#i’m serious when i say i’ll listen to anything

[katethetank]

Rating: 18+, minors gtfo Chapter Summary: Eddie meets the family! CW: None? Tell me if I missed anything Tags: Alternate Universe - modern setting, Rock Star Eddie, Counselor Steve, Eddie is gay, Steve is bi, slow burn, eventual smut Word Count:3,308

Chapter 9<<Masterlist>>Chapter 11

Mama Steve: Hey dickheads, does The Dungeon close at 5 on Sunday?

Dustybuns: It always has asshole

Mama Steve: Watch your mouth kid!

Mama Steve: Stick around after close

Mike Fucking Wheeler: You’re not the boss of us

Mad Max: Listen to your mother Michael

🧙Will the Wise🧙: What’s going on Steve?

🏀Lucas🏀: You’ve been MIA man, you alright?

Dustybuns: So you blow us off for weeks and now you’re making demands? Some mom you are 

😇El😇: We’ve missed you Steve!

Mike Fucking Wheeler: We have?

Mama Steve: Thought you assholes might wanna meet my boyfriend, but forget it

Dustybuns: YOIR WHAT

🏀Lucas🏀: I need you to be so serious right now

😇El😇: Steve I’m so happy for you!

Mad Max: Holy shit, you actually locked that down?

Dustybuns: STEVE!! 

🧙Will the Wise🧙: whaaaaaaaaaaattttt

Dustybuns: WHAT US HAPPENITN

Mad Max: I think you broke Dustin

🏀Lucas🏀: Omg are you bringing him to the shop?!

Dustybuns: STEVENNN ABSWRS NOW

🧙Will the Wise🧙: Yeah Dustin is malfunctioning

😇El😇: Do we really get to meet him?

Mad Max: This is hilarious omfg

Dustybuns: STOP IFNORING US!

Mama Steve: Are you assholes gonna behave?

Mad Max: No

😇El😇: Yes!

🧙Will the Wise🧙: The odds are not in your favor 

🏀Lucas🏀: You better not be fucking with us

Dustybuns: [voice message] Steven Angela Harrington I swear to fucking Christ if you’re fucking with us I’m gonna be so pissed! Tell us NOW what the fuck is going on!

Mama Steve: Sunday after the shop closes I’m bringing Eddie to meet you guys 

Mama Steve: I’m gonna regret this aren’t I?

Dustybuns: [voice message] Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite brother?

Mama Steve: You’re an only child

Dustybuns: How dare you

🏀Lucas🏀: We’ll be there!

😇El😇: I can’t wait!

🧙Will the Wise🧙: This is gonna be great

Mad Max: This is gonna be a disaster

Mike Fucking Wheeler: I’ll believe it when I see it 

“Oh my god this is total chaos. I love them already.” Eddie is reading the texts over his shoulder as they blow up his phone. These kids will be the death of him.

“I’m totally coming, I have got to witness this.”

Steve grabs a fry off of Eddie’s plate and throws it at Robin. He told her immediately that he and Eddie had made it official (ok not immediately, there may have been another handjob before he texted her) and she insisted on meeting them at Wayne’s on Steve’s lunch break so she could congratulate/grill them in person.

“Don’t get grouchy with me Dingus, you’re gonna need all the support you can get. Both of you!” She pointedly looks at Eddie.

He points to himself, “Me? Why me?”

Robin straightens up in her seat explaining, “These kids can be great, but they can also be total assholes. And it might look like they just give Steve shit all the time, but they’re fiercely protective of him. He’s seen them all through different rough patches of their lives and he’s been there for them in ways that nobody else has. They might be fans of yours, but that doesn’t mean they’re going to worship you. You bagged their mom, Eddie! You’re going to need someone in your corner to vouch for you.”

Steve turns and takes in Eddie’s profile. He looks nervous. “Robin, stop scaring my boyfriend!”

That actually gets a smile out of him and a kiss on the cheek. “God, I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of hearing you say that word sweetheart.” 

“Good, cuz I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of saying it,” Steve replies.

“Ugh gross, you two are disgustingly cute.”

“Thank you,” Steve says and flips her off.

Eddie turns his attention back to Robin. “So Rob, you’d  have my back with these hellions? Have I proven myself worthy of Steve’s hand?” Under the table he laces their fingers together. Steve gives him a squeeze.

“Oh my god you are such a dork. You might actually fit right in. But yes, you have. I can see how happy you make Steve, and you’re obviously obsessed with him. You've shown that you’re committed to this, you’ve been respectful of his boundaries, Wayne doesn’t seem to think you’re a dick. Just keep making him happy and we won’t have a problem.”

“Nope, just the same old pain in my ass he’s always been.” Jesus, Steve didn’t even notice Wayne approaching the table. He’s gonna need bells for both of the Munson men. “Good kid though, you don’t got nothin’ worry about darlin’. He’s been all moon eyed over his boy here since day one, won’t shut up about him.”

“Wayne, what the hell!”

“Don’t deny it son, you’re a shit liar. Steve,” he says looking down at him, “he ever do you wrong, you come to me, understood?”

Steve has to hold back his glee at Wayne’s protectiveness. “Yes sir, you got it.”

“None of that ‘sir’ shit, you’re practically family now. And ya ain’t paying either! You and Birdie here both.”

Robin looks ecstatic, but Steve feels a pit in his gut. “Wayne, I can’t do tha-“

“Shush! I ain’t gonna fight you on this! Just watch some Sunday games with me when you can and we’ll call it even. Ed here ain’t got no interest and just complains the whole time.”

Steve laughs at that, it sounds absolutely accurate. “You got it Wayne.” Wayne pats his shoulder and heads back to the kitchen.

“Christ, I think he likes you more than he likes me,” Eddie grumbles.

“What can I say? I’m like the son he never had!” Steve beams.

Eddie gasps, dramatically offended. “Rude! That’s rude Steven! Just for that, I’m going to steal all of your children’s favoritism.”

Like they share a brain, Steve and Robin tell him, “Good luck!”

Sunday rolls around faster than Steve anticipated. He won’t say he’s nervous exactly, more anxious of how the kids are going to act around Eddie. He just hopes they aren’t total buttheads. He pulls up to Wayne’s house and Eddie is sitting on the porch smoking a cigarette. He doesn’t smoke often, and Steve has a feeling Eddie is more nervous about this than he thought.

He gets out of the car and walks up to the porch, offering Eddie a reassuring smile. “Hey baby. You ok?”

Eddie nods his head and puts out the cigarette in an old coffee can. “Yeah I think so. Sorry, just a little anxious about this. Didn’t wanna smell like an ashtray, but I needed something to level me out a bit.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s ok, I don’t mind. You ready to go?” Eddie nods again, looking anything but ready. “Kiss first?” Steve asks.

That gets a smile out of him. “You don’t mind smokey kisses, sweetheart?”

“No. Not from you. C’mere.”

Eddie steps off the porch and puts his hands on Steve’s hips. It always makes him feel small. He cups Eddie’s face and smiles into the kiss. He can already feel him relaxing.

“Mmm, I think I needed that more than the cigarette. Ok, now I’m ready.”

They climb into the car and Steve pairs Eddie’s phone, offering him DJ privileges this time. Driving guitars pump through the speakers as they make their way out of the neighborhood. Eddie turns the volume down after a couple minutes and turns to Steve. “I don’t know how to ask this without sounding like a dick, so I’m just gonna ask. How does a counselor at a community center afford a BMW? God, there’s no polite way to ask that, is there? I’m sorry, never mind, forget I said anything!”

“It’s ok Eds! You’re not a dick. I definitely don’t make a fortune working there, but it’s whatever. You know how I said I was a trust fund kid? Yeah. I had a trust fund. My grandparents set it up when I was little, and even though my parents basically disowned me, they couldn’t touch it. I got access to it when I was 25 and got myself a car. The rest was better spent.”

Ah fuck. He realizes he just opened a can of worms. He hasn’t told Eddie about this yet because to him it doesn’t really matter. But people are weird about money.

“Yeah, you treat yourself to a trip around Europe or something?” He laughs. Steve pauses for a moment and Eddie makes a questioning face.

“No. I uh…I gave it to the kids so they could open The Dungeon.”

Eddie just blinks at him for a minute.

“Stevie. Are you serious?”

“I know! I know it was probably stupid, but they had this dream and didn’t know how they were gonna get it started, and I didn't really have much use for all that money, plus the guilt I had even taking it meant I couldn’t even really enjoy it, so I figured that was the best thing I could do with it.”

“Pull over.”

Steve glances over at Eddie, bewildered. “What?!”

“I said pull over.”

Steve pulls the car to the side of the road and the second he has it in park, Eddie is on him. He’s so surprised that he doesn’t even kiss him back for a second. Steve pulls back to ask, “What is happening right now?”

“Steven Rebecca Harrington-“

“Not you too!”

“-You are the most selfless,” he gets a kiss to his cheek, “caring,” his forehead, “generous,” his nose, “man I have ever met!” Eddie plants a firm and passion kiss to his lips.

Eddie breaks the kiss and holds Steve’s face in his hands. “You gave all that up so you could help the people you love. You’re incredible, sweetheart, do you know that? You need to know that. Those kids better fucking know that! I am completely, unbelievably in awe of you. How the fuck did I get lucky enough to call you mine?”

Steve never thought he’d be crying on the side of the road in the arms of a rock star, but here he is. Eddie embracing him while tears slip down his cheeks. “I’m the lucky one,” he whispers. It’s true. He’s never felt so appreciated or adored or seen. 

They take a few minutes for Steve to calm down and then they’re back on their way to The Dungeon. They park and get out, and Steve takes Eddie’s hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “You ready for this?”

“Nope! C’mon, let’s get in there!”

Steve guides him through the front door and he’s struck with the memory of their first meeting. The last time they were in here together they were strangers. Now Eddie’s his boyfriend. Who’s about to meet…oh fuck, the whole family! Not only are the kids and Robin here, with eager looks on their faces, but Hop and Joyce are here too.

“Uh. Hey everybody. This is Eddie!”

The silence lasts about 1.8 seconds.

“Jesus it’s about fucking time!”

“Finally!”

“He’s taller than I thought.”

“This is crazy.”

“Oh he’s handsome!”

“Looks like trouble.”

“Hi Eddie!”

“Are you our new dad?”

They all rush towards them, Dustin leading the charge, sticking his hand out to Eddie and introducing himself, “Dustin Henderson, Steve’s honorary brother!” It’s the most aggressive handshake Steve’s ever seen. 

Max stands back with a smirk and her arms crossed. El gives Eddie a hug because she’s a fucking angel. Lucas shakes his hand like an actual human. Will gives him a shy finger wave. Mike is standing nearby, scowling at Steve. 

Steve looks at him and asks, “You believe me now, asshole?”

Mike steps closer and asks, way too loudly, “Have you been crying?” Steve wants to smack him. Then Mike turns to Eddie with fire in his eyes like he’s never seen. “What did you do?!”

Eddie looks like he’s ready to flee. “N-nothing! I swear! Stevie?!”

Steve’s flabbers are gasted, he’s never seen Mike get so definitive like this. At least not towards him. “Mike, I’m fine!” He doesn’t look like he believes it. “Seriously, I’m ok. Just had a moment before we got here. Eddie didn’t do anything, I swear.”

Mike shrinks back only slightly and mutters, “He better not have.” What the fuck got into this kid?! 

Joyce shoves them all aside and heads right for Steve, throwing her arms around his waist. He hugs her back and it’s just one of those things that makes his heart smile. “Steve sweetie, it’s been too long! I can’t believe I had to hear about your new beau from the kids!”

Steve gives her a squeeze before letting go. “Sorry mom. I’m glad you guys are here though. Missed you.”

“We missed you too, baby. Now! Introduce us properly to your boy here!”

Steve smiles at Eddie, who already has a fond look on his face as he’s taken in their interaction. “Eddie, this is my mom Joyce. Well, not actual mom, but you know.”

Eddie takes her hand, kissing the back of it like some Disney prince. “It’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am. Steve has spoken very highly of you!”

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen Joyce blush. He's definitely seen that look of annoyance on Hop’s face though. “Oh, honey, you don’t have to be so formal. Just Joyce is fine.” She looks back and Steve and mouths so handsome! Steve just wiggles his eyebrows back.

Hop steps in and grabs Eddie’s hand with one of those bear paws of his. “Jim. You can call me Chief Hopper.”

“Dad, Jesus,” Steve sighs.

“Hop, enough!” Joyce looks up at Eddie with her can you believe this? face. “He’s harmless, ignore him.”

Hop still hasn’t let go of Eddie’s hand. Eddie looks mildly terrified. ”It’s nice to finally meet you sir. I’m glad to know that Steve has had someone like you in his corner.”

Well fuck. He’s never seen Hop fold so quickly. He’s actually got a ghost of a smile on his face. Hop relents, letting go of Eddie’s hand and taking a step back. Why is this such a turn on?! Eddie turns to look at him and immediately clocks the desire that must be apparent on Steve’s face. He leans and whispers directly in his ear, “Save it for later baby.” Yeah that’s not helping.

They finally sit down at one of the big wood tables where Robin has been observing the entire interaction with glee. Dustin plants himself on Eddie’s other side, no doubt ready to grill him about something nerdy. The rest of the kids are scattered around the space, and Will comes up to ask, “Did you guys want a coffee? We still have everything up and running.”

Eddie smiles and tells him, “That would be great actually! Thanks…Will, right?” Will nods eagerly. “Just a coffee with cream and sugar would be awesome. Thanks man.” 

Will turns to Steve. “You want your drink, Steve?”

“Yeah, thanks bud.” Will nods and heads behind the counter to get started.

Eddie quirks an eyebrow. “Your drink?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies. “The Paladin? They made a drink for me. It’s a vanilla latte with like, caramel and shit. You should try it!”

Eddie just stares for a moment. “And it’s called The Paladin?”

What is Steve missing here? “Uh…yeah? Something from their nerd game or whatever. I never got into it.”

Eddie shakes his head and says under his breath, “Of course it is.” He turns completely to fully face Steve. “Sweetheart, do you know what a Paladin is?”

Steve furrows his brows. “It’s like a fighter guy or something, right?”

Eddie scoffs. “A fighter guy. It’s more than that honey. Paladins are holy knights that are sworn to fight evil and uphold justice. Divine spellcasters who train in combat, and wield the power to heal and protect. They’re self-sufficient, and they serve as defenders of the party. So no, it’s not just a fighter Steve. It’s a position of honor.”

Steve can’t swallow the lump in his throat. He looks away from Eddie to try and ground himself again, but that’s when he notices everyone has gone quiet. As he takes in the faces around him, his found family, his people…he sees it for the first time. How much they love him, how they see him. Their champion, their protector, their knight. 

He never thought he’d be crying in a coffee shop with his family and his boyfriend around him. But here he is. Robin grabs his hand from across the table. Eddie’s hand wraps around the back of his neck as he kisses his forehead. Mike gives him the softest look he's ever seen. Lucas rubs his back and Will sets down their drinks with a smile and a handful of extra napkins. Dustin, speaking in a much more subdued voice says, “We thought you knew, Steve.”

He dabs his eye with a napkin and laughs through a sob. “Clearly I didn’t! Fuck! I uh…I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t have to say anything, baby.” Eddie whispers to him. “Just have to accept it.”

Careless of his family around him, Steve leans in and kisses his boyfriend, hoping it can communicate all of his appreciation. The room erupts in cheers and complaints.

“Aww, they’re so sweet!”

“Sweet my ass”

“Ew, get a room!”

“Ugh, that’s my mom!”

“Get it Steve!”

Eddie caresses his cheek and asks, “You ok Stevie?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Very ok.”

The rest of the night goes smoothly without any more emotional breakdowns thank god. Dustin talks Eddie’s ear off about D&D - Steve, did you know Eddie used to run a D&D club in high school? It was called Hellfire right?! We do campaigns here once a month Eddie, you should come! Will is our DM but if you want you could do it sometime! He loves the kid, but yikes.

If Eddie hadn’t already won everyone over with his charm, he’s definitely doing it with food. As the night goes on, he suggests having pizza delivered. Steve tries to offer to pay for it, but Eddie isn’t having it. “Sweetheart, no. Let me do this. You take care of them all the time, let me have a turn.”

Everyone gets stuffed with pizza, breadsticks, and somehow Eddie gets cupcakes delivered. He even promises Dustin that he’ll DM for them the next time they play. As they’re saying goodbyes Mike pulls Steve aside. “Look, I know I can be asshole sometimes-“

“Sometimes?!”

“Ok, a lot! But you’ve always been there for us. You've looked out for us for years, helped us get all this off the ground. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. So. I just wanna make sure you’re…happy or whatever.”

Steve didn’t have Mike warming his heart on his bingo card. “Thanks for that, kid. And I am. Eddie’s amazing. I haven’t been this happy in a long time. Maybe ever!”

Mike nods and avoids eye contact. “Good! Good, I’m glad. I wanna like him. He seems cool. If he hurts you though, just wanna let you know, I’ve got your back.”

Steve chuckles, “Don’t think we’ll have to worry about that, but thanks man. I appreciate it.” They share a quick bro hug, complete with back slaps and Mike scurries away to be closer to El.

Robin steps up to his side and throws her arm around his shoulders. “Damn, Dingus. I didn’t think it would go this well! Your man’s little speech about how amazing you are sure won everyone over quickly. Didn’t see that happening.”

Steve wraps his arm around his best friend and smiles as he watches Eddie say goodbyes to everyone. Hugging Joyce and the girls (and Dustin), exchanging a much more amicable handshake with Hop, excitedly making plans to play the nerd game with the boys. 

“Yeah. Yeah, he did great.”

Chapter 9<<Masterlist>>Chapter 11

*********************************************

Taglist is open!

@annachronisme @mrsjellymunson @kozuuji

[rinsei]

you know you guys can talk to me about anything right …

[screampied]

‘ ONE OF HIS GIRLSSSS ! ,

ᡴꪫ‎ sum. toji ends up finding out maybe his best friend's daughter isn’t so innocent after all once he walks in on you and your precious 12k viewers. he grows amused by your little side hustle as a cam girl. but actually, maybe having him as a special guest wasn’t so bad. (girl it was)

wc. 6k

warnings. fem! reader, vōyerism, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), unprotected, praise, dirty talk, squírting, cunnílingus, slight dumbification, impact play, size kink, spit.

dbf! toji masterlist

“guys, i’m serious,” you’d utter, your monitor staring right back at you — a full live audience of over twelve thousand eyes listening to you speak. you were cooped up in your room, slouching on your chair with your legs pressed together. “he’s totally real. we even almost got caught one time.”

you were referring to your dad’s best friend, toji…

just muttering his name aloud made you feel all sorts of tingles. oh, to think how that 'one time' was just about three days ago. you still remember everything like it just happened, the intoxicating taste of toji’s lips, his unforgettable loud cologne scent, how fucking mean he was, you missed him, who were you even kidding. last time you checked, him and your father went out somewhere. you didn’t bother to care where, probably fishing or something.

skimming through the plethora of donations with filthy questions, thirsty provocative questions that desperately craved your attention, you read one, “how is he in bed, oh—well,” and you squeeze your thighs before re-adjusting your screen. “he’s okay. i had to fake my orgasms a few times though, figures ‘cause he’s kinda old.”

“oh yeah?”

as if on cue, there toji stood—right outside your doorway, hands buried in his deep roots of pockets and that same unreadable expression. he’s sending you straight daggers, you crane your neck to glance at him before you panic, “uh, i’ll talk to you guys later.”

“nah keep that shit on, girl,” he shakes his head, trodding his bare feet towards you. you mentally face palm. you could have sworn he was out somewhere with your father. “just when i thought ya couldn’t get even freakier,” he mutters, and he’s now behind you—green irises peering at your monitor. the chat suddenly spams with some of your audience lusting over toji, wondering if he’s a special guest. “heyyy,” he says to the screen, his voice was a pitchy low and then you gasp once he throws an arm around you. “is he a special guest?” and then he turns to you with a sly grin. “i don’t know, princess . . am i?”

“. . . i mean i guess,” you speak, not even realizing how your tone softens a bit. this always happened, whenever you were just a few feet away from toji, you’d feel so tense. it’s officially been a week since the two of you were screwing around—you hadn’t gotten caught, at least you think you haven’t gotten caught. the thrill of it all though, it was enticing. he eyes your little set up and he’s amused more than anything. “this is the guy i was telling you guys about,” you avert your dilated pupils back towards the bright screen. “this is . . . toji.”

“heh yo,” he scoffs at the screen with a greet, seeing how your confidence fades the moment he’s in the room with you. toji leans beside you, eyeing the lewd comments before one catches his eye. “tell him to turn around. what for?”

you sheepishly grin at the webcam, knowing some of your aroused fans wanted to take a quick peek at toji’s ass. to be fair, you couldn’t exactly blame them. you stare a bit yourself, and it was definitely. . . something.

three new tips from mod gojoclitoru: girl bye he looks like he doesn’t shower

wormfucker69: he looks like the guy who works @ my cleaners lol

shokostrapdestroyer: Where’s Shoko ?????

kanyeastinfection: Soooo hawt ;)

iloveosamudazai: i miss nanamin

“how come y’er all shy? i heard what you’ve been saying ‘bout me, y’know,” toji mumbles. he stands tall, cracking his neck towards the left. his entire frame, he was always so handsome. you take a moment to glance up at him, his perfectly chiseled physique. he looked like he was about to head to the gym, he had on a simple wife beater with dingy grey sweats. his gaze he had towards you was purely tantalizing. “. . ah,” he inches closer towards you, bending down as you sat on the office chair, getting right up close to your face. “why don’t you repeat that last bit for me. you fake your orgasms with this old man?”

“i didn’t ….” you trail off, trying to come up with some excuse. suddenly, it felt hot. you felt hot.

your heart starts to race the more he stared you down. the chat was going at a much more rapid speed, it’s like your viewer count doubled the moment toji entered. then you thought—maybe this would do you some good, having him as a special guest didn’t seem so bad.

he lightly grabs your chin, making you peer straight into his eyes. “i stay away from you for three days ‘n it seems like you forgot how to act.”

toji did have a point precisely, for the last three days you basically had the entire house to yourself. him and your father went out to some business trip, you missed him though.

of course, if you tagged along you’d be sure you’d both get caught so you just offered to watch over the house. it was as if the more time you spent with toji, the more you started to feel something.

you didn’t know what it was, it was hard to put into detail, put into pure words—but you knew for certain, you didn’t wanna stop seeing him. it was spring break after all…

“i meant what i said,” you mutter.

while returning his gaze, toji’s eyes widen for a bit, off guard by your sudden switch of attitude. you had a bit of a plan, you decided if you played along, your sweet thousands of fans would eat it up. and they were, the repetitive high-pitch sounds of constant donations rang through your ears before you continue to speak. “i faked everything, toji.”

his eyes linger into you for a long time before he drags a thumb down your lip. “well shit. that so?” and his voice—it pitches a dangerous tune. you already start to feel your thighs squeeze together more tightly. “mhm,” he grunts, watching you nod your head in response. he scoffs to himself before grumbling. “maybe i should make it more real for you then.”

with such simple words, trust and believe he does.

toji’s way of making it more real was to simply have you ride his face, all in front of your audience too.

for some reason, you felt burning up coming to the sheer realization that literally all eyes were simply on you. a quick glance at your blue light monitor and the viewer count displayed a hefty whopping amount of 12,295. all you could think about it was the hefty bank you were about to make.

your legs quaver as toji’s laid flat on your old bed, having you take your seat right on his face — his breath is hot as he runs his tongue alongside your inner thighs before giving you a stare. “eyes down here, not them,” he snarls, and you moan once he spanks your pre-soaked clit, your panties still attached. “they aren’t about to fuckin’ eat you out, are they?”

