclaims gleefully, her voice high-pitched with exhilaration as she points at the screen.

Her eyes sparkle with wonder, completely captivated by the vibrant colors and lively characters dancing across the television.

“Yay!” she claps her hands together.

A tender smile curls upon Satoru’s lips as he shifts his gaze from Haru to you. His blue eyes, always so vibrant and full of life, are soft and inviting, radiating a sense of calm—a calm that should put you at ease, but why does it fill you with more guilt?

“See? We’ve got it all under control. Go do what you need to do, and don’t worry about a thing.”

His words are spoken with such warmth and trust—it should comfort you, but instead your unease twists further in your gut.

You force a smile, trying to push away the shame that threatens to rise to the surface.

“Alright,” you murmur, “I won’t be long.”

But you linger for just a moment longer, unable to tear your eyes away from the heartwarming sight before you.

The way Satoru drapes an arm around Haru, pulling her closer as they both become engrossed in the show—you realize something profound.

It’s in the subtle details—the way he listens intently to her excited chatter, how he nods along, genuinely interested in every little thing she points out, even if it’s something as simple as a colorful character on the screen.

Satoru isn’t just watching Digimon with Haru; he’s immersing himself in her world.

He’s someone who takes the time to enjoy the things she loves, someone who listens to her with the patience and attentiveness she deserves. He’s supporting her curiosity, encouraging her to explore and express herself, making her feel valued in a way that is both gentle and profound.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted for Haru—a stable, loving figure in her life, someone she can depend on, someone who can always be there for her. Someone who makes her feel safe, cherished, and free to be her true self.

Someone Naoya never was.

But this relationship is a contract, a charade—a lie.

And now, this new lie you’re about to bring to the table, casts an even darker shadow over this picture of domestic bliss.

There is a storm cloud, threatening to break at any moment—to drench you in an unforgiving rain. And that storm cloud is your reality.

The reality that this relationship has always been a lie, hasn’t it?

So... is what you’re doing really any different?

As you turn to leave, your body feels heavy, burdened by the deception you’re carrying with you.

Closing the door behind you, the soft click echoes in your ears as you begin to walk down the hallway, away from the warmth of the living room and into the cold reality of the decision you’ve made.

ꨄ

A soft jingle rings above your head as you push open the glass door to the coffee shop—a sound almost too cheerful considering what’s to come. Once the door closes behind you with a muted thud, your fate is sealed.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee hits you first, rich and earthy, mingling with the sweet, buttery aroma of pastries that line the display case. It’s a combination that would normally invite comfort, a location for quiet relaxation.

Today, however, that feels entirely out of reach.

Only a few patrons are scattered about, each lost in their own world—reading books, typing away on laptops, or simply enjoying company. The soft murmur of conversation barely registers in your ears as your eyes sweep across the room.

Within moments you spot Naoya, seated at a corner table in the back, a place where the dimness nearly swallows him whole, casting long shadows that seem to cling to him like a second skin.

His chosen spot is strategic, offering both a sense of privacy and an air of intimidation.

It’s a stage he’s set perfectly.

The way he sits—one arm draped casually over the back of the booth, the other cradling a coffee cup—exudes an unsettling confidence, as if he’s already decided the outcome of this meeting.

His minacious eyes rake over you and he registers the trepidation in your step, causing a shiver to run down your spine as his lips slowly curl into a predatory smirk.

Setting down his cup of coffee with a practiced ease, the porcelain clinks softly against the saucer. With a lazy flick of his wrist, he waves you over, the gesture so casual it’s almost insulting, as if he were summoning a servant rather than inviting a conversation.

You lower yourself into the chair across from him with measured deliberation, desperately trying to project a façade of composure even as anxiety, anger, and guilt roil within you like a brewing storm.

Unfortunately, the table between you and Naoya feels woefully insufficient, a flimsy barrier against the man who once wielded a terrifying influence over your life—a man who now threatens to shatter the fragile peace you’ve painstakingly pieced together.

“y/n,” he begins, his voice smooth and slick, like oil spilling over water, spreading tendrils of unease. “I’m glad you decided to show up.”

You force a tight smile, though it feels more like a grimace.

“You didn’t exactly leave me much of a choice, did you?”

A low insidious chuckle leaves Naoya’s lips, the noise grating on your nerves. His cold calculating eyes hold your gaze as he tilts his head to the side, and for a moment, you feel like a mouse caught in a trap, every avenue of escape cut off, leaving you with nowhere to run.

“Tch. What else am I supposed to do?” his tone drips with mock innocence, as if he’s genuinely puzzled. “You don’t answer any of my calls. It’s almost like you’re trying to avoid me.”

His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of something dark and unreadable passing through them.

“You look well, though. I’ve missed you.”

The casual cruelty in his tone, the way he throws out those words—words that should carry weight—as if they mean nothing, as if he hasn’t been tormenting you.

It makes your skin crawl.

“I didn’t come here to chat, Naoya,” you say firmly. “What do you want?”

You catch a flash of his white teeth in the dim light of the coffee shop, but there’s a cruel twist to his lips, a smugness that makes your stomach churn with unease.

“Straight to the point, I see. I always loved that about you,” he drawls, his tone almost affectionate.

He leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other in a posture of relaxed arrogance.

There is a beat of silence as he pauses, as if savoring each moment of your discomfort, drawing it out and relishing the control he has over the situation.

The control he has over you.

“I think you know what I want, y/n,” he continues, tone almost patronizing, as if speaking to a child who just doesn’t understand. “I want what’s best for Haru. I’m sure you do too.”

“You’re threatening to take her away from me. How is that what’s best for her?” you scoff, though the defiance in your voice barely masks the trembling fear underneath.

His gaze roams over you, assessing, calculating, and it takes everything in you not to shrink under the weight of his scrutiny.

When he speaks again, his voice is a low, dangerous whisper that sends a shiver down your spine, cold as ice and sharp as a blade.

“Because,” he hisses, the word dripping with venom, “you’re not thinking clearly. You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment. Haru deserves stability, a future where she’s not dragged into whatever mess you and Satoru are involved in.”

The accusation cuts deep, and despite your best efforts, you flinch slightly at his words, the reaction small but not unnoticed.

Naoya’s eyes glint with satisfaction, feeding off the fear and uncertainty he’s managed to briefly instill within you.

Before you can muster a response, he leans in closer, his tone shifting, becoming smooth and insidious, like poison seeping through the cracks of your resolve.

“Oh y/n,” he sighs, voice dripping with false sympathy, “I know this thing with Satoru is just a charade. You may think you’re merely playing house, but what you’re actually doing is setting Haru up for confusion and heartache. What kind of future is that for her?”

It’s like he’s pulled the rug out from under your feet. The air around you seems to thicken, making it hard to breathe. Because deep down, a part of you has feared how this arrangement may affect Haru.

The doubt that Naoya is sowing isn’t new—it’s something you’ve deliberately tried to ignore.

The connection Haru is forming with Satoru, the bond that’s growing stronger every day—isn’t it built on a foundation of lies?

What happens when it all crumbles—what happens to Haru then?

What if you’re setting her up for a heartbreak that she’s too young to understand?

Ah…but that’s what Naoya is good at, isn’t it?

He thrives on stirring a visceral reaction within you, on playing your emotions like a finely tuned instrument. And you know better—you know better than to believe that his actions have anything to do with Haru’s well-being.

After all, Naoya has only ever used Haru as a tool to control you, to manipulate you into doing his bidding.

He doesn’t truly want Haru—he never has.

This is just a twisted game, another attempt to bend you to his will.

“Naoya,” you begin, voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation, “this isn’t about what’s best for Haru. Cut the crap,” you snap, the frustration seeping through your words, giving you a fleeting sense of strength. “Don’t play games with me. What are you really after?”

Naoya’s response is a soft, chilling chuckle, a sound so unnerving that it slithers around you, making your skin prickle with unease.

He tilts his head slightly, regarding you with a twisted sense of satisfaction, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk that’s as sharp as a knife’s edge.

“You’re not as naïve as you look,” he murmurs.

With a deliberate elegance, he runs his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back and straightening his posture as if ready to present himself for something significant. He then leans forward, fixing you with a gaze that feels like a vise tightening around your heart.

“I’m willing to make a deal with you.”

You swallow hard, forcing the question past the lump in your throat.

“What kind of deal?”

His eyes glisten with satisfaction, a spark of triumph lighting them up as if this is the moment he’s been waiting for all along.

“Do you remember the case that was quietly swept under the rug a few years back?” he begins, tone almost conversational. “The one that could have destroyed the Gojo family? Well of course, you don’t—because the Gojos made sure no one remembered.”

A cold dread settles in the pit of your stomach as the gravity of what he’s saying begins to sink in. You try to piece together what he could possibly mean, but the implications are too terrifying to fully grasp.

“…what are you saying?”

Naoya’s smirk widens, a cruel light flickering in his eyes as he watches your reaction.

“Oh, don’t play dumb, y/n. You know exactly what I’m talking about. The Gojo family isn’t as squeaky clean as they’d like everyone to believe. That closed case—it’s a time bomb waiting to go off, and I’m the one holding the detonator.”

With a casual elegance, Naoya places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I want you to help me reopen the case,” his voice now a silky, dangerous murmur. “I need inside information, something to poke holes in the Gojo family’s defense. Satoru trusts you, doesn’t he? He’s practically handed you the keys to the kingdom.”

Your blood runs cold as you grapple with the enormity of what he’s asking.

“You want me to spy on Satoru? To dig up dirt on his family?”

Naoya shrugs, the gesture so casual, so dismissive, as if the request is the most natural thing in the world.

“Spy is such an ugly word. Let’s call it… protecting your daughter’s future. You help me get the information I need, and I’ll make sure this custody battle disappears. You’ll never have to worry about losing Haru.”

You feel sick to your stomach as the full impact of his ultimatum crashes down on you.

Your skin crawls at the way he frames it—to him it’s as if he’s offering you a lifeline, a way out of an impossible situation. But the reality is, he’s trapping you, coercing you into betraying the one person who has given you a chance at a new life.

Betray Satoru?

The very thought twists like a knife in your gut.

Satoru—the man who has shown you nothing but kindness, who has gone out of his way to make you feel safe, to make you feel valued. The man who has opened his home to you and Haru, who has treated your daughter with a warmth and love that you never thought she would receive.

How could you possibly betray him? Be his downfall? The mere thought of it makes your chest tighten, your heart aching with the weight of the impossible decision that Naoya is forcing upon you.

But then, the other side of the coin looms large and terrifying: the risk of losing Haru forever. The thought of her being taken from you, of her being dragged into Naoya’s world, is a nightmare you can’t bear to even consider.

The two most important people in your life, and Naoya is forcing you to choose between them.

How can you possibly make such a choice?

“I…I can’t do that, Naoya. Satoru—he’s done nothing wrong,”

The words feel hollow, desperate, as if you’re grasping for some semblance of control in a situation where you have none.

Naoya’s expression darkens, the cold veneer of civility slipping as a more menacing presence takes over. He leans in closer, the air around him growing colder, heavier with the weight of his intentions.