“n—no,” you murmur out, looking down back at him and he slowly runs a fat thumb down your slit.

oh, you were soaked alright.

a cute little damp spot between the middle part of your underwear makes an appearance and he slides his tongue all against it. he’s so slow with it all, making sure to take his time to make you pout out for him. “toji,” you mumble, feeling your tummy sink in before you huff out a single breath. he’s still so attractive, even underneath you—a little yet nice amount of facial hair scatters near certain parts of his face. scattered specks of brief darkened hair near his sharp jaw paint his face like an empty canvas. you run a finger against his chin and he shoots you a sleazy grin. “hurry up, toji.”

dark eyes flicker back towards you before he gifts your sopping pussy a mean spank. “hurry up toji,” he mocks your tone. you melodically whimper, watching as he licks a single stripe between your covered slit. “shut the fuck up. ‘m gonna take my time with you since apparently you ‘fake’ everything.”

you couldn’t help but merely slip out a giggle, your comment really offended him in some way. obviously, you were joking though—you and toji both knew he knew how to snatch multiple orgasms out of you at once. he was quite a skilled man without question, with his tongue—his dick, literally anything.

although, you snap out of your salacious thoughts the moment you feel him latch his tongue against your folds. it took you a minute to realize your panties were already off, he practically ripped them off and he was already digging in. you whimper, hovering your weight over his face before staring at the lit up monitor.

BIGDICKKUNA: Even my domain has better camera quality than this

gojoclitoru: here sukuna go…

FOXYKITTEN2940: clean up aisle my pants >.<

you’re starting to grind against his face, a hand combing through his hair before your bite your lip. toji stares at you, dragging a thumb down your puffy slit before leaning back to spit on it. he was always such a sloppy man—no shame in the world. you’d feel yourself pulsate whenever he did that, departing his lips away from your cunt before collecting a good wad of saliva to coat your folds with such a sheeny translucent color.

squelch after squelch, undeniably you were sopping. his nose briefly prods against your nub and you whine once he finally starts to actually eat you out.

“f-fuckkk.” you’d breathe, intaking a sharp breath. sudden dizziness overtook you—a thrum escapes from your sheeny lips as you rock your hips forward. it was hypnotic, the way you move against his mouth. toji looked so pretty underneath you too. his eyes, so hooded and half lidded—such a hungry gaze, a starved animal. he starts tantalizingly slow at first, making sure to lay the flat of his tongue against your entrance before simply digging in.

side—to—side, his head continues to swiftly shift and move as he’s devouring his meal, a thumb continues to strum against your slick arousal before he starts to suck, suck, suck.

candy, a perfect way to describe your taste in toji’s humblest opinion. he could never get enough, a few long strands of his hair tickles against your thighs as he resumes his sloppy eating. “mhm. pull on it.” he says between hot breaths, and you feel a sudden fire ignite inside of you. you knew immediately he was referring to his hair. such ruffled, messy strands desperately awaiting to be tugged by your fingers.

so you do—you take a good grab, lightly yanking him forward and he grunts.

“. . harder,” he rasps, and he’s already starting to look blissed out. eyes all glazed over, you wriggle over his face before you feel a sudden shiver overtake you. you pull harder and his face goes right against your cunt. you sloppily swipe against his nose like a credit card and he smirks at you. “that’s what ‘m talking about. ride my face, girl.”

his words, his filthy vulgarly words guide you through it all.

each pulse makes you twitch even more—each breath that runs out your mouth feels like it’s going to be your last, especially with a tongue like toji’s. he makes sure not to miss a drop, slurping quite everything out of you. he was a man—not necessarily a clean one, but he was never scared of a little mess. you start to coat the bottom part of his chin with your slit, it’s glistening so much.

after a while, toji’s already drunk off of your sweetened taste. every few flicks of his tongue against your nub makes cute whimpers coo out your throat and you only tighten the grip against his hair.

“r-right there, ‘s good when you suck there, toji.”

“cause i know what the fuck ‘m doing.” he grumbles back, bringing his same thumb to slide down your slit. he repeats it again and again. smearing your own mess right back on you, only to clean it up. he was a messy man, and with a tasty pussy that you had—you only made him ten times messier.

he was never one to complain though, toji’s the type to never say thank you—he shows you how grateful he is, it involves with being between your legs.

toji fushiguro…

a sleazy man without a single care in the word, maybe messing around his with best friend’s daughter slash colleague was a bit taboo. but did he care—no, was he gonna stop doing it—no, was he perhaps catching feelings for you the more time he spends with you? were you catching feelings?

. . .

unanswered questions, even if you asked yourself that question, you honestly couldn’t even know how to reply. the two of you never really labeled anything, so this was just a simple spring break fling right?

once courses resume and you go back to your well prestige university your father got you into due to connections, that’d probably be the last you’d see of him. toji fushiguro, the man you’ve been screwing around with for the past almost two weeks. it’s almost safe to say that you started to get attached to his presence—sometimes it’s like the two of you didn’t even care if you got caught. there was literally a time where toji fingered you under the table during dinner.

that was . . embarrassing.

the way you were trying to withhold a conversation with your father—he’s just rambling you about what a boring day he had at the office and you’re over here gushing on his best friend’s fingers. you find yourself thinking about that specific moment all too well—as well as the various other ones, him fucking you on the hood of his car, in the living room, and even the bathroom—which your panties ended up getting found.

oops.

“told you to keep those fuckin’ eyes on me,” he hoarsely rasps—snapping you out of your lewd reminiscing fantasm. his tongue, it’s swirling all against your clit as you focus your attention back towards him. with two big hands, he holds your jerky hips steady—feeling you rut against his mouth before he feels you pulse right in his mouth. “yeah.” he mutters, bringing two digits to prod towards your slick entrance. you whine, feeling him slowly insert them with ease—so wet, he was almost in awe at how you were dripping like a faucet. not even a faucet could compare nor describe how sodden your sweet cunt was. each lap he makes with his tongue gets more filthy, it turns into sucking before you’re practically spasming all over again.

you moan, hands still tight and rigidly tangled within his strands before you take a quick peek at your laptop. so many eyes were on you—so many more eyes now, the count was steadily doubling, the donations you were receiving made your mouth nearly water. tip after tip, your pupils turned into green dollar signs. this was probably the most viewers you had in the entirety of your little cam girl side hustle.

all thanks to toji.

you’re getting close, it’s inevitable—especially with the way your hips continue to rock back and forth. a cute rhythm he got accustomed to, toji brings two rough hands towards the fat mounds of your ass before squeezing it. he was always a handsy man, feeling all over your body. green pools of eyes stare right at you as you’re intaking each staggering breath that escapes your spit-glossed lips. “c-close, toji,” you’d babble out, your knees almost buckle—a sudden twinge pouring into your lower abdomen before you mewl. “gonna—cum, gonna—”

“baby hold it,” he says sternly, the base in his voice never failing to make you wet. he breaks his lips away for a moment before he glances at the screen—an upside down position. “hm. chat, should the pretty girl finish early?”

your heart drops—you knew how many trolls you had in your audience, and before you could cutely tell him to just let you climax, he hums in amusement at the incoming flood of comments.

chososbootylicker29: Petition to have Toji oiled and cheeked up

zorosballswallower: NOOOOO

anonymoususer: dad?

gojoclitoru: lol no.

and with many others the comments continue to flood.

majority of the answers being no—you hated being edged, loathed it. especially with toji because he was so damn mean. he snickers, reading the responses upside down before you feel the two tips of his fingers shove way deep inside you. your back arches and you whine ore he holds your hips in place with a single hand. “looks like y’er little fans want you to wait pretty girl,” and you look down at him with a cute glare—his lips depart and his entire mouth from the very bottom of his chin was damp. even still, he looked so attractive. “cute. a glare ain’t gonna change nothing though,” and a pout shortly stretched against your lips as he runs his tongue near your frantic pulsing clit. he brings a spank to it and it makes you whine. “be a good girl ‘n wait a little longer.”

“i can’t,” you frown out, and that only earns another sharp spank towards your folds.

“yes you fuckin’ can,” and you start to whine once he stops eating you out. it felt so warm, all of a sudden the cold air wafts against your skin and you shudder. toji loves more than anything to spank your pussy whilst staring right into your eyes. “if i tell my girl to wait, she’s gonna wait.”

my girl…

for some reason, that made your pulsing ten times worse, a plethora of butterflies arise inside your stomach and you’re still just hovering over his face.

he palpates his fingers—not his tongue to rummage all inside your cunt, you frown cutely. you wanted his tongue, not his stubby thick fingers. although, the thing you wanted most was to finish. as you grind against his face, you feel his infamous scar run against your pussy and it tickles. it tickles in such a way that it drags out a sweet crying moan from you.

“t—toji,” you start to grow impatient. he’s just teasing you, blowing against your folds with warm breath, swiping his nose alongside your sopping entrance, anything but tasting you again. he likes seeing you like this, on the brink of tears because you got denied a climax. it started to come closer and closer until once it was finally there—you puff up your cheeks for a split second before moaning. “g-god, i can’t hold it. ‘m gonna cummm.”

“wait,” he utters in a husky rasp, watching as you quaveringly hover over his face—chin just soaked with your arousal, he licks the bottom of his lip before tittering at you. “you finish when i’m ready.”

“f-fuck you,” you whimper, and you end up cumming anyway—he’s taken aback but it only arouses him even more. the brat, oh the brat that you were. one of the many things he liked about you, you were submissive but not entirely—you had a backbone, you talked back to him, you even had the nerve to roll those pretty eyes at him.

it hits you like a semi-truck.

illegal full speed, the brakes were had to step on and you feel it just strike right into you at full force. your orgasm, you scoot your hips forward against his mouth and now he’s the one glaring at you. toji laps up all of you, two fingers spreading your clit apart before he spits on it again. “you just don’t listen, huh,” and his voice was even lower than it was before—a rich baritone lingering underneath it. you’re riding out your climax when he lightly shoves you on the bed.

in your mind, you’re thinking . .

finally, the good part.

toji grimaces at the cute smile that goes against your lips. you’re eager just as him— not to mention, it’s been three days since he’s touched you. “don’t get too excited, brat,” he grumbles with a scowl tugging the corners of his mouth. he plops onto the bed before staring down at you. “bend the fuck over for me. fake orgasm my ass.”

so blunt, you immensely comply—so impatient for him to just be inside of you.

the piles of donations triple by this point, and you try to take a peep at your screen before he spanks your ass. “ass up, face down little girl. don’t got all day.”

“sorryyy,” you giggle with a mere eye roll.

testing toji’s patience was always so fun for you. for whatever reason, getting on his nerves really turned you on. once you finally bend over for him, two hands grab the fats of your ass and you bite your lip once he prepares to align himself. you’re facing your bright lit screen.

the comments talking more about toji than you and you pout . . . figures though. he’s hot, no wonder all the attention would be on him instead of you.

with his right hand, he wraps it around his thick length before rubbing his tip against your pre-drenched entrance. he grunts, witnessing how your pussy tries to swallow him so easily…

you’re puckering, awaiting for him to stuff you full as you’re slump right into the mattress. “but sweetheart, y’er not sorry,” he grunts, smacking his fat tip against your slick folds. a soft mewl runs out the back of your throat before you arch just a bit more. with another spank, he snarls in a huff, “not gonna fuck ya that easy. y’er gonna have to use those manners if you wanna get what you want.”

“huh?”

“huh?” he mocks, kissing your ass with another spank from his palm. “you can’t hear? speak, girl. talk ‘ta me nice.”

glossy eyes of yours avert towards your screen, everyone’s lusting over toji and it only fuels his ego even more—you easily felt yourself throb, a pout never leaving your lips before you inhale.

“please . . ” you start, feeling him softly drag a hand against your curves, your physique. his touch always had you weak, taking in every part of your frame. all his . . just for these few weeks.

“please what?”

“please f—fuck me,” you grumble, and you’re growing more and more irritated—he hums to himself, amused. each second you spend speaking, each second he could be inside of you. you and him both knew that.

toji rubs his leaky tip with a bit more pressure against your pussy, just a a little more and he’d be inside. you started to feel your mouth salivate before you start to whine. “hm,” he ponders to himself, green eyes occasionally staring at the laptop that had about hundreds of comments spamming per second. “fine. i feel like bein’ nice to you today, especially since i haven’t seen my girl in a hot minute,” and again, he refers to you as his girl. it sends an unfamiliar feeling of butterflies brewing up in your stomach before he spanks you for probably the umpteenth time now. “now, arch a liiiitle more ‘n stare at your fans for me, yeah.”

you’re propped on the mattress with your ass all up in the air. from your screen as you stare at it, you spot toji’s mirroring reflection. that sly smile that slowly and gradually forms against his lips.

“lie the fuck down.” he mutters, feeling you try to sit up. you do, intaking a single breath before you feel him huff out a low puff. toji’s eyes stare right at your ass, he takes every moment in. the way you suck him in, it’s just filthy. the saturated squelches that shortly follow afterward—so filthy.

a six letter word to perfectly describe this entire situation.

arched over for your dad’s best friend, who would have thought—not you, not in a million years.

“ . . . shit,” he pants, and you’re so wet. you moan, pawing at the fat silk sheets in front of you. so many flooded comments of your audience merely thirsting over toji, wishing desperately that they were in your position. ( . . quite literally . . )

and toji’s just so fucking big.

he’s got a lofty height of inches under his belt.

metaphorically speaking—just a single sharp thrust and you’re speechless.

the wind gets snatched out of your lungs and it’s so vigorous that your head’s spinning. this entire angle, he’s got you right where he wants you—on all fours with your ass perked up. toji can’t keep his hands to himself anyway, his hands roam all over your waist before holding both hips in place. clammy hands just about stick to your skin before he starts to create a decent pace.

a slow pace — a slow pace that turns more mean.

languidly, you feel yourself leaning to his touch as he runs a hand down your spine.

toji brings one leg up to deepen the position and not even moments later, your lips part.

“t—toji . . ah ah,” and you don’t even recognize yourself. he repositions himself for a split second, making haste with his hips before sliding his feet right past your knees. with this, it’s more stimulation and you feel it all. just the right amount of pressure, his balls sharply thwack against your ass and it makes your mind cloud up with fuzz.

“. . damn,” he groans, a hand grabbing towards the back of your university hoodie. as he leans forward, dark viridescent colored pupils stare at your rear. the way it jerks and recoils against him, everytime . . it’s the best part. even more when he spanks it, deepening his hips against your cunt to earn out a cute whine or two from you. for what seemed like the millionth time, toji kisses the right cheek of your ass with various spanks. the sting has you gnawing on your lip like it’s candy, curling your toes up with a few droplets of sweat coating the bridge of your nose. “missed this pussy, three days too fuckin’ long, brat.”

“i missed you t—.”

“girl hello? i wasn’t talking to you.”

you frown, and it follows from a snicker from him.

“. . . so dramatic,” he’d eye roll once he hears you blow out a cute sigh. “fine, i did miss you,” and that was only a half lie. you knew in actuality, he missed what’s between your legs. toji still remained sassy as usual, it never left and it’d always stay. he’s buried all into you, deep to the hilt that each time his angry reddened tip drives against that spot, you squeal out in sweet pleasure.

it didn’t take him long to locate it, your g-spot. after a while you start to feel your pussy open, spreading wide—gaping. he was so ridiculously big, it’s leaving such question marks floating over your forehead because how can someone be this thick.

with a gruff—toji groans, veins bulging through his veins as he yanks your hoodie forward into him. he’s lenient, at least for a good while. letting you have your fun, get drunk off his cock before he edges you a more . . . oh just maybe.

gojoclitoru: does anyone want the link to my only fans :(

willbang4curses: Idk who I wanna be more…

iamnotsugurugetoseriouslyiamnothim: i want your only fans @/gojoclitoru

hotpeach03: Toji please I’m a single mom

your chat continues to spate, it’s so much that as your eyes watch them all flood down the logs, you could barely read the words.

he’s so deep inside, you’re almost drooling.

the stretch—he always leaves you so full, lips all parted and that same gaping mouth opening. pant after pant, you’re heaving heavily with your chest feeling tight and warm. “so deep,” you’d shriek, and he makes your arch lower just a bit further. he’s hitting all the right spots, not missing a single area. his dick retreats as it pulls out, then back again—twitching all inside of your cunt, he lunges forward with his hips before making you plop on your chest. “. . . .ohmygodohmygoddd,” and you were so whiney, you still can’t believe such pathetic noises slither past your damp lips. engulfed with your warm gummy walls squeezing him tight, he spanks you again . . . and again, and again.

“miss me that bad, huh?” he starts to speak. his voice was a pitchy rasp. a gruff base hides underneath it and you can hear the grit lingering like he needs to clear his throat. nevertheless, you throb anyway as he’s jackhammering his cock right into your swollen cunt over, and over, and over. “that why ya keep walkin’ around with these outfits? with no fuckin’ panties underneath, yeah?”

“forgot,” you whimper, shuddering once you feel toji grow playful. he trails his thumb towards your neglected puckering hole, fiddling with it just to get a reaction out of you, and he does. “s-sorry, ‘m sorry.”

“you don’t just forget to put panties on, slut,” he groans, and he feels himself approaching soon. it’s at the tip of his tongue—he feels the burn arise in the lower parts of his thighs, veins contouring to bulge all throughout his body. “wonder what y’er old man would think. ya only pull this shit ‘cause ‘s just you ‘n me here.”

he was right.

then again—if you’d have your father here, you’d never pull a bold stunt like that.

you’d rather drop dead than save yourself the embarrassment. funny though, considering the amount of times you almost got caught.

“so . . ” you mumble, and that’s when he presses his weight right against you this time. ah, prone bone.

you were really in for it now, thickly you swallow before his weight merely hovers over your ass, really deep in you this time.

he vigorously rams his thick cock into your sweltering cunt that’s hugging him oh so tight. he’s such a tease too—using every few chances he gets to poke and gingerly rub a thumb against your pulsating hole.

sweet moans die from your throat as you’re clinging onto the bed—such force that the springs nearly collapse from the whopping amounts of weight creating sheer impact. each thrust, it rings rapidly throughout your ears before toji groans. “f—fuck,” he’d groan, ignoring your little attempts of pure bratiness. you were at your wits end, smothering your glossed lips together before you feel his rounded cockhead mash against your most forbidden spots. spots that was so deep inside the inner areas of your cunt that it makes you mewl out in pure ecstasy. “gonna make me fill you up, princess,” he huffs out, tugging even tighter on the bottom part of your cerulean blue pull over. “s—shit,” and his gruff voice pitches time and time again. for a moment, you think you can hear toji whimper. it was real subtle though, but you heard it. loud and clearly. “gonna take it like you always do?”

“yesyesyes,” you nod—words pouring out of your lips like a waterfall, kneading your fingers into your palms as you bawled up the bedsheets right into your hands. with hooded droopy eyes, you stare at the screen with a dumb expression—he then takes the opportunity to get closer, grabbing you by the hair before holding your head up in front of your thousands of viewers.

“yes what, girl.”

you whine, feeling how perfectly his dick mashed throughout your folds—so easy for him, he was so thick that the stretch was simply immaculate.

“yesss, ‘m gonna take your c-cum, toji,” you’d pant, feeling your own eyes roll backwards—you probably looked a mess in front of your own thirteen thousand viewers, but you could care less. all that your empty brain could fathom was how you were ludicrously stuffed with his hefty cock. he’s drilling into you so good that that it almost feels like a massage. rough fingers run down your spine with one hand, another holding your head by the hair like it’s a prized possession before you whimper. “fuck me, fuck me, fuh—”

toji slaps a hand over your mouth the minute he hears something from downstairs—sure enough, it had to be your father.

shit.

he must have came home early. you remember him mentioning to you he was taking a trip to the corner store after work, probably to get some booze for him and toji to enjoy for some dumb football game.

“honeyyy? you up there?”

you moan, almost feeling your eyelids grow heavy as he’s still holding your head up in front of your laptop—his reflection in the screen just pounding into you at full speed.

already, you’re coating the back of his hand with nothing but your damp saliva—such a dirty girl, preferably his dirty girl.

maybe you were a bit delusional, no. you were very delusional—maybe this could go somewhere? then. again, it was no secret on how toji’s only around to get his dick wet, a reality that you forevermore choose to ignore—until you’d soon find out how that would bite you in the ass later on.

dead silence—you’re just muffling out mewls right into his mouth, and as if on cue, toji ends up finishing inside of you. it’s so much, velvety ropes of hot nut that fill the very insides of your pussy, shooting straight into your womb that your tummy flutters. it’s so much to where it spews out of your hole, he’s gotta poke his thumb in and swipe some out with the way it continues to leak. it’s so dirty, then again—toji fushiguro was a dirty man, the dirtiest.

“are ya gonna reply ‘n let y’er old man know you’re getting off his best friend’s cock or . . ?”

his words, such a tease that he’s still slowly pumping into you. gradually but slow, he plugs into your walls—seeping with cum that oozes out of your folds and you stare at the screen with a cute cock-drunken expression. “mmph,” was your reply, the only reply you could formulate since his big hand almost covered your entire face. so you give him a concise nod, hooded eyes feeling dry from staring at the screen for so many amount of minutes.

eventually, your father leaves and returns back to what he was doing . . . phew.

“that’s right,” he whispers in a low risqué tone, bringing a kiss towards the left part of your neck.

so tender—you’re gathering the strength to sit up but you end up slumping forward. with a pathetic, ‘oof’ you land on your chest, your own climax at the very edge. it’s cute because you end up finishing around the same time—your chest feels heavy, lungs tightly collapsing and all. the perfect way to describe your orgasm was a bomb—a bomb that was ticking and ticking, preparing to detonate before it finally does. instead, the destruction was you squirting, all over toji’s dick that stuffed you full. he’s so close up to your ear, hot breath fanning against your earlobe before he continues to speak. “. . oh, y’er fuckin’ dumb right now, aren’t ya. can barely speak.” and he removes his hand to where a trail of your spit departs. so lewd, you’re spasming from your recent release before with a quick glance—you stare at your monitor. you surpassed your tip goal by a huge milestone, yet like toji said—you were too dumb to even process let alone acknowledge it.

“t—toji,” you whimper, feeling the remnants of his sweet and savory seed pour down the crevices of your thighs. it was sticky, sticking to your skin like glue, sweltering of its entirety.

“come here, princess.”

it surprised you. for once, he was being . . . soft.

you reach backwards, closing your laptop before leaning right into toji. you moan, feeling his beefy ripped arms wrap around you, bringing you right into his embrace. bulky arms go around your waist and he pulls you into a sloppily heated kiss.

simultaneously, your heart skips a few beats—a few, probably an understatement. he tastes sweet, you could make out a brief tang of liquor on his tongue—a taste you didn’t want to ever forget. as your tongue rummages against his, you moan once he gets a bit handsy, a hand going right between your legs to feel the mess he made. the mess you made yourself also.

breathy pants could be heard from your lips as you press your dampish perspiring hands all on his bare chest. he’s wearing a somewhat of a formal shirt — you tug on his collar, yearning for him to come closer, to touch you more, hold you more. something, whatever it was was just brewing up inside of the very depths, the very pits of your stomach.

toji groans, the warmth of his breath wafting against yours before he pulls you away to get a good glimpse of you. a big hand holds your waist, and his eyes peer into you for a long time before as if he hesitates—he kisses the top of your forehead, only to stare away with a scowl.

“. . . toji,” you murmur, and by this point you weren’t speaking with your brain—more so with your heart. it was apparent, especially with the way your droopy hooded eyes suddenly soften the moment you speak out the two syllables in his name.

“let me speak first.” he grouses, a thumb stringing alongside your back, gently strumming against your skin. with the way you gazed at him, making him lie back before aligning yourself, it was clear as day that you wanted more of him. he leans back, long strands of black hair run down his face with his legs sprawled before he prepares to finish.

you straddle him, sitting flat on his lap and he’s so warm—he’s a bit flustered, flaccid from his release and of course a bit sensitive. it’s quite rare to see toji in such a . . . vulnerable state. perhaps you soften him in a few ways or less. at least, that’s what you’d like to think.

it takes him a long time to formulate the words, it’s as if his tongue was tied—weird for him considering it’s toji, he’s always direct and blunt.

and yet for once, you have him speechless.

toji lets off a irritated sigh before while what seems like forever, he mutters out a gruff, “shit. i . . i think ‘m in love with you.”

“ . . . ”

[pucksandpower]

Black Widow

Toto Wolff x black widow!Reader

Summary: Lewis Hamilton and George Russell are convinced you’re trying to kill their team principal, and, to be fair, you do have a trail of seven dead extremely wealthy husbands behind you … but it’s not what they think, you promise

The soft beep of medical equipment provides a rhythmic backdrop as you sit beside the ornate mahogany bed, your manicured fingers intertwined with those of your latest husband, Reginald Worthington III.

At 89 years old, Reggie, as you affectionately call him, is by far your oldest conquest yet. His wrinkled face, now gaunt from months of illness, still manages a weak smile as he gazes at you.

“My darling,” Reggie wheezes, his voice barely above a whisper, “I hope you know how much joy you’ve brought to these final months of mine.”

You lean in, your silky hair cascading over your shoulder as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Oh, Reggie. The pleasure has been all mine.”

It’s not entirely a lie. While you don’t love Reggie — or any of your previous husbands, for that matter — you’ve grown fond of the old codger. He’s certainly been the most amusing of your elderly spouses.

Reggie’s eyes twinkle with mischief, a ghost of the rakish playboy he must have been in his youth. “Now, now, my dear. We both know this has been a mutually beneficial arrangement. But I do hope I’ve provided some entertainment along the way.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “You’ve been a delight, darling. Truly.”

As if on cue, Reggie is seized by a coughing fit. You quickly grab a glass of water from the bedside table, helping him take small sips until the spasms subside. When he catches his breath, he fixes you with a serious look.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you. About the will.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your face carefully neutral. “Reggie, please. We don’t need to discuss such morbid topics.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. We both know why you’re here, and it’s not to admire the wallpaper. Now listen, because this is important.”

You lean in closer, curiosity piqued despite yourself.

Reggie’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “In addition to the usual — the houses, the cars, the offshore accounts — I’m leaving you my stake in the Mercedes Formula 1 team.”

Your eyes widen in genuine surprise. “The racing team? Reggie, I had no idea you were involved with-”

He cuts you off with a wheezy laugh. “Oh, my dear. There’s so much you don’t know about me. Did you think I made my fortune selling denture cream?”

You can’t help but smile. “Well, I did wonder about all those trophies in your study.”

“Remnants of a misspent youth,” Reggie says with a wistful sigh. “But this, this is my crowning achievement. A 33% stake in one of the most successful F1 teams in history.”

Your mind reels at the implications. This is far beyond anything you’d anticipated when you’d set your sights on Reginald Worthington III.

“Reggie, I ... I don’t know what to say.”

He pats your hand affectionately. “You don’t have to say anything, my dear. Just promise me you’ll make the most of it. I’ve always admired your ambition. It reminds me of myself at your age.”

You lean back in your chair, studying the old man before you. In that moment, you feel a surge of genuine affection for him.

“I promise, Reggie. I’ll make you proud.”

He nods, satisfied. “Good. Now, tell me about the others. I want to know how I measure up to my predecessors.”

You laugh, shaking your head in amazement. “Are you sure? It’s quite a list.”

Reggie’s eyes sparkle with interest. “My dear, I’m on my deathbed. Regale me with tales of your conquests.”

With a theatrical sigh, you begin. “Well, if you insist. Let’s see ... first, there was Harold.”

“Ah, the virgin husband,” Reggie interrupts with a knowing nod.

You raise an eyebrow. “And how did you know that?”

He winks. “I have my sources. Go on.”

“Right. Well, Harold was a sweet man. A bit naive, perhaps, but genuinely kind. He left me his tech startup. It wasn’t worth much at the time, but I sold it for a tidy sum a year later.”

Reggie nods approvingly. “Smart move. Who was next?”

“After Harold came George. He was ... intense. A retired army general with a penchant for war stories and expensive scotch. Left me his collection of rare military memorabilia.”

“Fascinating,” Reggie murmurs. “And the others?”

You tick them off on your fingers. “Let’s see ... there was Joaquin, the passionate Spanish chef. He left me his Michelin-starred restaurants. Then came Dmitri, the Russian oligarch. That was ... an experience.”

Reggie chuckles. “I bet it was. What did he leave you?”

“A series of shell companies and a rather gaudy yacht. I sold the yacht, kept the companies.” You pause, lost in thought for a moment. “After Dmitri was William, the British lord. Lovely man, terrible teeth. Left me his crumbling estate and title.”

“So you’re technically a lady now?” Reggie asks, amused.

You nod. “Lady Y/N, at your service. Though I don’t use the title much. It tends to raise questions.”

“Understandable. And the last one before me?”

Your expression softens slightly. “Ah, that was Hiroshi. Japanese tech mogul. Brilliant mind, but so lonely. I think I was the first real companionship he’d had in years.”

Reggie studies you carefully. “You were fond of him.”

You nod, a bit surprised by the lump in your throat. “I was. He ... he understood me, I think. More than the others.”

There’s a moment of silence as Reggie processes this information. Finally, he speaks. “And what did Hiroshi leave you?”

You smile wryly. “His AI research company. It’s been ... interesting, to say the least.”

Reggie nods slowly. “Quite a collection you’ve amassed, my dear. But tell me, what drives you? Surely it’s not just the money.”

You’re taken aback by the question. No one has ever asked you that before. You take a moment to gather your thoughts.

“I suppose ... it’s the challenge of it all. The thrill of reinventing myself with each new husband, of navigating these complex worlds they inhabit. And yes, the wealth is nice, but it’s more about what I can do with it.”

Reggie leans forward, intrigued. “And what is it you want to do?”

You pause, realizing you’ve never really articulated this to anyone before. “I want to make a difference. Real, lasting change. These men, they’ve all built empires in their own ways, but they’ve been limited by their own mortality. I don’t have those limitations yet. I can take what they’ve given me and create something ... more.”

Reggie’s eyes light up with understanding. “Ah, now I see why I was drawn to you. You’re not just a pretty face or a clever mind. You’re a visionary.”

You feel a flush of pride at his words. “I try to be. Each husband has taught me something new, given me tools I never had before. Harold showed me the potential of technology. George taught me strategy. Joaquin, the importance of passion in one’s work. Dmitri, how to navigate the murky waters of international business. William gave me a glimpse into old-world power structures. And Hiroshi ... well, he opened my eyes to the future.”

Reggie nods slowly. “And what have I taught you, I wonder?”

You smile softly. “Patience, Reggie. The long game. And the value of a good sense of humor in the face of adversity.”

He chuckles weakly. “Well, I’m glad I could contribute something to your education. Now, about this F1 team ...”

You lean in, eager to hear more. “Yes?”

“It’s more than just a racing team, you know. It’s a pinnacle of engineering, a testament to human ingenuity and the constant push for improvement. I think you’ll find it fits quite well with your ambitions.”

You nod slowly, mind already racing with possibilities. “I can see that. The technology, the global platform, the prestige ...”

Reggie grins. “Exactly. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find husband number eight in the paddock.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, Reggie. Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?”

He winks. “Someone has to. Now, promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” you say, and you’re surprised to find you mean it.

“When you’re accepting that championship trophy — because I know you will — wear something fabulous. Give those stuffy old men in the paddock something to talk about.”

You can’t help but grin. “Oh, don’t worry. I intend to shake things up a bit.”

Reggie nods approvingly. “That’s my girl. Now, I think I need to rest for a bit. But don’t go far. I want to hear all about your plans for world domination when I wake up.”

As you watch Reggie drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Sadness at the impending loss of this charming old rogue, excitement at the unexpected opportunity he’s given you, and a renewed sense of purpose.

You glance at your reflection in the ornate mirror across the room. Lady Y/N Y/L/N, soon-to-be racing magnate. It has a nice ring to it.

As you settle back into your chair, you begin to plan your next moves. The motorsport world won’t know what hit it.

***

The sleek boardroom of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team headquarters buzzes with hushed conversation. Around the polished mahogany table, team executives and board members huddle in small groups, their voices low and urgent.

Toto catches snippets of conversation as he reviews his notes for the meeting.

“Did you hear? She’s actually coming today,” whispers Bradley, the team’s financial officer.

Sarah, head of marketing, leans in. “I can’t believe Reginald left her his stake. What was he thinking?”

“Probably wasn’t thinking with his head, if you know what I mean,” chuckles Thomas, the technical director.

Toto clears his throat, silencing the gossip. “Let’s keep things professional, shall we? We have important matters to discuss today.”

As if on cue, the boardroom door swings open. The room falls into an immediate, almost eerie silence as you stride in, turning heads with every click of your Manolo Blahnik heels against the polished floor.

Toto finds himself holding his breath, caught off guard by your presence. He’s seen photos, of course, but they didn’t do you justice. Your tailored Armani suit exudes power and confidence, while your eyes scan the room with a shrewd intelligence that sends a shiver down his spine.

You take your seat at the far end of the table, directly opposite Toto. “Good morning, everyone. I hope I’m not late.”

Your voice, smooth as silk with a hint of amusement, breaks the spell. The room erupts into a flurry of awkward greetings and nervous coughs.

Toto clears his throat again, trying to regain control of the situation. “Not at all. We were just about to begin. Welcome, Lady Worthington. We’re honored to have you join us today.”

You smile, a dazzling display that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Please, call me Y/N. We’re all colleagues here, after all.”

Toto nods, fighting to keep his composure. “Of course, Y/N. Shall we begin with the agenda?”

As the meeting progresses, Toto finds himself increasingly distracted. He’s used to being the most commanding presence in any room, but your arrival has shifted the dynamic entirely. Every time you speak, offering insights or asking pointed questions, the rest of the board seems to hold its breath.

“I’ve been reviewing our sustainability initiatives,” you say during a lull in the conversation. “While I applaud our efforts so far, I believe we could be doing more. Formula 1 has an unique platform to drive innovation in green technologies. We should be leading the charge, not just following along.”

Bradley shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “With all due respect, Lady- I mean, Y/N, implementing new sustainability measures could be quite costly. We need to consider the bottom line.”

You lean forward, fixing Bradley with an intense gaze. “And what about the cost of falling behind? Of being seen as out of touch with the concerns of younger fans? Sometimes, you have to spend money to make money.”

Toto finds himself nodding in agreement before he even realizes it. “Y/N raises an excellent point. Perhaps we should form a task force to explore more aggressive sustainability options.”

You flash him a grateful smile, and Toto feels his heart skip a beat. He quickly looks down at his notes, trying to regain his composure.

As the meeting continues, you consistently challenge the status quo, pushing for bolder strategies and innovative approaches. Toto watches in fascination as you deftly navigate the complex dynamics of the board, alternating between charm and steel as the situation demands.

During a discussion about driver development, you interject again. “I’ve been looking into our junior driver program, and I think we’re missing opportunities. We’re too focused on traditional racing backgrounds. What about sim racers? Or scouting karters from developing countries? We could be tapping into a whole new pool of talent.”

Sarah, the marketing head, perks up at this. “That’s ... actually a brilliant idea. It could really broaden our appeal, especially in emerging markets.”

You nod appreciatively. “Exactly. And imagine the stories we could tell. The sim racer who became an F1 champion or the kid from a small village who rose to the top of motorsport. That’s the kind of narrative that builds brand loyalty and inspires the next generation of fans.”

Toto finds himself leaning forward, completely engrossed. “I love this direction. Y/N, would you be willing to work with Sarah to develop a proposal for expanding our driver search?”

“Of course,” you reply with a smile that makes Toto’s pulse quicken. “I’d be delighted.”

As the meeting winds down, Toto realizes that the entire dynamic of the board has shifted. The initial wariness towards you has given way to a mixture of respect and curiosity. Even those who seemed most skeptical at the start are now hanging on your every word.

“Well,” Toto says, glancing at his watch, “I think that concludes our agenda for today. Unless anyone has any other matters to discuss?”

The room is silent for a moment before you speak up. “Actually, if I may, I’d like to address the elephant in the room.”

A tense hush falls over the gathering. Toto holds his breath, unsure of what’s coming next.

You stand, your posture relaxed but commanding. “I’m aware of the rumors and speculation surrounding my ... personal life. I want to assure all of you that my presence here is purely professional. I’m not here to cause drama or upheaval. I’m here because I believe in the potential of this team and this sport. I hope that over time, you’ll come to judge me based on my contributions, not on gossip or hearsay.”

The sincerity in your voice is palpable, and Toto can see the effect it has on the room. Shoulders relax, expressions soften. There’s a collective exhale, as if a weight has been lifted.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Toto says, standing as well. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we look forward to working with you and seeing what fresh perspectives you can bring to the team.”

There’s a murmur of agreement around the table. As the meeting officially adjourns, people begin to gather their things and file out of the room. Toto notices that several board members linger, clearly hoping to have a word with you. He feels an unexpected twinge of jealousy.

Before he can second-guess himself, Toto makes his way around the table to where you’re chatting with Sarah about the junior driver program idea.

“Excuse me,” he says, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. “Y/N, I was wondering if I could have a word?”

You turn to him with a smile that makes his heart race. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

He takes a deep breath, acutely aware of the curious glances from the remaining board members. “I was impressed by your insights today. I think there’s a lot we could discuss further about the future direction of the team. Would you perhaps be interested in continuing this conversation over dinner?”

A hush falls over the remaining occupants of the room. Toto can practically feel the weight of their stares, but he keeps his eyes fixed on you.

You raise an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement playing across your features. “Dinner? My, my, Toto. Aren’t you afraid of me? I do have quite the reputation, you know.”

There’s a challenge in your voice, but also a hint of vulnerability that catches Toto off guard. He realizes that beneath your confident exterior, you’re testing him, gauging his true intentions.

Toto meets your gaze steadily, his voice low but firm. “I don’t put much stock in rumors. I prefer to form my own opinions based on what I see and experience. And what I’ve seen today is a brilliant, passionate individual who could be a tremendous asset to this team. That’s the person I’m interested in getting to know better.”

The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for your response. You study Toto for a long moment, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a genuine smile spreads across your face.

“Well, in that case, I’d be delighted to have dinner with you. Shall we say eight o’clock?”

Toto feels a rush of relief and excitement. “Eight o’clock sounds perfect. I know just the place.”

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, Toto can’t help but feel like he’s standing on the precipice of something monumental. He’s built his career on calculated risks, on seeing potential where others see danger. Looking at you, he knows that this might be the biggest gamble of his life.

But as you turn to give him one last smile before exiting the boardroom, Toto is certain of one thing: it’s a risk he’s more than willing to take.

***

The Monaco Grand Prix paddock buzzes with excitement, a hive of activity as teams prepare for the most glamorous race on the Formula 1 calendar. Lewis Hamilton and George Russell huddle in a quiet corner of the Mercedes garage, their voices low and urgent.

“I’m telling you, mate, something’s not right,” George insists, his eyes darting around to ensure they’re not overheard. “Have you seen the way Toto’s been acting lately? It’s like he’s under some kind of spell.”

Lewis nods grimly, his usual pre-race focus replaced by concern. “I know what you mean. Ever since she came into the picture, it’s like he’s a different person. Always distracted, making decisions that don’t quite add up.”

“Exactly!” George exclaims, then quickly lowers his voice again. “And have you noticed how she’s always around now? At every meeting, every strategy session. It’s like she’s trying to learn all our secrets.”

Lewis furrows his brow, deep in thought. “You don’t think ... I mean, surely she wouldn’t actually try to ...”

“Kill him?” George finishes, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, mate. But look at her track record. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marrying her. And now she’s got her claws into Toto.”

As if summoned by their conversation, you appear at the entrance of the garage, Toto at your side. The team principal’s hand rests comfortably on the small of your back as he leads you through the bustling workspace.

Lewis and George fall silent, watching intently as you make your way towards them. Your designer sundress and oversized sunglasses scream understated elegance, but to the two drivers, you might as well be wearing a black widow’s web.

“Good morning,” Toto calls out cheerfully. “Ready for qualifying?”

Lewis forces a smile, his eyes never leaving you. “Morning, Toto. Yeah, we were just discussing strategy.”

You step forward, flashing a dazzling smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. I’m still learning all the intricacies of race weekends.”

George clears his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Not at all. We were just finishing up.”

Toto beams, looking from you to his drivers with pride. “Isn’t it wonderful having Y/N here? She’s already brought so many fresh ideas to the team. I don’t know how we managed without her.”

You laugh, a sound that sends chills down Lewis and George’s spines. “Oh, darling, you’re exaggerating. I’m sure these boys were doing just fine before I came along.”

As you speak, your hand reaches up to smooth Toto’s collar, a gesture that seems innocent enough but makes both drivers tense.

Lewis clears his throat. “Actually, Toto, could we have a quick word? About the, uh, tire strategy?”

Toto looks surprised but nods. “Of course. Y/N, would you mind giving us a moment?”

“Not at all,” you reply smoothly. “I’ll just go chat with the mechanics. I’m fascinated by all this technology.”

As you saunter away, Lewis and George exchange a meaningful glance. This is their chance.

“Toto,” Lewis begins, choosing his words carefully. “We’re a bit concerned. About you, actually.”

Toto’s brow furrows in confusion. “Concerned? What do you mean?”

George jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s just that ... well, things have been different since you started seeing her. And given her history ...”

“Her history?” Toto repeats, his voice taking on an edge. “What exactly are you implying?”

Lewis takes a deep breath. “Toto, we care about you. And we can’t help but notice that Y/N’s previous partners have all met with ... unfortunate ends.”

For a moment, Toto just stares at them, his expression unreadable. Then, to their surprise, he bursts out laughing.

“Oh, boys,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I appreciate your concern, truly. But I assure you, it’s misplaced. Y/N has been nothing but a positive influence on both me and the team.”

George persists, his voice urgent. “But Toto, you have to admit, the pattern is alarming. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marriage. And now she’s here, learning all about our team, our strategies ...”

Toto’s amusement fades, replaced by a stern look. “That’s enough. I understand you’re worried, but I won’t have you spreading baseless rumors. Y/N is here because she’s a part-owner of this team and because I invited her. End of discussion.”

As Toto walks away, Lewis and George share a look of dismay.

“He’s in too deep,” Lewis mutters. “We need to do something.”

George nods grimly. “We can’t let her hurt him. Or the team. We need a plan.”

Throughout the day, as qualifying unfolds, Lewis and George find themselves constantly distracted. Every time they catch a glimpse of you in the garage or on the pit wall, their imaginations run wild.

During a brief break between sessions, they overhear a snippet of conversation between you and one of the engineers.

“So, if something were to go wrong with the car during the race,” you’re saying, “what would be the most catastrophic point of failure?”

The engineer launches into a detailed explanation of various mechanical vulnerabilities, unaware of the horrified looks on the drivers’ faces.

“She’s gathering intel,” George whispers to Lewis. “Probably planning some sort of accident for Toto.”

Lewis nods, his jaw set with determination. “We need to warn him again. Make him see reason.”

But their attempts to get Toto alone prove futile. You seem to be constantly by his side, your hand on his arm, whispering in his ear. To an outsider, it might look like the actions of a loving girlfriend, but to Lewis and George, every gesture seems calculated and sinister.

As the day wears on, their paranoia grows. They start seeing threats everywhere. When you hand Toto a bottle of water, they’re convinced it’s poisoned. When you suggest he take a look at something in the back of the garage, they’re sure you’re luring him away to do him harm.

Finally, as the sun begins to set over the Monaco harbor, they decide they can’t wait any longer. They need to confront you directly.

They find you alone in the hospitality area, reviewing some papers. As they approach, you look up with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Lewis, George,” you greet them warmly. “Excellent qualifying today. You must be pleased.”

Lewis takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Cut the act. We know what you’re up to.”

Your expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in your eyes. “I’m not sure I understand. What exactly am I up to?”

George steps forward, his voice low and intense. “We know about your husbands. All seven of them. And we’re not going to let you add Toto to that list.”

For a moment, you just stare at them, your face unreadable. Then, to their surprise, you burst out laughing.

“Oh,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “Is that what this is all about? You think I’m here to kill Toto?”

Lewis and George exchange confused glances, thrown off by your reaction.

You lean in, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let me tell you a little secret. Those men? They were all terminally ill when I married them. It was a business arrangement, pure and simple. They got to spend their last months with a young, beautiful wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play involved.”

The drivers stare at you, speechless. You continue, your tone becoming more serious.

“As for Toto, well, that’s different. For the first time in my life, I’ve found someone I genuinely care for. Someone who sees me for who I am, not just what I can offer. I’m not here to hurt him or the team. I’m here because I want to be part of something meaningful.”

Lewis and George exchange uncertain glances, their convictions shaken.

“But ... all the questions about the car, the team strategies ...” George begins.

You roll your eyes, a hint of amusement in your voice. “I’m a part-owner of this team now, remember? Of course I’m trying to learn everything I can. How else can I contribute?”

As the truth of your words sinks in, Lewis and George begin to feel a creeping sense of embarrassment. They’ve let their imaginations and preconceptions run wild, seeing threats where there were none.

“I ... we ...” Lewis stammers, struggling to find the right words.

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “It’s alright. I understand. My reputation precedes me, and you were just looking out for Toto. I can respect that.”

George rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “We may have gotten a bit carried away. I’m sorry.”

You smile, and this time it reaches your eyes. “Apology accepted. Now, what do you say we put this behind us and focus on winning tomorrow’s race?”

As if on cue, Toto appears, looking between the three of you with curiosity. “Everything alright here?”

You stand, moving to his side and slipping your arm through his. “Everything’s perfect, darling. In fact, I think Lewis and George were just about to share some ideas they had for the race strategy. Weren’t you, boys?”

Lewis and George nod, grateful for the out you’ve given them. As they launch into a discussion about tire management and overtaking opportunities, they can’t help but marvel at how wrong they’ve been.

Watching you interact with Toto, they see not a black widow spinning her web, but a woman genuinely in love, bringing out the best in their team principal. They realize that sometimes, people can surprise you. And sometimes, the most unexpected additions to a team can be the most valuable.

***

The soft glow of chandeliers bathes the exclusive Monégasque restaurant in warm light, casting elegant shadows across the faces of Monaco’s elite. Grigori Volkov, a grizzled veteran of the Russian underworld, sips his vodka, his weathered face a mask of careful neutrality as he surveys the room.