“Satoru and his family deserve whatever’s coming to them,” he hisses. “You just have to decide whose side you’re on. Corporate malpractice, insider trading, possibly even a cover-up. The Gojo family has skeletons in their closet, and I intend to expose them. But to do that, I need information. Inside information.”

“No, Naoya,” you say more forcefully, your voice trembling slightly but growing steadier as your resolve hardens. “That would destroy Satoru.”

For a moment, there’s a flicker of something in Naoya’s eyes—frustration, perhaps, or irritation at your defiance. But it’s fleeting, quickly replaced by a darker, more calculating expression.

“You think this is a game, y/n?” his voice drips with disdain. “You think Satoru won’t throw you to the wolves the moment things get tough? He’s a Gojo, through and through. They protect their own, and you’re not one of them.”

A cold dread washes over you as his words echo in your mind, sinking into the darkest corners of your thoughts.

Wait…is he actually, right?

No—you push back against the rising tide of doubt. Satoru wouldn’t do that. He’s been nothing but kind, patient, and understanding. He’s given you no reason to believe he would ever abandon you, especially not in a moment of crisis.

But… then there’s the stipulation in your contract. The one that states any poor publicity to his name would result in being cut off from all financial support.

The words of the contract flash in your mind, stark and unforgiving.

You had brushed it off as a mere formality when you first signed it, a precautionary clause meant to protect his reputation. But now, under the weight of Naoya’s words, it feels like a ticking time bomb, ready to go off the moment anything goes wrong.

Doubt seeps into your veins, intertwining with the fear that Naoya’s threat might have more truth to it than you’d like to admit.

Could Satoru really turn his back on you if the situation spiraled out of control? Would he prioritize his family name, his legacy, over you and Haru?

Seeing the flicker of hesitation in your eyes, Naoya’s expression softens, adopting a mask of concern. His voice lowers, becoming almost gentle, as if he’s offering you a lifeline.

“But if you help me,” he continues, silky and persuasive, “you’ll have leverage—real power. You’ll be in control. Think about Haru. Think about what’s best for her.”

“I… I don’t think I can do it,” the words escape your lips in a trembling whisper.

Naoya’s eyes narrow, and his voice hardens.

“You don’t have much of a choice, y/n. You’re in this mess because of your own decisions. Instead of relying on me you chose him. But lucky for you, I’m offering you a way out—a way to keep Haru safe. But if you refuse, I will use every legal trick in the book to take her from you. And believe me, I will win. I always do.”

The finality in his words leaves no room for doubt—Naoya isn’t bluffing.

He’s a man who gets what he wants, no matter the cost, and the ruthless determination in his eyes tells you that he’s more than willing to destroy your life to achieve his goals.

“You’re a monster,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Naoya’s response is immediate, his smirk widening with satisfaction.

“I’m a lawyer,” he corrects, his tone dripping with smugness. “And I’m very good at what I do.”

You look down, unable to meet his gaze.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” you whisper.

Naoya’s eyes gleam with triumph as a victorious smirk curls upon his lips. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a slim envelope.

With a deliberate slowness, he slides it across the table, the paper making a soft, ominous rustle as it comes to a stop in front of you.

“Inside this is everything you need to help me. I want information, y/n. Information on Satoru. His business dealings, his vulnerabilities—anything I can use to gain leverage over him.”

The envelope sits there between you, a tangible representation of the impossible choice you’re being forced to make.

Your hands twitch at your sides, but you can’t bring yourself to reach for it—the burden of its contents is far too heavy.

Naoya leans back in his chair, watching intently for any sign of hesitation, his gaze unyielding. He presses you again, his voice a smooth, sinister whisper.

“You help me, and I’ll make sure this custody battle disappears. You’ll never have to worry about losing Haru.”

Your hand trembles as you extend it, hovering over the envelope. Naoya’s grin widens, his eyes gleaming with triumph, anticipating your surrender.

But just as your fingertips brush the envelope, you stop.

The smile slips from Naoya’s face, replaced by a flicker of surprise, then annoyance, as you push the envelope back across the table. The cold edge of the paper scrapes against your skin, the sound eerily loud in the tense silence between you.

“I’ll need some time,” you say finally, your voice quieter now, more controlled, though it takes everything in you to keep it steady. “This isn’t a decision I can make lightly.”

Naoya’s expression darkens, his patience clearly waning. With a swift, almost irritated motion, he snatches the envelope and tucks it back into his coat pocket.

“I’m not a patient man, y/n, you know this,” he warns, the threat clear in his tone. “You have one week. If I don’t get an answer by then, the custody battle begins. And trust me,” his tone drops to a menacing whisper, “you don’t want to fight me in court.”

“I’ll let you know,” you murmur, unable to meet his gaze as your eyes are fixed on the table between you.

Naoya’s smirk returns, a slow, victorious curve of his lips.

It’s a look that says he’s already won, that he’s confident you’ll bend to his will.

“Good girl. I know you’ll see reason. I’ll expect your call soon.”

He stands with a deliberate calmness, smoothing the front of his jacket before tossing a few bills onto the table as if this entire conversation has been nothing more than a routine business transaction.

The casualness of his movements, the ease with which he holds your fate in his hands, only serves to deepen the pit of dread forming in your stomach.

“Think it over, love. I’ll be in touch.”

With those final words, Naoya turns and strides out of the coffee shop, leaving you sitting there, feeling as though the walls are closing in around you.

You can’t shake the feeling that no matter what you decide, something precious will be lost.

ꨄ

It’s much later than you intended—a few hours past the time you told Satoru you’d be home. But after your meeting with Naoya, you simply couldn’t summon the strength to face him.

How could you possibly stand before him now?

The very thought of looking into his eyes feels like a betrayal in itself, as if the truth you’re hiding might spill out just from his gaze alone.

Naoya’s words continue to echo in your mind, twisting around your thoughts like a serpent coiling tighter with each passing moment.

You can almost hear the whispers of scandal creeping through the corridors of the Gojo Corporation.

Surely this custody battle would bring poor publicity to Satoru’s name… knowing Naoya, it would be a spectacle—a media circus designed to tarnish every aspect of Satoru’s life.

Your heart races as you picture the headlines splashed across every tabloid, the relentless swarm of reporters, cameras flashing like a thousand tiny daggers aimed at your very soul.

They’d dig into every corner of your lives, twisting facts and fabricating lies until the truth is buried beneath layers of sensationalism.

You’ve seen Satoru’s world—perfectly organized, meticulously maintained, a reflection of the man himself. But Naoya has the power to create cracks in that perfect image, to expose the vulnerabilities hidden beneath the surface.

He would ensure it—he’d savor every moment of watching Satoru’s pristine reputation crumble, brick by brick.

What would Satoru do if you told him Naoya’s intentions?

Would he support you, or would he choose to protect himself, his legacy, over you and Haru?

The very thought makes your heart ache, a sharp pang of fear twisting through your chest—fear of losing the delicate balance you’ve found with Satoru, of watching it all unravel because of Naoya’s malice.

What is the right choice to make?

The question loops endlessly in your mind, a never-ending cycle of doubt that gnaws at your resolve.

You don’t know what to believe any more.

You need time—something you don’t have an abundance of right now. After all, you can’t avoid Satoru forever—he’ll wonder where you’ve been, what’s kept you away for so long.

And so, reluctantly, with a heart heavy and unresolved emotions, you return home.

ꨄ

The faint ticking of the grand clock echoes in the house as you creak open the door and re-enter. The sound, which usually blends into the background of your day, now feels loud—almost deafening in the silence of the home.

Rounding your way to the living room, the dim glow of the television casts flickering shadows on the walls—the only thing that seems alive in the stillness.

But the sight you are met with is something entirely unexpected—something that pushes away the darkness inside of you, if only for a moment.

Satoru sits on the couch, his posture relaxed but his expression one of bemused helplessness, as though he’s found himself in a situation that he’s not quite sure how to navigate.

His long legs are stretched out in front of him, but there’s a tenderness in the way he holds his arms around the small figure resting against him.

Haru, curled up on his lap, is nestled against his chest, her tiny body rising and falling with each gentle breath as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat seems to lull her deeper into sleep. One of her small hands clutches the fabric of his shirt, as if seeking comfort even in her dreams, while the other is tucked close to her body, holding her favorite plush toy—Pikachu.

The TV is on, but the volume is muted, playing some late-night rerun that neither of them are paying attention to as the soft flickering light illuminates against them.

Satoru glances up as you enter the room, eyes brightening as he spots you. A sheepish smile tugs at the corner of his lips, a mixture of relief and quiet joy at your return.

“Hey, welcome back,” he says softly, careful not to disturb Haru.

It’s moments like this, that make it impossible to doubt him. The warmth in his voice makes the knot of tension in your chest loosen, if only a little.

You manage a small smile in return.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

As you begin to set your things down—your bag, your coat—Satoru’s gaze follows you, soft and attentive.

“Did you enjoy your time to yourself?”

It’s such a simple question, yet it’s loaded with the weight of the lie you’re living.

You force a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it feels, and nod, trying to keep your voice steady and light.

“Yeah…it was nice to have a little break.”

A tender smile curls upon his lips, his relief evident as he nods back.

“Good. You deserve some time for yourself.”

The words are filled with such warmth and care that it almost breaks you. But you swallow down the guilt, knowing you can’t afford to let it show. Not now.

As you make your way towards him, your gaze softens, drawn irresistibly to the sight of Haru. You kneel down beside the couch, your eyes tracing the delicate lines of her face, so peaceful and content as she rests in Satoru's lap.

“She fell asleep?” your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, shifting slightly but careful not to wake her.

“Yeah. We were watching Digimon like I promised, but she conked out halfway through. I didn’t know what to do, so I’ve just been sitting here for the past two hours.”

Your heart swells at his words—the thought of Satoru sitting there, his world seemingly paused just to let her sleep undisturbed, truly that is real… right?

You reach out and gently brush a strand of hair from Haru’s face, your fingers lingering for a moment on her cheek.

Her skin warm and smooth, her breathing steady and calm, the gentle rise and fall of her chest—each element is a testament to the trust she’s placed in this space that Satoru has helped create.

She looks so at peace, so completely untroubled and…it’s all thanks to Satoru.

You can’t stop the words from slipping out, even though they’re laced with the bittersweet ache of everything that’s happened.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your eyes meeting his. “For everything.”

He smiles at you, that soft, understanding smile that always seems to reach his eyes.

“Of course. She’s a wonderful kid. It’s my pleasure.”

Leaning down, you gently scoop Haru into your arms, cradling her small body against you. She stirs slightly, her little face scrunching up in sleep, but she doesn’t wake, simply burrowing closer to you as you hold her, seeking the comfort of your warmth.

“I’ll put her to bed,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Satoru watches you with a fond smile, his eyes following you as you move towards the stairway.

“y/n,” he calls after you, his tone a little hesitant.

You turn back to face him, noticing the subtle way his expression has shifted—an unspoken concern lingering in his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I need to tell you…” he begins, rubbing the back of his neck—a gesture you’ve come to recognize as his way of showing uncertainty. “It’s kind of short notice, but we were invited to a big charity gala tomorrow night. It’s a pretty important event, and they’re expecting us to attend. And, well… we’re anticipated to do an interview this time.”

Ah—the discomfort returns in an instant, like a cold shiver racing down your spine.

The weight of his words settles heavily on your shoulders, adding yet another layer of complexity to the tangled web you find yourself ensnared in.

The thought of standing in front of cameras, of answering questions about a relationship that is already so fraught with secrets and lies, sends your mind spiraling into a storm of anxiety.

But you can’t let any of that show. Not now.

Not when Satoru is looking at you with such sincerity, his blue eyes filled with a quiet expectation, clearly relying on you to be by his side through this.

You force a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it feels.

“Another gala, huh?”

He nods, his expression softening slightly, but the tension doesn’t leave his eyes.

“Yeah, this one’s for a good cause, and, well, appearances matter. It’s important that we present a united front.”

Appearances matter. A bitter reminder of Naoya’s taunting words.

Satoru is a Gojo after all—and for a Gojo, appearances are everything. The pristine image he maintains is not just for show; it’s a fundamental part of who he is, of the world he navigates with such ease.

But where does that leave you? What happens the moment you mess up?

You’ve always been terrible at public speaking, and now you’re expected to partake in an interview?

Will his soft expression turn cold the moment you fail to meet his expectations?

Your heart races, but you push the fear down, locking it away behind a carefully constructed mask of composure.

“Okay,” you swallow. “We’ll figure it out.”

Satoru’s expression softens with visible relief, and he stands up, stretching slightly after having sat in the same position for so long. As his arms extend above his head, the hem of his shirt lifts, revealing a fleeting glimpse of his toned abs.

“Thanks, y/n. I know this whole public thing isn’t easy, but… I really appreciate you doing this with me.”

“Of course,” you manage to say, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “…we’re in this together, right?”

“Yeah. Together.”

The words feel like a betrayal, a dagger of guilt twisting in your chest.

How can you say that when you know what you’re hiding?

How can you say that when you doubt the very man in front of you?

Pushing those thoughts away, you try to focus on the moment, on Satoru’s gentle, almost boyish grin. Despite it all, it’s the kind of smile that makes you want to believe everything will be okay, that makes you want to cling to the hope that maybe, just maybe, you will get through this.

There is a beat of silence as you shift Haru’s weight slightly in your arms.

You study his face—the subtle vulnerability there, the softness, it makes you think—maybe, just maybe, you can open up to him. Test the waters, gauge his understanding.

Let’s start small… what if you told him your fear of public speaking?

The words hover on the tip of your tongue, a confession that feels both terrifying and necessary.

Would he laugh? Would he brush it off with one of his easy, confident smiles?

Or would he understand, see the anxiety that lies beneath the surface, and offer the reassurance you so desperately need?

Your heart races as you weigh the options, the fear of rejection battling with the desire for connection.

Finally, you take a deep breath, deciding to take the plunge. It’s a small step, but it feels monumental in the moment.

“I’m… I’m not really good with public speaking,” you admit quietly, your gaze lowering to the floor. “Maybe we could practice a little? Just so I don’t mess up.”

For a moment, there’s silence.

When you finally dare to look up, you see Satoru’s expression softening even further, a gentle warmth radiating from his eyes as he gazes at you.

The way he looks at you, so full of understanding, so free of judgment—it makes your chest tighten.

“Of course, we can. I actually prepared a script earlier today, just in case you may need it. We can go over it together after you put Haru to bed.”

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

“Thank you, Satoru… that would really help.”

Why did you doubt him?

Did Naoya instill that doubt? Or has it always been there, lurking in the shadows of your mind, waiting for the right moment to surface?

The question lingers, a quiet whisper that carries both regret and self-reproach.

He had anticipated your need, had prepared for it without you even asking.

On one hand you feel relief that he’s so understanding, but guilt practically consumes it because now his trust feels like a weight you can’t bear.

It seems at this point, there is no winning for you.

No matter which way you turn, you’re trapped—caught between the desire to commit to him completely and the fear that you’ll inevitably fall short of his expectations.

Your mind is at a constant battle.

“No problem,” he says, his voice pulling you back to the present. He reaches for the remote, turning off the TV, the screen fading to black as the room is cast into a quieter, more intimate atmosphere.

He glances back at you, his expression warm but focused.

“Meet you in the study after you put Haru down?”

Not trusting yourself to speak, you nod, and turn, heading up the stairs towards Haru’s bedroom.

In the quiet of Haru’s room, you smooth the covers around her small, peaceful form and press a soft kiss on her forehead.

You take a moment to just sit there, watching her sleep—a moment to collect yourself before you return to Satoru.

The soft rise and fall of her chest, the slight twitch of her fingers as she dreams, it all serves as a reminder of the innocence you’re trying so desperately to protect.

You can’t risk losing her. Haru is everything to you.

But how long can you maintain this lie, this pretense that everything is okay, when the truth threatens to tear it all apart?

The mere thought of Haru being taken away, of Naoya sinking his claws into her life, makes your blood run cold.

Right now, you want nothing more than to break down, to cry, to let the tears that have been welling up inside you finally fall.

But you can’t afford to do that. Not now.

Sometimes the difficult thing about being a parent is putting on a front that everything is okay... that everything will be okay, even when it feels like it will not be.

You have to be strong, not just for yourself, but for Haru. She needs you to be her rock, her anchor in the storm, even if you feel like you’re barely holding on.

You pull back, your hand lingering on the edge of her bed for just a moment longer, savoring the last bit of peace before you straighten up, steeling yourself for the next challenge that you must face.

ꨄ

As you enter the study, the door closes behind you with a soft click.

Satoru looks up, sitting at the large mahogany desk, papers spread out in front of him as he offers you a small, reassuring smile. He gestures to the chair beside him.

“Ready?”

You nod, pulling out the chair and sitting down, the leather cushion sinking slightly under your weight.

Leaning forward, Satoru props his elbow on the table as he studies you with soft, focused eyes.

“So, let’s start with the basics. They’ll probably ask how we met, what drew us together... you know, easy stuff.”

He slides the script over to you.

You take the paper, your eyes skimming over the questions—questions that are so casual on the surface.

They’re questions that, for most couples, would evoke warm memories and easy smiles. But the simplicity of these questions only highlights the complexity of the situation.

They should feel easy to answer—answers that would roll off the tongue naturally if your relationship was carved from normal circumstances.

But, that’s not the situation you find yourself in.

The reality of your arrangement makes each question feel like a test—a hurdle you need to clear without revealing too much.

If only it were different—if only the answers could come from a place of truth rather than a carefully constructed narrative.

But it’s not.

This relationship is a contract, a charade—a web of lies.

You nod again, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Alright,” Satoru says, his tone encouraging. “Let’s give it a go. I’ll ask, you answer.”

He clears his throat and starts with the first question.

“So, y/n, how did you and Satoru first meet?”

You take a deep breath, the familiar answer already on the tip of your tongue.

This one is easy because it’s part of the story you’ve both been telling from the beginning. Still, your fingers fidget with the corner of the script, as if grounding yourself in the words.

“I was looking for a new job, and Satoru needed someone with my expertise. It was professional at first, but we just… clicked. Like it was meant to be.”

“Perfect,” he says, tone approving.

He leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Now…what drew you to each other?”

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to the script in your hands. The paper crinkles slightly under your fingers as you try to commit the answer to memory, but the words feel heavy, loaded with the pressure to say the right thing.

Satoru notices your pause and tilts his head, a gentle smile lingering on his lips.

“I was thinking we keep it simple,” he suggests, his eyes locking onto yours with a reassuring calm. “I’ll talk about how I admire how you always put Haru first. People eat that stuff up.”

“Right,” you nod, your voice a little lighter now. “Then how about I talk about how you’re always so supportive and how you’ve made Haru and me feel safe.”

Satoru’s grin broadens, the corners of his mouth curling into a familiar, playful expression. He lets out a contemplative hum, as if considering your words carefully, and then reaches over to tap the tip of your nose playfully.

The touch is light, almost teasing, but it carries with it a sense of warmth, of genuine affection.

“And you can say something about how I’m the most charming, good-looking guy you’ve ever met.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips, the sound carrying with it a sense of relief you hadn’t realized you needed—like exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Your heaviness lifts, replaced by a lightness that feels almost foreign in the midst of all the pressure.

Satoru always seems to know how to break through your tension.

It’s one of the things you’ve come to appreciate about him during this arrangement—the way he can make you laugh, even when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.

“Of course, because modesty is your best trait,” you grin, and without thinking, you poke his side gently, eliciting a small chuckle from him. “If I say that, I’m certain it would only go straight to your head.”

“Hmm, what can I say? Confidence is key,” he grins, eyes twinkling with that mischievous spark you’ve come to recognize.

You lean back and fold your arms across your chest in a mock gesture of contemplation, your eyes narrowing slightly as you consider his words.

“Confidence? Or arrogance?” you retort, a smirk playing on your lips. “It’s a fine line, Satoru.”

He gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if you’ve struck a mortal blow.

“Arrogance? Me? I’m wounded, truly,” he declares, his voice dripping with exaggerated hurt, though the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth betrays the act.

“Right…I think I might have to bring you back down to earth,” your voice carries a note of a playful challenge.

“Glad to know I can count on you,” he replies, leaning back slightly as he comfortably puts his hands behind his neck in a relaxed confidence. “But let’s not forget—you’re the one who’s supposed to be singing my praises. Remember? Charming, good-looking…”

“And don’t forget humble,” you add, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Ah, yes, the humblest,” he agrees, nodding solemnly as if he’s just imparted some great wisdom.

But the solemnity only lasts a moment before he breaks into another grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I’ve always been known for my humility.”

You can’t help but laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief at his antics. This fleeting sense of normalcy was everything you needed. It almost makes you forget the storm of emotions raging inside you.

“Wow. At this point, I think your ego has its own zip code,” you quip, rolling your eyes.

He grins, but then, with a small, exaggerated sigh, he drops his head down onto the table, resting it on his folded arms as he pouts dramatically.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try to keep my ego in check,” he mumbles, his voice slightly muffled.

Here is a man who commands boardrooms and makes decisions that influence entire industries, pouting like a child in front of you.

It’s kind of cute, actually, that the powerful CEO can be this… unguarded, this silly, this human.

In these moments, all the layers he wears—of strength, of authority, of responsibility—seem to peel away, leaving behind just… Satoru.

After a moment, he lifts his head just enough to look at you, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint.

“You know… people tell me I’m charming and good-looking all the time, but… I think it’d feel different coming from you. I wouldn’t mind hearing it… just once.”

Your breath catches for a fleeting moment as you observe a glimpse of something in his eyes, something deeper than the usual teasing.

The way he says it, with that mix of playfulness and sincerity, makes your heart flutter in a way you’re not entirely prepared for.

Would it be so bad to indulge him?

“You’re… easy on the eyes,” you say, your voice softer, almost shy.

It’s not quite the grand compliment he was fishing for, but it’s enough to make him smile—the kind of smile that lights up his entire face, making it impossible not to smile back.

“Well, I’ll take that,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, and for just a moment, everything else falls away.

But then, as if unable to resist, Satoru props his head up in the palm of his hand and leans in just a little closer, his smile turning slightly smug.

“You know, you could say it again if you really wanted to. I mean, I’m all ears.”

You raise an eyebrow, a grin tugging at your lips as you catch onto his game.