His eyes narrow as they land on a familiar figure across the crowded dining area. It can’t be, he thinks, leaning forward for a better look. But there’s no mistaking that face, those eyes that have haunted his dreams and nightmares for years.

You.

Grigori watches as you laugh, your hand resting lightly on the arm of a tall, distinguished-looking man. He recognizes him vaguely. But what catches Grigori off guard is the easy intimacy between you, the matching wedding bands glinting in the low light.

For a moment, Grigori considers slipping out unnoticed. But curiosity gets the better of him. He signals the waiter, ordering another round of drinks to be sent to your table.

As the waiter approaches with the drinks, Grigori sees your posture stiffen slightly, your eyes scanning the room until they lock onto his. He raises his glass in a small salute, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You lean in, whispering something to Toto. The man looks surprised but nods, and together you make your way towards Grigori’s table.

“Grigori,” you greet him, your voice a mix of warmth and wariness. “It’s been a long time.”

Grigori stands, bowing slightly. “Indeed it has, my dear. You’re looking well. And who might this be?”

Toto extends his hand, his grip firm. “Toto Wolff. And you are?”

“An old friend of your wife’s,” Grigori replies smoothly, noting the flicker of surprise in Toto’s eyes at the word ’wife’. “Grigori Volkov. I knew Y/N back in her Russian days.”

You gesture to the empty chairs. “May we join you?”

Grigori nods, waving expansively. “Please, be my guests.”

As you settle in, Grigori can’t help but study Toto more closely. He’s younger than expected, vital and alert. Not at all what he’d imagined for your latest conquest.

“So, Toto,” Grigori begins, his accent thick with amusement, “how long have you and our dear Y/N been married?”

Toto smiles, his hand finding yours on the table. “Just over two years now. Best decision I ever made.”

Grigori’s eyebrows shoot up. “Two years? My, my. That’s quite impressive.”

You shoot him a warning look, but Toto just looks confused. “I’m not sure I follow. Why is that impressive?”

Grigori chuckles, taking a long sip of his vodka. “Oh, forgive me. I just meant that Y/N here has always been something of a ... how do you say ... free spirit? Never one to be tied down for long.”

You interject quickly, “People change, Grigori. I’ve found what I was looking for.”

Grigori nods, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Indeed they do. And what of your ... other interests? The ones you inherited from dear Dmitri?”

Toto’s brow furrows. “Dmitri? I’m afraid I don’t know much about Y/N’s ex-husbands.”

“Ex-husbands?” Grigori repeats, feigning surprise. “Oh, but Dmitri was special, wasn’t he? After all, not every day one inherits a slice of the Bratva.”

The color drains from Toto’s face as he turns to you. “The Bratva? As in, the Russian mob?”

You sigh, shooting Grigori a glare that could freeze vodka. “It’s complicated, darling. And very much in the past.”

Grigori leans back, thoroughly enjoying the drama unfolding before him. “Oh, come now, Y/N. Surely your husband deserves to know the truth? About your colorful past, your string of deceased husbands, your unexpected rise to power in certain ... shall we say, unofficial circles?”

Toto looks between you and Grigori, his expression a mix of confusion and growing concern. “Y/N, what is he talking about?”

You take a deep breath, squeezing Toto’s hand. “Toto, there are parts of my past I haven’t told you about. Not because I wanted to keep secrets, but because I wanted to leave that life behind.”

Grigori interjects, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Oh, but my dear, can one ever truly leave such a life behind? Especially when one has risen to such ... prominent positions?”

Toto’s eyes narrow as he looks at Grigori. “And what exactly is your role in all this?”

Grigori smiles, all teeth and no warmth. “Let’s just say I’m an old associate of Dmitri’s. And by extension, of Y/N’s. Though I must admit, I’m surprised to see you still among the living, Mr. Wolff. Our dear Y/N has quite a reputation, you know.”

You slam your hand on the table, your voice low and dangerous. “Enough, Grigori. That’s not who I am anymore.”

Grigori holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course. I meant no offense. I’m merely ... surprised. After all, your previous husbands weren’t quite so fortunate. Or so young and vigorous.”

Toto’s jaw clenches, his eyes darting between you and Grigori. “I think it’s time we left.”

As you stand to leave, Grigori calls out, “Oh, but we’ve only just begun to catch up. There’s so much your husband doesn’t know, Y/N. About the power you wield, the empire you inherited. Don’t you think he deserves to know the truth about the woman he married?”

You turn back, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something deeper, more dangerous. “The truth, Grigori, is that I left that life behind. I found something real, something worth living for. And if you or anyone else tries to drag me back into that world, you’ll regret it.”

Grigori leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is that a threat, my dear?”

You smile, cold and sharp. “Consider it a friendly warning. From one old friend to another.”

As you and Toto walk away, Grigori can’t help but feel a shiver run down his spine. He’d forgotten, in the years since you’d left Russia, just how formidable you could be.

He watches as you and Toto have an intense, whispered conversation by the exit. To his surprise, instead of storming out, Toto nods, takes your hand, and leads you back to Grigori’s table.

“Mr. Volkov,” Toto says, his voice steady and controlled, “I think it’s time we had an honest conversation. About Y/N’s past, about your ... association, and about how we move forward from here.”

Grigori raises an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. “Well, well. It seems you’ve found yourself a man with a spine, Y/N. Very well, let’s talk.”

As the three of you settle back into your seats, Grigori can’t help but feel a grudging respect for Toto. Most men would have run for the hills by now, but here he is, ready to face the truth head-on.

“So,” Grigori begins, pouring fresh vodka for all of you, “where shall we start? With Dmitri? With the Bratva? Or perhaps with the mysterious deaths of Y/N’s previous husbands?”

Toto takes a sip of vodka, his eyes never leaving Grigori’s. “Let’s start with the truth. All of it.”

You sigh, your hand finding Toto’s under the table. “Alright. Dmitri was my fifth husband. He was a high-ranking member of the Bratva, and when he died, I inherited his position and his connections.”

Grigori nods approvingly. “She’s being modest. Y/N didn’t just inherit Dmitri’s position — she expanded it. Forged new alliances, eliminated rivals. She became a force to be reckoned with in our world.”

Toto looks at you, his expression unreadable. “And the other husbands?”

You meet his gaze steadily. “They were all older men, all terminally ill. It was a business arrangement. They got to spend their last months with a young wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play, I swear.”

Grigori chuckles. “Oh, come now. There were rumors, whispers of poison, of accidents arranged just so ...”

You whirl on him, your eyes flashing. “Rumors started by people like you. People who couldn’t believe a woman could gain power without resorting to murder.”

Toto squeezes your hand, his voice gentle. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

You turn back to him, your expression softening. “Because I wanted to leave it all behind. When I met you, I saw a chance at a real life, a real relationship. I didn’t want my past to taint that.”

Grigori watches this exchange with growing fascination. He’s never seen you like this — vulnerable, open, genuinely in love. It’s... unsettling.

“And now?” He asks, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice. “What becomes of your empire, Y/N? Your power? Your connections?”

You straighten, your voice firm. “I’ve been systematically dismantling it all. Using the resources to fund legitimate businesses, charitable foundations. I’m out. For good.”

Grigori leans back, genuinely surprised. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re really walking away from it all.”

Toto speaks up, his voice steady. “We’re building something new together. Something honest, something we can be proud of.”

Grigori studies them both for a long moment, then throws back the last of his vodka. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’ve actually done it. You’ve found a way out.”

You nod, a small smile playing at your lips. “I have. And I’d appreciate it if you’d spread the word. Y/N Wolff is retired. Permanently.”

Grigori stands, straightening his jacket. “Consider it done, my dear. But know this — there will always be those who remember who you were, what you were capable of. Be careful.”

As he turns to leave, Toto calls out, “Mr. Volkov?”

Grigori pauses, looking back. “Yes?”

Toto’s voice is calm, but there’s steel beneath the surface. “If anyone from Y/N’s past tries to cause trouble for us, they’ll have to deal with me. And I assure you, I can be just as formidable as my wife when necessary.”

Grigori studies Toto for a moment, then breaks into a broad grin. “I believe you, Mr. Wolff. I really do. Take care of her, won’t you? She’s one of a kind.”

As Grigori walks away, he can’t help but shake his head in amazement. You, the Black Widow of the Bratva, settled down and in love. Will wonders never cease?

He glances back one last time to see you and Toto deep in conversation, your hands intertwined on the table. There’s an openness to your expression that he’s never seen before, a vulnerability that speaks volumes.

For the first time in years, Grigori feels a twinge of envy. Not for your power or your wealth, but for the genuine connection you seem to have found. As he steps out into the cool Monaco night, he wonders if perhaps it’s time for him to consider a change of his own.

After all, if the infamous Y/N can find redemption and true love, maybe there’s hope for an old dog like him yet.

[eternalsunrise]

shower talk.

deadpool (wade wilson) x f!reader

wc: 750 (drabble)

tags! established relationship, sexual & murder references (duh)

notes! wade brainrot is so bad idk, logan fic coming soon pls forgive me

wade often barges into the bathroom while you’re in the shower just to sit on the toilet seat and rant about the mission he just went on, or even to ask what takeout you want for dinner. couldn’t it wait until you had clothes on? sure, but he wants to talk to you now.

unexpectedly, you decide to take a page out of his playbook.

you’ve just walked in the door after your 9-5, throwing your keys and bag haphazardly across the room in frustration. you spy the familiar rumpled up red and black suit on the floor, wade was home. you had complained last week about deadpool tracking blood into the apartment after his “work.” it seemed your boyfriend had listened and obliged. if it weren’t for your bad day, the image of him cupping his crotch as he scrambled naked into the bathroom would’ve made you smile.

you hear the water still running, but you finally understand how wade feels, this can’t wait. you open the bathroom door and throw the toilet lid down, unsure if wade even heard you enter over the sound of his own voice belting hall and oates’ greatest hits.

you sit down and let out an overdramatic sigh. your boyfriend’s voice quiets down halfway through “out of touch”

“honey bear? you’re home! these stab wounds will heal in about two minutes then you can join me. i know how you feel about seeing intestines, and i don’t want to make you gag…well scratch that i do sometimes—“

“i fucking hate men.”

you hear the sound of the shower curtain opening slightly, and wade’s head peaks out, looking at you with wide eyes, “woah language, babydoll! you know degradation turns me on.” his head tilts to the side, noticing the distress written on your face “but i have a feeling this isn’t about me…”

you spare him a narrowed glance, then watch as his head disappears. the curtain closes and you hear the water hit skin again as he resumes his shower. he’s giving you time to speak. remarkable.

“you remember that guy i told you about? the one that gave me major creep vibes? and was just an all around dick?”

you get a hum in response, and you can’t see it, but you know wade is physically biting his tongue so he doesn’t say anything. it’s endearing in a way.

you rub your face with your hands, the memory of what you’re about to say lights the fire of anger again, “well. guess who got that promotion i was being eyed for? i’ll give you a hint, it’s not someone with a vagina! and on top of that, i saw him try to look under my skirt as i was leaving! that fuck.”

you almost regretted telling him that last part, knowing where this was going. but your mind was clouded by frustration, and the water was already turned off. the rings screech against the metal shower rod as wade throws the curtain open, reaching over your head for a towel. “okay sweet thing. where does this cock suck and fuck live?”

your eyes catch a glimpse of red turning pink as it swirled into the tub drain. you shake your head, suddenly realizing the severity of what your mercenary boyfriend was implying. “no no babe please it’s not that serious! and you just got home. not to mention if people found out, you’d get in so much trouble all because of something silly that happened to me and—“

a long finger is placed over your lips. you’re eye level with wade’s v line, partially covered by the towel now wrapped around his waist. you trail your eyes upward, locking them with the one who interrupted your rambling.

“shhh. nonsense kitten. now. you’re going to tell me this guy’s address, and i’m going to go out for…” wade uses his free arm to look at a make believe watch, “hmm, about an hour. while i’m gone, you’re going to change out of this sexy pantsuit. then have a glass of wine, and touch yourself while you think of me fondly. i’ll grab dinner on the way home. yes?”

when you nod with wide eyes in agreement, he removes his finger, bending down to meet your face, “atta girl.” he praises as his lips graze your own, kiss light as a feather. he clears his throat then, patting your cheek a few times as he stands up to walk out of the bathroom. whistling as if murder was all in a day’s work (you suppose for him it is)

you sit there stunned, wondering if you just got your coworker murdered….and why you were so turned on.

[chastiefoul]

0:56 a.m. | nanami kento

0.6k words

“kento,” you whispered into the silence of the night and the dimmed lights on your room. It’s been way past midnight and you hadn’t been able to sleep, contrary to your boyfriend who’s lying beside you—his breath steady and calm.

when your voice didn’t budge him out of his slumber you tried once more.

“kento.” this time a little louder.

he then muttered an inaudible word, still closing his eyes. his hand wandered though, tightening his hold around the back of your shoulder; bringing you close to his chest. better, but the gesture was not enough for you who’s not feeling even a little sleepy, as mischief ideas filled your head.

third time’s a charm, they said. so you called him once more.

this time it finally did something as he hummed a reply, his free hand rubbed your side in a calming pattern, his hand went underneath your shirt that’s all rode up. he settled his grip just an inch under your chest, his thumb slowly moved up and down. “that tickles,” you said as you put a hand over his, refraining his little movement. Although, you’re sure he could hear the smile on your voice.

he finally opened his eyes as he gave you a lazy little smile and you swore you didn’t remember seeing anything more gorgeous than that. “why aren’t you asleep, hm?” his voice a tone heavier than usual, a tad husky as it laced deep with sleep. “i can’t sleep,” you whispered, like telling a secret to your best friends in a slumber party. “right. so i don’t get to either, yeah?” he replied, a smile on his face; and it’s only fondness shine across his feature.

“i mean, i understand if the old man needs his sleep even though tomorrow’s weekend. so by all means,” you said playfully, and that earned a deep chuckle from him. “don’t tease, who said we should have an early night today?” he raised an eyebrow, and for such a calm sleeper he now couldn’t stop his wandering hand as he’s diligent on giving you back-scratches—not that you’re complaining. “yes, but that was before my confidence in being able to fall asleep crumbled right before my eyes,” you claimed, feigning a serious tone. “i see, my mistake.” his eyes narrowed affectionately and you had a feeling you could say the dumbest excuse and he’d let you get away with anything.

you felt the need to sit up and do something but before you could even do that he held you down gently. “none of that, you’ll feel even more restless, love.” you couldn’t even protest at that since you knew he’s always right. “then what do you suggest we do now?”

“it’s a we problem now, hm?” he stared at you in amusement, knowing who dragged him into the sleepless night as well was none other than you. “is that a complaint i hear?” you threw him a questioning look. “it’s excitement, of course.” he laughed softly as he stroke your hair ever-so-gently.

“i should just start rambling maybe it’ll get me tired,” you said randomly and he just nodded without offering any question. “sure, i’m listening.” his hand didn’t stop moving. “where should i start?” you asked, relying on his answer. And of course it came easy for the man who seemed like he knew all the right words. “start anywhere, love. you could repeat anything, skipped over some words, or even tell it backwards and i’ll be here to point it out,” he said lovingly.

and you don’t know if it’s just his power you didn’t know about but it’s not even ten minutes after you started talking and as he kept doing the little gesture you could feel the sleepiness coming, welcoming you to one of your best slumber in a while.

--

idk how it took me this long to write this man. i love him so much.

[mxmis]

The way they sleep with you~ Arcane

A/n: a short fluff writing about how they would sleep with you sfw finished the show recently and can’t stop thinking about these characters

Vi~🥊

Probably gets to bed at an alright time most nights but can’t help coming home late

She will be quick to make it up to you if you stay up waiting for her

Big spoon 90% of the time she loves the contact of your heartbeat close to hers helps her stay calm if she’s got something bugging her from that day

The other 10% or less is when she has had a really bad day or a very serious intimate moment between you two

She feels vulnerable during this time and wants you to be the one to hold her, facing each other her head close to your chest your arms locked around her neck and shoulders

Usually up before you due to being used to prison schedule and her own daily workouts

Wakes you up by softly stroking your forehead to your jaw with the back of her hand

“Hey cupcake did you sleep good? Well every night I’m with you is a good night ;) Haha well I’m just telling you the truth. Love these moments with you y’know. Just you and me no stress no frustrations just us”

Jinx~🦋

Most cuddly of them all

No big spoon or little spoon just the two of you in a pile of entangled limbs, smiles, and kisses

Has not preference on how you cuddle or any position just likes being close to you

There is an exception, if she’s having an outburst and mental breakdown she will attach herself to you, her head against your chest and her legs wrapped around you

She will lie there for a while even after the voices stop. She’s listening to your heartbeat and greatly appreciates you letting her

Very lazy morning person and probably the worst sleep schedule Actually more like no sleep schedule at all

You will be the one waking her up more often than not and you are usually met with a groan and a “five more minutes” as she’ll wrap her arms around your neck and pull you back down

Will be in contact with you throughout the entire time she’s asleep it may be a hand or a leg or most likely her entire body

“Mmmh wake me in a year. Who says I can’t stay. Ugh right right big ol responsibility bleh. Who needs all those responsibilities when I’ve got everything I need right here. Yup my tools, gadgets, plans and bed. Yeah yeah I guess I would say you’re on that list. I’m just kidding you’re at the top of the list *mwah*

Caitlyn~🔵

Alright sleep schedule, sometimes gets caught up in her cases and loses track of time you usually have to remind her of time and bring her to dreamland

More focused on what you like in these types of situations, if you want to be held she’ll hold you and the same for if you want to hold her

Will read you to sleep if you ask but sometimes if your gently playing with her hair or being really soft with her she’ll fall asleep to your touch

No preference on being big spoon or little spoon as long as she is with you she doesn’t care and if you carried her to bed then she’s already too asleep to care

Will somehow wake up ready to go basically every morning, her superpower is restful sleep and somehow she always looks amazing no bed head or anything

“Morning love” she leans down and softly kisses your forehead lingering for a second as if she’s debating another one “Breakfast is ready, I decided since you helped me to bed I’ll help you out of bed” she chuckles

[theonottsbxtch]

HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS | OP81

an: oscar would so be the nerd at university that NOBODY hated but i got this listening to high school sweethearts by melanie

wc: 3.4k

Oscar wasn’t known for standing out. If anything, he was the type you’d forget was in the room until someone said, “Hey, can you pass me the stapler?” Quiet, unassuming, always with a book in hand or headphones half-falling out of his ears, he drifted through university like a ghost no one was particularly scared of. That is, until he met her.

She—loud, chaotic, unapologetically strange—was the kind of person who made an entrance just by breathing. People called her insane, whispered about her after lectures, and swapped stories about her latest absurd escapades. But to Oscar, she wasn’t insane. She was magnetic.

The first time he saw her, she was sitting cross-legged on a table in the middle of the library, explaining in detail why the library’s “No Food” policy was a direct attack on her personal freedoms. The staff were too stunned to stop her. Oscar was too stunned to look away.

By the time she noticed him staring—wide-eyed, clutching his battered notebook—she smiled, sharp and knowing. “You’ve got a crush, don’t you?” she said, not a question but a declaration.

Oscar didn’t deny it. How could he? Her gaze pinned him to the spot, like she’d peeled back his layers and found the embarrassing, undeniable truth: he was completely infatuated.

“Thought so,” she said, hopping off the table with an exaggerated stretch. “Well, listen up, quiet boy. If you’re gonna have a crush on me, there are rules.”

“Rules?” he echoed, voice cracking slightly.

“For dating me,” she said casually, as though she delivered ultimatums like this every day. “And trust me, it’s not for the faint of heart. So, listen close, because I’m only saying this once.”

She held up a finger. “Rule one: You must accept that I’m a little out of my mind.”

Oscar blinked. “A little?”

“Don’t interrupt,” she snapped, but the glint in her eye softened it into something almost teasing. “Rule two: This whole thing is a waste if you can’t walk me down the finish line. I don’t do quitters.”

She was pacing now, her hands moving as she spoke, like she was building the rules out of thin air. “Rule three: Give me passion. Don’t make fun of my fashion, even if it’s ‘unconventional.’ Rule four: Give me more. And I mean more, more, more. Compliments, time, effort—whatever you’ve got, I’ll take it.”

She stopped in front of him, looking him dead in the eye. “Rule five: You can’t be scared to show me off. Hold my hand in public. Smile when people stare. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

Oscar nodded, as if it were a contract he was ready to sign.

“Rule six,” she continued, her voice dropping slightly, “if you can’t put in the work...well, I don’t know what you think this is supposed to be. And rule seven...” She paused dramatically, a slow, sharp grin spreading across her face. “If you cheat, you will die. No exaggeration.”

He laughed nervously, unsure if she was joking. Her expression didn’t budge.

“Wait, you’re serious?” he asked.

“Dead serious.” Her gaze was steady, almost unnervingly so. He felt a strange thrill run through him, a combination of terror and awe.

“Oh,” he said, his voice faint.

“And another thing,” she added, leaning closer. Her voice was a soft purr now, almost conspiratorial. “If you can’t handle the choking, the biting, the loving, the smothering—well, let’s just say you’d better leave now.”

Oscar’s heart raced. For a moment, he thought she might be messing with him. But as he studied her face, the fierce intensity in her eyes, he realised she meant every word. And instead of scaring him off, it only pulled him in deeper.

He swallowed hard, his lips parting as if to respond, but she didn’t wait for him to speak. “You up for it, quiet boy?” she asked, raising a brow. “Or are you gonna run like the rest of them?”

Oscar took a deep breath, his chest tight but his resolve steady. “I’m in,” he said, the words stronger than he expected. “All in.”

Her grin widened. “Good. Don’t disappoint me.”

And just like that, she spun on her heel and sauntered away, leaving Oscar standing there, breathless, overwhelmed, and more in love than he’d ever thought possible.

The whispers started the moment she left the room. Oscar could feel the weight of every stare, the quiet hum of disbelief settling over the students still lingering in the library. He shifted uncomfortably, gripping the strap of his bag, and glanced around. A few people smirked. Others shook their heads, muttering things he couldn’t quite make out—but he knew what they were saying.

"She’s messing with him.""He doesn’t stand a chance.""Poor guy. He’ll regret it."

Oscar didn’t care. He didn’t care that the rest of the university seemed to think she was unapproachable, untouchable. If anything, their doubt only made his resolve stronger.

Later that evening, he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone. He’d spent hours trying to figure out what to text her. Every draft felt wrong—too eager, too stiff, too... boring. And if there was one thing she didn’t tolerate, it was boring.

Eventually, he settled on something simple:

“So... when do I start following the rules?”

The response came almost instantly:

“Tomorrow. Be ready by 9. Wear something cute. And bring coffee.”

Oscar stared at the message, his heart racing. He wanted to ask where they were going, but something told him she wouldn’t answer. She thrived on keeping people off balance, and he had a feeling she’d enjoy watching him squirm.

The next morning, he was at her door at 8:55, holding two cups of coffee and wearing his nicest shirt. It wasn’t much—just a navy button-up he usually saved for presentations—but he hoped it would pass the “cute” test.

She opened the door with a dramatic flair, her eyes immediately scanning him from head to toe. For a moment, Oscar thought he’d failed. But then she smiled, a slow, wicked grin that made his stomach flip.

“Not bad,” she said, grabbing one of the coffees from his hand. “You’re trainable.”