“Don’t push your luck, Satoru,” you warn, though your tone is more amused than serious. “Let’s get back to work.”

Satoru chuckles, leaning back with a mock surrender.

“Alright, alright. Back to work it is.”

The world outside fades away—the complications, the secrets, the uncertainty of what tomorrow holds—all of it dissolves into the background as you share this brief moment of connection with Satoru.

It’s as if time itself has slowed, allowing you to bask in the warmth of this exchange, to let the comfort of Satoru’s presence ease the weight of your worries.

But the moment can’t last forever.

The reality of your situation looms just beyond the edges of this moment, reminding you of the stakes, of the careful balance you’re trying to maintain.

After all, there’s still work to be done, and as much as you’d like to linger here, in this bubble of lightheartedness, you know you need to keep moving forward.

ꨄ

The hours slip by, and you go over each possible scenario, each potential curveball the interviewers might throw your way.

The script between you becomes both a shield and a lifeline, something to cling to as you navigate the complexities of everything.

Satoru’s voice is steady and reassuring as he guides you through your responses. When you stumble—when the nerves threaten to get the better of you—he’s there with gentle corrections.

His words never harsh or critical, but rather encouraging, help you find your footing again. And whenever he senses the tension rising—the anxiety creeping into your expression—he cracks a joke, designed to draw you back from the edge of your worry.

You find yourself leaning on him more than you expected, his confidence bolstering your own, his belief in you seeping into the cracks of your self-doubt, and with each passing hour, the fear that had settled in your chest begins to ease, replaced by a cautious optimism that maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to pull this off.

After running through the script for what feels like the hundredth time, Satoru leans back in his chair—the soft smile tugging at his lips telling you that he’s genuinely pleased with your progress.

“I think you’re ready,” his voice is filled with a quiet confidence. “You’ve got this. Now, you should probably get some rest... it's getting late.”

His words are a welcome relief, washing over you like a balm after the tension of the evening. You nod, feeling the exhaustion from the long day finally catching up to you—all you can think about is the comfort of your bed.

But as you begin to stand, you notice that Satoru remains seated. His posture, which had been so relaxed just moments before, now seems slightly more tense as he appears to be focused on something distant, something you can’t quite place.

The shift is subtle, but it’s enough to give you pause.

“Aren’t you coming?” you ask mid-step, your voice tentative, a hint of concern creeping in.

Satoru looks up at your question, the distant look in his eyes fading as his focus returns to you. His expression softens, the edges of his smile returning, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No,” he replies, tone gentle but firm. “I’ve got some other business I need to take care of. But don’t worry about it,” he adds quickly, as if sensing your concern. “You should get some rest. You’ve done more than enough for tonight.”

There’s something about the way he says it, the way he brushes off your concern so easily, that makes you hesitate.

Is there something he’s not telling you? Or perhaps, choosing to handle on his own?

There’s a slight droop of his shoulders and his fingers absently drum against the armrest of his chair—a silent rhythm betraying the thoughts running through his mind.

You want to push, to ask him what’s really going on, but something holds you back.

Maybe it’s the way his eyes seem to plead with you to let it go, to trust him when he says it’s nothing you need to worry about.

Or maybe it’s the exhaustion that’s finally settling into your bones, making it harder to think clearly, to muster the energy for another round of questions.

So, instead, you nod again, offering him a small, understanding smile.

“Alright. Just… don’t stay up too late, okay?”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm, and though it eases some of your worry, it doesn’t completely dispel it.

“I’ll try not to,” he promises, though you’re not entirely convinced. “Go on, get some sleep. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

Making your way down the hallway, the soft light of the bedroom is a welcoming beacon at the end.

The prospect of finally getting rest is almost too tempting to resist, but as you near the door, something tugs at you—a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that refuses to be ignored.

It’s not fair, you think to yourself—pausing just before the threshold of your bedroom.

Satoru stayed up late, helping you with the interview questions, guiding you through each potential challenge with patience and care...and now, he’s left alone to handle his own business needs while you get to sleep.

There was a weariness in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before, a quiet weight that he seemed determined to hide from you.

Why is he shouldering the responsibility when you agreed you would lead Gojo Corporation together?

The thought gnaws at you, making it hard to turn away.

You sigh, torn between the exhaustion weighing you down and the guilt pushing you forward.

Finally, you decide it’s only right to offer your help, even if just to make sure he’s not taking on too much by himself—and so, with renewed determination, you turn on your heel and quietly make your way back down the hall.

As you approach the door to the study, you’re about to knock when you hear his voice, low and serious, coming from inside. You pause, your hand hovering just inches from the wood, and listen.

“No. That’s not an option. We can’t afford any negative press right now, especially with everything that’s happening.”

Satoru’s voice is firm, almost biting, a tone you’re not used to hearing from him. The usual warmth that so often laces his words is gone, stripped away and replaced by something colder, more calculating.

There’s a pause, and you can faintly hear the murmur of someone on the other end of the line, though their words are indistinct through the phone.

Whatever they’re saying seems to only harden Satoru’s resolve.

“I don’t care what it takes,” Satoru continues, his voice dropping lower, the words coming out with an icy sharpness that feels almost like a threat. “Take care of it. Make sure this stays under wraps. My image can’t take a hit like that, not now.”

Your heart skips a beat, an uneasy feeling creeping up your spine—the warmth of the moment you shared earlier evaporating in an instant.

He sounds different—distant, devoid of the tenderness you’ve come to know… cold.

The man who just hours ago was patient and supportive, who made you feel safe and cared for, now seems like someone else entirely—replaced with this man who seems to care more about maintaining an image than anything else.

Whatever the voice on the other end of the phone says next makes Satoru sigh, a tired, almost frustrated sound.

You inch closer to the door, your breath shallow as you strain to hear more, but his voice drops lower, slipping into a tone that’s more guarded, more secretive.

“Yes, I know it’s not ideal, but it’s necessary,” Satoru says, his words clipped, as if he’s weighing each one carefully before letting it fall. “We have to protect the Gojo name at all costs. And that includes… well, you know what it includes. Just handle it.”

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

…what does that include? The vague words hang in the air and you feel a sharp stab of anxiety.

You feel a lump form in your throat as you back away from the door, the doubts you’d tried so hard to push aside earlier now crashing back with full force, overwhelming you.

What is he talking about? What could be so important that it needs to be kept under wraps at all costs?

Questions race through your mind, each one more unsettling than the last.

And what did he mean by “protecting the Gojo name”? Is that all this is to him—just a carefully crafted image that needs to be maintained, no matter the cost?

The thought stings, a sharp pain that cuts deeper the more you dwell on it.

You can’t help but wonder, as you stand there in the dimly lit hallway, if you’ll ever truly know where his priorities lie.

The man who once seemed so open, so transparent with you, now feels like a stranger—someone who might not be as trustworthy as you’d hoped.

Will he choose to protect you and Haru, or will he always put his image, his family name, first?

The doubt gnaws at you, growing with each passing second, until it feels like a weight you can barely carry.

You retreat further, your heart pounding in your chest, the sound of it almost drowning out the murmured conversation from the study.

The light at the end of the hallway seems so far away now, the warmth and safety you’d felt earlier slipping through your fingers like sand.

As you finally turn and make your way back to your bedroom, each step is heavier than the last—a shadow cast on everything you thought you knew.

The warmth of the bed offers you little comfort as you slip under the covers, and your mind replays the conversation over and over again.

As much as you want to believe in him, in the connection you share, the seeds of doubt have been planted.

You're uncertain if you're ready for what's to come—the interview, the public scrutiny, or the complicated feelings that have begun to tangle between you and Satoru.

But throughout all this uncertainty, there is one thing that is without a doubt evident.

You still have a decision to make.

poor y/n can't catch a break...girl is going through it. man i cannot tell you how much i enjoyed writing the coffee shop scene with naoya though, idk it was just so satisfying to write, i literally despise naoya so much lol. and satoru being so clueless with haru 🥲 he sat there for two hours 🤭 he's such a goof. anyways, i really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and i hope you're ready for what's to come! thanks so much for reading 🥺 seriously, your comments make my day. much love 🫶🏻 → onto the next chapterꨄ

taglist :

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@psychoanalyze0 @lilacwh0re

916 notes · View notes

fastandcarlos · 4 months ago

Text

Mixing Work And Pleasure : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: you’re sure as you start at ferrari you’re going to be the ultimate professional, but is it really so bad if you mix work and pleasure?

pairing: carlos x verstappen!reader

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 26,948 others

ynverstappen: first day on the new job, I think I might just like it around here ❤️🏎️

3,859 comments

username1: congratulations yn, this is such an exciting step for you!!

maxverstappen1: couldn’t be prouder of you little one, if anyone bothers you, send them big brother’s way 😂

carlossainz55: we’re so excited to have you with us making the best content in the world 🥺

username2: let’s be honest, she only got the job cause she’s max’s sister

danielricciardo: does this mean you’re in the paddock every week now so I can always come and annoy you!?

ynusername: @/danielricciardo I’m a professional now btw 🙃

charles_leclerc: can’t wait to get started and see what you’ve got in store for us!!

username3: the way she already has charles and carlos smiling after one day makes me think this is gonna be amazing

landonorris: fighting through the tears knowing you picked them over me 😭

ynusername: @/landonorris send your complaints to your boss who assured me you didn’t need any new media managers!!

username4: our favourite sibling is gonna be in the paddock every week from now on 🎉

username5: there is no one more deserving of this, you’re a genius with ideas for content!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 1,392,058 others

carlossainz55: the perfect weekend doing all of my favourite things 💞

90,473 comments

username6: not carlos just suddenly springing a relationship on us like it’s nothing 🙂‍↔️

charles_leclerc: hope you guys enjoyed the recommendation I gave you ☺️

carlossainz55: @/charles_leclerc to please your ego I’ll give you full credit for the fact I’ve got a second date!

username7: forget the golf, forget the driving, I wanna know all about the dinner!!

maxverstappen1: isn’t it about time you started doing a different sport, one that’s at least a little bit exciting??

carlossainz55: @/maxverstappen1 I would suggest padel but that’s only exciting for me constantly beating you

username8: he only said a few weeks ago in an interview that he wanted to stay single for a while 😂

landonorris: the only reason the golf is on there is because you beat me!!

username9: there’s no way he’s gonna be able to hide this for too long, the paps follow him everywhere

alex_albon: holding the hands of random strangers is restaurant should not be your favourite thing to do 😂

username10: is this the sort of content the new manager has approved of???

username11: my heart was not prepared for this sudden post to let me know my chances with carlos are over 😭

danielricciardo: looks like someone has some serious explaining to do…

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 1,103,694 others

carlossainz55: this new social media manager has me doing all sorts of weird things, apparently fans like photos of me like this…I’m yet to be convinced 😂

103,684 comments

username12: fyi we absolutely love photos like these 😂

landonorris: I nearly fell off my chair laughing after scrolling through this post 😂😂😂

username13: thank you yn for convincing carlos to bless us with a world of meme worthy content

maxverstappen1: enjoy an insight into what I’ve had to deal with for the past 20 years 🙄

carlossainz55: @/maxverstappen1 I’m honestly wondering how you’ve survived this for so long 🤭

username14: he has no idea how much we love seeing this side of him does he???

ynverstappen: I didn’t exactly hear you arguing when I suggested you posting these 🤨

carlossainz55: @/ynverstappen that’s because fred assured me that you know what you’re doing 🤔

username15: saving that middle photo as my new lock screen as we speak 😍

username16: I cannot stress how happy I am that ferrari took a chance on yn!!

oscarpiastri: thanks for showing the world that you’re just a massive weirdo like the rest of us 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by username17, username21 and 2,046 others

f1gossip: SPOTTED in monaco on the weekend off the circuit, carlos sainz and ferrari media manager yn verstappen were spotted looking very comfortable together on a boat. onlookers said the pair looked very happy and were particularly touchy with each other throughout their day. is there a new couple pending in the paddock?