“Uh, thanks?” he said, not entirely sure if it was a compliment.

She laughed and tugged him inside, closing the door behind him. Her apartment was just as chaotic as he’d imagined—paintings leaned against the walls, half-finished projects scattered across the floor, and a neon sign above the kitchen counter that read Normal Is Overrated.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked, trying not to trip over a stack of books on his way to the sofa.

She raised an eyebrow. “Rule two, remember? I don’t do quitters, and I don’t do guys who need their hands held. Just keep up, and maybe you’ll survive the day.”

It turned out “keeping up” was a lot harder than he’d expected.

She led him all over the city, dragging him into thrift shops and art galleries, stopping at random street performers to critique their technique, and challenging him to a karaoke battle in the middle of a bustling café. By the time they got to their final stop—a rooftop overlooking the city—Oscar was out of breath, his feet sore, and his head spinning.

“You’re not dead yet,” she said, leaning against the railing and sipping the last of her coffee.

“Barely,” he replied, collapsing onto a nearby bench.

She laughed, a real, genuine laugh that softened her sharp edges for just a moment. “Not bad for day one, quiet boy. But you’ve got a long way to go.”

Oscar looked up at her, the wind catching her hair and the glow of the city lights reflecting in her eyes. She was intense, unpredictable, and completely overwhelming—but as she turned to look at him, a hint of curiosity in her expression, he felt something settle in his chest.

“I’m ready,” he said, surprising himself with how much he meant it. “Whatever it takes, I’m in.”

She tilted her head, studying him like she couldn’t quite figure him out. “You’re weird,” she said finally. “I think I like that.”

And just like that, she turned and started walking away.

“Wait, where are you going?” he called after her.

“Home,” she said over her shoulder. “You’ll text me tomorrow. Same time. Different rules.”

Oscar stayed on the rooftop for a while after she left, the cool breeze clearing his head. He had no idea what he’d just signed up for. But as he watched her disappear into the crowd below, he realised one thing for certain: there was no turning back now.

It had been almost a week of him following her around town doing insane things with her, everytime he did it, he fell for her more than before.

The café buzzed with its usual morning chaos—coffee machines hissing, chairs scraping against the floor, and students chattering as they rushed to squeeze in breakfast before class. Oscar had been there for five minutes, awkwardly lingering at a corner table, when he spotted her weaving through the crowd.

She didn’t walk so much as command the space around her. Her oversized sweater draped lazily over her shoulders, and her combat boots stomped just loud enough to draw attention. In one hand, she clutched her ever-present carton of orange juice.

Oscar’s heart gave its now-familiar leap at the sight of her.

She didn’t smile when she saw him—she rarely did in public—but the slight tilt of her head was enough for him. She slid into the seat next to him, her elbow bumping his in a way that felt oddly reassuring.

And then he showed up.

“Morning, Oscar.”

Oscar tensed instinctively at the voice. Charles. The kind of guy who wore his popularity like a crown and acted like it gave him the right to sit wherever he wanted. Unfortunately, today, that “wherever” was the empty chair on the other side of Oscar.

“Charles,” Oscar said stiffly.

Charles ignored the tone and dropped into the chair, leaning back like he owned the place. His attention flicked briefly to her, sitting silent and unmoving on the other side of Oscar. She didn’t look at him. Not even a glance.

“I see you’re still hanging out with, uh... what’s the word? Unconventional company,” Charles said, his smirk practically oozing condescension.

Oscar opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He hated confrontation, and Charles had a way of twisting any defense into something laughable.

She didn’t react. Not a word, not a movement. She simply reached across Oscar, setting her orange juice on the table with deliberate slowness, her hand brushing his arm as she did.

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Not gonna say anything, huh? No witty comeback? That’s new. You know, Oscar, if you ever need—”

He didn’t get to finish.

In one fluid motion, she turned, grabbed Oscar by the collar, and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t gentle—it was bold, fierce, and entirely unapologetic. The world around them seemed to fall away.

Oscar’s first thought was that he should probably panic. His second thought, as her lips pressed against his and the faint taste of orange juice lingered on his tongue, was that he didn’t want to.

Then came the chaos.

Mid-kiss, her elbow nudged the carton of orange juice. It tipped over, spilling in a perfect arc onto Charles’s lap.

“What the hell?” Charles shot to his feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as the juice soaked into his trousers. “Are you serious?”

She finally broke the kiss, her expression perfectly calm as she turned to face Charles. She didn’t say a word. Not a single word.

Charles’s face turned redder by the second. “You’re insane,” he hissed, pointing at her like she was some kind of villain. “I knew it. Completely insane.”

Oscar, still dazed from the kiss, felt a laugh bubbling up in his chest. He couldn’t stop it. It escaped as a quiet chuckle at first, then a full grin spreading across his face.

Charles turned his glare on Oscar. “And you! Are you really just going to sit there and let her—”

“Yes,” Oscar said simply, his voice stronger than he’d expected. He couldn’t stop smiling.

Charles sputtered, utterly dumbfounded, before storming off toward the bathroom, muttering under his breath about how “insane people shouldn’t be allowed in public.”

The café was silent for a beat, and then, like clockwork, the whispers started.

She didn’t seem to notice—or if she did, she didn’t care. She turned back to Oscar, calmly picking up the now-empty orange juice carton and tossing it into a nearby bin.

“That was... a lot,” Oscar said finally, still catching his breath.

She shrugged, her eyes sparkling with something playful. “Rule five,” she said, as if it explained everything.

“Show you off and hold your hand?”

She tilted her head, smiling ever so slightly. “Close enough.”

And just like that, she stood up, as if nothing had happened. “Come on, quiet boy. You’re walking me to class.”

Oscar followed her out of the café, the eyes of half the room trailing after them. For the first time, though, he didn’t care. If this was what insanity felt like, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to go back to normal.

Over the next few months, she and Oscar became the university’s most inexplicable pairing. People whispered about them constantly, but neither of them seemed to care.

She still refused to conform to anyone’s expectations, roaming campus in outfits that veered between thrift-shop chaos and unapologetic glam. Oscar, meanwhile, remained quiet and steady, like a grounding force to her whirlwind energy.

They settled into their dynamic surprisingly well. She had her rules, and Oscar followed them—sometimes clumsily, but always with devotion. She dragged him to art galleries, night markets, and rooftop parties he’d never have attended on his own. He listened to her rants, held her hand when she insisted, and even endured her merciless teasing when he fumbled a karaoke mic.

In turn, she surprised him, too. Sometimes, when the world got too loud, she’d let herself be vulnerable around him. She’d show up at his apartment late at night, curl up on his couch without a word, and let him hold her until she fell asleep. He learned to read her silences, to understand that sometimes her “insanity” was a mask for something deeper.

They were an odd match, but they worked.

One Friday morning, a few months into their relationship, Oscar found himself in the sports science building for a required class study. His professor was leading the group through a practical demonstration of exercise physiology, and today’s session involved a series of physical tests—strength, endurance, flexibility.

“Right,” the professor called out. “We’ll start with the treadmill test. Everyone take turns, and when it’s your turn, you’ll need to remove your shirt so we can monitor your breathing and heart rate more closely.”

Oscar didn’t think much of it. He was used to this sort of thing. Sports science wasn’t exactly shy about physicality. So, when his turn came, he stepped onto the treadmill and casually peeled off his shirt.

The reaction was immediate.

A low whistle echoed across the room, followed by murmured laughter and a chorus of exaggerated “oohs.”

Oscar froze, his cheeks burning as he turned to look at the group. The guys in his class were all grinning, their eyes fixed not on his face, but his back.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Uh, dude,” one of them said, barely able to keep a straight face. “You wanna tell us where you got those?”

Oscar frowned, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. That’s when he remembered: the scratches.

His back was a mess of faint red marks—long, jagged streaks that stood out against his otherwise pale skin. They were clearly recent, unmistakable evidence of what could only be described as... passionate nights.

“Oh,” he said weakly, the realisation hitting him like a freight train.

“Oh?” one of the guys repeated, laughing. “That’s all you’ve got to say? Come on, man. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Oscar’s face went crimson. He tugged his shirt back on, muttering something about “none of your business,” but the damage was done.

“Bet it’s that girl,” someone said, the grin in their voice unmistakable. “You know, the one everyone says is kinda crazy.”

Oscar ignored them, focusing on the treadmill’s blinking screen as he started his run. But he couldn’t stop the small, involuntary smile that crept onto his face.

Later that day, he met up with her at their usual spot—a small café tucked away from the campus chaos. She was already there, lounging in her chair with a book in one hand and a coffee in the other.

“You’re late,” she said without looking up.

“Got held up,” he replied, sliding into the seat across from her.

She finally looked up, narrowing her eyes. “Why are you grinning like that?”

“Am I?”

“You are. Spill.”

Oscar hesitated, then leaned in slightly. “Let’s just say the guys in my class found out you’re... hands-on.”

It took her a second to process, but when she did, her face split into a wicked grin. “Oh, really?”

He nodded. “They were... impressed. Lots of whistling. Some questions I refused to answer.”

She laughed, a low, delighted sound that made his stomach flip. “Good. Let them wonder.”

“And you don’t think it’s, I don’t know, embarrassing?”

She reached across the table, her fingers brushing his as she tilted her head in that way that always made him feel like she was reading his mind. “Oscar, sweetie,” she said, her voice teasing but fond, “I’m never embarrassed about liking you. Why should you be embarrassed about liking me?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. All he knew was that in that moment, surrounded by her chaos and certainty, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

After a bit of catching up, they did what they usually did. She pulled out a book and he pulled out his laptop, the both of them doing something in silence. There was a low hum of student chatter filling the air. It was peaceful in a way Oscar had grown to love.

But the peace didn’t last.

A group of guys from his sports science class strolled past, their laughter cutting through the quiet. Oscar didn’t notice them at first—not until one of them whistled, loud and sharp.

“Yo, Oscar!” one of them called, smirking as he walked by.

“Those scratches healed up yet, man?” another teased, nudging his friend.

There was a ripple of laughter, followed by another whistle, and Oscar immediately felt his face heat up.

He looked down at his lap, his cheeks burning as he pretended to adjust the edge of his notebook. The attention made him feel like he wanted to sink into his chair and disappear.

She noticed instantly.

Her gaze snapped up, tracking the guys as they walked away. Then she turned to Oscar, watching as he ducked his head, his shoulders tense with embarrassment.

“No, no, no,” she said firmly, tossing her book aside and sitting up.

“What?” he mumbled, still looking anywhere but at her.

She reached out and gently cupped his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. There was a teasing glint in her gaze, but her voice was soft when she said, “No, Oscar darling. None of this shy, looking-down nonsense.”

He blinked at her, unsure what to say.

“Listen to me,” she said, leaning closer, her voice dropping into a low, almost conspiratorial tone. “You’re my boyfriend. You’re sweet, gorgeous, and apparently very memorable.” Her lips twitched into a grin. “So soak it in, baby.”

Before he could protest, she grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him toward her.

Her lips pressed against his with deliberate force, and the world around them seemed to fade. The kiss wasn’t subtle or polite—it was just shy of scandalous.

Oscar’s brain short-circuited. He could vaguely hear the distant laughter of the guys who’d whistled, probably in shock, but he didn’t care. His initial surprise melted into something warmer, and he kissed her back, his hands instinctively resting on her waist.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes sparkled with satisfaction. She smirked at him, her fingers still fisted in his shirt.

“Better?” she asked.

He nodded, dazed, his cheeks still flushed but for an entirely different reason now. “Yeah,” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Good,” she said, leaning back casually as if nothing had happened. She picked up her book and flipped it open again, completely unbothered by the attention they’d drawn.

Oscar, on the other hand, felt the stares of half the cantine burning into his skin. But this time, instead of looking down, he found himself smiling.

If this was what she meant by “soaking it in,” he figured he could get used to it.

the end.

[pandorxxx]

Another man’s treasure

Neteyam x omatikayan fem reader (all aged up)

Warnings: cursing, oral (reader receiving), p in v, multiple orgasms, neteyam having a size kink, neteyam being “Mr. Steal yo girl” kinda, creampie, marking, scenting.

Listen to Mr. Steal yo girl by Trey Songz for the best experience 😊

Synopsis: You wanted lo’ak, and it was no secret. However, you were scared to talk to him. When you went to Neteyam for help, he made it known that lo’ak wouldn’t be interested in you because of your abnormal (among navi) size. But you soon realized, that what one brother didn’t like, the other one loved…

🔞mdni🔞

“Cant you find something else to do? I don’t have time for this today.” Neteyam chuckled, pushing leaves out of his path as he went to fulfill his duties. This was becoming an everyday thing almost. You’d follow Neteyam into the forest as he did his daily chores just to bug him about the same old shit.

You had a huge crush on lo’ak, and since you and Neteyam were…somewhat friends, you decided that the only way to get in good with lo’ak was with the help of Neteyam. Although he wasn’t much help.

“Neteyam come onnnn. I’ll leave you alone if you talk to lo’ak for me.” You whined, running behind him to keep up with his long strides. You were alittle younger than both of them, but that didn’t stop you from trying. Also, you were alittle smaller than the average female Navi, so you got made fun of sometimes. But you had a “Fuck you” mentality when it came to bullies, you couldn’t care less.

“Why don’t you talk to him, huh? Why are you bugging me about it? I’ve got shit to do y/n.” He spoke calmly, making sure to hold the leaves down for you to walk through. He was such a gentlemen without even trying.

“You know him better than I do. I just figured you could help me out…TEYAM!” You shouted his name, making him halt in his tracks with an irritated sigh. He turn to you, walking alittle closer.

“Y/n please. I don’t have time to get in the middle of this shit. And plus, I personally don’t think that lo’ak would go for this.” Neteyam confessed.

“And why do you think that? I’m pretty, no?” You asked with a hint of aggression, eyebrow cocked as you awaited an answer. He chuckled, crossing his arms.

“You’re very pretty. But you know that’s not what I meant.” He shook his head. Your eyes narrowed, picking up on what he was insinuating.

“Well what DID you mean, Neteyam?” You asked, anger radiating off of your skin. He eyed your small frame up and down in curiosity.

“Fuck, don’t make me say it. It’s very obvious.” He ran his hand through his braids with a loud chuckle. You were now visibly angry, tail swaying high in defense as you clutched your bow. Although you were smaller, you were one of the best warriors here. Some would even say better than the mighty warrior himself, so he knew you meant business.

With a loud sigh, he finally fessed up. “Y/n…you’re tiny as fuck.” He nodded with a sarcastic grin.

“Neteyam, what does that have to do with anything? Huh?” You asked with heavy aggression, shifting your body weight to one hip.

“If I were lo’ak. I wouldn’t even wanna touch you. Might break your little ass.” He joked, however you didn’t find it funny whatsoever.

“Fuck you. I can take any male in this clan, you and lo’ak INCLUDED. Size means NOTHING!” You snapped, poking his chest angrily as you peered up at him. He let out a loud laugh, placing his large hands on your shoulders.

“I promise you, and I mean this in the most humble way possible. You cannot take me, y/n.” He spoke passive aggressively, his tone becoming alittle serious.

“Neteyam, check my fucking stats. I’d have you crying when I’m done.” You growled, smacking his hands off of your shoulders. It was no secret that you’d been with other males before, what girl hadn’t? Though small, you knew exactly how to please a man. And men just like Neteyam would underestimate you all the time…until they got their feel.

“Oh y/n, please. I’ve heard about you, trust me. But I’m a REAL man. Those little boys you’ve been with have NOTHING on me. You hear me? NOTHING!” He growled, jaw clenching in restraint. You laughed in his face, taking a step back to scan his body from head to toe.

“Oh, ok there big boy. Calm down. Did lil ole’ me get under the mighty warriors skin?” You mocked. Neteyam was a man of great restraint, but you were really pressing his buttons today. He let out a deep sigh, before chuckling to himself.

“Don’t make me ruin you for lo’ak.” Was all he said, in that deep tone of his. The one that meant business. The one that created a pool of your own slick in your loincloth. The one that made you shift back and forth experimentally, trying to find some sort of friction.

“A lot of open ended sentences today. Tell me what that’s supposed to mean.” You commanded, arms crossed as you took a step forward.

“You know what it means, don’t act so innocent y/n. And DONT challenge me. I’ll snap you like a twig.” He trailed off, eyeing you up and down. You laughed in his face again, at his sudden sexual advances. It was always lo’ak for you, but Neteyam was just as hot, if not hotter. He was stronger, taller, sexier, and a lot more mature.

“So do it. You have nothing but space and opportunity to show me. If I’m being honest, this sounds like a bunch of bs. I can’t take you seriously in this light, Neteyam. You’re always so uptight.” You teased, hoping that it would make him angry enough to take you, right here…right now. But he quickly caught on to your antics. He stepped closer, until your plump breast met his stomach. Peering down at you with a crooked grin.

“Oh, I don’t know y/n. You’re too small to ride this ride. I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re better off finding lo’ak. He’s more your speed.” He nodded.

“But the things I’d do to you…it’s unspeakable.” He whispered, running his large hand down your torso, all the way to the band of your loincloth. You bit your lip, directing your attention to the scene.

“Tell me about it, I’m all ears.” You spoke sensually, eyes meeting his once again. “Well first…I’d rip this fucking loincloth off of your hips.” He spoke, simultaneously ripping your cloth off. You gasped, finding your balance again from the unexpected force.

“Then…I’d turn you around, and bend you over.” He spoke. His tone low and full of lust as he spun you around, bending you over into a 90 degree angle. Your hands immediately finding refuge on the bark of the tree infront of you. You let out a little giggle as you turned your head to look back at him, waiting for his next move.

“Mmmhm.” he groaned, smacking your ass as he watched your arousal leak out of you like a stream. You let out a small whimper at the impact, so desperate for more.

He kneeled down behind you, coming face to face with your dripping cunt. He licked his lips before diving in. His calloused hands holding your cheeks opened as he devoured you whole.

“G-God, Neteyam!” You whimpered, digging your nails into the bark. He didn’t say anything else to you, didn’t even bother coming up for air. All you could hear was nasally gulps, and squelching sounds followed by low hums of satisfaction from him.

You could feel his tongue flicking, sucking, and gnawing on your sensitive clit before licking all the way up to your ass, giving it a small peck. And then he would go back to work on you. Your legs were starting to shake as your whines increased in volume.

“I-Im sooo close.” You spoke in exhaustion from holding yourself up. He hummed in response, wiggling his head as you used the flat of his tongue to taste you completely. This in turn, sending you over the edge. Without much warning, you released into his mouth. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but his strong hands held you in place as he lapped up your juices. All of your essence dripping down his jaw and neck.

“This pussy tastes like heaven, baby.” He chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before standing to his full height behind you.

“I want you to stay juuust like this for me. Think you can do that?” He asked as he untied his loincloth from around his his gently. You nodded in response, feeling his tip graze past your slit on the way up to slap his stomach.

He grabbed his cock, using the tip to play with your clit. “Mmm…” You hum, leaning your cheek against the bark as you watched him with desperate eyes.

With little to no warning, just a devilish smirk, he slide into you slowly. His cock was stretching you out more than you’d ever been, yet it felt like the perfect fit once he bottomed out. You let out a series of loud whimpers once you felt his tip probing at your cervix. That was a feeling you’d never had before.

“I know, baby. I know…” he moaned, thrusting into you slowly to get you used to his size. His large hands trailed all the way up your back, giving it a light rub before finding their way to the back of your neck.

“You’re s-sooo big!” You whined, knuckles turning white from the grip you had on the bark infront of you. He didn’t know what it was about your cries that turned him on so much. Maybe it was the fact that you were a tough girl, and seeing you so helpless at the hands of him made his head spin.

And as much as he loved to make fun of how small you were, he secretly loved it. The comparison of you to him had him aroused from the start. He was a relatively big guy, very strong, and muscular from his endless training. And although you were a warrior too, you simply didn’t look like one. You were very fragile…delicate to him. And he loved that he could have his way with you.

“Mhm, keep talking.” He growled, now picking up the pace. His warm sack smacking against your sensitive clit, creating the right amount of friction. On top of the constant pounding to your sweet-spot. You couldn’t even form a complete thought at this point. The pleasure was consuming you. And at that point, you realized that you’d never had sex like this. Neteyam had proven to you why he was the better choice.

“I-I can’t even….I-I d-don’t- FUUUCK!” You rambled. So flustered that you couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. He let out a breathily chuckle, rutting into you like he’d never see you again.

“Ok! ok! ok! I-I can’t take this shit. y-you’re killing me, Teyam!” You whined, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You were on the verge of such an intense orgasm, unlike anything you’d felt before. It was becoming too much for you to handle.

“But you’re so fucking close, baby. I can feel the way you’re squeezing me, sucking me in. I thought you could take me?” He spoke in a condescending tone, the same devilish grin plastered across his face as he watched your plump ass ripple with every thrust.

“I-I can’t take you! I CANT!” You whimpered, tears blurring your vision. He slowed down for you, just alittle, but not nearly as much as you needed. You began to gnaw at the bark in desperation, just trying to find some relief from your incoming orgasm.

“And why can’t you take me? I wanna hear this shit.” He spoke in a low tone, shifting his hands to your hips for more leverage. He began to thrust into you slow and deep, nearly knocking the wind out of you with every stroke.

Oh, how he loved this. He knew why you couldn’t, he just wanted to hear you say it. Hear you tell him how strong, and how big he was. It was an ego boost for him, and to have you completely drunk off of his cock was a huge turn on.

“Mmm t-oooo big. Way t-too big!” You spoke deliriously, legs beginning to shake as that knot in your stomach started to unravel. Your walls clenched around him before releasing your essence. You let out a series of loud moans, just like music to his ears.

“Thaaats right, baby. Cum on this big dick.” He moaned, smacking your ass with his bottom lip in between his teeth. His cock began to twitch Inside of you, signaling that he was about to cum. So instead, he pulled out of you quickly with a loud groan. He held your hips in place so that you wouldn’t fall as he caught his breath.

“Fuck.” He whispered under his breath. You managed to turn around in his embrace, leaning your back against the bark of the tree lazily.

“Y-You didn’t-“ you began, before he lifted his finger to silence you. “Don’t worry about me. I just wanted to give you alittle taste. I don’t wanna hurt you.” He confessed, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“What if I want you to hurt me?” You spat, bringing him flush to you by his hips. He cocked an eyebrow in confusion, but mostly curiosity.

“Give me your all, Neteyam. Give me everything, please. Even if we have to go at it all fucking night. I want more than a taste.” You spoke sensually, wrapping your arms around his waist before planting a kiss on his chest.

“Fuck, don’t talk like that. Please.” He chuckled, rubbing your arms lovingly as he stared down into your desperate eyes.

“And what about lo’ak, huh? I thought you had a thing for him an hour ago.” He asked playfully, already knowing that lo’ak was the farthest thing from your mind at this point.

“I want you now. Is that a crime?” You asked, not even letting him answer the question before you stood on your tippy toes, engaging in a passionate kiss with him. His hand found the back of your head, gripping your hair to deepen the kiss. The other hand snaking around to lift you up, pinning you to the tree behind you. You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, and your arms around his neck.

“Mmm, take this off.” He spoke between kisses, referring to your top. You backed away from him slightly, leaning all the way back on the bark. He watched you intently, as you began to untie your revealing top. It popped open with the last knot, revealing your plump breasts. And just like a man, he licked his lips as his eyes locked to your chest.