361 comments

username17: I always had a suspicious feeling about these two 🤔

username18: ngl all I want to know is what’s going through max’s head rn…

username19: does this make charles an official third wheel???

username20: I want to be jealous but who can deny that they look so good together

username21: she must be special, carlos wouldn’t post the photos that he did the other day for no one 😂

username22: watch carlos insist that they’re still just friends in the media pen this week 🙃

username23: I thought ferrari hired yn for max…but maybe it was for carlos all along?!

username24: did they really think we wouldn’t notice how close the two of them actually are!?

username25: I can’t wait to see the content we get if they’re dating too 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 32,054 others

ynverstappen: another race means another set up and another day with my two favourite humans. they pull these faces and yet still agree to everything I say cause they adore me 🥺❤️

4,957 comments

username26: are we just gonna pretend this is all professional yn…🤨

charles_leclerc: in that first photo we were both asking for help and yet you chose to ignore us and make us suffer if I remember 🙄

ynverstappen: @/charles_leclerc I repeat, that’s why you adore me!!

maxverstappen1: I hope filming content is all that you’re doing with them!?

username27: I think one might adore you slightly more than the other 🤔

landonorris: something tells me that charles has no choice but to put up with you these days

georgerussell63: adore me = one of the drivers is hopelessly in love with me

username28: “please yn don’t make us do something stupid again!”

danielricciardo: if only you knew just how much carlos really talks about you 🎙️

username29: no one has ever made these two act so daft, yn must have some magical powers 😂

username30: I love how she brings the best out of carlos and charles just goes along with it for the fun!!

carlossainz55: there aren’t many people we would willingly make fools of ourselves for just so you know 👀

ynverstappen: @/carlossainz55 I’ll happily be the exception to the rule 👑

username31: whoever chose yn for the job will forever be known as my favourite person in the world

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 34,958 others

ynverstappen: look out for another challenge coming up on the socials later on this week, as ever I enjoyed annoying these two so much that they didn’t speak to me for the rest of the weekend 🏎️

5,937 comments

username32: I always look forward to the content that you bring us yn 🥺

oscarpiastri: we wouldn’t treat you like that at mclaren fyi 😉

charles_leclerc: @/oscarpiastri you don’t see the things she makes us do!!

username33: I refuse to believe that carlos didn’t actually speak to you for the rest of the weekend…

lewishamilton: is this the sort of thing I’ve got to look forward to 😬

carlossainz55: my ass will never be the same after bouncing on that space hopper 🤦🏻‍♂️

username34: can anyone actually remember a time when yn wasn’t at ferrari now???

scuderiaferrari: we can’t wait to see what you guys have been up to this week ❤️

charles_leclerc: @/scuderaiferrari does health and safety not matter to you guys anymore??

username35: in every photo yn looks like such a proud aunt that she’s tormenting our boys 😂

landonorris: whatever you do don’t get the boys to race on those space hoppers, I’ve been there and it doesn’t end well 😂😂

danielricciardo: @/landonorris hands down still one of the funniest moments of my career 🙌🏻

username36: I don’t think carlos would ever describe yn as annoying!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by maxverstappen1, alex_albon and 1,038,261 others

carlossainz55: if someone was to ever ask me what my dream weekend looks like, these are the photos that I would show them ✈️🌊🍳

128,505 comments

username37: not that we needed it, but surely that first photo is definitely yn! 😍

maxverstappen1: at least we know whoever she is (😉) she’s well fed up and seeing the sun!

charles_leclerc: thank you for giving me some much needed peace and quiet this weekend 😂

username38: you know it’s serious when carlos is making pancakes for her!!

landonorris: how come it’s been six years and you’ve not made pancakes for me, yet a certain someone else has already had them!?

carlossainz55: @/landonorris last time I checked we’ve never been in a relationship 🤔

username39: is he really trying to hide her face and put us off the scent like it isn’t obvious 🤦🏻‍♀️

oscarpiastri: we’re just gonna pretend like the whole world doesn’t already know who your girlfriend is are we??

username40: arguably a dream weekend for most of your fans too!!

ynverstappen: nice to see you getting plenty of rest old man 💕

carlossainz55: @/ynverstappen I just turned 30…this is abuse ‼️

username41: every time one of these two post I fall in love with them just a little bit more…

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynverstappen, charles_leclerc and 1,294,483 others

carlossainz55: cuddles, kisses and champagne, if you ask me ferrari made the best decision ever hiring you ❤️✨

129,058 comments

username42: eurgh it’s not fair how adorable these two are 😭

landonorris: worst. kept. secret. ever.

oscarpiastri: @/landonorris I don’t think you can ever call these two a secret!

username43: I second that statement btw, best decision ever!!

charles_leclerc: well this explains why I always get the worse deal out of the two of us in all our videos 😂😂

username44: no one seems to be talking about the fact that max seems to be so supportive of these two too 🥺

maxverstappen1: who knew seeing my sister with a guy in red could actually be quite sweet ☺️

username45: from here on in charles shall always be known as the third wheel 😂

georgerussell63: just gonna pretend like I definitely had no idea that this was happening 🙃

danielricciardo: damn cause you did such a good job of pretending you two weren’t together 😝

username46: if yn doesn’t move to williams with carlos next year I don’t know what I’ll do…

ynverstappen: a definite perk of the job was meeting you 💞

carlossainz55: @/ynverstappen the best part of ferrari is definitely you!!

username47: who says that you shouldn’t mix work with pleasure, looks like it paid off for these two!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

788 notes · View notes

feeder86 · 6 months ago

Text

The Boss' Secret

There was something familiar about Daniel. Jon recognised his face from somewhere, although he could not put his finger on where. They shook hands, being introduced as colleagues for the first time by their senior leader. But as Jon studied his facial features, he could already see that Daniel showed no signs of recognising him in return.

“Daniel will be overseeing most of the accounts from now on,” Rachel explained, clearly a little taken by the slender twenty-something as she showed him around. “He’s got some fantastic ideas to really rejuvenate things around here and save on costs.”

Jon could feel his teeth clenching. He knew that they were hiring for a new member of the team, but he wasn’t aware that that recruited person would be working above him. It was yet another shitty move from the higher-ups, promising them all pay-rises and progression, then hiring in from outside and going back on their word. And then they wondered why morale was so low?

“Can you believe that?” Jon grumbled later to Kathleen at the desk behind him. He could feel a rage building inside him. “They’ve hired that skinny little shit to come and put us all in our places!”

“What else did you expect?” Kathleen sighed, rolling her eyes and agreeing with him completely.

It was things like this that caused Jon the most frustration in his life. He was tall, broad, muscular and extremely masculine-looking with his well groomed beard. He weighed more than 240lbs, having the largest glutes and thighs than anyone else in his gym. In his day-to-day life, people naturally looked up to him and listened. But, here in work and throughout his career, he’d had to fight for every last thing he had received. “Where’s he from?” he asked Kathleen, still unable to shake off the recognition that he felt.

“New York,” Kathleen replied. “Janice drew up his contract. I know I shouldn’t say this, but… he’s going to be on more money than you and I combined.”

Jon shook his head and looked over the desks at his new, younger boss, already despising him. Guys who worked their way up the ladder this quickly were always the type to take credit for other’s work, or throw people under the bus whenever they’d fucked up on something. In no way could Jon ever trust a guy who had climbed the ranks this quickly. But, even so…. where the fuck did he recognise him from?

Gina had been an awesome distraction for Jon that night, turning him on by gorging her big fat belly on pizza and cake. She sucked him off so perfectly and easily gorged on at least three thousand calories to satisfy his kinks. In return, he’d fucked her just as hard as his big thighs and powerful hips suggested he was capable of; leaving her feeling completely satisfied and grateful as he slipped out the door.

No stranger to casual sex, Jon had to admit that he enjoyed the fatties more than any other. Their soft, fleshy bodies made him feel so powerful and in control. When they ate for him, he knew they would be carrying additional pounds that were his alone; that he had added to them. The whole thing was a buzz like no other. It was the reason why he frequented those feederism websites and apps; happily perusing through one the following evening in the hope of finding more possible connections with fat girls.

That was when Jon’s eyes boggled and his jaw dropped to the floor. Staring back from the screen at him was his new boss’ profile picture. The idiot was sharing his face and everything; all there for everyone to see. Jon remembered coming across him several times in chat rooms. The guy was just another fat-lover, like himself. However, he didn’t seem to have the right charm or dominant approach to getting the attention that Jon enjoyed from the larger ladies. Sure, his face was pretty, but the moment he started talking on there, most people assumed he was a simple catfish.

Anonymously, Jon clicked on the guy’s profile, seeing that he had just moved from New York and was on the hunt for a larger lady to ‘feed-up and pamper’. Jon couldn’t believe what he was reading. This was absolute gold! Imagine what would happen if he exposed this at work! He screenshotted the lot, storing it ready for himself, just in case.

“So why is Daniel meeting with my client?” Jon demanded, incensed. “They’re my client! I was the one who brought them here from my last job!”

“He’s done the same thing with some of Kathleen’s clients,” Fred added, whispering in case others heard them. Daniel’s reign was still in its infancy and loyalties had not yet been fully established.

“That’s the fifth time this week he’s pissed me off,” Jon complained, similarly looking around to check that no one was listening in. “Is that all they’re paying him for? To take clients… clients we already have… out to lunch?”

Fred laughed but nodded in complete agreement. None of them had yet to see the great ‘innovation and cost-saving’ that Daniel had promised to deliver. As far as they could all see, Daniel was nothing but hot air and a sickening stench of self-importance.

“I’m meeting with a client on Friday and I want you to come with me,” Daniel announced a few weeks later. “I think you’ve got the sort of charm with the ladies that may work with this one,” he explained.

Jon laughed inwardly to himself. There was no tolerance for sexual exploitation in this office, apart from when they needed his muscular body to help them swoon a new client. “Sure,” he nodded nonchalantly, requesting the case notes to read through beforehand. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest that Daniel was asking for help to seduce a potential new client into signing. Once you looked beyond his pretty face, there really wasn’t much personality to find within. Despite being on those feederism sites most evenings, Daniel didn’t seem to be making much impact there, either. Although he had at least found some sense to remove his face from his public profile.

As arranged, Jon made his way to the restaurant that Friday, frustrated that Daniel had already sat down with the client. Why hadn’t they all just arrived together at the same time? Was it a strategy of Daniel’s, simply to make himself look more professional in front of the client by arranging that Jon was a little late? He’d certainly known insecure bosses to pull similar stunts in the past.