“Fuuuck me.” He groaned before attacking your nipples. Gently gnawing at them to create love bites, and running his warm tongue around your areola. He nuzzled his head in your chest with low groans of satisfaction as he scented you. Everyone would know who you belonged to from here on out.

Without warning, he lifted you up by your ass, and slammed you down on his cock. You both moaning in unison. He immediately set a merciless rhythm, impaling you over and over again roughly.

“Oh great mother, yessss!” You praised, squeezing your eyes shut as your voice rippled through the forest due to his unbearable pace.

“Mmm, keep screaming like that.” He demanded, thrusting into you harder, knocking the air out of your lungs with every stroke. There wasn’t much else you could say, you were completely silenced.

“I-I..” you stuttered, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You let your head find refuge on the bark behind you, revealing your unscathed neck to Neteyam…big mistake for such a territorial male like himself.

He bent down to your neck, taking a deep breath before flashing his fangs. He grazed your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Without anymore hesitation, he bit down on your neck gently. Still hard enough to leave a mark.

“Oh my-“ you started, your head going completely limp on the bark behind you. You could feel another orgasm building deep in your stomach.

“B-Baby, Im so close. Sooo so close!” He moaned, watching your breast bounce from his hard thrusts. He was slowly loosing it, and he couldn’t contain himself much longer. He could feel his stomach muscles tense repeatedly, which is something that’s never happened to him. Beads of sweat began to roll off of his frowned forehead. His mouth was slightly agape, low whimpers falling from his lips. And at that moment, he realized he’d never had sex like this.

“FUCK!” He growled, his hand slapping against the bark behind you as he bounced you on his cock quickly.

“Give it to me, pleaseeee!” You screamed, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly, leaning your head on his shoulder. Your body began to tremble in his arms as your toes curled. You couldn’t hold it anymore. Your peak was nearing quickly.

“Ladies first. Cum on this dick again, baby.” He whispered in your ear, kissing the lobe gently. The act alone sending you over the edge. Your eyes rolled back, jaw slack as you released on him for the second time. Loud squelching sounds filling the forest as his cream coated cock slid in and out of you. He could feel your walls contracting around him, and he just couldn’t hold it any longer. “Ohhh, shit! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He chanted, releasing his seed deep into your empty womb with a loud groan.

“Don’t be sorry, I-I wanted it. Juuust like that!” You whined, rolling your hips into his to bury his seed deeper into your tight cunt. You both took a few minutes to catch your breaths before he pulled out slowly.

“Mmmhm…” He hummed, watching his excess cum drip to the ground beneath you. For a moment, you two stared at each other in awe, completely whipped by one another.

He had his mind made up, and it seemed as though you had changed yours. Neteyam was the only man you wanted from now on….

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @st-cass @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @urfavgirlmakenna @fanboyluvr @iameatingmyhair @secretflowerobservation @violet-19999 @xreadersstuff @sweetllamaparadise @lia-nath @sullymenrhot @dotheyevenknowmars @xdbluesky @slay-nt @domino-x3-blog @ladylovegood-69 @itssomeonereading @sweetirilly @skxawngmia @j-jinxee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @cumikering @pxndorasdream @itsaleidasworld @atxxokirina @yeletta @blueslxt-primary @eywascall @valeriearriana37484 @avatarsslut @bee782916 @atxxokirina @taylormarieee @sweethoneycn @dollyloomis @luvv4j4ybe11

[afterglowsainz]

op81 and number between 1-100:56

can i ask you a question? | oscar piastri

song; question…? - taylor swift

part of the spotify wrapped special

You were a little bitter. Of course, you were. Just because you and Oscar had ended things didn’t mean he stopped being yours—at least not in your mind. And now, apparently, he had a new girlfriend? Not only that, but you had to spend time with her because you still shared the same friend group, and if Oscar invited her, everyone had to get along. After all, you weren’t about to stop being friends with your friends just because your relationship with Oscar ended. They were as much yours as they were his.

So here you were, downing one martini after another while listening to your ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend chat with your friends and laugh at their jokes.

“Want to slow down with the martinis?” one of your oldest friends whispered in your ear.

“No,” you replied, taking another sip.

“If looks could kill…” he didn’t finish the sentence, but you got the hint and stopped glaring at her. “Why don’t you talk to her? Make conversation,” he suggested, and you shot him a disbelieving look.

Was he serious?

“Just kidding,” he chuckled. “But stop staring so much. Oscar’s already noticed.”

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and you placed your hands over them to cool the heat.

“All good?” the familiar Australian accent of your ex-boyfriend made itself known. You turned to your right, the red and white lights of the bar doing little justice to his face.

“Yeah, we’re just talking,” you replied on behalf of both yourself and your friend.

“Are you drunk?” Oscar murmured. You frowned slightly—you didn’t feel like you were slurring your words or showing any signs of being tipsy. “When you touch your face like that, it means you’re drunk,” he pointed out, gesturing with his jaw toward your hands, still cooling your cheeks. You quickly removed them.

Of course, Oscar knew you perfectly.

“Can I ask you a question?” you said, turning fully to face him. Your other friend took it as his cue to leave.

“If it’s about her…”

“By ‘her,’ you mean your girlfriend?”

“Sure.”

“Have some decency, first of all. Call her by her name.” You didn’t want him to call her by her name—actually, you didn’t want him to call her anything at all—but you had to keep up appearances.

“Are you jealous?”

Well, so much for appearances.

A small, satisfied smile crept onto Oscar’s face, and you wanted to slap him and kiss him at the same time.

“Why did you bring her here if you don’t care about her?” You ignored his question and posed one of your own.

“Who says I don’t care?”

“I do,” you said. Oscar raised an eyebrow. Self-centered as ever, he thought. “You haven’t spoken to her the entire time you’ve been here. Since you arrived, I haven’t seen you talk to her more than twice. Our friends are the only ones bothering to engage with her.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took two steps closer to you.

“And why are you paying so much attention to what I’m doing?” His face was getting closer to yours, and your self-control was about to vanish.

“It’s impossible to talk to you.” You took two steps back, intending to walk to the other side of the table, but he grabbed your arm, stopping you.

“Ask the question I know you want to ask,” he said. When you stayed silent, debating whether to actually ask it or not, he spoke again. “Fine, I’ll answer it anyway.” You looked up at him expectantly, the bar around you fading into a low hum.

“I wish I had fought harder when we broke up, done something to convince you to stay. I wish I could touch you, talk to you every day—not as friends, but as what we’ve always been. I’m jealous of every guy you’ve dated since we broke up, even though I know you only go out with them to make me jealous and don’t actually care about them. Every time I see them touch you in the slightest way, I want to rip their hands off because they get to do what I no longer can.”

You were about to protest that you didn’t date guys just to make him jealous—you did, but he didn’t need to know that—but he didn’t let you interrupt.

“I haven’t gotten over you, and I’m not sure I ever will.”

You blinked once, twice, three times as he finished speaking.

“Does that answer your question?”

Two more blinks.

“Break up with her and come to my place.”

[paxtito]

pretty girl

pairings: wednesday x fem!reader

word count: 3685

warnings: smut 18+. just lesbian sex innit (w receiving)— (all characters are 18+)

summary: wednesday put together a little surprise date night, but, enid being enid, couldn’t keep it a secret

a/n: based on this request: ‘I love your writing and was wondering if you could make another smut fic with Wednesday? Maybe something sorta soft, honestly anything would do. Thanks!’ hope this is what you were looking for and thank you!! spent the day resting which gave me plenty of time to do this because my lil’ anger issues of a dog bit my cheek after wanting my birthday cake 😒

MASTERLIST

The morning air is crisp as you walk across campus with Enid, her usual vibrant energy making up for your grogginess. You clutch your coffee tightly, half-listening as she chatters about the latest gossip in the werewolf pack.

“And then Ajax tried to—are you even listening to me?” she asks, bumping her shoulder into yours playfully.

“Barely,” you admit with a small smile, taking another sip of your coffee. “It’s too early for full Enid mode.”

“Rude,” she pouts dramatically before grinning. “But fine, I’ll get to the point. I’m sleeping over at Yoko’s tonight!”

“Wait, what?” you ask, blinking at her. “Why?”

Enid’s steps falter, and she looks away for a moment, biting her lip. “Oh, uh, no reason!”

You narrow your eyes at her, immediately suspicious. “Enid…”

“It’s nothing!” she insists, waving her hands defensively. “Totally normal, just, uh, bestie stuff. You know, girl talk, vampire-werewolf bonding, that kind of thing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”

She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “Fine! But you can’t tell Wednesday I told you, okay? She’d literally kill me. Like, for real this time.”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Wednesday. “What does she have to do with this?”

Enid hesitates, looking torn. “Ugh, okay, fine,” she blurts out, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “She’s planning something for you tonight. Like, a date night or something. She told me to clear out so you two could have the dorm to yourselves.”

A warm, unexpected blush creeps up your neck. “Wait… Wednesday planned something? For me?”

Enid nods, her grin widening. “Yup! And let me tell you, she’s been stressing about it all week. She even glared at me less than usual yesterday, so you know it’s serious.”

You can’t help but smile, your heart fluttering at the thought of Wednesday going out of her way to plan something for you. “That’s… actually really sweet.”

“Right? But don’t tell her I told you, okay?” Enid warns, gripping your arm. “She swore me to secrecy and gave me this whole creepy ‘I’ll bury you alive’ speech. Classic Wednesday.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Good. Because I value my life,” Enid says with mock seriousness before breaking into a smile. “But seriously, I’m happy for you guys. She’s got a soft spot for you, you know.”

Your smile grows as you think about Wednesday, her deadpan expression softening ever so slightly when she’s around you, the way her hand lingers in yours when no one’s looking. “Yeah,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to Enid. “I know.”

As the two of you reach the doors to your next class, you can’t help but feel a little giddy. Whatever Wednesday has planned, you know it’ll be something only she could come up with—quiet, dark, and maybe a little macabre. And you can’t wait to see what she’s put together.

—

The afternoon sun filters through the classroom windows, casting a warm glow across your desk. Your fingers absentmindedly tap against the surface as you try to focus on the teacher's droning voice, but your thoughts keep drifting to Wednesday and the surprise she has planned for you.

Despite your best efforts to keep a straight face, a small, giddy smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You sneak a glance at Wednesday from the corner of your eye, trying to gauge her reaction.

To your surprise, she's already staring at you, her dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. Your gaze meets hers, and you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up under her intense scrutiny.

"You," she says flatly, her voice cutting through the monotony of the lecture. "Are you feeling alright? You seem... distracted."

You swallow hard, your mind racing for an excuse. "I'm fine," you manage, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. "Just thinking about the assignment."

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Her gaze bores into you, as if she's trying to read your thoughts.

You squirm in your seat, suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope. You can practically hear Enid's voice in your head, warning you not to blow her cover.

But it's too late. Wednesday's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of panic crossing her face before she schools her features back into a neutral expression.

"Ah," she says slowly, leaning back in her chair. "Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

You bite your lip, wondering if you should press further. But before you can open your mouth, the bell rings, signaling the end of class.

Wednesday stands abruptly, gathering her books without another word. She brushes past you, her shoulder bumping against yours in a way that feels almost like a dismissal.

You watch her go, your heart sinking. You've blown it, haven't you? Ruined whatever surprise she had planned.

You scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over your chair in your haste. Your backpack slips off the desk, scattering your belongings across the floor.

"Wednesday, wait!" you call out, your voice echoing in the now-empty classroom.

You chase after her, weaving through the throng of students in the hallway. Your heart pounds in your chest as you catch up to her, reaching out to grasp her arm.

Wednesday whirls around, her dark eyes flashing with irritation. "What?" she snaps, her voice sharp.

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "I... I'm sorry," you manage, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. "I didn't mean to ruin your surprise. I just... I couldn't help myself."

For a moment, Wednesday just stares at you, her expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, her shoulders slump slightly, and she lets out a sigh.

"You're impossible," she mutters, but there's no real heat behind her words.

You blink, taken aback by her sudden shift in demeanor. "I... I know," you say softly, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. "But I meant what I said. I'm sorry."

Wednesday is silent for a moment, and then she nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Fine," she says, her tone grudging. "But don't think this means you're off the hook. You owe me one."

You grin, relief washing over you. "I can live with that," you say, your voice light and teasing. "So... are you going to tell me what you have planned, or do I have to guess?"

Wednesday rolls her eyes, but there's a hint of amusement in her gaze. "Guess," she says simply, before turning and walking away, leaving you to follow in her wake.

—

You stand outside Wednesday's dorm room, your hand hovering over the doorknob. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

Despite your earlier promise to keep quiet, you can't shake the nagging feeling that you've ruined whatever surprise she had planned. You glance down at your uniform, suddenly self-conscious about your appearance.

"Get it together," you mutter to yourself, giving your skirt a quick smoothing. "She's not going to bite."

With a final nod of determination, you raise your hand and knock on the door. The sound echoes through the empty hallway, making you wince.

Silence greets you for a moment, and you wonder if Wednesday is ignoring you. But then, the door swings open, revealing Wednesday standing in the doorway.

She's changed out of her school uniform, now wearing a simple black dress that falls to her knees. Her hair is loose, tumbling down her back in dark waves.

For a moment, you're struck dumb, your brain short-circuiting at the sight of her. She looks... pretty. Soft. Nothing like her usual sharp edges and icy demeanor.

Wednesday arches an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a smirk. "Cat got your tongue?" she asks, her voice dry.

You shake your head, feeling your cheeks heat up. "No," you manage, clearing your throat. "I just... I didn't expect you to look so..."

You trail off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence without sounding like a complete fool. Wednesday's smirk widens, and she steps aside, gesturing for you to enter.

"Come in," she says simply, before closing the door behind you with a soft click.

You step into Wednesday's dorm room, your eyes widening as you take in the scene before you. The furniture has been pushed to the sides, creating a large open space in the center of the room. Soft, ambient lighting casts a warm glow over everything, making the room feel intimate and cozy.

In the middle of it all stands Wednesday, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable. She's holding out her hand to you, a silent invitation.

"What's all this?" you ask, your voice coming out a little breathless.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "I'm going to teach you how to dance," she says simply, her tone matter-of-fact.

You blink, taken aback by her words. "Dance?" you repeat, feeling a little foolish. "Like... ballroom dancing?"

Wednesday nods, her dark eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. "Yes," she confirms, her voice dry. "Like my parents do. It's a family tradition."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the thought of Wednesday's parents, of the life she leads outside of Nevermore. It's a side of her you've never seen before, and the idea of being a part of it, even in a small way, makes your stomach flutter.

"I... I'd like that," you manage, stepping forward to take her hand.

Wednesday's fingers are cool against yours, her grip firm and steady. She pulls you closer, her body mere inches from yours.

"Good," she says simply, before beginning to guide you through the steps.

You stumble a little at first. But Wednesday is patient, her instructions clear and concise. Slowly, you begin to find your rhythm, moving in tandem with her.

As you dance, you can't help but notice the way Wednesday's eyes never leave yours. There's an intensity there, a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You're doing well," she murmurs, her voice soft. "Just follow my lead."

You move gracefully in Wednesday's arms, your body reacting instinctively to her guidance. The fabric of your black trousers brushes against her dress as you spin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

Wednesday's gaze is intense, her dark eyes boring into yours with an unspoken question. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your heart races at her proximity.

"You're a natural," she murmurs, her voice low and intimate. "I knew you'd be good at this."

You duck your head, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "It's easy when I have a good partner," you manage, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "Is that so?" she asks, her tone teasing.

You nod, your gaze flickering down to her lips for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again. "Definitely," you confirm, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wednesday hums, her fingers tightening around yours. "Good," she says simply, before pulling you closer, your bodies now just inches apart.

You can feel the heat radiating off her skin, the scent of her perfume filling your nostrils. Your breath hitches, your pulse pounding in your ears.

"Now," Wednesday says, her voice low and husky. "Let's try something a little more... challenging."

She steps back, her hand leaving yours. You feel a momentary pang of loss, your fingers aching to touch her again.

But then Wednesday begins to move, her body swaying to a beat only she can hear. She extends her hand, a silent invitation for you to join her.

You hesitate for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest. But then, with a deep breath, you step forward, ready to follow wherever she leads.

You take Wednesday's hand, her fingers cool and strong in your grasp. She pulls you close, your bodies pressing together as she guides you into a new dance.

This one is more sensual, the steps slower and more deliberate. Wednesday's gaze never leaves yours, her dark eyes smoldering with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You move together, your bodies swaying in perfect sync. The world around you fades away, until there is nothing but the two of you, lost in the rhythm of the dance.

Wednesday's hand slides up your arm, her fingers trailing over your skin. You shiver at the contact, your nerve endings igniting with each touch.

"You're doing well," she murmurs, her lips barely brushing against your ear. "Keep going."

You nod, your body responding to her commands without hesitation. You've never felt so in tune with another person, so utterly in sync.

As the dance comes to an end, Wednesday pulls you into a final, tight embrace. You can feel the heat of her body against yours, the softness of her breasts pressing into your chest.

For a moment, you're frozen, your heart pounding in your ears. You know you should pull away, put some distance between you. But you can't bring yourself to move, not when Wednesday feels so perfect in your arms.

Slowly, tentatively, you raise your hand, your fingers brushing against the silky strands of her hair. Wednesday's eyes flutter closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"Y/N," she breathes, your name a prayer on her tongue. "I..."

Your heart races as Wednesday's breathy voice caresses your name. In this moment, suspended in time, the world seems to fall away, leaving only the two of you, hearts beating as one.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, you lean in closer, your forehead resting against hers. Your hands slide up to cup her face, thumbs gently stroking her high cheekbones.

Wednesday's eyes flutter open, dark and filled with a vulnerability you've never seen before. Her hands come up to rest on your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

"I..." she starts, her voice barely a whisper. "I want..."

But she trails off, unable to finish the thought. Instead, she closes the remaining distance between you, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that steals your breath away.

You melt into the kiss, your body molding against hers like it was made to fit. Wednesday's lips are soft and warm, moving against yours with a desperate hunger.

Your hands slide into her hair, tangling in the silky strands as you deepen the kiss. Wednesday makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, a sound of pure need.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the taste and feel of her. The rest of the world fades away, leaving only this moment, this connection.

When you finally break apart, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. Wednesday rests her forehead against yours, her hands still gripping your waist tightly.

"That was..." she starts, her voice rough with emotion.

"Perfect," you finish for her, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Wednesday hums in agreement, nuzzling her nose against yours. "I've wanted to do that for a while now," she admits, her tone shy.

You chuckle softly, your fingers carding through her hair. "I'm glad you did," you murmur, bringing your lips to hers once more.

As you kiss, you know that this is just the beginning. The start of something new, something beautiful and terrifying and utterly intoxicating.

Wednesday's hands slide down to your hips, her fingers gripping your waistband tightly. With a sudden tug, she pulls you flush against her, your body pressing into hers.

You gasp at the contact, your hands flying up to grip her shoulders for balance. Wednesday takes advantage of your momentary distraction, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

With a soft push, she sends you tumbling onto the mattress, her body following yours. You land with a bounce, your breath knocked from your lungs as Wednesday settles on top of you, her weight pinning you in place.

"Wednesday," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you..."

But your question is cut off as Wednesday captures your lips in another searing kiss. Her tongue delves into your mouth, exploring every inch of you with a desperate hunger.

You moan into the kiss, your hands sliding down to grip her hips, urging her closer. Wednesday grinds against you, the heat of her core seeping through the thin layers of fabric separating you.

Wednesday breaks the kiss, her dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that steals your breath. She sits up, straddling your hips, her hands resting on your chest.

"I want you," she whispers, her voice low and husky. "But we don't have to..."

You reach up, cupping her face in your hands. "I want this," you assure her, your thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "I want you."

Wednesday nods, her gaze never leaving yours. Slowly, she leans down, pressing her lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

Your hands slide down her back, settling on her hips. You guide her movements, encouraging her to grind against you. The friction is delicious, the heat building between your legs.

Wednesday gasps into your mouth, her hips moving faster, more urgently. You can feel her growing wetter, her arousal soaking through your clothes.

You break the kiss, panting heavily. "Let me," you plead, your voice rough with desire.

Wednesday nods, shifting off of you. You sit up, your fingers trembling slightly as you reach for the hem of her dress. With a swift movement, you pull it over her head, tossing it aside.

She sits before you, clad only in a black lace bra and matching panties. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of her, her pale skin flawless in the dim light.

You lean forward, pressing reverent kisses along her collarbone, down the swell of her breasts. Wednesday shivers, her fingers tangling in your hair.

You take a moment to drink in the sight of her, your gaze roaming over her body appreciatively. Wednesday flushes under your attention, her thighs pressing together shyly.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper, your voice filled with awe.

Wednesday shakes her head, her dark hair falling in waves around her face. "I'm not..." she starts, but you silence her with a kiss.

Switching positions, you lay Wednesday down on the bed, your body covering hers. You capture her lips in a searing kiss, your tongue delving into her mouth, exploring every inch of her.

Wednesday moans softly into the kiss, her hips arching up to meet yours. Your hands slide down her sides, cupping her breasts through the thin lace of her bra.

You break the kiss, your lips trailing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone. Wednesday gasps, her fingers digging into your back, urging you on.

Your hand slides down her stomach, teasing the edge of her panties. Wednesday's breath hitches, her thighs parting slightly in invitation.

You dip your fingers beneath the fabric, finding her slick and ready for you. Wednesday whimpers, her hips bucking into your touch.

Your fingers glide through Wednesday's slick folds, finding her sensitive bud. She gasps, her hips jerking at the sudden contact.

"Y/N," she breathes, your name a prayer on her lips.

You circle her clit with teasing strokes, reveling in the way her body responds to your touch. Wednesday's thighs tremble, her hands fisting in the sheets beneath her.

Slowly, you slide a finger inside her, groaning at the way her walls clench around you. Wednesday is so hot, so tight, so perfect.

You add a second finger, pumping them in and out of her slick heat. Wednesday's head thrashes on the pillow, her mouth falling open in a silent cry of pleasure.

Your thumb finds her clit again, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub. Wednesday's hips buck wildly, her body chasing the release you're so eager to give her.

"Please," she whimpers, her voice barely audible. "I need..."

But she doesn't finish the thought, her body arching off the bed as you curl your fingers just right. You can feel her getting closer, her walls fluttering around your digits.

With a final twist of your wrist, Wednesday comes undone, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. You hold her through it, whispering words of praise and encouragement.

As she comes down from her high, you press soft kisses to her sweat-dampened skin, murmuring your love and devotion. Wednesday clings to you, her body still trembling with aftershocks.

In this moment, the rest of the world fades away. There is only the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of love and passion.

—

You wake to the sound of the door opening, your eyes fluttering open to find Wednesday still asleep beside you. For a moment, you simply lie there, taking in the sight of her.

Her dark hair is fanned out across the pillow, her face relaxed in sleep. Your gaze travels down her body, tracing the curves and dips you explored so thoroughly the night before.

The door swings open fully, revealing a surprised Enid standing in the doorway. Her eyes widen as she takes in the scene before her - you and Wednesday, tangled together in the afterglow.

"Oh," she breathes, her cheeks flushing pink. "I... I didn't know you two were..."

You sit up quickly, pulling the covers up to your chin. Wednesday stirs, her eyes blinking open in confusion.

"Enid?" she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.

Enid clears her throat, averting her gaze. "Sorry," she says, backing out of the room. "I'll just... I'll leave you two alone."

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving you and Wednesday in a tense silence. You glance at her, unsure of what to say.

But Wednesday just sighs, turning to face you. "Well," she says, her tone dry. "That's one way to start the day."

[queensunshinee]

His favorite toy || Art Donaldson x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+) Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex, fingering), drinking, super toxic relationship, reader is kinda pathetic :(

Word Count: 3.4k

His favorit toy

Sometimes I think he was born to be in love with her, just like I was born to be in love with him. Unconditionally, without consequences. Just like that, love. And it’s not fair that someone can take so much from you and give back so little. It’s not fair that someone can control your entire range of emotions and yet not be affected by them. It’s not fair that Art Donaldson was born to revolve around Tashi Duncan while I was born for the leftovers he allows himself to leave for me.

“You can stay,” I mumbled as he started getting dressed. “I wish I could, I’ve got morning practice tomorrow,” he said without looking at me. ‘That didn’t stop you from coming inside me,’ I wanted to retort but just nodded and turned my back to him. He stopped dressing for a moment, and I knew he was looking at me, wondering if this time would be the time I’d stop letting him emotionally abuse me. Wondering if this would be the time I’d tell him that if he didn’t stay, he could go find someone else to fuck.

“Baby, I’d love to stay,” he sat at the edge of the bed and gave my shoulder a little shake. “It’s not a big deal, Art. You’re a big boy, you can do whatever you want,” I mumbled toward him. And it sounded petty and bitter. But I felt petty and bitter. I could feel the bitterness on the tip of my tongue. I could feel the sag of the crappy dorm bed swallowing me up. “I want to stay, of course I do,” his voice was fake. Like he was talking to a baby who didn’t understand circumstances or an adult’s schedule. “You know I want to,” he continued, this time planting a small kiss on the shoulder he had shaken earlier.

“When someone wants something, they do it. You wanted to fuck me, you fucked me. You wanted to come inside me, you came. You want to leave, you’re leaving. Just don’t excuse it with morning practice, you’re making me feel like an idiot,” I mumbled. He was silent, not expecting that little monologue. Not expecting that I’d finally tell him he’s acting like an asshole. “I don’t think I’m making you feel that way, you’re making yourself feel that way,” he sighed and stood up, going back to getting dressed while I lay on my back. “Are you serious?” I shot back.

“We don’t have to do this, I’m not forcing you to sleep with me, and if it’s making you feel this bad, we really don’t need to.” He said in a calm, almost calculated tone. Clear of emotions. I rolled my eyes in response and turned away again, not wanting to look at him anymore. “I’m gonna go, I’ll see you tomorrow in class?” he asked, and I felt his lips brush against my hair before he left. And if it weren’t for his smell buried in the pillow and his cum still dripping from me with every movement, I would’ve been sure I imagined him. And in my imagination, he was beautiful and sweet and mine. More than anything, mine.

In statistics class, for a change, I sat next to Janet and Shane, and I could feel Art’s blue eyes boring into my back. Usually, I wait for him with coffee at the back of the auditorium. That’s how we met—he was late to class one day, and the only open seat was next to me. He was funny and charming, almost shy when he asked for notes before the first exam. Almost embarrassed the first time I placed a cup of coffee on his desk when he arrived. Almost apologetic the first time he kissed me.

And for a change, I didn’t waste extra money I don’t even have to buy him a cup of coffee. For a change, I sat with friends I hadn’t spoken to in a while. And for a change, I let him wonder if it was over or if I was bluffing. His eyes were glued to me the whole lecture—neither of us was listening to what the professor was saying, and I know it’s going to come back to bite me.

“Are you going to be mad at me for much longer?” I heard a voice from behind me as I walked down the hall, engrossed in my phone. “I’m not mad at you, Art,” I mumbled without stopping. His strides were longer than mine, and he didn’t have to try too hard to catch up. “So why’d you switch seats?” I could guess he was rolling his eyes, but I didn’t look at him. “Because I wanted to sit with Janet and Shane,” I replied. “Since when are you friends with Janet and Shane?” he asked. “If you ever bothered to ask who my friends are, you’d know I’m friends with Janet and Shane,” I stopped this time and looked at him. He looked composed, like a lawyer who had prepared his most persuasive argument.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting? I had practice at five in the morning, Peaches.” He sighed, looking at me with big eyes. “I can’t believe we’re arguing over this. We never argue.” He stepped closer to me, and I backed away until there was nowhere left to go. Around us, students rushed to their classes or dorms while I was trapped between Art Donaldson and a concrete wall. “We’re not arguing, Art. I just needed a break,” I replied, feeling less sure of myself as his breaths nearly blended with mine. “A break from what?” his hands brushed against my cheeks. “You know what,” I wondered if he could hear the desperation screaming in my voice too. “Baby,” he sighed. “You don’t need a break. It’s just a busy period.” He kissed me on the cheek. “You can’t keep being mad at me, come on, Peaches,” he said in a playful tone. “Look how cute I am.” He chuckled and nibbled on my earlobe.

“We’re in the middle of the hallway,” I mumbled, feeling myself smile uncontrollably, giving in to his goofiness. “I don’t care. You can’t stay mad at me anymore.” This time we both chuckled. “Here we go,” he continued, and his lips found mine for a short kiss. “I need you,” he declared, and I nodded into his shirt. He needs me, how could I refuse that?

Turns out, it was easier than I thought to take a break from Art Donaldson. All that mattered to him and his ego was knowing that I wasn’t actively mad at him. That he wasn’t the bad guy in the story. That he was okay.

In the following two weeks, I kept sitting next to him in statistics until he found another seat and texted me a simple, 'Haven’t seen Dylan in a while' as an excuse, and I smiled at him without showing my teeth. From being inside me three times a week and whispering in my ear that I was the most beautiful girl he’d ever known, he stopped looking me in the eyes and acted as if we barely knew each other.

And it was almost okay, because that’s what I told him I wanted. He was the one who insisted he needed me.

A month passed, and life returned to an almost-normal routine—going from classes to work, to hanging out on Janet’s rooftop. “You know what annoys me?” I asked, taking a drag from the cigarette rolled with weed she’d prepared. “What annoys you?” she asked, chuckling. “That he looks so damn good.” I said, and her chuckle turned into full laughter. “Oh, yeah, the star of Stanford’s tennis team looks good; that’s usually how it goes with athletes,” she said, half-sarcastically. “I’m telling you, if he didn’t look so good, he wouldn’t have been able to pull off half the shit he put me through,” I added and coughed after another drag. “Oh god, you need a new hookup. I can’t hear any more about Art Donaldson.” Janet couldn’t stop laughing. “Do you think the sky is green?” she suddenly asked, staring at the clouds. “No, I think you’ve smoked too much green,” I gave her a little shove that knocked her sideways as we both laughed.

That’s how we found ourselves at a party later that night. We didn’t exactly know whose party it was, but a friend of a friend texted Janet, and that was enough to go. She fixed the makeup that had smudged around my eyes just before we walked in. I was wearing her black dress, which was at least one size too small for me, and I had to keep pulling it down every few seconds. “Stop it, you look hot. You’re just overthinking it. Go with the flow.” She pulled me inside, and I nodded as we walked. Just go with the flow. What could happen if I just go with the flow?

One beer turned into two and a shot of gin. By that point, half the night felt like a blur, and the other half felt dizzying, but I was dancing with Janet and Shane, who had joined us, and eventually, I went outside to smoke a cigarette and get some air.

Someone handed me a cup, and I looked to the side, seeing Art. “It’s water,” he mumbled. “Thanks,” I replied. “Are you having fun?” he asked, his gaze not leaving me. “Yeah, you?” I asked back. “Yeah,” his voice was calm, “You usually don’t like things like this,” he said after a few seconds of silence. “What’s your point?” I asked, feeling my patience wearing thin with the weird small talk. “What are you doing here, I guess?” he asked quietly. “I can go to a fucking party, Art,” I felt my jaw clench with frustration. “I didn’t say you couldn’t—” “So what are you saying?” I cut him off.

“I just said I’m not used to seeing you at parties, that’s all,” he muttered.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you. Are you coming inside? Who’s this?” Tashi Duncan’s voice was as familiar as her face. She hosted Stanford’s sports program, which they probably forced her to do. Her and Art’s posters were plastered everywhere. “Oh, this is (Y/N), she’s in my statistics class,” Art said quickly, and Tashi nodded. “Nice, is he any good at it?” she asked, half-joking, like someone who's trying to break the ice in a situation she’d stumbled into. “No, he’s shitty. My friends are waiting for me, thanks for the water,” I replied and went back inside without looking back, wondering if this is what it feels like when your heart breaks. If from now on, every time I see Art Donaldson, it’ll shatter a little more.

I sat on the couch, as Shane had told me to, when someone sat next to me. I turned slowly because I couldn’t manage more than that. “Hey,” he had green eyes and blond hair, “I’m Luke,” he offered a hand for a handshake. “We had Intro to Economics together last semester,” he added with a smile. “Oh,” was all I could manage to say back. “We’re also in a few classes together now. You sit one row below me in Micro,” he continued, and I just stared at the guy talking to me.

“Did we talk before?” I asked. “Sorry if that’s rude, I’m just drunk,” I quickly added, hoping he wouldn’t be offended. I was just trying to recall my interactions with people, and I didn’t remember him. He looked good enough that I should’ve remembered him. “Actually, no. You always seem in your own world, and I didn’t want to interrupt,” he said, still smiling. “I see,” I said. “Actually, no. What do you mean, in my own world? I’m right here in your world, you know,” I kept talking faster than I probably should. “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you. You’re just usually either with friends or scribbling something,” I saw he got nervous.

“Well,” I tried to remember his name, “Luke, you can always talk to me. I’m usually bored in those classes anyway,” I laughed, and he laughed too, clearly feeling relieved. “Can I get your number?” he asked. “Just in case we make plans or something,” he quickly added when he saw the surprised look on my face. I handed him my phone, and I couldn’t tell if the warmth spreading through my cheeks was from the alcohol or the situation. “You have a message from Art Donaldson,” he said, handing my phone back after adding his number. And just like that, the momentary euphoria ended. Art had to remind me at every possible moment that he existed.

If there’s something Art hates, it’s being ignored. Being left on ‘read.’ I guess that’s why he knocked on my door at 3 AM, incredibly drunk. “Your dress is so pretty,” he mumbled, reciting the message he sent me earlier at the party. “Art, it’s really late—” “He’s flirting with you because your dress is pretty,” he recited the next message. I memorized them so well that I could recite them along with him. “Because you’re pretty,” he continued to the next message. “I’m sorry I introduced you like that, I panicked,” the next message. “You’re not just someone who studies statistics with me,” another message. “Art—” I tried to interrupt the show in front of me. “I really am shitty,” he continued. “Are you done?” I asked, even though I knew the answer, that was the last message he sent.

“Did you lose your phone or something, Peaches?” he asked, half-laughing, half-sarcastic. “You’re drunk,” I sighed. “You didn’t answer me. I thought something happened,” he mumbled. “Liar,” I rolled my eyes. “You’re right, I knew nothing happened. I thought you were fucking that new guy you found,” he shot back. “Wow, Art, you think amazing things about me. You really know me well,” I returned sarcastically. “Anything else?” I asked, ignoring the fact that he was getting closer to me with giant steps. “I missed you, Peach,” he mumbled, his breath, which smelled like his usual gum and beer, mixing with mine again.

“So why did you disappear on me?” I asked. And it came out more desperate than I planned. More pathetic than I expected. I could imagine the smirk spreading on his smug face as I closed my eyes. “You asked for a break. I just gave you what you asked for. I couldn’t hold back today though, you were so beautiful, Peach. The most beautiful at that shitty party. So, the break’s over, okay?” he said, and in his drunk mind, it was probably a logical sentence. His lips brushed against mine, and finally, he kissed me like a starving man who stumbled upon his favorite meal. He had never kissed me like this. He was always gentle in his movements, calculated in every shift.

Not this time. His hands brushed over every part of my body they could reach, I don’t know how I found myself without the shirt I was sleeping in, but I stood in front of him only in my underwear, and he took a step back, looking at me in the dark, as if he was an expert in night vision. As if he was trying to capture me in his memory. “You’re drunk,” I said again. “Not even close,” he replied. “Please, Peach. I’ll be good. I need you,” his kisses went down to my neck, and he led me to the bed. Everything was sloppy and messy, but I found myself under him in seconds, with him also already without a shirt.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. And that was the usual mantra, he says all the right words and touches all the right places. He knows what makes me tick. He knows what gives me chills and which position I like best. I felt tears forming in the corners of my eyes, as if waiting for me to blink. Then his lips covered them, gently, and if someone had seen the scene from the side, they might dare to think it was love. “Fuck, baby, I’ll make you happy. You want that? You want me?” he asked, pulling away from me for a second and looking at me with half-plea, in almost mania.

“Yes, Art,” I said quietly. “Yes, what?” he asked with his typical determination. “Yes, I want you,” I returned, running a gentle hand over his face, and he repositioned himself over me. “That’s my girl,” he groaned. “I missed you so much. How needy you are. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll help you. I’ll give you what you need,” his hand pinched my left nipple, and I felt like he was punishing me for the last month. “Mmm Art,” it came out as half-whimper, half-cry. “Shhhh, you can take it, right? You missed this?” he asked, and I nodded. “Of course you can, a slut like you, a month without her favorite cock, my poor thing. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he said, and I felt his hand, the one not torturing my chest, settle between my legs. “Art,” another half-moan, half-whimper.

“Fuck, Peach, you’re so wet,” he chuckled nastily and pushed my panties aside, not waiting too long before he slipped two fingers where I needed him. “Oh my god,” I mumbled, closing my eyes. “No no, look at me. Eyes on me.” He bit my neck and pinched my chest harder. I felt my whole body tighten, and I tried to keep quiet so as not to wake the entire dorm hall. “You’re so easy, Peach,” he said while I clenched around his hand. “Uh-huh, fuck, Art,” I tried to catch his mouth with mine in a half-movement, and he moved his face away with a chuckle, as if trying to prove how pathetic I was now. “Please,” I mumbled. “Please what?” he asked, again close to my face. “Please, kiss me,” I gave in, unable to act like a woman who respects herself. Within seconds, his lips were on mine, and his cock was inside me, filling me. “There you go,” he mumbled into my lips, stroking my hair with one hand and holding my hand with the other. The sad truth is, we’ve never fucked like this. It’s always in the most complicated positions you can think of, never missionary, never in a way that would confuse me into thinking that maybe Art Donaldson loves me.

“You’re so good, baby,” he said, thrusting as deep as he could. Slowly. As if he had all the time in the world. “I missed you. It was like losing a limb, losing your pussy,” another deep thrust. “But you’re mine again, right?” he asked, and all I could do was nod while his hand left mine and started making circles on my clit. His rhythm became chaotic, and he looked at me with a look that told me he was close. “I know, baby,” I mumbled, holding onto his neck, and he nodded. “I think I love you,” he mumbled into my lips with closed eyes. “I love you too,” I whispered. His cum filled me, just like every time since the first time he came inside me.

He kissed me again and stayed inside me for a few more seconds, his weight almost crushing me before he pulled out of me and moved to the side, placing my head on his chest, trying to find a comfortable position on the awful dorm bed. We both panted heavily as his hand made small movements through my hair. “I’ll get you something to clean up…” he mumbled, and I nodded, a bit stunned. Because that wasn’t a typical Art move. He never thought about it deeply enough. He threw a shirt he picked up from the floor at me and studied me for a moment as he started getting dressed.

“You’re not staying?” I asked and sighed. “I can’t, I have practice in the morning,” he replied. And just when I thought something had changed, Art and I stayed exactly the same.

Hey there guys, it's been a while since I wrote anything and as much as I love TTOOL, and I love the story deeply, I wanted to explore a new concept. It's the first time I have written in a xreader style, so I hope it turned out OK. Can't wait to hear your thoughts, it's my favorite part 💜

Using the taglist from the main story, hopefully you'll like that too: @lydiaxkirby @suzysface tqd4455 @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[joeyfranchise]

is it cool that i said all that?

joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: everything you thought you said and everything that happened… was all a dream? how can you go through this again, tell joe your real feelings, and calm yourself down enough to let the truth out? and how will he take it?

warnings: MDNI!!! (and i’m not gonna tell y’all again bc i’ll start blocking.) smuttttt, it’s fluffy too! oral (m. rec), p in v, spitting, manhandling ofc, size kink! a lil light choking again. this one got a lil nastier than i originally intended. cocky joe is always it’s own warning.

word count: 4.1k.

note: THIS IS A PART 2, original fic here (x). it starts exactly where it ended, so it will not make sense if you haven’t read part 1 first. much love to yous. 💗 (so sorry it came a day later than i wanted it to.)

you rub your sweaty palms against your shorts and bite at the inside of your cheek. you watch joe as he toes off his shoes and socks, making himself comfortable. for some reason, that helps you calm down the tiniest bit.

he sits next to you expectantly, silently waiting on you to speak. your heart is beating against your chest as hard as it ever has before. you’re swimming around inside your own brain like a goldfish. the room is spinning.

you feel joe’s hands - his large hands - grab your shoulders, steadying your now swaying form.

“y/n, you look like you’re gonna be sick. are you sure you’re okay?” he questions, voice laced with concern. he reaches up and tucks a strand of your sweaty, slightly tangled hair behind your ear.

somewhere, deep inside your head, you’re screaming out all your feelings. you’re telling joe you love him, you appreciate him, he’s everything to you. but the words just won’t slip past your lips.

joe’s worried. he’s not sure what’s going on, but he’s trying to think of something, anything to help you.

you close your eyes and try to take a few deep breaths, sorting through your thoughts like a rolodex. you clench and unclench your fists. you count. one. two. three. four. five.

when you open your eyes you look at joe, still looking concerned. you avert your gaze to the wall. “alright joey,” you start, “here goes nothing.” you take one last shaky breath.

“i have a lot to say so, i’m just gonna spill it out okay?” you ask, once more giving yourself a moment. “go ahead, i’m all ears.” he says, rubbing your shoulder. finally, you face him again, his blue eyes staring into yours.

“listen, joey. i don’t want this to be weird. i just… i think i’ve liked you as long as i’ve known you, and i think i’ve known for a while that i… i don’t just like you. i have serious feelings for you. and i know that’s a complicated predicament to put us in because we’re best friends, but hopefully you’ll feel the same. and if you don’t, then i hope you can understand because i can’t lose you as a friend. you’re all i have, i care about you more than anything and i can’t lose you. i literally cannot.” you spill out, emotions beginning to flow. joe looks at you with a soft gaze. he opens his mouth like he’s going to speak, but then he closes it.

“and i know it’s sudden joe, i know it’s abrupt. but the teasing about our size difference was really getting to me, i’m assuming you must’ve caught on to that. and i know it’s probably wrong to be fantasizing over your best friend or something but i just… i love you and i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.” you’re word vomiting. tears begin to stream down your cheeks as you apologize to him. you’re afraid you’ve ruined everything, that he’s gonna walk away from you, leave this friendship and everything you’ve ever had behind.

but why would he?

before you can register what’s happening, you’re being pulled into his lap and crushed against his chest for a hug. you begin crying even harder.

“y/n, bub.. don’t cry.” he says, rubbing your back soothingly.

“will you look at me?”

you pull away from his tight hug and look into his eyes once again as he wipes away your tears with his thumbs. “everything is okay. breathe for me. we’ll keep talking in a minute. just breathe in for four seconds, hold for four, blow out for four, hold again and repeat. square breathing, remember we learned that together?”

you try. you try so hard to regulate your breathing, emotions, feelings. but here you are, straddling his lap just like in your dream - your stupid fucking dream you haven’t even gotten to yet - and you can’t even focus on breathing properly.

joe’s strong hands find their way to your arms, rubbing soothing circles into your biceps. you breathe in, hold for four, and try to do square breathing. you close your eyes, once again trying to just gather your thoughts. joe lets you sit in your silence, allowing you to process before he speaks his mind.

once you open your eyes again, still finding his gaze on you, you think you’re ready to continue. before you can start the conversation back up, joe is speaking.

“let me say my piece, okay?” his voice sounds sure, his gaze is stern. you’re still afraid of where this is going. all you can do is nod your head yes.

“i’ll start by saying i figured it out on the football field, but it was solidified when you spent the night with me. i don’t think it’s crazy or weird that you like that, i’d be lying if i said i haven’t thought about you in that manner too. i mean, any guy and girl as close as we are.. there’s bound to be sexual or intimate thoughts bouncing around in our heads somewhere, right?” he cocks his head to the side, a small gesture that lets you know he’s being honest, that he isn’t bothered by anything you said. that helps you breathe easier for a moment.

“honestly y/n, i’ve loved you a long time. as a friend, as something more. and it’s selfish but… it’s like i always knew you were gonna be there. i always knew you were my girl. i hate that i’ve never come to you about it before. i hate that i’ve dated around and never talked to you about these feelings, because deep down i know it was wrong. i think i’ve known for a while we both felt the same about each other.”

a part of you wants to be mad, because in truth it is kinda fucked up for him to just leave you in waiting, but your brain is focusing on something else. my girl. my girl. my girl.

he just called you his girl. something about that possessive phrase has you reeling, and after the evening you’ve had, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t want to make you jump his bones that much more.

“y/n… anything to say?”

shit. you zoned out.

“oh, sorry joey.” you mumble out, closing your eyes and shaking your head lightly. “i mean… i’m glad that you feel the same way. i think i might be a little mad at you later, but right now i’m trying to process this all. but… it’s cool that i said all that?”

“yeah, it’s cool. is it cool that i said that? and would it be cool if i said i loved you back?” he asks, a playful lilt to his tone.

“i mean they do call you joe cool, so, everything you do is cool.” you smile down at him, and he matches your expression. you let your hands wander to the nape of his neck, lightly scratching at his hair.

he sits up, pressing his chest into yours, nose inches from your own. something is starting to feel oddly familiar.

“and if i kissed you? that’d be super cool right?”

“the coolest.”

his hands come back up to cup your cheeks as he brings his lips to yours gently. you gasp out in shock. they’re softer than they were in your dream, and he doesn’t taste like mint. he tastes more like mango. probably all the damn body armor, you think to yourself.

as he deepens the kiss, slowly and sweetly, you reach over and pinch yourself.

“did you just… pinch your arm?” he asks, breaking away from your lips to catch his breath.

“yeah… so you know how i looked like a sweaty disheveled mess when you got here?”

“i’m familiar. you still do.”

you smack his arm. “well i was… kinda…” you start, then you bury your face in his neck.

“you were whacking it?” he laughs, tipping his head back.

“no fucker, i wasn’t whacking it.” you laugh too. “but i was having a pretty good sex dream. involving you. and me. and a lot of manhandling.”

you can feel your cheeks heating, your heart is beating hard again. “is that so?” he asks, teasing you again. “you wanna re-enact it?”

hell no. nope. this isn’t happening again. you can’t be, you aren’t dreaming again right?

you hop off his lap and run to the kitchen, turning on the cold tap and splashing water all over your face. you’re definitely awake. joe hops off the couch after you, laughing at your dramatics, something he’s very used to. before you know what’s happening, he’s rearing back and smacking your ass. hard.