Plastering a smile on his face, Jon set to work, doing exactly what he did best. There were occasions when he had to deflect some poor interferences from Daniel but, on the whole, no one could argue that the successful outcome of the lunch meeting was entirely down to him.

“Well, I think I owe you a beer,” Daniel conceded afterwards, as the client left with a giant smile across her face. “I certainly didn’t think she was going to sign for that length of time.”

“You’ve gotta be ambitious,” Jon shrugged. “I knew I had her the moment she brought out those pictures of her dog.”

“Yes! That was definitely the moment she started coming around,” Daniel nodded in complete agreement. “Thank goodness your mom bred all those German Shepherds when you were growing up.”

Jon looked at him sideways, raising an eyebrow. Had he really been as gullible as the client?

“That was all bullshit?” Daniel asked in surprise. “But you sounded so knowledgeable!”

“A dog’s a dog. You just have to tell the client whatever they want to hear,” Jon chuckled, finishing his coffee and standing up. “I also have an uncle who works for the New York Yankees and a cousin in the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. They never fail to impress the clients when I talk about them.”

Daniel looked as though he wasn’t completely sure that Jon was still making things up. Then the pair of them simply laughed.

“I’ll catch you back at the office,” Jon announced, striding back through the restaurant as people subtly swooned over his muscular thighs and butt in his tightest work pants.

Scrolling through the feedism app that weekend, Jon couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Daniel had posted a status the night before that seemed bizarrely out of character. He had recounted visiting a restaurant with his ‘muscular colleague’ and had described his body in quite surprisingly erotic detail; ending with: ‘I so wish I could fatten him up!’

“Cheeky fucker!” Jon laughed aloud from his bed as he read it. He searched back through the guy’s profile, realising that there hasn’t been any hint of bisexuality before now. It was part of the reason why the guy had failed to make any impact on there. No one could really make any sense of what he was actually after. Whereas Jon always went in hard and confident; flirting with anyone with a big appetite and at least a hundred pounds of extra blubber.

Jon sat back and smirked. So his boss had a little crush on him? That was definitely unexpected. And yet, it was also something that he could definitely use to his advantage.

“Off out for lunch with the boss again today?” Fred smirked, trying to conceal his jealousy with humor. “The Chosen One, yet again!” he laughed.

Jon nodded. He had started to do quite well under Daniel’s reign. A month earlier he had been looking for jobs at other companies. But now he found himself feeling rather content with his work life. The favouritism was obvious and Jon could feel the relationships with his colleagues becoming a little more tense, but the trade off would be worth it when his pay review came up. “Daniel’s the numbers guy, and I’m the charisma,” he simply joked back to Fred. “You’ve gotta admit, we’ve never taken on so many new clients in such a short space of time.”

“All these free lunches on the company expenses account,” he grumbled. “You’ll start looking like the boss soon, if you’re not careful.”

Jon nodded and quietly laughed. It was something they had all noticed in the last couple of weeks. A distinct dad bod had started to take hold of Daniel’s slim physique. Bombarded by an onslaught of company lunches since he had arrived four months ago, a distinct paunch had started to push its way out below his chest, straining the buttons of his ‘slim-fit’ shirts. It was his own fault, Jon noted with surprising glee. He’d seen for himself how carelessly the guy ordered from the menus, selecting signature dishes rather than considering what was actually in them. He’d also not got his apartment straight since he’d moved from New York, relying on microwave meals and take-out more often than not. What else should he expect?

“Don’t you worry about me,” Jon smirked, tapping his trim waistline. “I think there’s only space for one little chub in this office,” he winked, happy to show that despite being so much in favor with the new boss, he also wasn’t above making a joke at his expense.

A few days later, Jon and Daniel sat at the bar, congratulating each other with a beer after having secured yet another large account that evening. They’d done their homework beforehand and executed their strategy to perfection. To be fair to Daniel, the guy really did put the hours in. There wasn’t a single figure that he hadn’t had to hand the moment the clients asked for it; saving Jon’s pitch and smooth talking each time they tried to catch him out. Still, all these work hours were taking their toll on the boss, with his squisher glutes starting to spread themselves a little wider across the bar stool.

“Hello, stranger!” came a loud voice as a giant lady started striding towards them.

“Gina!” Jon smiled, getting up to kiss and hug the large girl from the feederism website, all dressed up and fancy on a night out with her friends. “Looking good!” he swooned, suddenly remembering that Daniel shared his larger taste in women. “Gina, this is my boss, Daniel,” he smiled, making the introductions.

Daniel rose to his feet, looking rather overwhelmed. He shook her hand and seemed quite out of breath once she had left. “Is she your girlfriend?” he asked, sounding impressed.

“Nah,” Jon replied, shaking his head. “She’s a beautiful girl, and I enjoy messing around with her every now and then,” he smirked, letting Daniel know exactly the sort of fun they got up to. “But she’s also very high maintenance!”

Daniel was still staring at Gina’s enormous rear as she disappeared out of the door to the restaurant. “Can I ask you something?” he mumbled, seeming now to look up to Jon more than ever before. “How do I get a girl like that?”

Jon smiled, enjoying the dynamic that had seemed to form between them. He wasn’t intimidated by the overly serious, sometimes humorless nature of Daniel, like so many others at the company were. He’d read too many status updates about himself on the guy’s feedism profile, describing Daniel’s crush on him in quite some detail. One had particularly made Jon laugh, where the younger boss had described how the pair of them had been in an elevator together, before a giant influx of people joined at a later floor, squishing them both together. The boner this had given Daniel, having Jon’s large, muscular glutes pressed up against him, was written up in extraordinarily graphic detail that even gave Jon a semi when he read it.

“Girls like Gina,” Jon began, with an air of expertise, “they love confidence. They’re big and heavy and they love a guy who can handle all that. When they see a big, strong man like me, they know they’re in for a good time.”

Daniel looked down at his own body with dismay. “Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong,” he sighed. “Since moving here, I’ve accidentally let myself get a little doughy.”

Jon chuckled. He knew that he was supposed to make Daniel feel better and tell him that he looked no different to how he did five months ago, but what was the point? They’d all noticed the pounds he had gained. “Listen,” he began, leaning in a little closer and choosing to have some fun. “Even that little paunch of yours is a marketable asset,” he stated with certainty, deciding to play with the guy. “Who usually ends up with the fat girl in the end?” he asked. “It’s always the fat boy!”

Daniel looked across at Jon the same way most guys did; as a man who knew exactly what he was talking about when it came to seducing girls. “You’re saying I shouldn’t lose weight?”

Jon rolled his eyes. Surely Daniel knew him well enough by now to work out when he was playing with him? He always took everything so damn seriously! He sighed, deciding to see how long he could stretch the joke out instead. “Of course not,” he laughed. “Keep going! Add a few more pounds. It’ll all be worth it in the end.”

“I never thought about it that way before,” Daniel nodded, looking down at his softer middle with renewed understanding. “I guess the type of girls I like would find this all pretty hot,” he considered, rubbing his hand against the blubber in his stomach.

Jon looked on with surprise. Did he let on that he had been kidding? Or did he simply let this ideal roll?

“Fuck!” Jon gasped as he checked into the feedism app the next evening. “What the hell has he done to himself?” he laughed.

There, on the screen, was a brand new picture of Daniel added to his profile, showing his body from the neck down dressed only in some very tight underwear. Just what had all this careless eating done to his physique? The guy was positively flabby! A generous coating of fat had surrounded his stomach area, destroying the tight waist that had been visible in previous pictures. Likewise, his chest had begun to soften, with fresh blubber seeping itself around his nipples and beginning to make them pointed and sensitive-looking. His underwear seemed tight around his thighs as even his legs seemed considerably more padded with softness. It was one thing to see Daniel looking a little softer and doughier in the office. But without his clothes on, there was no hiding just how far his lifestyle had thickened him up. Jon’s boss was actually fat!

Jon read through all the comments the picture had attracted. As well as the mountain of likes, guys and girls had complemented and teased Daniel with as much enthusiasm and arousal as Daniel must have hoped for. The horny guy had replied to each and every one of them, promising to keep up this new look. That was when Jon actually felt himself getting hard. He’d been the one to start this. This had all been his idea. Had he single-handedly created his very own monster?

“Are you okay?” Jon asked, stepping into Daniel’s office a few days later and seeing his boss looking a little surprised and flustered at his sudden appearance.

Upon seeing that it was only Jon, Daniel relaxed and pulled back a hastily concealed box of doughnuts, grabbing a fresh one for himself. “I thought you were Rachel,” he mumbled, resuming what had obviously been a mid-morning bout of gluttony.

“What’ve you got there?” Jon asked, stepping closer and picking up the sweet scent.

“It’s a pack of twelve. You want one?”

Jon waved his hand and shook his head. “You keep at it, buddy!” he smiled, dropping a report with the projected sales figures for one of their client’s companies. “I’m guessing you’ll be wanting lunch at your desk today?” he asked, perching himself on Daniel’s desk.

“I’ve actually got a lunch date,” Daniel replied, holding up a doughnut, as if this explained everything. “She likes big guys, so I may have exaggerated and told her I’m a little heavier than I actually am,” he continued.

“How much did you tell her you were?” Jon asked, peering down at his boss’ bloated stomach.

“Two hundred and thirty five,” Daniel replied, wincing like he was quite some distance off that figure.

Jon pulled a sceptical face. “Yikes! What possessed you to tell her you were that big already?” he chuckled.

“I’m really into her,” Daniel sighed, as if this explained it all. “She’s big… very big. I’ve never had a chance with a girl like that.”

Jon looked down on his boss with pity. Having had more than his fair share of larger ladies, he could hardly begrudge Daniel his first opportunity to enjoy himself. “Well, I guess we could try and bloat you up a little bit before you go,” he suggested, taking the report back and deciding that his boss had far more important things to attend to. “Doughnuts won’t work all by themselves. I can whip something up for you, I’m sure.”

Jon soon left Daniel to finish his doughnuts whilst he emptied his large gym bag and headed straight to the convenience store down the block. There he bought a large gallon bottle of water which he immediately tipped out, and replaced with a mixture of several items, including whole milk, cream and a few sachets of the calorie boost powder he kept for after his gym sessions. Without a blender, he merely had to shake the daunting mixture up after he pulled it from his bag back in Daniel’s office.

“This’ll put some meat on your bones!” Jon grinned, pleased with the surprisingly large mixture he had created within ten minutes.

“You want me to drink all that?” Daniel asked, amused by the idea.

“Well, why not? You made light work of those doughnuts,” Jon joked, spotting the empty tray. “I don’t see how this is any different.”

He passed over the great container to his boss who simply looked at it, perplexed. The bottle was so heavy, Daniel couldn’t hold it up to his mouth without help, and so Jon stood behind his chair, reaching his arms out to support the bottle as Daniel tried to tip it up and into his mouth.

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. The guy was actually doing it!

“You’re doing the right thing, buddy!” Jon coaxed him. “This’ll blow you up for your date in no time!”

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Jon kept his eye on the door to the office, silently wishing that he had locked it behind them.

“This is a good effort!” Jon continued, noticing that Daniel still hadn’t stopped for a break. “Your shirt buttons are getting tighter already.”