“JOE!” you scream, jumping forward. “what, i figured that’d show you that you’re awake.” he shrugs, leaning against the counter smugly. you grab a cup from the cabinet, filling it with some of the cold water before finally turning off the faucet. you walk forward a few inches toward joe. “don’t start something you can’t finish.” he warns, wagging a finger at you. you start to tip the cup, but he’s moved in a flash, running out of the kitchen and down the hall.

you peek around the corner and joe is nowhere to be found. tiptoeing your way down the hall, you look into the bathroom quickly to see if joe’s hiding there. he isn’t. you keep walking, almost to your room. before you register what’s happening, a hard body is leaping at you then pressing you to the wall. the cup of cold water is spilled all over you as a result.

he’s laughing, face inches from your own. “what the hell, joe!” you exclaim, but soon you’re laughing too. joe leans back in to kiss you again and you gladly accept his lips, loving how they mold with your own.

he mumbles a little “jump” into your kiss, so you do and wrap your legs around his waist. your hands find his hair again, you weave your fingers between the shorts strands and tug lightly, earning a groan in response. joe nips at your bottom lip, pulling it slightly with his teeth.

he pulls back from the wall with your body still wrapped around his and walks you into your bedroom, and all of this is beginning to feel oddly familiar again. he tosses you on the bed. you look up at him with lustful eyes as he stares back at you. the air in the room is thick, heady.

“joey…” you breathe out, your voice lower than usual. your tone is dripping with arousal. you watch joe swallow, knowing he’s just as turned on as you. he’s in this moment too. as you’re peeling your now cold wet shirt off your body, you hear him respond.

“yeah, baby?”

his voice is deeper too. he sounds so gruff, so sexy, it’s almost like you can feel him speaking between your legs. whatever is happening in this moment is like your dream to the max. arousal and sexual tension to the nth degree.

“there’s something that didn’t happen in my dream that i really wanna do, is that okay?”

you slide off the bed and onto your knees, crawling forward a bit until you’re directly in front of him. “and what’s that?” he lilts, smirk crawling across his face again.

“i wanna suck your dick, joe.” you rasp. you watch as he tilts his head back, his eyes rolling. a small “fuck” escapes his lips. from your position on the floor you can see that’s at least half hard in his shorts. you reach up and grab the waistband, tugging his shorts down. joe shrugs his shirt off at the same time, leaving him completely bare to you.

his cock springs up, slapping against his stomach. somehow, someway, it’s bigger than what you imagined in your dream. you wrap a hand around the base and bring the head to your lips, sticking out your tongue to kitten lick at his tip teasingly. you take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him off.

what won’t fit into your mouth is being worked by your hand, in quick motions. you look up at joe through your eyelashes and he thinks he could cum right then. slurping sounds fill the room as you take him into your mouth eagerly, over and over again.

joe suddenly looks at you before grabbing your hair in a makeshift ponytail. “you want rough, right?” he rasps, his eyes hooded.

“mmmph… mhm.” you mumble, never removing his cock from your mouth. “tsk-tsk. talking with your mouthful. so rude.” he teases.

his hands tighten in your hair and he gives you one final glance before taking over control and beginning to fuck your mouth. you let your hand drop as joe finds a rhythm, pumping his hips forward as he holds your head into place.

tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes, your lips are starting to get sore, but you don’t care. the fact that joe is using you so roughly to get himself off is almost enough to have you creaming in your panties. after a few minutes of joe’s relentless face-fucking, you feel his hips stutter, but before he cums he pulls out from your mouth with a loud pop.

“stand up.” he commands, his voice low and gravelly. you rise to your feet before him, craning your neck up so you can look into his eyes. he lifts you again, your legs wrapping around his waist. he walks you closer to the bed again, plopping you down onto it.

he’s still standing above you, his gaze is giving you chills. it’s almost like a switch has flipped, like he remembered suddenly how this all came to fruition. that you love how much bigger he is than you, you fantasize about him throwing you around, and he intends to use that to his advantage.

“strip.”

you stay still for a few seconds as you try to process what’s happening and gauge joe’s reactions, but when he repeats himself you strip immediately, starting by unclasping your bra and then taking off your shorts and panties, tossing them aside aimlessly. you lay bare before him and, just like your dream, you feel confident. his eyes rake over your form and he licks his lips.

joe leans over you, finally climbing into your bed, slotting his knee between your legs. “look at you, all spread out. you’re perfect, y/n. fucking perfect.” you shudder.

he brushes your hair away from your neck and starts kissing along the column, the tip of his nose occasionally brushing your ear lobe. your soft moans fill the room, but you let out a sharp gasp as he moves his leg up, pressing his thigh against your core. joe chuckles against your throat.

“joey, i can’t take it anymore, please.” you beg, scratching at his shoulders. he moves away from your neck slowly, you can see his pupils blown wide as his eyes once again rake over your naked body. you grind down on his leg, searching for something, any kind of friction to ease the ache in your already soaking wet core.

he begins kissing your lips again, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip and you part them for him, his tongue melding with your own. he snakes a hand down your body as he moves his thigh away from you, and you whine at the loss of contact. his kisses trail down your throat again, over the soft planes of your collarbones, and onto your chest. his tongue slowly drags over your nipple, flicking around the hard bud.

finally, his hand makes its way between your legs, the tips of his calloused fingers making contact with your swollen clit. he slides his hand lower to gather some of your wetness before rubbing tight circles against your clit.

“j-joey, ah fuck..” you moan out, pressing yourself down into his hand. “please fuck me, joe. i need it so bad.”

you’ve never been more sexually frustrated than you are in this moment. even though you’re with joe, he’s touching and kissing you, your burning desire and needs aren’t being satiated. you need him to fuck you, rough and hard.

“needy, huh?” he laughs, kissing the valley between your breasts. you want to answer, but the words get caught in your throat and instead you just let out a strangled whine. joe smirks, wondering if you’ll get there just from him touching your clit. he lowers his hand, dipping two fingers into you as his thumb takes over your clit, your body jerks as a reaction.

you arch your back off the bed, pressing down as hard as you can onto joe’s fingers as he works them in and out of you. when he suddenly stops, you scream frustratedly.

“calm down, princess.” he says, his smarmy tone filling your ears and making you want to slap him. you look down, watching joe as he finally grabs his hard length and strokes it a few times. he slowly presses his tip into you and you whine at the stretch of him. your eyes are screwed closed, your breath coming out in short puffs as he inches forward slowly, until he’s completely seated inside you.

“it’s so big joe,” you groan, your voice completely fucked out.

“or maybe you’re just really small, baby.”

what a fucker, you think. he grabs your legs at the thighs and brings them up, hooking your knees over his shoulders. he pressed his weight into you so that your knees are next to your head, and from this position you can feel everything. every inch, every vein. it’s euphoric.

his hips start moving finally, and you bite your arm to stifle a loud scream that threatens to break through your lips. joe roughly moves your arm away from your face.

“fuck no, let me hear you. let everyone around hear who’s making you feel this good.” his dominance reverberates through your bones. maybe this is what heaven is like?

you don’t say anything, but you allow every sound, every breath and gasp of pleasure fall from your gaping maw as joe pounds you relentlessly into your mattress.

“you look so pretty like this baby, you’re taking it so well. thought it’d be to big for you.” he teases, his hand finding your throat. once again, something similar to your dream. but this is reality, and that makes it a thousand times better. “joe, i’m so close.. please, i’m..”

although his actions are dominant, the way he’s pressed against you, his large frame caging your much smaller one against the bed, and his large hands are holding you down, the sincere love and affection that’s shown in his eyes is what’s going to take you right to that edge and drop you off.

“open your mouth.” he commands. you do as you are told, too into the moment to even argue. you part your lips, and suddenly joe is spitting right into your mouth. “swallow it.” who are you to say no?

you obey him. his hand finds your clit once more and after a few erratic strokes of his fingertips over your swollen bud you’re coming, harder than you ever have before. every nerve ending in your body is set ablaze, white hot fire spreading over your skin.

in this moment, all you know is joe.

your orgasm prompts his own as your heat tightens around him, and after a few pumps he’s filling you up before falling forward and pressing his sweaty forehead against your own. your eyes are still closed, but you know he’s smiling. you’re smiling too.

joe pulls out of you and you both hiss. you feel him move from the bed, and you hear his footsteps pattering down the hall to your bathroom as he turns the shower on. when he comes back, your eyes are open, waiting to see his face.

“come on,” he says, lifting you up. “let’s go clean up.”

he helps you stand in the shower, and the intimacy of the moment feels easy for you both, it’s comfortable. you’re thankful for that. he helps you wash, your body and your hair, and then the two of you stand under the hot stream and laugh and talk after joe finishes cleaning himself.

as he helps you out from the shower, you can’t help but tease him. “risky move there cumming inside me, by the way. you want children this young? in your prime?”

“i know you’re on the pill, y/n. i know everything about you. plus, a kid with you wouldn’t be so bad.”

you’re instantly flustered at his answer, but you quickly brush it off. you keep talking as you both make your way down the hall and back to your room. “if you know everything about me then what am i thinking right now?”

he laughs as he walks into your closet, rummaging through a stack of his clothes that you keep there for him. he foregoes boxers, which makes you giggle, and you bite your lip as you watch him pull the pair of sweatpants he chose up over his ass. you make a mental note to get a handful of it soon.

he turns around, tossing you one of his old college shirts. “you’re thinking ‘wow, i really wanna order thai food and watch scream with my sexy hot best friend who just rocked my entire world.’ sound accurate?”

you laugh at his statement, but you agree. “damn joey, you’re good.” you walk over to your dresser to grab a pair of panties, slipping them on below the shirt joe gave you.

the two of you go out to your living room as you order your food and joe preps for the movie. the rest of your evening is spent cuddled up as you eat together and relax, another one of those moments of comfortable silence between you. the simplicity of just enjoying each other’s presence, something you both love.

you fall asleep with your head on joe’s chest, the soft lull of his breathing and the beating of his heart helping ease you into a lovely slumber.

wake in the morning, it’s because of a shrill ringing. this is familiar, you think. your body almost slips into panic mode, because no the fuck you did not dream this shit again, but when you feel joe’s hard body pressed against yours, and in nothing but gray sweatpants, you thank every god you can think of.

you look over to one of your end tables, noticing it’s his phone that’s ringing. from where you are, you can barely see it, so you crane your neck up to get a better look. you can see a girl's name and contact photo lighting up the screen.

okay, you tell yourself, don’t panic. he has a lot of friends and stuff. just wake joe up so he can answer it.

you shake him awake, his groggy eyes taking a moment to open.

“morning y/n.” he says, finally looking at you. you pick at your thumbnail nervously. “morning joey. your um- your phone was ringing.”

he reaches for it, tapping the screen to see his notifications. you see his expression drop, which makes you feel even more nervous.

“it’s my friend kate,” he starts, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “i told her we could have brunch this morning since i didn’t figure i’d be busy… but that was before we— i didn’t know how our talk would go.” his guilty tone lets you know everything you need to know, that more than brunch was being planned.

you slide off the couch, walking back toward your room. joe is quick to follow. you turn, stopping him by placing a firm hand to his chest. “go have brunch, have a good time.” your small, defeated voice pierces joe right through the heart.

“y/n, please. i love you, i told you i love you. i want you to be mine. that’s all i want, from now til forever. just, let me explain all that to kate, okay? and then i’ll be back. we’ll spend the whole day together. does that sound good?” he’s groveling, you can tell. you can’t really be mad at him, because he made these plans prior to what has just happened between you, but you’re reminded of what he told you yesterday, and that pisses you off.

“fine, joey. go. we’ll talk when you get back.” you bite, turning on your heel and stalking off to your room, slamming the door behind you.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @bengals-barnesbabe @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 (i added everyone from the replies on part1 & all taglist requests- i hope that’s okay! 💗)

[cece693]

Clean and Tidy (Brahms Heelshire x GN Reader)

Since it's October, I want to provide at least a fic for some of my like (not love) slashers. First in line is Brahams from the movie The Boy (2016.) Beware it's short and not my best work.

Summary: The Heelshire's never posted that nanny ad. After all, you were perfect for the job. Not only were you Brahms's nanny, but you were also the caretaker of the house when the Heelshire's were away.

tags: neat/clean freak reader, Malcolm gets killed, never liked him tbh, Brahms is a kitten with claws

The house stood still and silent, a heavy darkness pressing against the tall windows. Outside, the mist clung to the forest like a second skin, thick and immovable, drowning the world in a damp chill. The Heelshires were away again, leaving me to keep the sprawling estate in order. It was a duty I took seriously—order and cleanliness were my sanctuary against the madness that sometimes threatened to swallow this house whole.

And, of course, there was Brahms.

"Come on, Brahms," I said, crouching to examine the muddy footprints he'd left in the kitchen. "You know the rules. No mud in the house."

There was a rustle, a shift in the shadows, and he emerged from behind the pantry door. His face, obscured by his mask, tilted downward like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. "I’m sorry," he said, voice muffled and low. "It was raining."

"Well, it’s still no excuse. Upstairs, now," I ordered, pointing toward the staircase. "Shower, and I’ll clean this up."

He hesitated only momentarily before nodding and slipping away. I watched him go, a mixture of fondness and exasperation warming my chest. He could be dangerous, I knew that. But with me, Brahms was different. Gentle. Almost eager to please.

Everything had been routine, until that night.

Malcolm had come by with the groceries. He was the delivery boy from town, bright-eyed and persistent, always lingering longer than necessary. I’d noticed the way his gaze lingered on me, the way his smiles grew bolder over time, but I’d never encouraged him. Yet, that night, as I was wiping down the kitchen counters, he cornered me, his hand slipping over mine.

"You know," he said, voice low, "you don’t have to stay cooped up here all the time. I could take you out—just the two of us. No one would have to know."

I pulled my hand away, disgust churning in my stomach. "I’m fine where I am, Malcolm. You should go." He didn’t listen. He moved closer, his hand reaching for my waist. I froze, my mind whirling, caught between indignation and the sudden sense of danger that flared hot in my chest. Then I heard it—a soft rustling, a creak from behind the pantry.

"Malcolm, I’m serious." I warned, my voice sharp. "Leave."

But before he could say another word, Brahms was there, stepping out from the darkness. He moved with a speed and ferocity I had never seen before, slamming Malcolm against the wall. There was a flash of panic in Malcolm’s eyes, a gasp—cut off too soon. It was over in seconds. Brahms was breathing hard, his body trembling, and Malcolm lay crumpled on the floor, his eyes wide and unseeing. Blood stained Brahms' crisp white shirt, bright and stark against the fabric. I should have felt something—fear, horror, anything—but all I felt was a strange calm.

"Brahms." I whispered. He turned to me, the mask hiding his face but not the hunch in his posture. He was waiting for a reprimand, for anger, for anything that would push him back into the shadows. Instead, I stepped forward, my eyes narrowing as I took in the crimson staining his shirt. "Look at you," I said, my voice almost a sigh, "you've ruined your shirt. How many times have I told you to be careful?"

His head tilted, confusion and a flicker of relief warring in his eyes. "I’m sorry." he whispered. I didn’t answer. I turned away, stepping around the body without a second glance, moving to the kitchen sink to wet a rag. Behind me, Brahms watched, still as a statue, his gaze never leaving me as I crossed the floor to him. I began wiping the blood from his hands, my touch brisk and efficient.

"I'll have to dispose of that shirt and the body, which is on the verge of staining the carpet—"

"I’ll clean it." Brahms offered quickly, his voice hoarse. He was eager to please again, desperate for approval.

"Good." I met his eyes, my expression stern but gentle. "But next time, Brahms, be more careful. Bloodstains are a nightmare to get out."

He nodded, something like a smile hidden beneath the mask. There was a glimmer of gratitude, of understanding that I wouldn’t send him away, that I wouldn’t abandon him like the rest. I didn’t say another word as I watched him slip off to dispose of the evidence, like a cat slinking off with its prize. The house was mine to care for, and that meant caring for Brahms—the strange, broken boy who, for reasons I couldn’t quite name, trusted me to stay.

[msfantasy-anime]

A Visit from Father

Monkey D. Luffy x Wife!Reader

Summary: Y/n’s father Mihawk has visited to check in on his daughter.

A/n: I wasn’t ever going to give Y/n parents in this AU. But someone sent a DM requesting to Mihawk to be the father and on good terms, so here we are hehe. You mother is whoever you want to picture.

Part IX

Where the hell is everyone?! One minute you were all walking down the street. The next minute everyone walked off on their own without saying anything.

Whilst you begin to wonder the back streets yourself, you came across someone you expected the least.

“Dad?!” You shout with pure excitement, jumping into the arms of Dracule Mihawk, who is suddenly standing right before you in a random back alley. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Saw your wanted poster.” Mihawk answers, holding up the newest edition. “Came to check in on you.” He answers, his demeanour remaining void of emotion, but the corner of his lips twitch ever so slightly at his daughter. “I just wanted to check in on you...“

“Huh? What about it?” You grumble, unable to resist making a sour face.

“You know, I never wanted this life for you.” Your heart plunges, unable and uninterested to be lectured by your father. It’s rare to cross paths and you just want to enjoy him being there whilst you can until he rushes off like he always does.

“Ugh, are you serious right now? Let’s not talk about it let’s just go and-”

“Listen.” Mihawk says, grabbing your shoulders and forcing you to listen. Your eyes darting away, unwilling to have a heart to heart with your father who you haven’t seen in a long time, next to some garbage. “After the Marines took your mother from us, simply because she was my lover, made me realise that you could never live a normal life with my name attached.”

“Yeah I know. You made the hard decision to leave me to be raised by others and your sacrifice was all for nothing because I went and became a pirate anyway- well I’m sorry to disappoint you-“

“Stop. You do not disappoint me.” Mihawk said sternly, his fingers digging into your shoulders and gives you a slight shake as if shaking you would bring you back to your senses. “You would never disappoint me. But since you now have a bounty, I see no reason to hide you from the world anymore.”

Your heart begins racing at your father’s words. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I want you to come live with me, I can teach you, spend time with you, take you on adventures.” He offers. “And I want the world to know you are my daughter. There’s no reason to hide you anymore.”

You missed out on being with him in your early years and now is your chance to spend time with him. But…

“It’s a dream come true dad… but…” Mihawk had some suspicions before, but he’s certain now.

“My offer doesn’t expire my girl.” He says, pulling you into a hug. “When you are finished with your adventures, the front door will always be open, ready to welcome you home.” Your eyes welled up but you swallow back your emotions, too embarrassed to cry.

Mihawk holds your face one last time before turning to leave. “Dad, before you go, I just wanted to thank you for leaving me in the east blue all that time ago.” Mihawk pauses, his eyes widening, his back remaining turned to you. “I could not have imagined what life would’ve been like without Sabo, Ace and of course … my husband, Luffy.”

“Your mother would be so proud of the woman you grew up to be.” Mihawk smiles at your bittersweet fair well. “Take care of my girl for me Strawhat.”

“Will do.” Luffy answers making you jolt from your spot.

“Ah! Seriously?! How long have you been standing there?!” You screech making Luffy cackle.

“Still afraidy cat huh?” He teases but quickly shuts up when he sees your serious face.

“I’ve just been thinking.”

“Yeah?”

“My dad won’t hide me from the rest of the world anymore, which means I’ll be known as Dracule Y/n.”

“Yeah and?” Luffy asks, picking his nose.

“I know I shouldn’t care but I do! You’re my damn husband and I want people to stop questioning it! Take me to the courthouse so we can hurry up and make this official already!”

“Huh?! We already talked about this damnit! We don’t need papers! We already had the wedding and everything!” Luffy protests but you stomp off on a mission.

“I don’t care! We are doing it again!”

[nfr-girly]

Baking with Hasan // 🧁 🍰

Summary: Hasan invites you over for a baking stream

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-Hasan had the idea for a while to do a baking stream with one of his friends, he had already done one with QT so he wanted to do it with someone who chat wasn’t familiar with

-that’s when you came into mind, chat knew a little about you from seeing you in the background of some vlogs, but you’d never actually done a stream with Hasan before

-you and him met through Austin and have been really good friends since. Hasan was a little hesitant as he knows you’ve never actually been on stream before, so he wanted to ask you first before confirming anything

-he called you up and asked if you’d want to do a baking stream with him, which of course you said yes to

-Hasan didn’t know it but you had grown to like him as more than just a friend, on occasion you would think for a second that he might like you back, but every time you saw him with these gorgeous models you always give your hopes up

-LITTLE DID U KNOWWW… Hasan kinda likes you back <3 anyway 😋

-you guys call a few days before the stream to confirm times and everything, making sure you both have ingredients ready, you tell him you’re a little nervous about the stream and he reassures you that if you don’t want to do it, please tell him, but he makes sure you know he won’t let anyone be mean to you for even a second

-Hasan is so so serious about this too, he absolutely adores you and if he sees ANYONE be even the tiniest bit disrespectful to you trust he’ll be ready to throw hands

-a few days later you go over to his house and ring the bell, fidgeting with your hands and sorting out your hair

-Hasan hears the bell and all confidence drops. Kayas already at the door before he even comes out the kitchen. He sorts out his hair before opening the door.

-you look up and smile “hey! How are you”

-Hasan smiles back “I’m really good thanks. How are you? Was the journey okay?” Hasan lets you in and hangs up your coat for you, you kneel and pet Kaya as she hops into your lap

-one of Hasans favourite things is seeing you bond so well with Kaya, it’s partly why he likes you so much, you’re the only person who Kaya didn’t bark at when she first met you, it was like she had known you for years

-you two went into the kitchen and set up all your ingredients, talking a little about how you’ve both been

-“you know I’m actually gonna stomp all over you today; my cakes are superior” Hasan boasts

-“shut the fuck up you don’t know shit about baking”

-“yes I do!!” Hasan defends back

-the stream starts and for the next few hours the entirety of the stream consists of you and him blatantly flirting (trust there’s gonna be compilations on yt of you two)

-the whole chat can see through both of you and are so baffled at how blind you are to the other ones feelings

-eventually, you end the stream and start cleaning the kitchen, it takes you two about an hour due to the mess

-Hasan occasionally puts his hands on your waist as he moves past you

“thank you for coming over to do this, I mean really I appreciate it” Hasan tells you

“Of course no worries, it was fun we should do it again sometime”

Hasan pauses and thinks. Just ask her out already what are you doing?

“Hey listen I was just wondering- i don’t know, if maybe you wanted to go out sometime?”

You look at him as your breath catches in your throat

“Uh- yeah sure, is it just us or with some friends?” Please say just us

“Well I mean I was thinking just us. Unless you think that would be weird-“

“No- Hasan id love that” you smile at him as he nods, smiling himself

“Okay great, would Tuesday work for you?”

“I can check but it should be yeah!”

You two talk as he walks you to the door

“Okay then, well I’ll text you later about places we could go” Hasan says

“Okay then. It’s a date”

Hasan smiles quickly before you can see

He gives you a hug as you head to your car.

As soon as you drive away he smiles to himself and goes to find Kaya, who jumps up at him

“Hey pretty ladyy, she said yes didn’t she? Oh yes she did”

A ping can be heard from Hasans phone, he takes it out and reads it

You

Sooo where should we go? 💗

hasan types out a reply

Hasan

Anywhere you want princess.

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UGH THIS IS SO SHIT but I hope you liked it anyway 😘

🏷️ @mavericksice @thatsactuallyinzane @kaya-p @fullofgutsndopamine @inhibitionfreewriting @the-phantom-author @makeandshift @hot-insurrectionist @hasblair