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Suddenly the bottle was light enough for Daniel to hold himself. Jon stepped back, feeling the stiffness in his crotch as he saw for himself the monster he had set loose.

With only a third remaining, Daniel finally lowered the bottle and paused, clearly trying to release a burp; the sound of it eventually coming rolling up his throat at a velocity that was unknown to most people; gargling through the large amount of liquid that had already filled his stomach.

“Awesome work, buddy!” Jon chuckled, clapping the guy on his back. “Better out than in!”

“My gut feels like it’s about to explode!” Daniel groaned, setting the bottle down on the floor.

“That’s exactly how it looks as well,” Jon grinned, still standing somewhere behind his boss’ field of vision. “She’s going to be one lucky lady when she meets you later!” he marvelled at the stout bloat that had pushed Daniel’s shirt buttons to the absolute limit. He grabbed his bag and held it so that his crotch was covered, advising Daniel to take his time with the last third, then made his way out, back into the bustling office space once more; where not a single person could have guessed what had just gone on behind that closed door.

Jon didn’t need to wait until the following Monday to find out how his boss’ date had gone. Daniel had written all about it on his profile, describing the incredibly decadent and gluttonous time he had enjoyed. By Sunday, there were more pictures of him; this time drinking shakes that looked suspiciously like the one Jon had made up for him, with a caption that told everyone that the drinking of these was the biggest turn on he had ever experienced.

A few more weeks went by. For the first time ever, Jon had been asked to accompany Daniel to a hotel in Toronto where they were meeting with huge new clients and putting the finishing touches to a major project they had been working on with them for quite some time; one that would be the crown jewel of Jon’s CV if it all came together.

“This place is unreal!” Jon gasped as they arrived in the hotel lobby. “Have you seen the spa facilities?” he asked, showing Daniel a copy of the brochure he had been perusing whilst his boss had been checking them in.

“Go for it!” Daniel chuckled as their bags were carried ahead of them up to their rooms. “It’s all on the company account. They stand to make a lot of money on this, so take full advantage. The flight home isn’t until Thursday.”

Despite the optimism, the work schedule had been surprisingly gruelling since they had arrived in Toronto. It wasn’t until the Wednesday that things started to relax and the two men could finally spend a little more time enjoying the lavish hotel. A confident Jon strode into the changing rooms with his chubby boss. He’d never been shy about his own body. He’d always been taller and better built than most guys, and he had learned that, even when flaccid, his penis was significantly bigger than the average.

If anything, Jon was most curious about whether he would later end up reading about the experience of getting changed in front of Daniel on the guy’s feederism profile. It had been some weeks since there had been anything written about him whatsoever, with Daniel writing post after post about his own body instead. Perhaps a little glimpse of Jon’s large, muscular glutes. that the boss’ profile had previously stated he found so alluring, would soon prove to be the key to correcting that.

Daniel’s undersized swimming trunks pinched at the guy’s back fat like nothing Jon had ever seen before. It was as if his former athletic body was still perfectly visible, yet the puddles of fat invaded it all from above, not yet fully integrated, but simply leeching onto wherever it could. Jon had to admit that even he had been shocked at how Daniel looked without a shirt on now. Sure, he’d seen pictures on the feederism website, but that hadn’t prepared him for the fluttering of the back fat when he walked behind Daniel into the sauna, nor the way it all rolled up when he sat his wide butt down in the dry heat.

“Does this sauna feel hotter than most others?” Daniel asked, sweating so much that his whole blubbery body glistened.

Jon looked at him and chuckled. “I was just thinking how much less intense it is in here than the ones I’ve been to in the past.”

Daniel threw his sweaty head back against the wooden walls and tried to breathe a little deeper. “It must just be me then.”

“Or, it could be all this recently installed insulation,” Jon joked, poking his boss in his tummy and being genuinely surprised at how far his finger went in with so little effort; especially after how tightly the man had packed his gut at breakfast. “Being a hit with the ladies does have its consequences!”

Daniel nodded and seemed to relax a little more, grabbing a roll of his fat and jiggling it. “It’s all come on so fast,” he agreed. “My friends back in New York will be so shocked when I see them.”

“Of course they will,” Jon smiled. “You’re a fat boy now.”

Daniel grinned. “I really do love it!”

“I know you do,” Jon laughed. “It’s hot!” he blasted, suddenly realising that he was being a little too forward. “I mean… you know, it’s hot when fat girls really embrace it and let you play with their fat; maybe feed them a little,” he added. The pair of them had discussed their love of larger ladies in the past, but their conversations had never gone as far as talking about feeding them.

Daniel’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Actually…” he smiled. “There’s a girl I met online. She’s really keen to… be the one to feed me.”

“Oh…right,” Jon replied awkwardly. The conversation and gentle flirting had been so fun, but hearing that there was someone else ready to take on all the hard work that Jon had begun with Daniel actually made his teeth clench with jealousy. “What’s she like?” he asked.

“She’s so hot!” Daniel beamed. “We’ve only met a few times but…”

“You’ve actually met her?” Jon asked, feeling even more scorned now.

“Oh, yeah!” Daniel nodded, delighted with himself. “We’re actually dating.”

Jon listened as Daniel droned on and on about the new love in his life. He’d always felt somewhat in control of the situation; that he could snap his fingers and make the guy fall for him, should he ever wish for it. Yet now there was someone else. He’d waited too long. Perhaps Daniel had never really been into him as much as his profile made out.

Daniel wouldn’t have noticed how pissed off Jon felt, yet he still made his excuses, heading out of the sauna, claiming that he needed to make a phone call before their first meeting. But, inside, he was silently devastated.

“We’re glad we’ve finally got you on your own,” smiled Holly, the main business associate they had been dealing with in Toronto. “We’ve been very impressed with you this week and would like to invite you into discussions about coming to work with us in the very near future.”

Jon’s eyes widened. A job offer?

“Let me ask you, how would you feel about relocating here to Canada?”

“Um, well…” Jon murmured, hardly knowing what to say. He thought all the hard negotiations had been completed yesterday. Then he thought back to Daniel and how let down he had felt. As a man who had always been able to keep people hanging on his every word, he suddenly felt childishly spiteful towards sticking around for Daniel; especially if the guy was going to go off and date someone else anyway. “Sure,” he nodded. “I’m up to discuss that.”

Besides the outrageous rental prices, Toronto had turned out to be an awesome place to work and live. Jon was earning well over twice his salary at his old job and, in the three years that he had lived there, he had fallen for a girl on his team; even becoming engaged at one point.

However, things were now starting to fall apart. His relationship was over, thanks to a pregnancy scare that had uncovered a fast chasm of difference in the pair’s priorities and life goals. Also, following a car accident his father had been in, Jon came to realise that his parents were not getting any younger. Canada had been great, but it was time to move back home.

Jon began what he assumed would be a long process of trying to find a job that was even comparable to his salary in Toronto. However, the portfolio of work he had put together from his time there was a serious draw to anyone who had his CV wafted under their nose. Within a week of looking, Jon had accepted a position at a prestigious company he could never have dreamed of taking him on three years ago.

“The team are all very keen to meet you,” Gina explained, leading Jon around the new offices the company now occupied in the very heart of the city.

Everyone seemed very nice and friendly. Jon had been glad that he had worn his tightest shirt and pants as he could already see his appearance was going to earn him a lot of favour with the heavily overbalanced, majority female, staff members.

“Danny usually works from home on a Monday,” Gina explained, taking Jon into the large office that was next to his own. “But he’s come in especially today so that he can get you up to speed on things.”

A massively overweight man rose to his feet as they entered, his hand already outstretched to shake as he moved out from behind his desk.

Even as Jon took his hand, the realisation didn’t hit him until he looked deeply into the man’s eyes. ““Daniel!” he laughed. But how was this so? He was barely recognizable, with a huge ring of fat now surrounding and framing his face; well shaved skin and an extreme double chin having entirely swallowed his neck. “I didn’t know you worked here!”

“About eighteen months or so now,” Daniel nodded. “I couldn’t believe it when they said you’d been hired. Head of marketing, huh?” he chuckled. “I guess I’ll be accountable to you when it comes to that department,” he joked, appreciating the reversal of roles.

Gina took an interest in Daniel and Jon’s previous work together. As Daniel explained it all, Jon had the opportunity to look down and see just what had happened to his old boss. Exactly how had that little pot belly exploded into such a monstrously wide gut? How had his fleshy chest suddenly become adorned with breasts that were larger than most girls’? And how did he move about these days with thighs so incredibly thick and juicy?

“I’ll leave you with Danny to get reacquainted, and he can guide you through the account I referenced earlier,” Gina smiled, making her way towards the door. As soon as it closed, both men seemed to give a great sigh of relief and looked at each other, grinning.

“Look at you!” Jon marvelled, sending his eyes straight onto Daniel’s giant gut. “You look so different! You certainly know how to take an idea and run with it!”

Daniel smiled and reached out his hand to touch the extent of his giant tummy. Even his hands had filled with fat; mere dimples where his knuckles had once been, and sweet little creases of skin where his wrists began. “I recently hit four, sixty,” he grinned, seemingly loving Jon’s startled reaction

The last three years had suddenly evaporated. Jon fell back into feeling completely relaxed around Daniel as he circled around to get a look at the guy from behind. His ass had completely blown up and the love handles were enormous! “I can’t believe you took it this far!” he laughed, unafraid to show his sheer delight. “Is this the work of the girlfriend you were seeing before I left for Canada?”

Daniel pondered for a second, wondering who it was Jon was referring to. Then he shook his head. “No… this has been all me,” he smiled, placing his hands on his wide hips. “With, perhaps just the odd bit of help from a feeder or two over the years,” he winked.

“Awesome, dude!” Jon smiled. “Absolutely awesome!”

“I agree!” Daniel smirked, sitting his giant ass back down at his desk with a plop. “Although, the back fat is rather interesting at the moment,” he chuckled, lifting his arms and showing just how much blubber had filled under his armpits, visible even through his giant work shirt. He tried reaching for some of it, but it was obvious that his body was becoming too wide for the man to reach everywhere.

Such a sight gave Jon an instant erection like nothing else he had experienced around Daniel before. He followed suit, sitting down as fast as he could in order to disguise it.

“You look no different at all,” Daniel laughed, finally content to move on.

“Excuse me!” Jon joked, raising his arms and flexing his biceps in his tight shirt. “These guns have never been bigger, actually!” He tried breathing deeply, but his sudden arousal was so much to cope with. Perhaps it had blended with his nerves about starting a new job, but he almost felt out of control; as if his mouth could run away and say something horny and stupid at any moment. “So, are we going out for lunch today, like we did in the old days?”

Daniel grinned. “Actually, I think Gina has plans for you over lunch.”

“Well… fuck her,” Jon shot back impatiently. He hadn’t felt this aroused since he was a teenager. “I want to catch up with my old buddy instead.”

Daniel’s smirk was something new entirely. He seemed to have a confidence about him in this new body; not so shy and humorless as he had once been. He inhabited the life of a massively obese man in a way that only made him ever more enticing. “How about dinner instead?” he asked. “Do you have plans after work?”

“No,” Jon lied, deciding to cancel everything that stood in his way.

After the long day, Jon headed straight into Daniel’s office to find that the large man wasn’t there.

Jon curiously took a tour of the room, spotting several candy wrappers in the little trash bucket. He pulled open the drawers, failing to find anything useful for an office worker. All of them were filled with the very worst, most fattening snacks available. Jon laughed as he sank his hand down into the drawer, lifting some out and dropping them like confetti back inside. “Oh, Piggy!” he sighed in helpless lust. “What the fuck have you been doing to yourself!”

Thankfully, Jon soon returned from the bathroom and the pair of them were quickly making their way to a cab that Daniel had booked. It was obvious that the big man walked very little around this city.

“So, where is good to eat around here these days?” Jon asked, looking out of the window and seeing that so much had changed.

“There’s an all-you-can-eat place right by my apartment,” Daniel explained. His mouth seemed to water at the mere mention of food and he swallowed the saliva that was building up. “I thought we could go there.”

Jon nodded in agreement, excited to see just what kind of damage a big man like Daniel could do in a buffet these days. He smiled to himself, wondering whether Daniel had bought his apartment in this area because of the buffet place only a few feet from his building, or whether it had all been one giant coincidence. He suspected not.

“Evening, Danny,” sighed the server as they turned up, giving Jon the impression that the fat man’s appearance was just a regular part of the monotony of her daily routine. “A table for two tonight, huh?”

Daniel stepped aside a little more so that Jon could be seen and he introduced him. They headed to a table that was referred to as Daniel’s ‘usual spot’ and she left them be whilst she got their drinks.

“We’re a little early tonight,” Daniel whispered. “The good dishes usually come out at six.”

“You really know your stuff!” Jon laughed, watching as Daniel’s greedy eyes scrutinised the staff as they prepared the buffet for the changeover; listening as the saliva was building in the guy’s gluttonous mouth and witnessing him having to swallow it down several times. However, the fat man was not wrong. Within minutes, the buffet was filled with fresh new dishes, and the two men got up to start.

Jon followed on behind, eager to take in the view of Daniel from behind. Just what the hell had happened to the guy’s hips? From this angle, the man was so incredibly wide! His butt had swollen and stretched itself outwards in all directions; the fat in his love handles bouncing and rocking with each step he took, slowly untucking his work shirt. The glutton seemed like such an expert at filling his plate, selecting the best parts of the buffet and leaving the cheaper fillings, such as the rice and the breads. It was no secret that he knew what he was doing, openly boasting about how much he had read up on how to get the best value out of these types of places as the pair of them sat down.

Jon ate slowly, whilst Daniel was up and down, fetching himself more and more. So incredibly turned on by this vast display of greed, Jon fiddled in his pockets, trying to reposition his erection so that he could stand up when needed and not expose his arousal to everyone else in the restaurant. After three years of being in a relationship with a girl from his office, Jon hadn’t explored anything to do with this world of eating and weight gain, and it was only after this encounter that he fully understood just how linked to his own sexuality it all was: nothing turned him on more.

“I am STUFFED!” Daniel chuckled about fifty minutes later, having gorged his way through most of the main courses on offer, as well as several of the dessert items. He slapped his hand on his lage stomach, not seeming to notice how strained the buttons had become.

“You’re leaving those?” Jon asked, surprised to see two macrons left to the side of Daniel’s final plate.

Daniel looked down at them. He sighed and gave an uncomfortable burp. “It’s okay. They’re not so good from here anyway.”

“Even so…” Jon smiled mischievously. “You can’t ruin your clean sweep. You’ve cleared every other plate.”

Daniel grinned. “I’d forgotten how much you used to encourage me in the early days,” he laughed. Even so, he looked down at those macrons, sighed in fullness and then shook his head. “No,” he winced. “Trust me. I’m done!”

“Surely there must be something I can do to persuade you?” Jon asked, trying to think on his feet. More than anything else, he didn’t quite feel ready to stand up and leave just yet. “How about I buy you a coffee on the way to work each morning next week?”

Daniel pulled a face. He’d never been a great lover of coffee.

“I’ll buy you a new plant for your desk,” Jon tried again, having noticed that Daniel’s current office plant was withered and mostly dead. He searched through his memory to try and recall the things used to motivate Daniel back when he knew him best. “I’ll let you feel my bigger biceps,” he offered cheekily, flexing them and never expecting his bribe to work.

Daniel considered for only a second, then he nodded and threw a macron straight into his mouth at a speed Jon had not been expecting, laughing, even with his mouth full, at Jon’s shocked expression. He then reached across to get a feel of a stunned Jon’s muscle. “Okay,” the fat man nodded. “They definitely are bigger than last time,” he admitted, mumbling after swallowing most of it down.

Jon grinned. He couldn’t believe that it had worked. Then again, Daniel had always claimed to be obsessed with his body in those early days.

Still one macron sat on the plate, unclaimed. “Eat that other one for me and…” Jon pondered, considering whether he should go as far as he was now considering, “...I’ll let you feel up my glutes next.”

Daniel’s pig-like eyes widened in surprise. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. Then, although he had not been able to bring himself to even swallow the last of the previous macron, he pushed the final one into his mouth, accepting the offer; forcing himself to chew and swallow them both down at long last.

Nothing was said about heading back to Daniel’s place afterwards. The two men simply got up and started walking until they reached the fat man’s building. There, they got into the elevator and made their way up to the top floor, all whilst making inconsequential small talk to fill the time.

Daniel’s apartment was large and flashy. He had great views over the city and his kitchen was straight out of a home decor magazine. But the place was also scruffy and filled with furniture that was oversized and awkwardly positioned. Take out boxes sat on the top of his coffee table, providing the slight stale odour that filled the space. However, Daniel simply seemed oblivious to it, heading straight to a massive chair in front of his TV and sighing with relief as his massive form dropped into it with a confidence in its constriction that did not seem warranted.

“This is where a lot of the magic happens,” Daniel smiled. “I’ve pushed so many calories into myself right here, in this chair.”

Jon laughed. “Not just you pushing them in either, I bet,” he teased. “You don’t grow a gut like that without a lot of encouragement.”

Daniel nodded and smirked with a confidence in himself that Jon had never seen in him before today. “Yeah,” he agreed, looking around the space and rubbing the top of his fat gut. “I’ve had a lot of fun in this apartment.” His eyes then locked on Jon’s. “And now it’s time for you to pay the piper,” he joked, beckoning him over. “That last macron wasn’t easy!”

“You want to touch the finest glutes in the city?” Jon laughed. He wanted to act casual so that he could still walk out of there with his head held high should this not go in the direction he desperately hoped it would.

Jon made his way over, positioning himself so that his back was turned to Daniel and his pert butt within reach. He heard the fat man grunt as he repositioned himself on the edge of his seat, then, two chubby hands reached out and moulded themselves onto the shapely, firm masses, exploring every inch.

Both men gave a sigh as all the pent up sexual tension finally started to release. Jon felt himself being pulled back a little more by his belt. Then, even Daniel’s nose was rolling over the material, his lips kissing each glute in turn. “Beautiful!” the fat man whispered.

It was at that point that things became all too much for Jon. His hands reached down to his belt and he unbuckled faster than he ever had in his life, pulling his thick erection out and handling it in the way he had wanted to all day. He spun around, staring only at Daniel’s greedy little mouth. “Open up, Fat Boy…” he growled, letting his lust completely get the better of him.

Despite his coarseness, Daniel’s mouth slid straight over the hardness and began working straight away; his hands holding firmly onto Jon’s strong hips and pulling him in closer.

Jon moaned aloud. It never failed to catch him off guard how great guys often were at giving head, but three years in a monogamous relationship had also lowered his expectations when it came to genuine sexual thrills like this. Daniel’s mouth was so filled with saliva, his tongue so expertly gifted at working whatever was placed on top of it; Jon felt like he could climax in no time at all. Instead, he pulled back, quickly undressing himself further and allowing Daniel to do the same once he stood back up again.

Suddenly, all that incredible flesh was being unveiled. Even after staring at Daniel’s body for so much of the day, Jon had never imagined that the guy’s nipples would sag quite so much. His giant gut was so heavy and squishy, his love handles rolling into several folds of fat that wrapped around into his back. His arms were so large and puffy, his thighs so genuinely overfilled with blubber, his calves looked positively tiny and weak in comparison. But then Daniel lifted his gut a little and reached under to grab at his almost hidden hardness, his forearm jiggling all the lard in his stomach as the fat man attempted to pleasure himself.

“Are you impressed?” Daniel asked, knowing that despite how hot and muscular Jon was, it was his own body that was the star of the show right at that moment.

“Yes,” Jon replied, tugging at himself as he watched Daniel doing the same.

“Did you ever imagine I’d get this big?” he asked next, clearly arousing himself more with his own questions.

Jon shook his head. “I didn’t think you had it in you to get this big,” he answered honestly; awe-struck by how extremely obese his former boss now was. “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Daniel moaned and tugged at himself more, grunting with the effort of having to reach his chubby hand into his groin. “I’m nowhere near finished yet, either,” he continued, grabbing at his stomach fat with his other hand. “I still want so much more!”

Jon sighed in appreciation of the display in front of him. There were so many rolls and folds. He could spend weeks exploring and fucking every single one; never getting bored.

Stepping closer to Daniel, Jon slipped his large hand around the back of the big man’s head and pulled him in for the most lust-filled kiss of his life.

“Don’t worry, Fatty,” he grinned, finally having the freedom to tease Daniel just as he had always wanted. “I started you off on this journey…” he whispered, grabbing at the flab and jiggling it. “...And I’m going to be the one to finish the job!”

Daniel nodded submissively, his hand taken away from his own hardness and replaced with Jon’s strong, firm grip upon it instead. “Whatever you say,” he moaned back; his piggy little eyes already rolling back into his head at the sensation. “You’re the boss.”

Jon’s erection seemed to swell ever more. “Say that again!” he teased with excitement, manoeuvring the fat man so that they both slipped into the nearby bedroom. Daniel was spun around and he gladly fell upon the edge of the bed, his wide rump exposed.

“You’re the boss!” the large, horny man declared, spreading his legs wider, knowing exactly what he needed Jon to do next. “You’re the only boss I ever want!”

Jon marvelled at the sight before him, knowing that nothing would ever come close to exciting him in the way that this did. He lubricated and pushed himself inside, enjoying every single powerful thrust he made: the sheer scale of the man he was fucking, the way all the fat and blubber rocked and jiggled. Feeding and pounding Daniel was the only thing he ever needed.

“I should hope so!” Jon declared, slapping the wide butt that was so willingly taken. “I’ll be giving you your performance review in a couple of weeks…” he teased, starting to thrust harder and harder. “I’m going to need you to bring your A-Game appetite and really step things up for me.”

Daniel moaned and nodded in agreement; every fantasy in his kinky little brain starting to come to life.

“Your new boss is a real bastard,” Jon laughed. “He’s going to push you harder than ever before, Fatso!”

Jon slowed his pace slightly, allowing the huge man a short relief; sliding in and out with more tenderness and caring.

“But be prepared, piggy…” Jon smiled, starting to ramp up the pace yet again; his strong thighs beginning to come into their own. “...I need results. And, I’m sure as hell going to get them…”

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